Lovelihood

My long-term goal: to complete a triathlon. And yes, it's a lofty goal, considering I haven't swum a lap or ridden a bike since high school. Really, I hatched this scheme as an ambitious path to cross-training (i.e., gym) avoidance. Step one? Purchase a bike. This one, an early birthday present (from The Mr., though it somehow ended up on my credit card), is super fancy with it's ram's horn handlebars and tires featuring absolutely no tread. It's also super fast, way more bike than I'm comfortable with, and, for someone who has never been at ease on two wheels, a terrifying thing to ride. All in a good way, of course.

Throughout summer, Sunday had been designated barbecue night, prepared by the Mr. and enjoyed on the back deck. Tonight was decidedly autumnal, and called for the first curry of the season. Like any other well-loved recipe, I could whip this up from muscle memory, sprinkling and dashing in spices and chopped-up components from pure instinct, incorporating recipe revisions made long ago but never formally documented. Today's process and ingredient list have strayed so far from what's listed that to follow the instructions would land me far off track from my intended result. But I rustle up the old recipe card anyway, if only to tally up its preparation with yet another splatter of sauce, another smear of a curry-imprinted thumb.

In two days my pajama situation went from shorts and tank tops to flannels and fuzzy socks. Summer seems to have come to an abrupt end. Still we're putting off on closing that window above the kitchen sink until we know for certain that it's over.

My love of the carabiner has been dormant of late, and therefore has been previously undocumented here. But while stopping off at Storables (an entire store dedicated to putting various genres of things into other things!) to purchase what can only be described as the world's sexiest kitchen drawer cutlery tray, I spotted this keyring set of 'biner and 'biner-spawn. And who am I to resist such temptation?

We're in the midst a two-wheeled frenzy here. Training wheels have been removed. Scooters are clamoring back and forth. Commutes are executed via the urban trail network. Yesterday Bear went down for her nap just before the UPS guy came up to the door with the pedal-less plywood bike (of sorts) meant to develop our pre-bike rider's sense of balance. Bear, excited, mounted it, promptly tumbled to the side, and we're still trying to talk her back on it. Baby steps.

Miraculously, the afternoon walk to retrieve Bear's brother from school took only 15 minutes. It may have had something to do with the cookie I placed in her charge and threatened to remove if she dawdled. Am I proud of myself? We doubled our usual time. You betcha I'm proud of myself.

Some days, the only thing I manage to make is The Boy's lunch. Most days I'm a responsible parent, and lunch does not include a cookie and a gummy worm. Other days, I'm confident that the peach I sliced up into the top compartment affords me some wiggle room in the well-rounded meal department.