Pedaling in the Precip

They should change the name of the ride to RAINBRAI.

I don't know why I would be shocked or surprised or caught unawares or anything by the fact it has rained nearly every day of the Register's Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa this year -- given our pathetic luck with the weather during the past six months or so.

I don't think I'm even shocked that my husband, the 100-miles-on-his-birthday-wacko, wanted to get up at 5 a.m., drive an hour an a half to Tama, get on his bike there and ride 75 miles with thousands of other similarly "unique" folks. In a downpour.

He'll end up in North Liberty (we desperately hope), where the tour is overnighting it. Then I guess, since I'll be working, he'll ride a few more miles home. In the rain (according to the forecast, which has been surprisingly spot-on this week).

And then there was some talk we'd take Henry up to NL tonight to catch the carnival-like festivities that accompany this annual ride, including a set by a fantastic Zydeco band from New Orleans. (You know what's coming)...In the rain.

Right now, I'm nervously counting down the hours until I hear Tim is safe and sound, fed and dry, and not hydroplaning into a muddy ditch at 25 miles an hour.

Our last words to him as we closed our car doors and sent him on his way this morning: "Be careful. Have fun."

And, Henry added, mimicking me from a few minutes before when I thought he wasn't listening:

"Don't die."

Edited to add: I want to make it clear that, despite my merciless teasing that may suggest otherwise, I am immensely proud that my husband is so dedicated, determined and passionate about his many interests -- cycling being just one of them. Wanted to point that out...just in case anyone hears grumblings later...

Comments

Holy Separated-At-Birth, Batman!

Gary Oldman...meet Uncle Knit-Knots from Imagination Movers.

Hair

This has become the age-old question...Why do men hate short hair on women? I've been thinking about this a lot because my current style, an angled bob, requires a bunch of fussing every morning to get it to do anything. My favorite haircut of all time, as far as ease of care, was my pixie cut. I loved that I could wash it, gel it, and be done. No blow drying or flattening or curling. Just gel and go. Very sporty. I thought it looked cute. My husband has another opinion. The longer the better is his motto. Thing is, my hair becomes an unruly, tangled, nappy mop when it gets long. If I had all the time in the world and Jennifer Aniston's budget, I'd be more than happy to grow it long and have others style it every day. In real life, I guess I'd rather go for comfort and convenience. And if you ask me, I think the pixie is dang cute. I suspect heterosexual men aren't hot on short hair, in general, because it's too much like their own hair. No matter how much jewel

Ho, Ho, Ho, How Many Times Can I Use "I'm too busy" as an Excuse?

I haven't had time to write. Work, swim meet volunteering, holiday decorating and shopping. But truthfully, I've not been in much of a mood to write anything anyway. Last night we put up the tree and Santa chachkies, and I drank my first egg nog of the season, so perhaps I'll be in a cheerier mood. Also, I have spent some time writing the annual Schoon holiday newsletter. If you happen to get a copy, treat it like a drinking game. Every time I make you roll your eyes, take a drink. Nog, wassail, Everclear. Whatever gets you through. One sure way to assist with merriment motivation is listening to Christmas carols. I'm not going to get into a debate over what truly constitutes a carol. You can "Jesus is the reason for the season" yourself until you turn blue; I generally lean toward the secular end of the holiday tune spectrum. And if you just gasped at my use of holiday instead of Christmas, go suck on a candy cane. It's my blog and my opinions. Deal.

WanderingAmylessly 2.0

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