Spiders

I don't

often

head out with Betty

into

a 23 mph wind

but today

I went

grudgingly

and

the two of them cleared

some of

the cobwebs

- OB sometimes all I need is a ride

Learnin' How to Walk

or
Why Bicycling Makes More Sense

I headed out to hike the White Tanks, a fairly benign set of hills in the west valley outside Phoenix. Since this vacation was shorter than most, I decided to leave the bicycle at home and only bring my hiking boots and a hydration pack. I was trying to make the best of my few non-wheeled excursions.

I was about a half mile into my morning hike, experimenting with close-range photos of some desert blooms.

As I turned to continue walking my ankle was pierced with pain. Yeouch! A hand-sized, unevenly shaped, prickly brown thing attached itself to my leg. I breathed-in sharply. Snake?noAnimal?dunnoPlant?maybeIdon'tknow!!

Logic: Remove offending object, pain will subside.
Action: Shake foot vigorously!
Result: Object still attached, pain continues.

Logic: Object requires assistance in removal.
Action: Grab at object with right hand in order to fling object to ground and examine.
Result: Object still embedded in leg, pain increases due to pulling motion, piece of object now embedded into hand, pain introduced to thumb.

Logic: Do not handle object.
Action: Vocalization.
Result: Frustration expressed.

Logic: Remove offending object from thumb, pain will subside.
Action: Shake hand vigorously!
Result: Object still attached, pain continues weren't we here before?

Logic: Instantaneous reactions are not appropriate in this situation and forchrissakecalmdown.
Action: Examine ankle and thumb.
Result: See needle-like dead cactus pod-thing attached to ankle and thumb.

Logic: None.
Action: Breathing...breathing is good.
Result: ???

Logic: Individual inadvertently picked up needle-like dead cactus pod-thing.
Action: Carefully grasp at cactus spines attached to right thumb with uncoordinated left hand, and pull.
Result: Barbs remain attached to thumb.

Logic: None.
Action: Vocalization!
Result: Frustration expressed.

Logic: Pulling off sock will result in assistance with removal of cactus barbs from ankle.
Action: Left hand pulls on sock hoping sock will assist in removal of cactus barbs from ankle hell it works with seed pods back in Minnesota.
Result: Sock is permanently attached to leg via cactus spines, which is plain creepy.

Logic: Abort abort abort.
Action: Yell at nearby boulder.
Result: Heightened indignation due to hike being interrupted by stupid needle-like dead cactus pod-thing!

Logic: Careful examination of ankle and thumb in air conditioned home advised.
Action: Turn on trail to begin half-mile walk back to car.
Result: Walking with cactus barbs and sock embedded into moving ankle just above shoe-line HURTS, dammit!

Logic: None at this time, really.
Action: Stop, take off shoe and really yank on sock.
Result: Sock and several cactus barbs break free leaving puffy, bloody, swollen lumps on ankle along with a couple dozen still embedded cactus spines.

Turns out, the toe of my right shoe had picked up a piece of dead cactus. As my right foot was swinging past my left leg to take the next step, there wasn't enough clearance. Motion and speed combined to pound a good sized chunk of cactus into my left inner ankle. When I finally calmed down and looked at the situation, it had me stymied. Obviously cactus spines are barbed. How deep did they go? do I yank them out? how? will it rip apart my leg? are there toxins? what if one breaks off in my skin? IT HURTS!

It's odd to be in a predicament and have no frame of reference whatsoever...in cycling, whether the offending article is a nail, a piece of glass, a spoke, a thorn or a pinch there are certain lists one tics through in one's head when repairing a flat. Works every time. Broken rear derailleur cable in hill country? I can get you three gears.

But this had me perplexed. Turns-out that putting one foot in front of the other, in spite of the fact that I've done it for the majority of my 47 years, can be more complicated than I thought.

- Ocriminy!B

There's No Place Like Home

Even when the vacation is short....

- The it's good Old to be Bag home

Hiking the White Tanks

- The Bag is goin' back tomorrow and this time I won't be wrestlin' with a @#$*!! cactus

Sulking

I barely rode outside all winter
I rode twice?
maybe twice
maybe more I don't remember
but fer-sure not much at all
because
this winter was damned cold
and everyone knows cold is supposed to be for skiing
until it got
warm....
then
cold again, but not just cold...it was cold
damned cold
snot-rockets-freeze-on-the-way-out cold
toes-only-good-for-a-half-hour cold
I-need-pogies-and-don't-have-them-because-it-doesn't-get-that-cold-here cold
but then
then it got farging warm
but not springlike warm, just melt-some-snow warm
and I was ticked because I don't want to be riding in the winter anyway
because winter is for skiing
except the skiing
sucked
because it was cold, warm, cold, warm, coldwarmcoldwarmcold
but if skiing is lousy then I'm happy to ride
happy
except when it's below 10
or 10 below
and I cried uncle
I guess
and so maybe I’ll take up
I don't know,
like crosswords or something
because now I'm all
waitingforwarmtemps then I'll ride
because last weekend we rode
thirty some miles in 60 sunny degrees
and I could smell
spring
I could smell it
and now I can't
but I could
and this week it's cold
~
again


- OB off pouting somewhere

Options and Future(s)

I've been fretting for months at the state of my retirement finances. During the last few downturns I was blissfully ignorant of all the racket -- heck, time was always on on my side. Markets always turned around. I've been up close and personal with dollar-cost-averaging combined with years. It works.

Now that I'm close enough to see the umbrella drinks on the horizon, however, I've become a bit more concerned. Retirement isn't somewhere off in the blurry distance, anymore. I want the flexibility to get out in 12 years when I'm 60. I want to be young enough to enjoy what comes later.

More importantly I need to know I'll have choices when I'm on the verge of becoming a cranky old bag occupying a classroom.

In my early years teaching I watched money run out at the end of each month while friends got ahead quickly in other fields. I've played the school district game of furthering my education time and time again so I could make some advances in pay. I've kept close tabs on all my in-n-out $$ for years, and have lived within my means. I can give you a run down of my expected expenses from now until infinity.

All I want is to be comfortable in the small house with the small yard...garden...dog...cats..... and to be able to jump on cheap travel deals.

Over the past couple of months I've tried hard to accept that I'll have to be working at 65 and that I won't have enough green to live the way I'd hoped. It's been eating away at my outlook.

So, yesterday I finally faced down all my accounts. I pulled up a variety of retirement calculators and couldn't get the numbers to play nice -- until I found a couple that dealt with a pension: that antiquated, noone-has-one-anymore, wonderful, glorious, I-love-teaching pension that may finally show me some financial payback for spending 40 years in a classroom.

Things aren't as bleak as I had thought.

-The Old I appreciate my job even more Bag

Harbinger

- OB! 60 and sunny didn't last for long, but the rasperry custard shake will be with me forever....

Woodland Trails

I wouldn't have even considered heading out to ski. Temps had been pretty sloppy, and when the back yard is a swamp, it's tough to imagine there are decent ski trails anywhere. If not for a buddy who is relentless in her quest for snow, I'd have missed this: snow as thick and well-set as a January trail.

March skiing is always a paradox...with temps in the 30s skis have great glide, but in the late season my fitness is always on the downslide. So, I kick back in my upright stance and yet find myself moving forward effortlessly. We stop. We chat. We remark on the day. We talk about the remembers: Oh god, do you remember two years ago when we skied here then headed off to that state park with the crazy scary classic trails? AND THE BREAD BAKERY down the steep concrete steps below old Main St? with the fresh-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookies?!

It's the skiing equivalent of the lazy slob who rides the expensive road bicycle.

Wasted potential.

But performance is the furthest thing from a March skier's mind. Training is done, racing is overwith, and one more day on the boards is everything hoped for.

-OB one more!