Cycling Vancouver to Calgary Revisited

Lately I've noticed that I've been getting a lot of hits from people searching "cycling from Vancouver to Calgary". I posted my essay on my own trip here and here, so I won't repeat myself, but I figured I'd let you know that I used this company to tour with. I don't see the same trip being offered right now on the web site but their other tours look pretty cool. Also, you should know that cycling such a distance really REALLY hurts. That's all. Good luck.

Head in the Sand

Many of you are starting to bore me. It's not your content per se, but your lack of content. Most of the mainstay blogs that I read aren't publishing a heck of a lot these days. Even worse, very few are commenting on my half-assed efforts to stay afloat in the blogasphere. It's that immediate validation of my work that keeps me motivated to write more, I must confess. This has led me to stray, and explore new avenues. The problem is, I'm an escapist. As an escapist, I avoid bad news to the best of my ability. I scan the headlines for stories that won't send my brain screaming into an abyss of depression, and weed out the ones that will. That's probably irresponsible on some level, but it's how I cope. It's how I keep my spirits high. It's how I manage to be somewhat of a fun parent to my kids. Blindly searching out new blogs does not give me a chance to avoid the terrible stories, as I don't know that I'm embarking on one until I'm already knee-deep in it. The people who post these stories are in their right to do so. I actually believe that it is important to share with others in the same boat who may benefit from knowing that there are people who understand. I believe it is therapeutic for the author's themselves to spill their guts and face their own traumas and experiences. I don't know if I'm suppressing issues deep from within myself, or if I'm just cold hearted, but within ten minutes, I managed to read about rape, domestic violence, and a dead child, and now am either ready to start drinking or seek out a life coach. Is it wrong that I run instead of reflect? I want to be an empathetic person, and I believe that I am on some levels, but I often wonder, for the most part, if I'm just being an asshole.

I Give Up

Both my kids were in bed before 7pm tonight. I knew ahead of time that Pumpkin would be tired. Camp does a great job at using up every last scrap of her energy, which is good, except for me, who has a few daylight hours of Pumpkin left between picking her up and tucking her in. These are typically playful hours, peppered with moments of psychological warfare. Chichi is either reacting to Monday's vaccination, or she has a genuine cold obtained by chewing on a toy in the doctor's office. Why must medical health practicioners keep bacteria laden crap on the floor in their waiting rooms? Anyhow, despite my children's ill tempers, I decided that I would aim for us to all eat together tonight. In all honesty, we don't usually all sit together nor do we all eat the same thing. When I can get us all fed early enough, and when dinner is suitable for eaters of all ages, I give the family dinner a try. Whatever book I read on the subject said that everyone should be served the same thing, provided that there is at least one sure thing on the table that the picky eaters will eat. Chichi whined all through dinner, occasionally popping a piece of cheese in her mouth. Pumpkin whined, threw her rice on the floor, cried that the chicken was 'scary', and shrieked when I took her food away. This is why both kids ended up in bed before 7. Not all family dinner attempts go this badly, but none can ever be described as enjoyable. This brings me to my point. To the news media, who threaten us with inevitable drug abuse by our kids if we don't have a family meal; to nutritionists, who scare us into desperately trying to get our kids to consume the correct number of food groups; to any other parent that I've ever spoken with who was all smug about how THEIR family always eats together, and how THEIR kids enjoy lentils and broccoli, YOU CAN ALL KISS MY ASS!!!!!! It's chicken nuggets and fries from here on in! The grown-up can eat whatever they find in the freezer once the kids are knocked out for the night. The end.

Back at Ya, Mom

Being at home with two kids does not allow me to have many breaks in the day. I get one nap out of Chichi while Pumpkin is at camp, but there are always things to do. This is why I sometimes sit way longer than necessary when I use the washroom. It isn't as glamorous as going out for coffee, but at least I'm sitting, and can lock myself behind the door for an extra few minutes and collect myself. If the door is not locked, however, it is guaranteed that Pumpkin will interrupt my time-out. The other day while I was taking such a break, sitting on the can, elbows resting on my knees, head resting in my hands, Pumpkin walked in. My posture indicated to her that I was having trouble 'going'. Mimicking the same type of encouragement that I am known to offer Pumpkin when I see her struggling on the toilet, she assumed an Incredible Hulk-like stance, and offered up a hearty, "GRRRRRRRRRRR!", in hopes of helping me along. I laughed so hard I nearly fell off the crapper.

Keeping the theme alive, and because I'm REEEEEEL mature: