chollaball.net

Helimech invited me to Sedona to ride Hangover. I don’t know if the trail got its name from all the overhanging curves of sandstone on the exposed north face, or the precarious way it had you dangling right next to the edge of the butte. I think its from the sick feeling in my stomach from being in terror for so long.

Its been about 4 years since I’ve ridden Sedona - the main touristy loop on Llama, Submarine Rock, Broken Arrow, etc. Its fun, like a mini-Moab, but not nearly as epic. The red rocks are neat but not much better than Papago Park, and for 30 minutes more driving you can have much better in Flagstaff without all the horrible pink jeeps and vortexes. But this trail was new, and wrapped around a butte right where the soil met the rock, and sometimes above it. It was like nothing I’ve ridden before, it shook me worse than anything before, and I can’t wait to do it again.

Up at 6, caravaning with Alex at 7, Beckie and G along to hike the Huckaby trail. We rolled with a group of 15 at 10am from the Huckaby TH. Helimech, Pwrtrainer, Landon, Mo, KennyB and a few others I knew — a very experienced and capable crowd. There wasn’t a bike smaller than 6 inches, and Alex and I fretted we might be the worst riders there. That self-consciousness too became a little challenge, or at least one more thing to think about: the pressure of keeping up with a diverse group on such extreme terrain. No one wants to be the sucky rider holding up the pack. Everyone was actually quite patient, supportive and friendly the whole ride — not a surprise, sophisticated rides bring out sophisticated riders — but always such a joy to be a part of. Helimech put together a great group, and was also a fantastic guide; Alex noted how he felt accounted for, and it made him calm and relaxed even though he pretty much knew no one. Thanks for the invite Mike!!!

Front Side

We started off with a ledgey, Moab-like climb. Within 5 minutes, going through a lift in a slot, I dabbed and put my hand out, right into a cactus. Freak coincidence, but pulling spines out of my fingers became my little hobby for the first half hour, which sucked cause the climb was where i hoped to build rhythm and goodwill for not being the slowest guy on the harder stuff.

We worked our way up the butte, and got a taste for some of the exposure and off-camber sections.

I’ve ridden lots of exposed faces, and lots of slickrock, but nothing that went off at such an angle for so long and was so tricky. The safe line for your wheels was barely foot wide, with gravel and sand and other random debris from the face and the vegetation creating a constantly changing surface. You had to completely focus on the trail, cause there was precious little margin for error.

Alex apporaches…

Alex almost dies…

but not today!

This was not my pic, but gives some perspective

Right before Alex slid out, I watched KennyB — an outstanding tech rider — smoothly move over the non-existent transition on to the off-camber rock, making it look easy. I love riding with better riders, cause you learn by example and explanation and get to enjoy some beautiful moves. But it can play with your head, tempting you to compare your progress with someone else. All day I was hitting things at the very limits of my experience and comfort zone, and i should have been thrilled with some of these gets, yet still found myself falling behind and feeling inadequate. One more dog to pile on to my struggle for rhythm.

We took a nice break before hoofing it up over the saddle to the back side, where the real gnar began.

Back Side

If you compare the two topos from the Front and Back sides, its apparent how the trail hugs the top of the butte for several miles. Crossing over the saddle, we soon came to an enormous bowl. Heights don’t scare me, and over the past few years I’ve gotten pretty comfortable on a snowboard diving off a cornice into a steep bowl. You realize the perspective is part of the head-trip, ride it out, and its really not that bad. That strategy works great on powder; here it was total bullshit. Looking down, i could barely find a line to simply traverse down to the first ledge. When I finally managed to pick my way ass-over-back-wheel down 10 feet, i got about to where Landon is in this next pic, above the small group. They all took a very slim and steep line down another level. I did not want to die today, and with about half the group walked awkwardly down a sandy slick pitch to meet the trail about 40 feet down from the rim. A clenching tightness was all over me, i really didn’t want to move, just sit there and gather my shit for a while. I think all of us who were walking were feeling it - Landon ran into a spiky bush hiking the steeps, and while he is typically a pretty laconic guy, he barely registered having me pull an inch-long spike out of his arm.

Again, not my pics, but this is riding the bowl

i won’t be entering the Red Bull Rampage any time soon

The massiveness of the bowl gave way to a long, off-camber traverse back around the butte. The trail was wide enough to not worry too much about falling off, but full of new challenges as you moved from slickrock to dirt and back again, while dodging and ducking the overhangs, meandering up and down, in and out of undulations in the rock. Sometimes your helmet would scrape the overhang, sometimes your pack, once i knocked my bars into the wall and nearly pushed myself over the edge.

another photo nicked from MTBR

Not exactly the friendliest terrain to build back up on after my meltdown in the bowl. I rode most of it, but was sloppy, skittish, twitchy. I focused completely on what was right in front of me, too nervous to look around and enjoy the views. Mike and Alex were doing a better job coming to grips with the terrain, and following Alex helped get me settled, since we are so similar i knew if he got it i should too.

Alex and Pwrtrainer, asking as politely as possible if I would get the fuck outta the way.

It was fun, despite all my whining. I heard Alex ring his bell around a bend in front of me, which is his little idiom for cleaning something hard. GULP: a slight drop and slot on a long narrow rock, which transitioned into a rockbridge inside a crevice with lots of exposure. I rolled it quite smoothly. A year ago that would have been a challenge, but I was so full of anxiety that the victory disappeared back into the pit in my stomach.

At the end of the traverse, we began a hairball set of switchbacks down from the top. The first one came down a sandy bumpy slot onto a gravel-laced steep sandstone face requiring a 180 right turn within about 8 feet or you’d go off the edge. I was so freaked the first time staring at the dropoff as i tried to control myself on the gravel that i gave up and just turned left back into the hill. FUCK I CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT!!! So i went back up and hit it nicely on the second try. So much of the ride was mental, so many things that bit me hard i will do better the next time, one by one they kept gnawing away at my confidence making me ride poorly and lose more confidence…I was so worried about getting dropped that I retried very few things and never learned from my initial mistakes…sessioning has always been a way for me to progress and study the challenges and skills required, I NEEDED to get a tough one under my belt, or I was going to whither even more and get hurt.

The next obstacle was worse, especially since i’d seen photos and they gave me butterflies. It was about a 5 foot, almost-vertical bump in the slickrock, a short shelf, another steep hump, another sharp turn in front of another cliff. This next pic is of Durtgurl, on a different ride, but I’m pretty sure its the same spot. The previous switchback gave me just enough confidence to build on. Mentally, i knew the necessary technique and balance to ride this nastiness, but it took a willful disengagement of my left brain from the right brain, which was shouting at me “CHOOSE LIFE!” Again, i should have been proud of the accomplishment, but the wave of queasiness kept me from enjoying it until after the ride.

We hit another crazy off-camber turn into a rocky staircase. The turn was hard, but the staircase did not look too bad if you could come out of the turn with a little momentum to carry you over the initial hits on the rocks. The last 2 trials helped me reclaim some of my headspace, so I tried it, came out of the turn sloppy, and decided to leave that one for another day. Taking two out of three but feeling the positive vibe coming back seemed a good place to be. One or two more very difficult obstacles remained, which i don’t recall since i rode them cleanly. The tidbit that stuck in my mind was carving into the next slot, making it halfway down before thinking to myself “i’m not back in control yet. I really need to remedy this with utmost haste.”

We ended up here

and here (another stolen pic)

The trail then mellowed out into more typical Sedona action. I got all of the final rocky climb, and saw Helimech on the trail for the first time during the ride (as opposed to watching in awe as he pulled off trials, or doubled back to check on everyone). With about 5 minutes left, I had finally reached the front of the pack. Woohoo! I don’t suck at everything.

There were two more awesome moments before the ride ended. The trail came down onto a 3 foot bench in the slickrock, i studied it, pedaled back 10 yards, then jumped it clean. I don’t want to be a jumper, just to handle what the trail throws at me; less than a year ago i could not have pulled that off. Then moments later as we hit the parking area, G came bolting out of the picnic area yelling “DADDY!!!!!!” Its possible she did not actually recognize me, and just focused on me cause I of all the bikers responded to her, but i don’t think so.

Most of the crew went to lunch, Alex and i had some beers i brought then hit the road - subjecting everyone to my toddler is much crueler than anything the trail offered. Around Black Canyon City the fear finally drained out of me, and i barely made it home awake. Sunday I sprinted out CAP to TRW and back. I had such a need for speed I blew by a couple friends on the trail, resulting in quite a nasty-gram later that day. Then I rode Kila down below the power station to hit some drops. Tuesday i had one of my best climbs up National, and got the Spine for only the third time and my first time alone. As I neared the Spine i felt the creeping knot in my stomach, but just put it aside, focused on the drop, and kept moving. I then made it 2/3ds down 24th St. including the nasty s-curve before putting my foot down to wait for some hikers. My only fear was getting back to the car in time to pick up G, and if I can get back to Sedona over the holidays before the weather turns bad.

My Specialized Taho’s exploded. They started exploding from week 1, and though they lasted almost 18 months, they have never been all that. They do walk well, they are easy to put on, they are relatively comfortable with a decently durable toe that blocks a lot of chum flying at ya. $75 + shipping, almost impossible to find a discount cause Specialized sucka big ass. Oh, and they are easy to find and true to size. If I coulda gotten them on our CO trip for $55 its a no-brainer.

JB planted the seed for these.

I liked the vibram, a lot. I liked the leather upper for durability, a lot. I liked the look of that bullet-proof toe, a lot. Carmen and Lynette also were big fans, and they are smart, a lot. Fast forward to…no one’s got em…some retailers got em…pay 2x maybe for shipping to try em on? Anywho, $102 and the 42 fit nice and they are 1oz heavier than the Taho’s with much more durability but a slightly thinner and longer fit. Good enough says i. They look to be somewhat more efficient pedalers too. The buckle i dont like — too complex, one more thing to break, Lynette warned me to use locktight, and it takes some fussing to get it right. I found the 3-strap for $70, but with an extra round of shipping to send somebody back it would be more like $80, for a less durable upper and letss snug fit. Hmmm…its about a toss up. I hope i don’t regret the buckle its been fussy to get the hang of it, but I do quite enjoy the feel of the leather on my feet - reminds me of wearing cleats. Whatever, they should last 1.5 yrs and be better than the $75 (+ shipping) Taho’s.

Wrapping em up so Beckie can give em to me for Xmas. Hope i can make the duct tape on the Taho’s last til then. I wrapped about 6 feet around my pack pump, just in case my shoe blows up again.

Really.

Don’t fuck wit Christmas.

I’ve been going to Boulder Mountain Park with Kila as often as possible the last few weeks to see the coyotes some more. They’ve been around every time - sometimes the same one comes out to play, other times we hear the pack howling close by.

The coolest stuff happens when I don’t have the camera. Two weeks ago it hung around the playground, darting in and out of the wash and the grassy area for about 30 minutes. Kila and G both got bored after a while, which seems just plain unappreciative. Last week, as I was pulling out of the driveway, I thought about the camera but said nah…won’t need it tonight. Sure enough, as we rolled into the parking lot Kila went nuts in the backseat; her buddy was waiting for her on the soccer field.

The next night, we went a’chumming, wandering lazily through the empty lot next to the park and the desert behind it, sending Kila out to shake her moneymaker. 30 minutes later, out of the corner of my eye, about 300 yards away across the park i caught a glimpse of a shape moving. I thought it might be wishful thinking, like trying to spot dolphins off the coast when you start seeing shapes in every whitecap. But then Kila gave me confirmation she had found the coyote, in the form of the tops of two tails circling and bouncing jerkily above the bushes. It mostly hung in the bushes, but Kila lured it into the shadows on the soccer field. Couldn’t get any good pics.

Today we found leftover pizza by the playground. I didn’t expect anything out of Dances With Wolves, but figured we’d leave the coyote a snack.

I made much more of a deal out of this than G. It all happened very smoothly. G tried to climb a new monkeybar she has not made, got to a scary part and said “i cant make it”. I said to her clearly “if you fall, i will catch you!” She acknowledged, I spotted her, she moved on, and cleaned it.

An adult would take so much more dialog to accomplish this understanding; G just said ok and off she went. When she stumbled, even before i grabbed her, she really didn’t look afraid…just a little discomforted by the effort of hanging. She hasn’t had a good fall yet. She dropped a 10lb weight on her toe today after trying to lift it…but that only hurt about 5 minutes.

I am so relieved she has not fallen. I am so aware of the important lesson she needs to learn. It may have serious consequences, how can it not to properly impart in her a robust fear of gravity? She’s lucky to have a very empathetic  teacher, but i hope she does not lose faith in me along with some of her IQ when her first big digger finally happens.

G was rooting through the dregs of her Halloween stash and found a little rubber frog. It was suddenly the coolest toy ever.

“Its my frog. Its my froggy. Its name is pink froggy.”

Pink froggy had to come to daycare. This was vitally important. VITALLY IMPORTANT!

Normally when G wants to take something in with her, i can pull the old switcheroo sometime between loading her in the car and dropping her off. My back seat has enough inventory to open a Toys’R'Us.  If the thing G brings into school is big enough, i’m pretty confident we can find it later. Stuffed Kila survived 2 days at Kinder Kare this way. But this frog was tiny, and if lost it would never be found. Last week at the gym she insisted on bringing her superball in with her. She assured me she would keep track of it, but who’s kidding who?  She needs her whole fist to hold it and it can disappear in the blink of an eye. It was only with the (exceedingly, excruciatingly) patient help of the staff that we retrieved it from a toy bin and avoided a deluge of tears. Then it promptly vanished in the car. I understand all this - what’s not to like about a superball when you live in a house almost entirely tiled, and goto a gym covered in wood flooring?

So, face tears for telling G she had to leave the pink frog in the car, or face tears later telling her its lost?  I opted for the latter; there was a chance someone else would get to break the news to her.  That’s quality parenting.  So I told her to put it in her tinyPocket, and for about 10 minutes she was very conscious that pink froggy was stowed there.  It then became more my mystery to know if pink froggy would survive the day.  At least for this immediate time being, G said “Pink Froggy who??“

It vanished.  But G was oddly calm about it, telling me nonchalantly it was in her cubby when i saw her at home after work.  It was not in the cubby in the morning, I asked G and Miss Anna to keep an eye out for it, and like The Impossible Journey, froggy was back in the cubby that afternoon.  G lost it immediately in the car, then tore its little pink froggy limbs off playing at home, then cried when we couldn’t bring it to the park.

At least I got to watch my little game play itself out.

This is the sweetest thing G has said to me.  A tinyVoice shouting across the house “come give me a hug Daddy.”

Of course, she got this from me!  And she got it explicitly when I was trying to get her attention when I get home and her eyes are glued to the TV.  Sometimes it takes a while to break through the fog and make her realize I am here and am much more fun than Dora the Explorer. Sometimes I even have to dangle the hugs in front of her and then walk away before she realizes that I am not going to let her diss me for the TV.

The irony was that after the first wave of hugging, I went off to my computer and she stayed on the couch watching the tube.  She’s figured out that I won’t come hang with her and watch her shows, but, I might come over and give her a hug if beckoned.  I am such a sucker - it worked a couple times.  Then I said no you come over here.

She probably sees it as “I’m not going to let daddy diss me for his computer, muthafugga better come over here and squeeze me!!!!”

Places you go on your bike.

Happy Place - most time spent here. easily attained, again and again and again. difficult to leave. long-lasting. infinite supply.

Tired Place - very hot, very hard, bruising is a distinct possibility. the end is near, give in to your anger.

Quiet Place - the end is attainable, but too far to think about. metaphysical lair to hibernate until the passing of the long cold winter. keep pedaling.

Dark Place - the end is nowhere in sight, everything hurts, i am cold or hot, possibly lost, low on water, and my taint aches. MP3 player is likely dead, some gear lost, shoe may have exploded, or wheels are encased in mud. What fucking business is it of yours anyway?

Desolate Place - significant damage to self, or bike, or sense of direction, or potential establishment of family, or legacy, or core temperature. Curiosity over candidates to deliver your eulogy is piqued. Cell phone, what’s that? I couldn’t possibly hear above the lightning strikes anyway.

A tremendous amount of bike geekery sandwiched into a tremendously busy week. The rest of my Outlook calendar was even uglier.

Social Distortion - Angel’s Wings

Tuesday, 7:10am - Dropped the Acura at the dealership, grabbed a V8, and repeated last week. Forsure now the crap-ass old Kenda Kinetics i had on the back was making me slide off things going up, so I gave up on sessioning. Its remarkable how much more positive that can make you feel, when you only fail on something once instead of 5 times. Down Corona Loma, got all the initial descent and more of the cliff, both tough drops and surfed my way to the bottom. Perhaps not as pretty as last week, but I felt so calm - like a bluebird powder day. On the ride back to the Autoplex I put the big bike to good use on the street and ran over several Proposition 102 signs, thereby freeing 6-8 blocks of Elliot Road from bigotry!

Fuck lotta good that did - stupid Arizona hate-mongers.

Wednesday, 10:30am - I met up with Deanna (CoyoteKis) for a casual social spin around Usery on Beckie’s new bike. She is a lot of fun, and Deanna was fun too. The bike is super-plush, but still feels a bit slow off the line. According to Peter at Rage that is just part of the feel for this bike. My fit was so off that I had a hard time reading much into much of anything, but i do like the ergonomic handlebars and the barrel adjusters. It seems to maintain speed easier, and i did not feel like I was racing to keep my cadence on the climbs.

Wednesday, 1:45pm - after working intensely for 2.5 hrs, I weighed the wheels of the Bianchi. They don’t weigh enough different than the Lemond to have made a difference.

Wednesday, 3:00pm - after working intensely for 1 hr, I mounted a new Maxxis Ignitor on the Heckler. It was ugly, the bead would not stick, I had to hand rub sealant on the bead and then blew it across the room with the air compressor. The Man-Cave looked like a porn film set, and the sidewall-spunk-rubbing was eerily reminiscient of some awkward titty-fuck scene from 11th grade after a long dry spell and a cop shining his light in the window of the babe-a-licious Dodge Aries K at an extremely inopportune moment. I have taken to wearing an apron when i work on tubeless wheels.

They called me McLuvin in high school, btw.

I concluded that colored glitter should be used in homemade sealant, not for any functional purposes, but to make the air compressor and the money shot look more like a fireworks display.

Wednesday, 4:00pm - Vowed a blood oath not to tell Beckie about weighing the wheels, or the apron. I have a giant enough bike-geek hole to climb out of every day as it is.

Wednesday, 4:05 - 5:08pm - Usery Loop again on the Lemond. My time was good, my ass is sore, I am so very very confused. . The Bianchi should be excellent for Beckie.

Wednesday, 5:14 - 6:02pm - Dog ride!!!!!!!

Saturday, 8am - National C2C2C, all on the trail. We skipped a few flat miles in the middle.

A big group started out.

Doug and I were the only ones to go up National, which was a nice rhythm start to the day by ourselves. We rejoined the group at the Mormon\National split, until BV when it became just 7 of us: Doug, Bob, Jeff Monkeybutt, Craig from Moab, Tomas from Flag, Jayem from Prescott, and me. I was not dialed in, and endo’d stupidly on the very first staircase, then nearly lost the group slacking my way out to Telegraph. Wake up, dipshit!!! I studied the trail out of Telegraph during the whole hike-a-bike; i’ve never ridden it nor heard the beta on it, it always seemed scary, but it looked mostly rideable going down. The rest of the ridgeline climb was long and slow and workmanlike, or at least it seemed that way in my mind (my Forerunner bit the dust going up National).   But Doug was destroying all in his path and i think our pace was actually pretty brisk, is just felt slow with the knowledge of the long grind still ahead of us. I got the whole gnarly descent for the 2nd time out of 4 tries, and it rolled easily out of my happy-place from the Corona Loma ride - that stretch is now officially out of my head. . The rest of the DH to the bottom of National’s west end was a blast.

Saturday, 11:15am - Doug and I spun about a mile out to San Juan road and back, for no purpose other than abusing ourselves and hitting the goal we set for the route. During the 45 minutes of almost non-stop hiking back up the horrible scree downhill, this extra mileage seemed extra stupid. Jayem called it the approach to Camp 2 on Everest, and was dismayed to know it had only been 20 minutes. My shoe, which has been dying a slow and painful death, blew up completely on this hike. I saved it with some electrical tape buried in my pack. We ran into DurtGurl and a few others at the top, and as usual her smile was a welcome sight for my 1000-yard-stare. All in all, National west-to-east just kinda sucks. It took an hour and half go get back to Telegraph, 5 minutes of which was pure gnartopia and almost all rideable, the rest I would rather spin 30 minutes back up the road.

LiteandFast Dave stashed some water at Telegraph for us, and as we were reloading, I saw Doug and Jeff just rounding the trail out of sight. So I’d be alone getting back to BV. Everyone else was taking the road, and I was sorely tempted to go for the 20 minute spin instead of another 45 minutes with much hiking. Craig put it best: Jason needs to stay pure. which was funny, and true, and particularly depressing when I saw everyone rolling easily up the road from my perch on the Catwalk. I enjoyed climbing this stretch a couple months ago when I was fresh, this time it got hard and hot.  My new $15 what-do-i-got-to-lose kneepads were sliding around, and ripped.  My shoe blew up again, required more tape. I was too close to the end to get truly demoralized, instead i just kind of staggered along like a drunk making his way slowly home.   As I crested the last staircase before the final mile of easy singletrack into BV, Angel’s Wings (accoustic) came on my player. I almost cried.  I also knew right away that it would be the soundtrack for this post.  Looking down into BV a few minutes later, I was overjoyed to see everyone still chilling in the shade….aww, my friends waited for me. We then had one of the best descents i’ve ever had down National, so I decided to go with the decidedly more upbeat electric version of this song.

Saturday, 2pm - I chased Bob and Jeff down the last stretch of National, and we hit every jump on the trail.  We sprinted 4 or 5 minutes at a time, panted, breathed deep, then blasted off again.  I had been keeping a bonk at bay for the last hour,  and now feeling the finish my body gave up the last reserve it had, along with pretty much any energy dedicated towards stopping.  It was so worth it.  There is a small popper near the split, its only about a foot drop but goes up at a steep angle, and i pumped just when i hit it to launch myself far out of my comfort zone.  I knew it was cool as soon as i flew off, and Durtgurl behind me yelled out confirmation.  I then put my new dismounting technique on display sliding off the back of the bike trying to go up The Crab - much to the pleasure of the assembled masses! The descent was a rush, the climb on the jeep road brutal.

“Hey chollaball, you’re a liar, there aint no climb on the jeep road!!!”

There isn’t?  I’m sure there is at least a 10 vf gain, and it hurt.

Saturday, 4:10pm - 5:04pm - “I wanna go to the park Daddy.  I wanna go to the park on the bike”.

Shit. 

There is at least a 50 vf gain on Ravine Street, and it hurt.

The tally from the C2C2C ride:

broken mount on the Forerunner - piece’o’shit

exploded shoe - piece’o’shit

torn kneepad - piece’o’shit

lost earring - piece’o’shit

Saturday, 5:19 - 5:30pm - bathe G, shower, dress self and others, prep G’s dinner, get money, feed dog, greet Alex and Rose, crack beers, find tickets, have party hat, instruct Baby-Sitter, wistfully think about eating something, chug beer, GO TO HOCKEY!!!!!!

Our seats were fabulous.  The Coyotes won 4-1.  I lost a bet that the selections of Mustache Rock would include Van Halen’s “Jump”.  Beckie, Alex and Rose gave me no slack even though they played both “Panama” and “Hot for Teacher.”

Sunday, 9:30am - goto gym with G, take advantage of daycare.

Sunday, 12 - The First Annual MTBR Swap Meet.  Another gem from the mind of CactusJoe.  He rented out a ramada at South Mountain, and got a keg of beer.  Seems like about 50 people showed up, most of whom had far nicer stuff laying around than me.  I was utterly blown away by the variety and assortment, all I had was some old tires and some SOLAS tape.

check out the reflection from that flash!

a lot full of nice bikes and the infamous Short Bus

It was great seeing people, having some beers, and exploring the parts bins. I didn’t know what to expect, but with everyone basically looking to swap and share and maybe make a few bills for their old parts or new junk, the vibe was more of helping each other out by way of spare stuff.  The karma was really incredible.  LiteandFast Dave had asked me for some SOLAS tape, which I was happy to spare him for stashing water the day before.  Meanwhile, U2metoo was checking out my pair of 1-time knee pads which I decided were not worth keeping, so i told him take them if he wanted. Meanwhile, Carmen and Lynette gave me an old full-face helmet they no longer needed.  Sam gave me $5, I gave Carmen some SOLAS tape, the Maxxis Ignitor wound up costing $57 dollars, but i did not bleed from either of my two falls the day before. Fabulous karma.

I also picked up a pair of flat pedals for $10, so now am ready to give the beginner line at the NRA pit a try.

G had a really good time running around.  She was a very good little girl, and most of the riders appreciated her fondness for dirt exploration.  I had to give her near-constant attention, and scope out bike stuff with one eye while keeping another on her.  A few cookies, and some playtime with JB’s little girl Natalie helped pass the time.  But really I have no complaints as she did a good job of sharing the afternoon with me.   When G finally reached the end of her patience after about 2 hrs, it seemed fair enough for her to want to leave. At home, she could not stop talking about wanting to ride her bike; tell me she did not pick up on what we were all doing?!?!

she has learned to smile for the camera, now she just needs to open her eyes.

Sunday, 6pm - Eagles fall on Sunday Night game, the season is lost.

Quentin Tarantino writes some of the best dialog I’ve ever seen. Pulp Fiction is one of my all-time favs; Reservoir Dogs and Kill Bill both are really good. He writes dialog like a play, its incredibly natural and believable, but also very very efficient.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

The most amazing thing about this jump forward of G’s many jumps forward with regard to her cognition and communication is that this one seemed to circle in from the outside and then explode out of her all at once.  It was memory, it was self-awareness, it was dialog, and patterns, and habits, and many more things that suddenly have become…reason.  Its been an exponential development.   She went from an tinyHuman to a fully-engaged chatterbox overnight.  And the conversations are a joy.  Did I mention reason?  She understands, she comprehends, she can be placated.  All hope is not lost!

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

From Wikipedia: Tarnatino often uses unconventional storytelling device in his films, such as retrospective, with frequent flashbacks (Reservoir Dogs), non-linear (Pulp Fiction), “chapter” format (Kill Bill, Four Rooms), or time-twisting.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

A recent conversation:
G: (climbing a ladder at the playground she has never mastered before) - I need help.
Me: Go ahead. I’ll catch you.
G: I made it. I can’t believe it.
Me: Good Job.
G: I’m a big girl. Your turn. I’ll catch you.
Me: Ok. Here I am.
G: Come slide with me. You sit down first. (touching my arm) Is that your owie?

Another exchange, while watching TV:
Me: What is Wubbzy doing?
G: (face exploding into a smile that I’m watching her shows) He’s using his tools.
Me: What’s he fixing.
G: He’s, um, fixing his bike.

Leaving the Office, calling home:
Beckie: G wants to talk to you
G: Hi Daddy
Me: Hi Genevieve. How was your day?
G: I played <something unintelligible> at school today
Me: Did you have fun
G: yeah yeah yeah. We’re going to the park with Kila. Bye Daddy I love you.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

At his best, Tarantino’s characters are developed by dialog and the behaviors those dialogs dictate.  There is a tremendous amount of talking and context for what categorically are Action movies.  The characters drive the plot, which is almost not important, except as a means to reveal the characters.  The plot become a character-study, so its order is important only in the context of the character.  The effect is a much more powerful presentation of character, or overall theme when multiple characters are assembled in one context.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Every few months, I seem to write another post about how G’s verbal and cognitive skills have improved. Each post describes changes more advanced than the rest, but my level of amazement and amusement is always consistently high. Its putting great pressure on me to continually describe G’s changes without a let-down in intensity, or a diminishing of the steps that are giant for her.

I could have named this post many things - “Chatterbox”, “Engaging Dialog, or“I’m a Big Girl” all were candidates.  They all seemed too specific and event-driven.

Me (when she is panicking): Be cool Honeybunny.
G: I’m not a bunny. I’m Genevieve.

• Nothing Too Ethnic: No Becticia. No LaJason, DeJason, or D’Jason. No Shaniqua. No Ruth. No Esther. No Mary, Mary Margaret, Mary Catherine. No Chastity. No Virginia. No Salama.

• Nothing Pretentious and Hackneyed Masquerading as Unique: No Maya. No Isabella. No Zoe. No Mercedes. No Siena. No Margarita. No Jade.

• Nothing Too Britney: No Britney. No Amber. No Ashley. No Megan. No Taylor.

• Nothing Too WhiteBread: No Ann. No Kathy. No Jane. No Sue.

• Nothing Too White: No Sarah. No Emma. No Emily. No Lauren

• Nothing Too Redneck: No Kerry Ann. No Bobbie Ann. No Bobbie Jean. No Jennie Ann. No Kerry Sue. No Bobbie Sue. No Bobbie Jo. No Kerry Jean.

• Nothing Confusing Around the Holidays: No Beckie. No Deb. No Cecile. No Bette. Nothing with a G. No Moira. No Brooke. No Kila, or Turtle.

• Nothing that Rhymes with Anything Teasable: No Celeste. No Bree. No Brit. No Delores.

• Nothing Flagged by Stephen Levitt: No Jasmine, under any spelling. No Brandy, under any spelling.

• Nothing Reminiscent of Household Items, or Sarah Palin: No Truck. No Jenson. No BBQ. No Bianchi.

• Nothing Suggestive of a Thrown Dart in the Delivery Room: No Sealy. No Ivory. No Canon. No Jansport. No NorthFace. No Raintree. No Aquafresh.

• Nothing That Ends Up on Mind of Mencia: No Usnavy. No Toprameneesha. No Shi-thead.

• Nothing Overly Literary: No Desdemona. No Ophelia. No Hester. No Offred. No Pi.

• Nothing For Treehuggers: No Rain. No Sun. No Moon. No Wildflower. No Honeysuckle. No Surfspray. No Prius.

• Nothing Strippers Use OnStage: No Destiny. No Heaven. No Misty. No Crystal. No Jugsalinda.