Karen & Dave's Not-So-Excellent Adventure
Friday, August 12, 2011
Let me start off by saying that I'm totally thankful for getting nominated for my first ever popular blog post (the Onederland one), and I'm so grateful to everyone here at SP for the constant support. I really write these blogs as sort of a stream of consciousness thing and I'm frequently an idiot, so the fact that people are interested in and enjoy my lunatic manifestos is extremely appreciated.
That said, today was an interesting day. I took a vacation day from work with the intention of taking a long bike ride, and we did. Sort of. We got to the trail around noon but the heat/humidity was actually pretty tolerable today, so our fear of melting was pretty minimal. Off we went. We got less than a half mile before Dave was like, "Hm, something doesn't feel right with my tire. I'm going to put some air in it." Off we went...again. At about the five mile mark he said that he needed to put air in it again, that I should just go ahead. And I did. I went about another five miles before I started to get concerned that he hadn't caught up (if he wanted to catch up, he definitely could - this was mostly all uphill so it took forever to go those five miles).
At the ten mile mark I turned around. I hadn't gone far at all before I saw him coming the other way, so he turned around with me and started the ride back. Then...BOOM. His tube blew completely. He replaced it. Literally a few feet later...BOOM. His replacement tube blew. This left him basically stranded, since he was carrying our only replacement tube. That meant walking the 9.5 miles back to our car. Let me tell you, walking that far while pushing a bike is not a fun experience. Add in the fact that for the one time in my life I had forgotten to hose my pasty Irish skin down with sunblock and it was a recipe for disaster. You know those movies where you see people staggering across the desert, trying not to fall down? That was pretty much what I assume it looked like. It takes a LOT longer to walk 9.5 miles than it does to bike them. Seeing my car in the distance is seriously one of my happiest moments in recent history. By the time we got our bikes loaded up it was well after 5PM. To say that we were beaten would be an understatement. Granted I burned close to 2000 calories according to my HRM, but I'd rather have done it pretty much any other way.
All I really wanted to do was go to bed and sleep until Monday morning, but I had made plans to meet some friends for dinner at a place called Cadillac Ranch (we're not country fans, but they have a mechanical bull that we enjoy watching drunk people fall off of). While I was getting dressed and since I was feeling physically unbeatable after my ride/walk, I decided to try on the Dress of Sadness again. For anyone who might be new, the Dress of Sadness is a little black dress that I ordered for my brother's wedding in June. When it arrived it was considerably smaller than expected, leading me to believe that whoever labeled the dress either made a huge mistake or is extremely cruel and thinks that mis-marking dresses/causing meltdowns is hilarious. The fact that this thing is marked XXL is, to quote Michael Ian Black, so mindblowing that it blows my mind all over my face. I had to buy a (second) new dress.
I decided that even though I'd have been absurdly overdressed, if DoS fit I would not only wear it to dinner, but I'd ride the mechanical bull in it. It's easy to make those kinds of brave statements when you know that there isn't a chance in hell that the thing is going to zip. Needless to say, the DoS still doesn't fit. It really doesn't even feel like I'm making any progress toward being able to zip it, which is crazy since everything else I own is getting much bigger. Yet the dress stays the same. Maybe it's some kind of haunted dress that was created with the express purpose of driving the potential wearer to the brink of madness. I don't know. I think next time I try it on will be around Christmas.
Also fun...when I walked into the restaurant my friend J - who was born and raised outside of Boston and has never been one to mince words - took one look at me and yelled, "Holy *expletive*! Your white *expletive* looks like a lobstah!" Apparently my sunburn is pretty bad. And I came home to find that Dave ate the sorbet I had been planning to eat tonight. I had literally been thinking about this sorbet all day, which may not be healthy but after the day I had I feel totally justified. I settled for microwave popcorn instead.
So yeah, awesome day.