Thursday, May 22, 2008

Fantasy Island

So I've been mountain biking for a little over a year now. And there is a "famous" trail here in Tucson, called Fantasy Island. And I've ridden that trail multiple times (including the "bunny trail" which should be renamed the "boring trail" just so you know). There are some sweet spots on the trail, including one called The Shaft. There is a caution sign right before the descent that shows a biker flying off of his crashing bike, and a vulture flying overhead. Some enterprising biker slapped an Air Evac sticker to the bottom of the sign. So that's the setting for the subject of today's post.

Before you watch the classic film I've posted below, I want to say for the record that I have successfully ridden down The Shaft several times. That said, check out the video:

Yes, I clung to my bike as if it weren't crashing to the ground. If this video is any indication, this girl would have stuck with the Titanic till the bitter end. In my defense, I have crashed before this and always managed to lessen the fall by ditching my bike somewhere between the upright position and the ground. Oh, and that male voice: that's The Rock right before he came to my aid and sympathized with me (he happens to have similar wounds on his arms too from last week's ride on the same trail. BUT he was attempting a Sweet jump at the time.)

This is my biggest crash. But just as there is shame in the fall, there is glory in the injuries. (thankfully they are all "merely flesh wounds." Another testament to the fact that prayers are answered and that helmets and biking glasses are worn for a reason.)

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

In which a compliation of Moo's emails are set forth

An email from Moo, sent to Lu at 9am today:

It's raining today, and I'm throwing a Sherbert Cake party at 8, and
would you and Em like to come?
The Fiancé is coming home tonight too. Yay!
Cake! Fiancé! friends!
Ok. I go now. I forgot my camera today, or I would send you pictures of the Oscar Meyer Wiener truck that was parked across the street from the Pizza Place last night. A kid in a Scooby Doo costume, (fake head and ALL) showed up at the end. It was great.

Today is Declare Your Own Holiday Day.
Mine is...Sherbert Cake Day.
We can throw it again next week so you won't be left out.



Your Koobish (see )

My chest feels all tight and woolly when I breathe really deep. I think I have pneumonia, and boy aren't I glad I paid attention in fourth grade spelling at Franklin. Now I can finally play Invalid, with Wane Cheeks (wheeeeze.....wheeeeeze) And you can bring me white roses from the fields, and Mother, standing in the door will notice the contrast between her sturdy elder daughter with the rosy countenance, and will then look at her thin, skeleton-like younger daughter, and weep without consolation into her apron---for I am doomed to death.

The End. (but say it sad, or it won't work right. none of these exuberant THE ENDS today.)

Good thing I'm going to make the Sherbert Cake of Wellness. Of course this requires walking through the rain and cold wind to get to the grocery store, but bah.

Love you Loo!

you (or Meg) may have my green box with the doves on it if I die.


[Editor's note: Did everybody follow that? If not, skip to the post o' pictures just below this one. It's pretty straightforward. This is the kind of goodness that comes in email form from Moo to brighten my day. I just love that girl! --Lu]

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Seeing the forest AND the trees

I was looking at a drawing book today on the bus during my morning commute. The guy next to me is covertly checking out what I'm looking at (I know, because I do it too when someone next to me is reading, so I know all the "signs and symptoms"). Finally, after seeing me flip through several pages on how to draw really great trees he says, "So, are you learning to be an architect?" -- Lu

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Elevator Encounter

Where I work, there are public bathrooms on every floor of the building. The problem with the first floor bathroom is that it is public. And there is a lot of Public using it every day. (It doesn't
help that the color scheme is brown and yellow). People, employees and Public alike, have been known to head to another floor to take advantage of the not so well used bathrooms. It also doesn't help that sometimes, usually at the most inconvenient times, the bathrooms are closed for cleaning.

Yesterday, I went to the first floor to drop something off. I got on an elevator to go back to my floor, when two little girls jumped on the elevator with me. The doors closed, and they hadn't pushed a button for a floor so I asked, "Where are you going?" (my idea being that I would push the button for them). They responded, "To the bathroom!" Me: "Yeah, but what floor?" Them: "Up!" Me (in my mind): "Oh brother." They got out with me, because I suggested it, and then I
directed them to the bathroom (they walked right by it, so I guess they couldn't read)--they finally made it in the right door after three different attempts by me to point out the correct door. As an afterthought I yelled after them, "To get back down, push 1." I hope they made it back down without too much trouble...

Friday, May 2, 2008

Frootie O's and Mountain Goats

One time when I visited Moo, we were poor. For entertainment we
walked to the grocery store and bought a box of frootie o's for $1.
Then we sat on the balcony of her apartment (which overlooked the
parking lot) and made froot loop necklaces. The yarn or string, or
whatever you use gets a little sticky after you start eating the o's
off of it. Lately, as I've walked down the cereal isle, I've wanted
to buy some frootie o's and make necklaces. Does Spring make you
nostalgic too?

On Friday Husband (can I just call him, The Rock? It's cooler, it's
more accurate...and it's cooler). The Rock took me on a night hike in
a canyon. Now, the sun was still setting when we arrived, but by the
time we headed back we had to use flashlights (we tried NOT using
flashlights, but at some point it became ridiculous). Best part: the
little bitty frogs that were hanging out in the pseudo-stream (it
wasn't really running water, but in the desert, I take what I can
get). Once the sun set, they started bleating up a storm. Bleating.
Not ribbit ribbit ribbit. No. These guys are more like mountain
goats. No matter. I've never experienced that before--frog noises in
the dark dark dark. It was quite an experience. (Plus, we caught one
mid bleat with the beam of our flashlight so I could see his little
bubbly throat expand and contract with each Maaaa).--Lu