Every relationship has its ups and downs; this would be an up phase. A good bath cleans more than just the stinkiness off a tinyHuman.
Month: March 2009
Hawes Trail Day
Saturday the work day on Mudflaps came together. Somehow I ended up as the MTBR bell-ringer for this event, which brought a few much more experienced people out of the woodwork to assist with permits from the Rangers who oversee the Tonto National Forest, knowledge of how to build up waterbars, access to tools, and connections to the MBAA and Missing Link riders. All told we had about 20 people show up, a few I knew, a few I did not but had likely been in some of the same events, even a few parents with their teenage kids who raced in some of the local series. This was my first rail work day, and I learned a lot from a few of the guys about how to improve a trail. That we just thought it up and did it goes to show that anyone can make a difference.
Big thanks to all those that came out, but especially to Scotty Mac for doing all the admin and leadership, and to James (Maadjurguer) and Chris (Clockwork) for jumping in with me on MTBR to get the ball rolling on this.
It was a casual environment, but different from most volunteer activities where people shuffle about generally picking their asses. Here everyone set about some aspect of the project, and while not killing themselves, worked with a sense of purpose. It was very impressive how much was accomplished in about 4 hours. Mudflaps went from a washed-out doubletrack that had become barely challenging to a flowing singletrack bordered by rocks and cholla that preserved a natural feel. I went back out on Saturday night with the Heckler and Kila just to climb the hill again and check out our work. It wasn’t so much harder, albeit a little, as it was much better…if felt like a trail again. The waterbars made of embedded rocks ramped over with dirt served as outstanding jumps on the bomb back down, and the cholla added a nice incentive to keep it under control.
We got mostly good comments from passersby – bikers and hikers. A few people just put their heads down and cranked through us, one douchebag said he didn’t need to do trail work for his mbaa points cause he will win his races. 
Some of the people working with us were very capable racers – its about your attitude, not your clothes or your speed.
I really can’t explain how positive this experience made me feel – Hawes is out my door, I’ve ridden it so many times over the 8 yrs I’ve lived here I kinda take for granted what a fun trail it is. This week I rode Hawes 4 times, which for me is very unusual – I prefer Somo, Hawes is typically only once a week for me. I just really wanted to be on “my trail” this week. I’m planning to bring some small tools on some of my long no-destination rides in the future, and fix a few things for a few minutes here and there. I understand a lot better now the sense of pride and ownership others take in “their” trails, and realize that if you don’t pitch in then these trails just degrade over time. This rambling is probably sounding hokey to those of you who never did trail work (like me up til last weekend), or quaint to those of you who do it all the time. But I never expected to be so pumped about my bike-week like this when I didn’t do anything epic or nail any cool trials and my wrenching was a total failure. 
Looks Like I Picked the Wrong Week to Quit Sniffing Glue
My frustration and difficulty with G boiled over this week. Every relationship has its ups and downs; this would be a down phase.
G has been hanging out with the new girl next door Alex, who is about a year older. They are mostly compatible and seem really good for each other. They keep each other busy and mostly don’t bother me. As long as I ignore their little spats, which occur about every 7 minutes, and last about as long as it takes for G to come crying to me or Alex to declare she is going home, and for me to subsequently tell them both to eff off and and either make up or stop playing together. Amazing how that solves the problem. Alex’s parents are really nice people, and they and Beckie have quickly fallen into taking turns watching the kids and giving them snacks etc etc. For me this is all new and challenging terrain.
Joey, have you ever been in a Turkish prison?
Last weekend our neighbors’ brother was watching Alex. He was just as happy about them entertaining each other as we were, and volunteered to take them to the park. Glen and Phong got to go hiking, Beckie got to hit the gym, I only had to deal with Alana…perfect! Except somebody…I won’t say who…but somebody decided they needed to potty after they were at the park about 5 minutes. Poor Uncle Rich slunk back to the cul-de-sac overwhelmed, and it suddenly became my turn to deal with G on one potty and Alex on another, and *everyone* now looking at me to take a turn at the park. This daisy-chained Alana and Kila into the mob as well.
An angry mob it was.
I’ve been trying to not back down from challenges with my girls. What’s the point? If I don’t deal with them Beckie will have to. I learned there is a vast yawning void between a good attitude and genuinely enjoying children, but a tiny little sliver between a good attitude and outright stupidity. You can ride Holbert and break the danger down into moments where each risk can be compartmentalized, and you can always get off your bike and walk; it doesn’t work this way bringing 4 needy mammals to the park. The nearly 10 minutes and 4 separate tantrums loading the car should have clued me in: Alana crying, G bitching about her tricycle, Alex bitching about her scooter, though to be fair to Kila she only was upset that her window wasn’t rolled down and kept her piehole shut.
Every woman I talked to pre-Alana gushed about how 2 was easier than 1; every man without exception told me vaya con dios your life as you know it is now going 9.8 directly into the shitter. I knew it would get uglier, but I had no idea how bad. Those chicks were all fucking crazy, pumped so full of estrogen they couldn’t think straight. Two kids feed each other’s complaints, trampolining topics of neediness back and forth across my eardrums. Add another kid at a different stage like Alana, and its disaster movie material.
The life of everyone on board depends upon just one thing: finding someone back there who can not only fly this plane, but who didn’t have fish for dinner.
Barely out of the car and the two toddlers peeled off in separate directions, Kila put me at risk with the dogcatcher, and Alana decided she was cold and hungry and hot and having a pants crisis all at once. I gave it a go by tying down Kila and rocking Alana while standing on a picnic table trying to see just how far out of my zip code G and Alex had ventured. Alex was pissed G couldn’t keep up, G was pissed Alex wouldn’t wait for her, Kila was sad, and some fatass soccer mom kept giving me stinkeye cause the baby wouldn’t shut up. Barely 20 minutes and I’d had enough of everyone’s whining; it took another 10 minutes loading them all back in the car. Then I snapped at G and Alex when we got home cause they kept complaining about everything.
Because of my mistake, six men didn’t return from that raid.
Seven. Lieutenant Zip died this morning.
When I snap at G, I get mad at myself. There is nothing worse than yelling at your little girl and making her hide under the couch cushions. But add to the mix being responsible for someone else’s kid, G’s obnoxious psychotic moody brattiness, and the fact that I didn’t even want 2 of my own…and I’ve quickly gone to beyond caring. Yesterday I woke up to shrieking that G wanted something from her inexhaustible list of wants, then planting her entire body weight into my quad. I ended the day with her clawing and grabbing and spilling my water onto the dinner I finally sat down to eat at 10pm. Is it wrong to want to wrap your kid in duct tape and stick her in a locked room? I’m drowning trying to placate her, or just patiently bearing her terribleness; its tempting to just give up and go under. In one month I went from loving father to abused parent, and all I want is to avoid her and come back when its over. I don’t want to see her make friends, I want it to be quiet. I don’t want to snuggle with her, I want my bed to not get peed in and to not get kicked in the balls. I slept in the guest room last night cause I couldn’t stand another night of crying and complaining. The baby is just a noisy responsibility, but G is a black hole of determined horror that is tearing the ass out of me. The last couple mornings driving her to daycare I just tuned out her screeching in the back seat, and was glad to toss her into whatever classroom was available and get the hell out of there.
The one sweet moment in an afternoon full of atrocities, posted in an attempt to rinse out the flavor of bile
Beats a Gold Watch
This was the plan when I quit Aligo after 3.5 years for a better offer. More stable, more resources, bigger stakes where my skills could scale and I could be compensated accordingly. I remember hesitating on the initial offer, and them coming back with 10% more. I remember showing up on Day 1 with my hand in a cast a day after surgery for the displaced fracture I got snowboarding at Sunrise the previous weekend. I’m kinda still stunned I haven’t lost my shit at least once over some ridiculous challenge and drummed myself out a job. Somehow, some way, after starting as a corporate trainer for RightFAX in ’97 cause I taught myself how to fix my crashing install of Windows 3.1, now I sit in weekly brainstorming meetings with honchos and Directors, my main developer is one of the most expert Perl guys out there, I set my own schedule, and I take off early to ride National. And it just doesn’t seem all that hard. Someday I will move to a mountain town and work as a lifty, but today I’m happy to be fun-employed.
The Red Chair
we had a post about the Blue Dress, so why not the Red Chair. Probably many more such comparisons to come.
G at 6 weeks
Alana – 3 weeks
Invention III: The Final Conflict
Twisting to use the ironing board was hurting my back, affecting my cadence, and subject to G beating the crap out of it and knocking over my laptop.
After Beckie installed this:
and seeing the incredibly tunable overhead trays in the hospital:
Beckie came up with this:
I helped a little, mostly providing the inspiration when I added a slot to the ghetto bike rack as we prepare for the Hei Hei 29. Between work responsibilities, Netflix, and the slingbox, I may never visit The Harem again.
Wa-wa-lana
gawdamn when Alana finally gets going, she has some serious pipes, and the grit to use them. A chick who is a screamer is kinda sexy, except when its 3am and its your daughter. How such a determined thumping comes out of such a quiet little package I do not know. Its exactly as awful and excruciating as Jo’s squawking, except that Jo went off in bursts of 8 then STFU, Alana just screams and screams and screams and screams until you just want to stuff her right back into the hole she came out of. Its chinese water-torture, its the ticking of the Doomsday clock, its the drumming of the orcs in the Mines of Moria. If Genevieve inherits her strung intensity from me, Alana gets her patient endurance from Beckie – she must use up all her spare calories in her outbursts, cause she crashes like a marathoner when its finished.
The good thing is that Alana is predictable. She has very strong feelings about her pants – she wants them left on, but cleaned, magically. She cries worse when her pants are off than when they are dirty. She also has a dulled reaction time – when feeding her, this works against my being able to quiet her down, as milk must be nearly drowning her before she realizes she is getting what she wants. But when changing her, if I can distract her or pull the old switcharoo making her think the changing table is her bouncy chair, I might just get her bum wiped before she realizes its time to unleash the sonic assault. Then its back to 
Gathering the Flock
When I was young I recall several times categorizing all my stuffed animals, with the intention of having a celebratory day by species. I didn’t really have more than one of anything other than dogs, so the Summer Tour concept never materialized beyond Tribute to Dogs Day, which probably lasted about 14 minutes.
This is so much cuter. G’s been fiddling around with this on and off for a couple days now. The flock started smaller, the blue one just got added recently.
Hyper + Comatose = 2 Normal Children
G is completely wound-up, seemingly all the time now. She has always been high-energy, which is something i love about her so dearly and makes me think we have a connection that we’ll share forever – the 2 of us bouncing off the walls into the wee hours for years to come. But lately its pissing me off, and I feel pretty bad about that. Its hard to stay calm when i get climbed on, grabbed, knees in my crotch, elbows in my stomach, and tinyHands clawing at everything within reach. I’ve actually had to yell at her a couple times, not angry, but cause she is a force of entropy threatening to break everything she is touching and grabbing and pounding and throwing. Health & Human Services should not get involved when I chastise my daughter to stop jabbing a screwdriver into my laptop.
Some of her frantics are surely due to her emotional adjustment, actually most of them are – it seems she screams and has tinyTantrums at the drop of a hat. Today she put her spoon into a little dish, which kept tipping over, and she had a hissy when she could not get the spoon to stay in the dish standing up. GZUS G!!!!! Then she jumped on Beckie and all I saw was her head burrowing into the couch while her feet kept churning like a running back pushing the pile. Its hard to keep her needs in perspective when she is a livewire never giving me a moment to rest, unless she is busy assaulting Beckie. In the space of a quarter mile walk to the Green Park yesterday, which she has taken dozens of times before, she wanted her stuffed dog, didn’t want her dog, wanted her tricycle, wanted me to pull her tricycle, wanted me to carry her tricycle, wanted to help carry her tricycle, wanted to ride her tricycle again and so on and so on and so on. This was in a good mood too, after I bribed her with some solo attention and a trip in the truck and a cab full of toys of her choosing.
She can’t be fooled either, unfortunately she has gotten too smart. She critically observes the amount of chocolate going into her chocolate mile, and thows a fit if its not enough, which comes fast on the heels of the fit she threw cause she had to have chocolate milk and not rootbeer. All this is the diet no-sugar kind too! Or when she is demanding I chase her around the house, she is full of criticism if my efforts at chasing are not sufficiently vigorous. Who is the one who supposed to be getting tired out here anyway!??! 
Alana, on the other hand, could sleep through a stampede of elephants. This is her at her most restless, pinching a loaf all the while never opening her eyes or making anything more than the tiniestGrunt.
If I hadn’t been pointing the camera, you would have never known the baby had just accomplished a major goal for the afternoon. They don’t call it the Ugly Face for nothing.
I was alone with Alana for an extended period for the first time this afternoon. Its not that I’ve avoided it, it just hasn’t worked out and I’ve seen no point in forcing the situation. Beckie was worried that Alana had never taken a bottle. I couldn’t tell, she is just that easy, it took one and a half tries for her to unshackle herself from the tyranny of the boob. Longest I’ve seen her with her eyes open too.
Unlike with G, I’ve developed sense enough not to force a lot into her just to have it get tossed right back up all over me. Digestion is complicated business when you are only 18 days old.
New Way to Break Stuff
After a horrible few days that had me hiding under the covers with depression-like symptoms, Beckie forced me to get my ass outside. My mind wasn’t feeling it, my body wasn’t feeling it, and I generally went through the motions on Pass Mountain. What a difference from my last ride just 2 weeks ago.
Rolling through one of the canyons on the front side, I let my back wheel take a bad line over a boulder and got dumped on my ass, no carnage to body but a very bent brake rotor. I made a pretty darn good trail repair, got the whole trial after about 4 tries, but the tone for the ride…if not set enough already…was thoroughly institutionalized.
Somehow sessioning the long rocky stretch on the north side, this happened:
I’ve never seen cable-housing explode like that. The cable and ferules were due for changing with some of the parts stocked in the ManCave, but that wouldn’t help me now. The chain went wherever it damn well pleased on the rear cassette, and if it wasn’t in too tall a gear to climb, it skipped under pressure in the smaller gears. I was about 5 minutes from the saddle, so rode\pushed to the top and tried to make the best of the descent that I had worked so hard for. It was ok, the rest of the ride was survival-mode, with a minor spill and just a spot of blood to cap off the afternoon.
Kinda like life sometimes, when you think you can’t possibly mess something up, there is always a new way to grossly fail.