apparently...

It wasn't such a great tv show idea, huh. I thought at least one person would point out that maybe I shouldn't watch or listen to KSL so much.

Possible top three best latest happenings in the gardens:

1. My boss surprised me with a promotion today.

2. I ordered a new c-o-m-p-y--but don't say that word our loud or even think it in its entirety, just spell it, so this c-o-m-p-u-t-e-r I've had for four years--the one that I love, that I typed every college assignment on and every blog post on, even though its wireless dealio doesn't work anymore, and even though its little rubber feet are missing so it overheats if I'm not careful to keep it perfectly centered over three months of Prevention Magazine under the front left corner (subscription provided by my mom) and my copy of Unholy Ghost under the right corner, and when it overheats, it suddenly makes this crackly, overheated, burning up sound that is followed by a black screen and then a self-induced reboot--so that buddy of mine doesn't get his feelbads hurt. Oh--there's that other thing going on--the top of this c-o-m-p-y that I lift up to open the screen has started to crack away from the hinges and I fear that one day the screen will simply lift off of the guy and I'll know way more about my c-o-m-p-y's inner workings than I ever expected to know.

So I decided to pick up a new one and for some crazy reason that I will never understand, my four-year-old that cost $1700 will be replaced by a bigger (more memory-4G!), better (no broken parts), faster (if I were Jack I could tell you the real name of the processor, but all I can remember is that it's a dual carbonated turbo charged high-speed speedy jaguarspeed processor), and lighterweight (4.8 lbs versus about 25 lbs--or it seemed to weigh that much whenever I tried to lug it through an airport), and the new one costs less than $900, including the webcam, yes, you read correctly, webcam, and the ruby red wireless mouse. Did I mention that the c-o-m-p-y is pacific blue? I think I'm in love.

The only way I can feel really okay about replacing my first love c-o-m-p-y is that when the new guy arrives and I move all of my financial stuff and pictures and other vital information to the new guy, I'll set up the older one on a desk for the little girlies because there is nothing more entertaining to them than to type letters on a blank page in microsoft word. (Um, I can already hear the son-in-law protesting that Breanne prefers a Mac...or perhaps he and Jessie are doing still more of that appledevil brainwashing.)

3. For my birthday, Jack bought me a new pink pearl roxy schwinn cruiser that has comfortable handlebars and a cushy white seat; big, soft whitewall tires; this amazing pearly girly paint; and a basket, bell, and ahooga horn. I rode it around inside the store so I could try it on, and then I rode it in the parking lot, and then we brought it home in the back of my car.

I took it outside and decided to ride it around the block, not realizing until I was at the end of my street that I wasn't sure I could perform a turn on my wide, city street, so I kept going straight away from the gardens. Next I realized that my street has a slope to it, and for the first time in my life, for the briefest moment, I had this sudden flash of realization that I could get seriously hurt if I crashed on my beauty bike. As a kid, while crashing on my little red bike, over and over, I never considered the possibility of bleeding or bruised parts; as a teenager, crashing on the little blue Honda 70s we rode, I never felt that I might be unable to hold a pen for 6-8 weeks while my broken wrist healed after my somersault over the handlebars (well that was really my dad and lilbro who both somersaulted and broke their wrists). As I experienced that newfound sensation--fear of pain--I kept pedaling down that hill and--tada!--successfully completed a left turn without crashing. I was halfway around the block! I continued pedaling back towards the gardens, confidence growing until a new sensation appeared. It started in my legs, first one then the other, over and over, until it occurred to me that the seat was not high enough for my grownup body. Maybe after I have ridden the bike for a couple of years, I'll figure out the proper method of relieving the cramps that extend from the toes up the legs into the butt, getting tighter with each downward push of the pedals. Did I mention that about the time I realized I wasn't ready to make a turn--just before the hill, before the successful turn, before the cramping--I looked down at the tires and discovered they were, at most, 1/3 full, which means 2/3 less air than required for appropriate tire action and the preferred speedy response time?

But did I give up and hop off of my bike and push it back to the gardens when I realized the state of the tires or when I felt the certain knowledge that I might not be walking if I didn't ease the cramping? Are you kidding? That premonition, that sudden, unexpected fear of injury kept me on that bike, pedaling in the longest strokes I could force out of those pedals--even rising from the seat on every third or fourth pedal stroke. You may be surprised to learn that even with all of these events and thoughts and fears, I only stopped once to try to ease the cramps in my wobbly legs.

And then, I made it back to the gardens--YES, THAT'S RIGHT--I RODE MY BIKE AROUND THE BLOCK ALL BY MYSELF!

I haven't been back on the bike since that day. I'm waiting patiently for Jack or Jr to make the necessary adjustments to my bike. And then, who knows, I just might make two laps around the block.