BRAG Day Two.....

Today may have been a record. We left camp right at 6:30, our standard starting time, but we got into camp at 11:45. We almost never get in that early. It was only 51 miles, but they were tough miles.

High Points:

Hitting 40 mph going down a hill on the tandem. I was just going to let us coast, but then I looked down and saw we were doing 39.9. Oh heck no, that can't happen. So I jumped on the pedals (requiring Katydid to jump also), and we went over 40.

Being at the lunch stop at 9:20.

Watching kids play on a slip-n-slide right outside our RV.

Seeing members of Team Ocissus Via (Roadkill) in their tuxedo cycling jerseys. I am going to try to get a picture this week of some of their decorated roadkill.

Having air conditioned shuttle buses to take us downtown and to restaurants. And to Wally World.

Getting my hair cut at Wally World. After a year of trying to grow it out, I said "screw it." I love it. Getting a haircut on BRAG is definitely a first.

Going downtown to listen to a band. We had roasted corn and Italian ice. This was after dinner, but we had that at 4:00, so it was time to eat again.

Low Points:

Hill #1.

Hill #2.

Hill #3.

Hill to infinity.

Six miles of shake-n-bake pavement. With hills.

BRAG Day One.....

We left camp this morning at around 6:30. Today's route was either 59 miles (according to the bike computer), 58 miles (according to the GPS on the back of the bike), or 57 miles (according to the lying route map. We got into camp at 12:33, pretty early for us. It got hot toward the end and very windy, two of the things we hate the most on a bicycle.

High points:

(Probably not for Katydid.) Watching Katydid put a packet of fruit punch mix into her coffee because she thought it was creamer. I didn't really watch her do it, or I would have stopped her. Probably. And I didn't even laugh, but I wanted to.

Riding past Atlanta Motor Speedway, on a road that runs along the back of it. BRAG asked that they allow the bicyclists to come and ride a lap around the speedway, but they wanted $6500 for the privilege. What's up with that?

Going downtown to listen to a couple of bands. The first one was pretty good, the second one not so much. But it was free, so I shouldn't complain.

Breaking the speed limit on the tandem. The posted speed limit was only 35 mph, and we were going 35.3, but that is a clear violation. I wish we had gotten a ticket.

Hearing from my nephew that he's planning to come see us on the ride later in the week.

Getting a sweet text message from Gus. That's right, the dog. It was the sweetest thing ever. I would post it here, but my phone is charging.

Low point:

Hearing THAT SCREECHING VOICE not only at a rest stop today, but also at the restaurant where we decided to eat dinner tonight. Out of all the places to eat in town, we had to choose the one where the beeyotch was eating.

Tomorrow is ONLY 51 miles. I think there are some killer hills, though.

Good night.

BRAG Day Zero........

I try not to make my blog a "this is what I did today" diary-type thing, but this next week will have to be an exception. I will try valiantly not to bore you with the minutiae, but this will probably be nothing more than a day-by-day account of BRAG. It's the first complete BRAG I've done since I started my blog in '08, so at least you won't have heard it all before. Maybe.

Day Zero is in some ways harder than the rest of the week. Okay, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. Katydid and I help the BRAG folks work registration on Day Zero, and unlike SOME PEOPLE who shall remain anonymous but may or may not include a beeyotch with whom I used to work and only deign to work part of the day, Katydid and I stick it out for the whole noon-to-6:00 process. I started off handing out meal tickets, possibly the easiest job around, and Katydid handled people who had pre-registered but were too stupid to sign the waiver.

Then I moved over to handle route and private vehicle permits, not to be confused with parking permits for people who are leaving their cars at this school for the whole week. It's unusual this year that the ride is a loop, beginning and ending in the same place. Easier logistics for the most part, but some people don't like the loop format. They BY GOD want to ride ACROSS Georgia just like the name implies. Someone asked today why the numbers were down so much. I replied, "Some people don't like the loop ride. Some people don't have jobs."

The reason today is harder than the rest of the week is mainly that it involves dealing with people. People who don't follow directions, refuse to read their packet of information, want their t-shirts (or jerseys or route permits or meal tickets or any number of other conveniences) RIGHT NOW!! For the rest of the week, all we have to do is ride. Fifty-seven miles of physical activity in 90-degree heat is something I can do. Being nice to people who act stupid? Not so much.

We had a bad couple of hours last night about the RV. The generator cranked beautifully, but we had no electricity. No air conditioning. What we had was a big-ass tent that we didn't have to put up and take down. But Hubby and I had the same thought, and we got up this morning and figured out how to work the electricity. The air conditioner is running even as we speak, and it's time to go to dinner.

Life is good.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do......

I have been trying to think of a tactful way to break up with my hairdresser. I know that in a perfect, professional world I would just say to her, "It's not working for me anymore. I'd like to try someone new. No hard feelings."

I just can't bring myself to do it. This is not the big city here; we are definitely small town. As in she had her shop in her house, back before she and her husband lost everything. How in the world do I break up with a hairdresser who has lost her home, her business, her husband's business, some other property, and was forced to move into her daughter's basement? How do I break up with the hairdresser when I taught that same daughter when she was in the 9th grade?

She works in the cafeteria of one of the middle schools in the mornings and does hair in the afternoons. Working in the cafeteria, particularly in a middle school, is a thankless job. And she does it for no money. By the time they take out for her insurance, her paycheck is in the neighborhood of 50 cents. I'm NOT exaggerating this time. She said sometimes she doesn't even cash the checks. Granted she only works that job BECAUSE it has benefits, but still.

On top of her personal problems, she's a nice person. And a good hairdresser. Most of her clientele, however, are little old ladies who come in for a wash and set every week, then a perm every month or so. She does the same thing for them every time they come in, and they love her for it. Since she lost her own place, she has moved to a fairly busy salon where the other stylists are similar and the clients are the same little old ladies.

She's not big on innovation. It's time to have the natural blond put back in my hair (again), and already I'm dreading it. I would like for her to use foils to highlight my hair, but she told me once a long time ago that she hated doing foil and that she isn't very good at it. How do I ask her to use foil when I know she doesn't like it? And is that a good enough reason to go somewhere else?

I get the feeling that her heart isn't in hairdressing anymore, and I know she is completely demoralized by the recent turn of events in her life. She might even be relieved if some of us start going someplace else, but how do I know? I really, really don't want to risk hurting her feelings. I would shave my head before I would hurt her feelings.

Ugh. Reason #4687109583 I wish I were a man.

Good to Be Home......

As wonderful as it is to go away on vacation, it is equally awesome to come back home. I will go through my pictures later (probably after BRAG, when most of you will have forgotten that I ever WENT on a cruise.....) and post any that are decent.

There are some things I will miss about the cruise, and some things I won't.

I WILL miss having a stateroom steward make up the bed for me. Twice every day.

I WILL NOT miss the screaming "little bastards" who ran up and down the halls at night. I bought a stateroom on that level because I thought people with little kids wouldn't spend that kind of money!

I WILL miss the buffets.

I WILL NOT miss the constant swaying and dipping of the ship. This was our fourth cruise, and I don't remember the seas being that rough before. And uh..... could it please stop now that I'm back on land? Please?

I WILL miss the sparkling, clear, blue waters of the Caribbean.

I WILL NOT miss the "balcony" on which we had to squeeze past our chairs just to sit down. I'm thinking this particular cruise line, the one with the big red and blue whale tail at the end of the ships, is guilty of serious false advertising.

I WILL miss the towel animals we found on our bed every night. Only on the last night could we agree on what the animal really was. And it was NEVER a scorpion, no matter what Hubby says.

I WILL NOT miss the loud-mouthed dude who sat next to me at the poker table last night. I seriously almost put on my teacher voice to ask him, "DO. YOU. EVER. SHUT. UP?????" Instead I just relinquished my seat (and stack of chips) to Hubby.

I WILL miss the drink of the day.

I WILL NOT miss Trevor the Cruise Director.

I WILL miss the look on Hubby's face when he tasted Curried Chilled Apple Soup. Followed closely by the look on his face when at first the waiter served him a bowl that was empty except for a thimbleful of apples in the bottom of it.

I WILL NOT miss taking a big old forkful of mayonnaise, thinking it was some sort of pudding that Nurse Jane had brought for Hubby.

I WILL miss naps. Several of them every day.

I WILL NOT miss the wind. Lots of it.

I WILL miss having Hubby bring me a cup of coffee every morning.

I WILL NOT miss $3.95 bottles of water in the stateroom.

I WILL miss the beautiful beach on Half Moon Cay.

I WILL NOT miss the crowds in Nassau, precipitated by the fact that there were FIVE STINKIN' CRUISE SHIPS IN PORT AT THE SAME FREAKIN' TIME.

I WILL miss one cab driver being thrown off the property at the Atlantis resort in Nassau because he couldn't provide the proper documentation that he was registered. Even though it was a little aggravating to have to hoist ourselves out of his taxi. The same officer who threw him off the property welcomed him back with a handshake when he showed up ten minutes later with his paperwork all squared away.

I WILL NOT miss the parade of private yachts that cruised past us while we were in port in Nassau, generating supreme bitterness and causing me to make obscene gestures at the people in those yachts, when they hadn't really done anything to me personally.

I WILL miss the relaxation. And the sunrises.




Next week when it is 90 degrees outside and I am riding a bicycle across Georgia, I will try to remember standing at the railing (of our microscopic balcony) and how the cool breezes felt.

BRAG #19........

This is the last night of our cruise, and as soon as I get home it will be time to turn my attention to BRAG, the annual Bicycle Ride Across Georgia. You will also get a break from being reminded every night that I'm on a cruise. And you're not.

As soon as I can locate the text of the article I wrote about my experiences (without retyping it in its entirety, because that's way too much trouble even for someone with my amazing typing skills), I will post it here. Then you can skip it if you want to.

I was packing for BRAG today, because I will only have one day between returning from the cruise and leaving for BRAG. Yes I am aware how retarded that timing is, but it is what it is.

I was thinking as I was packing how different that is from packing for most trips.

Each outfit consists of a pair of cycling shorts (sufficiently padded), a jersey, sports bra (hopefully in a coordinating color, even though no one else is supposed to see it except the EMT's), cycling gloves, and a bandanna.

I assemble each ensemble (I just had to say those words together), and I pack each one in a separate gallon-sized ziplock bag. That is left over from the days when we used the baggage truck, and if it rained your bags got thrown out to get wet. We learned to pack everything in plastic. Now we don't use the baggage truck, but packing each outfit in a ziplock bag makes it easier to keep the outfits together so I don't have to dig around in a duffel bag looking for the coordinating pieces. Katydid and I have to decide each night which outfit we are going to wear the next day. It is a law of tandem riding that the captain and stoker must match. Most tandem couples are married, but that's beside the point. We still follow the Tandem Riders Must Match Rule.

This may sound crazy, but when I go to the shower when we get in from riding, I wear my cycling clothes into the shower. I keep them on while I wash my hair, and then I take them off to bathe. They don't get clean by a long shot, but at least they get rinsed enough that they are no longer considered hazardous materials. If you ever walk around a BRAG camp in the late afternoon, you will see cycling clothes hung from fences, trees, bicycle racks, and porch railings. If they don't have time to dry because of the extreme humidity, they go back into their plastic bags, which is another good use for them.

We also have to pack "regular" clothes for the week of BRAG, since the very first thing we want to do after we shower is head to dinner. We always remark that we would NEVER go out to eat at home looking the way we do on BRAG. We have funky tan lines, our t-shirts and shorts may match (but just as likely don't), we are wearing hospital-type bracelets that make us look like we have escaped en masse from a mental institution, and it's rare that any of the women have on make-up. Some do, and we hate their guts. We pretty much take over a town, and sometimes the restaurants are prepared for us and sometimes they aren't. I've seen BRAG riders start busing tables, and it's not uncommon for riders who don't know each other to sit together in a restaurant, particularly if it will speed up the service.

I have veered away from the packing topic, but it's my blog.

The "regular" clothes don't have the same stipulations that the cycling clothes do, though. They are not our best clothes, and in fact I have known some people to say they pack their rattiest t-shirts and shorts for BRAG, and they throw them away as they go instead of packing them. I don't go to that extreme, but I'm not very picky about what I take for my "regular" clothes. My entire wardrobe for the week usually consists of several t-shirts (most of them from previous BRAG rides) and the same couple pairs of shorts. It's usually around 4:00 or 5:00 before we are showered and dressed to go out to dinner, and we are typically in bed by 8:00, so it's not like we spend a lot of time in non-cycling clothes.

Some items I have to take on BRAG but don't have to worry about on other trips (not including specific cycling items): flashlight, bicycle cover for the tandem, lock, fanny pack, clothespins, a power strip to charge the multitude of electronics we consider essential these days, ear plugs.

And some things we won't have to worry about this year: sleeping bag, pillow, tent fan, eye mask. We are taking the RV, and my dear friend Rozmo is going to drive it to the next town each day (I hope I hope I hope I hope I hope).

I. Can't. Wait.

My Former Step-Daughter.....

While you are reading this post I am probably finishing up dinner on the cruise ship. Not a fair trade, but that's the way I roll.

In a previous wifetime, I had a step-daughter who was only 6 years younger than I. We were friends of a sort, mainly because she wasn't the kind of person you could afford to have anywhere but close by your side. Certainly you didn't want her behind your back.

I tried to fit in with their lifestyle, really I did. I just couldn't sustain it.

I'm not going to be too specific with details, because I don't know how technically savvy she is, and she would be more than happy to come and cut my throat for me. Even after all this time.

She got married the first time at 17. Her mother was wise enough to refuse to sign allowing her underage daughter to get married, but her father (my ex) was far from wise, and he signed. That marriage lasted right around a year.

Then she married the ex-husband of a friend of hers. Apparently the "friend" couldn't stand being married to the guy, but she thought he might be good enough for her friend. But before that marriage took place, my step-daughter got pregnant. On purpose. She named him after her husband's father and her own father, and she called him by his initials. That's a popular thing here in the South. Perhaps in other parts of the country too; I'm not sure.

Side note: Hubby's father ONLY had initials. Hubby says they were too poor to afford a whole name.

Side note #2: My uncle's brother ONLY had initials too. When he went into the Army, they said he couldn't have just initials, and they made up names for him.

I don't remember how long marriage #2 lasted. She ran away from home, took her son and hooked up with some other dude, and they moved to Florida. When she had pawned all their possessions and still ran out of money, she came home.

Marriage #3 was to another ex-husband of a friend, or at least an acquaintance. I don't remember how long that one lasted either.

Marriage #4 also resulted in divorce. The papers were drawn up, and she went to serve them on her husband herself. In her words, "I made sure I was looking FINE when I went to serve them papers." That's the night her second child was conceived.

When the baby was born, she gave him the same last name as her first child, which was the name of husband #2, even though he had nothing at all to do with this child. In her words again, "I ain't gonna have a bunch of kids with different last names like some kind of trash." She was decent enough to give her son her father's name as his MIDDLE name. Apparently it isn't trashy to have children with numerous fathers; it's the LAST NAMES being different that makes you trashy. Thank all that is holy she had her tubes tied when that child was born.

She married for the 5th time after her father and I divorced. That was before she turned 30. I don't know if they are still married, but I had a friend look up her son's info on the county school database a couple of weeks ago because I'm nosy like that. Husband #5 is on the list of people NOT allowed to pick her middle school son (the one with the stupid names) up from school.

I went out with her a few times when she was between husbands. Once when I went to pick her up, she discovered her tire was flat. She was convinced that one of her losers had slit her tire on purpose, never considering that it might have JUST BLOWN OUT or something. So she went looking for him. We found him in a bar we had both been to a number of times, and she proceeded to make a huge scene. The man who asked us to leave and escorted us to the door had been one of Sweet Girl's t-ball coaches.

How. Em. Barr. Ass. Ing.

She knew her father's flaws, but she tried her damnedest to be just like him. He had the little man's syndrome, acting like a billy bad ass, and she was/is just like him. She told me on a number of occasions that she didn't know why I stayed with him. On the night he went particularly crazy and shot up our house (we weren't home), she said to me on the phone, "You've got to leave that bastard. He's crazy!"

It's strange to me that in all these years that Hubby and I have been married, I have never run into this demon girl. I mean, it's a small town. We only have one Wally World, and isn't there where I would be most likely to see her?

Shudder.

If you stumble across this blog and recognize yourself, rest assured that I AM NOT TALKING ABOUT YOU. Isn't it amazing the coincidences that occur in this world?