Coming up: Mice and men collaborate to lay the primo plans of cyclopravity, but a roiled time shall not be tamed! The grander the plans, the more epic the steps taken by our most dilatory fates. Will Adella recalculate her navigational path back to weekend or shall she strand against the seas of ambivalent blue-screens of death? Normal creeks in through the crevices of a half-ajar oriole. Can it possibly survive the (W)rights? Will there be litigation? Valerembricos the conditioning air-bot, pips her magic pipes and creates microclimates. Will the boreal boss-lady's office survive the penguins invasion? Will Adella's jungle-febrile swamp-bubble burst in a capri-flung delirium?
Gust up the fans and kit up your winter gear, if you dare brave the storms and frosts of answers lurking beneath.
Out-of-Sorts and the Semi-Sporadic Sunday -
The carefully laid plan. There was one. Not one of those idly tossed and cobbled little planlettes, but one based on weeks of scuttlebutt and bike buzz: Andrew was going to ride the North Cascades Highway today.
It was going to be a big deal, because... well it just was. Well, for one, it was going to take two hours to get to the starting point. It was going to have a crapton of elevation. And it would take four hours or so to bike (maybe more). And it was scheduled to start at 8:30, meaning Andrew had to leave the house around 6:30. Meaning, in turn, that our usual weekend morning routine was paling in favor of our usual week*day* routine.
At first it was also going to be this special optimal time to ride the mountain passes - after the snow had been cleared, but before cars were allowed back on to drive. A magical amusement park for cyclists to have their unhampered kicks and cadences. A lot of Andrew's teammates, and a coworker were thinking of going.
Best laid plans.
I guess the passes opened to traffic a little earlier than anticipated (on the preceding Thursday). And Andrew's teammates all went on Wednesday. Aaaaand up to today when - after we had both risen fiveish and breakfast was a slight sizzle and beep from finality - Andrew's sole remaining companion for the journey bowed out on the grounds of a canine-scale lurgy of some sort or other.
I too had plans. I don't like to give up my weekend mornings for much of anything, but there are some things that just work better early on a weekend morning. Like Winco. Good old "open 24 hours and starting to get hellish by 9:00 a.m. because rumors of those savings have drifted far north of the border by now" Winco. If the weekend morning with the loris is already shot, then I happily throw carp at that diem and take advantage of that morning sweet-spot. And - since it was clearly on our google calendar that it would be a lorisless weekend morning, I most definitely was going to get the jump on winco shopping. That was, admittedly, the big plan of the day. Otherwise, my ambitious plans consisted of "doing all the normal things I do while Andrew's out riding, but more of them and at a fuller bodied pace." I was going to prepare food, do chores, finish my book about the comically successful certifiable idiot Czech and his adventures in WW1, and take a long walk. But earlier in the day and for longer! After a 7:00 a.m. journey to the land of Winco.
Best laid plans.
Since Andrew's coworker was the last thing really driving (er, cycling) any priority for this particular weekend, Andrew quite immediately realized that in lieu of driving 4 total hours to bike on a road for the same total amount of time, he could hop outside our house on a bike and go scaling the Chuckanuts during what is already an exquisite day. No cars involved.
My initial reaction to his 5:30 a.m. announcement about his change of plan was not - I emphasize not - indicative of my vast affections for the man. Really. The echinodermal forehead pucker, that flash of betrayal in my plotting eyes, and the mutter of "Wait, you aren't going?? Well, I wish I hadn't already made breakfast then!!" Was really meant to say "oh that's such a great idea and I cherish the idea of having a little extra stolen time with you this auspicious aurora, dear husband - have some coffee and let's dine together!"
Really.
The fluster is just my introverted interpretation of Garmin's moderately passive-aggressive "Recalculating" when her charges go off-map in a flash of navigational rebellion. As I say, I don't like giving up my weekend mornings for anything. I also make plans and don't like to cancel those. So a classic battle in my brain 'twixt giving up on morning plans made in reliance of having no weekend morning to doff, and going with the flow with full delectation.
Of course breakfast was moderately problematic. We usually don't get to breakfast until a few hours after rising on a weekend morning (there are snacks with the coffee, of course but that isn't breakfast). I do maintain that there's some kind of Pavlovian trigger about finishing breakfast that causes the quiet (W)right morning to scatter into parallel play and rituals of "the day". I think maybe I hold breakfast as a hostage for our snuggle time.
I did briefly consider throwing breakfast out and insisting we have our full weekend couch/bed time in light of this new turn of events.
As we often do, we managed some compromises. Breakfast was eaten. We still, perhaps with some forced intent, fought the preconceptions of a post-prandial period by sitting on that darned couch for an hour or so after breakfast. And I went to Fred Meyer's at 7:30 instead of Winco at 7:00. All was, eventually, right in the (W)right home. As well it ought be.
Once upon a time, I really was an irksomely spontaneous sprat. Things change, apparently. But love endures...
In the end - between track getting rained out and the ride today going kersplunk - I'm actually quite grateful for this unforeseen eruption of normal into our weekend. As I gaze at the calendar for the next several weeks, we shan't have another for some time. Next weekend, we'll be in California for the MIL's big b-day bash. The weekend after that is the big Ski-to-Sea weekend. And the next two weekends after that I'll be playing auntie in New Jersey with boys who once delighted in my presence but have most likely forgotten all about me and will require thorough initiation rites (probably involving the heavy consumption of toddler spittle and fluffernutter sandwiches to succeed) to reestablish my harried but happy connection to the blokes. All of which are exciting, but I'm glad I get one last relaxed time to savor before summer bangs us about.
And as normal unfurls its pulchrous tentacles, the bike-and-chain is off on some bicycle somewhere on some mountains. And it is time, I tell you, for vegetables to be chopped, diced, prepped and processed (I find that instead of blanching my veggies, I need only threaten them with my savage intents, and they blanch themselves in fear!). Look out crudites. I am coming for you!
Monday Monkeys in May Madness Bring on a/c and the Claritin
We have a new android in the office. An embonpoint little lady with a long tail. Her name is (as of two seconds ago and subject to change) is Valerembricos. Val appears to be doggedly dedicated to "regulating" temperatures in said office. Or at least in my mom's corner of it. My alternate theory is that Val exists to blow varying degrees of uncomfortable breeze on clients in an attempt to make certain clients more anxious to efficiently breeze (har har) through their appointments.
But in theory, this may be a godsend come the summer weather, since our office oven-bakes in temperate climes of early spring and gives traditionalistic Hades a run for its money closer to the equinox. So far, I am pretty sure that my "cool evening air" is beating out the a/c, but suspect the balance of that will be tipped rather soon. Of course, being at the other end of the office, I don't really expect to garner much direct benefit from Valerembricos' gusty gelidity.
But Leslie, who turns the heat on in the midst of May and has been wandering around in a coat during our recent spell of warm weather... I am expecting that she shall officially need a Parka for our dalliances in the boss-lady's office.
Or a robe. Per prior discussion, both she and I are of the ilk to pour ourselves into slippers and fuzzy things immediately upon returning home. I've even recently brought slippers to the office for times when I'm off the treadmill, though I've yet to have opportunity to wear them in this uptick in warmth.
I'm thinking that it's high time that Englettlaw take Casual Friday to its logical conclusions: Pajama Party MONDAY!!! WHOOOOO! Monday is technically the day that we have no court and try not to take appointments. In fact in the legal world, Monday is often the surrogate for Friday's sartorial laxity.
Perhaps we could crank Val up to arctic and add in some hot cocoa during our case status meeting... just a thought...
As the A/C Churns A Melodrama in Twenty Parts
Yesterday was our trial run on the old air conditioning unit. And by "old" I affectionately mean "brand spanking new, but after two days of hearing tale of it and witnessing its frothy boreal bloviations, I feel like we're family." As predicted: (1) my office remained slightly shy of Satan's sauna; (2) Leslie wandered around in a warm coat and had her heat on in the office for a good chunk of the morning; (3) this morning, I'm working in my running capris and shirt, as the mom-boss concocts her devious schemata for a series of highly calculated fan-a/c-air-delivery tunnels.
Ok, really I'm in my workout clothes because I'm lazy and planning to do a short run this morning before it heats up outside. They're predicting upper 70's today (and whenever the temperatures get it in their minds to stretch, they often exceed the predictions by a comfortable margin), which is usually time for office-agony, so it will be interesting to gauge any improvements garnered by turning my mother's office into a walk-in freezer.
If nothing else has come of this air conditioning experiment, I have cozened a lovely bit of pelf: my mom doesn't need her desk fan somehow, so it's now perched awkwardly on my bookshelf and piping in my direction.
For the interim, I am just as happy that our YMCA A-Team (the Azita, Adella, Aragaraconiselcius version before the A&A (W)right reboot) gym explosion has been on hiatus. Though the top floor exercise rooms are actually climate controlled, the lower decks are reliant on anemic fans and unreliable window-breezes. Add the pool below and the exudations of several grunting brobdignagians, and things get a bit stewy in the exercise room (possibly slow-cooker-goulashey once the temps exceed about 50).
Yes, hiatus. Routines are such delicate little creatures. Especially when exercise is involved. Especially when that exercise happens to be in the middle of a work day for everyone involved. Destabilize the scheduling equilibrium just a touch with a missed day here or there and suddenly all your habits have evaporated! Since I've started doing pilates on Mondays, I don't usually want to do the upper body machines on Tuesdays. And I'd just as soon run outside earlier in the day while the weather's good. And Azita just had a spell of crazy work in March, a trip in April and a series of us missing each other for work events into May. Since I've got my own trip coming up... well. I've been popping in at the YMCA around our scheduled meet up time, sticking around for a few minutes to see if a workout buddy is in sight and then heading back to work long before the occasional arrival of a work harried companion may be marked. Maybe it's time to reschedule for a reboot in fall or something.
Pilates! So far that has really been sticking. Helps that my mom and I work together, so it's a lot easier to guarantee the appropriate social pressure and routine that gets people to a destination.
I've also decided that as an introverted person most inclined to flee home as soon as humanly possible, I do better when I have one or two regularly scheduled outside-world-interactions, and best when they are centered around a common activity. I don't even need to make friends in some profound way. Just be around people and have familiar faces with a shared sense of personal investment.
Last week, I wrote a little bit about watching my friends make the huge transition to parentage and how it can feel like watching your friends go off to high school while you're still in eighth grade. But there is also a pretty substantial life change that comes with "getting married" (or at least getting into an enduring long-term relationship). The same drive to get out diminishes. You have this sense of home and intimacy and all those other goodies right at hand. You're also suddenly juggling another person's calendar in making decisions about yours. And you know that it's important to keep it fresh by doing new things and working on yourself and taking risks, but the craving for basic human connection isn't as visceral. And that visceral libido (in the grander sense of the word) for connection can be a powerful enervating force. So I have to remind myself (again and again and again) to venture out from my cozy little domicile and maybe bribe or extort myself a lot more than I used to in days of singlehood. And needs have to be met from a variety of sources. So that getting out nonsense is important.
My ongoing action plan to meet these needs is to try to keep up some kind of regular meet-up with friends (hard because their lives require a certain level of flexibility and spontaneity that isn't always easy for me to muster in my entrenched hermitey planning brain), get back to my monthly dance commitments, have a once a week physical activity, and stay involved in a professional organization (being on the board of the Whatcom Collaborative Professionals). I'm trying to add a regular volunteer commitment as well. I have an interview with the Whatcom Dispute Resolution Center to talk about how I might help out there in about a week. Hell even going to the same restaurant once a week and being a regular gives a sense of self otherwise absent.
But for now, I'll hide in my office cave in various stages of undress and only "go out" when clients are nearby to witness my new level of "professionalism" while Leslie gathers her snow suit and mittens.
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