tortoiseshelly

Previously untitled

I finally managed to upload all the cruise photos to flickr.  Some photos were marked as private to maintain my travelmates dignity, while others were marked private to protect the viewing public from the size of my butt in a baby doll top. (Hint: baby doll top is destined for an ashy end.)

Anyhow, I'm also redesigning the site (pardon my mess) and will have a substantive cruise post tonight.  I planned on posting yesterday, but sorting, categorizing, tagging, and uploading my way through over 300 photos took quite a bit of time.

Thanks for being patient!

P.S. Typepad is also being a butt today, as I cannot give this post a title.  I don't know why.               

Is God trying to give me a heads up?

Someone help me out here. I'm starting to get concerned that maybe my cruise is going to be one of those disaster vacations. Reasons for concern?

I fly out of Dallas on Monday into Los Angeles. Los Angeles? Currently a raging fire pit.

First stop on the cruise? Catalina Island. Also a raging fire pit, described by one woman as a scene from "War of the Worlds." People are being evacuated from the island and fleeing in droves.

There is also the issue of my allergies. My bike ride the other day apparently exposed me to every type of pollen to which I am allergic.  Now I can't breathe, I'm sneezing constantly, and I have an extremely raw, scratchy throat, watery eyes and plugged up ears.  And that's when I'm feeling good.  I've been downing my allergy medication like a mad woman, as well as anything else that might help - all to no avail.

I've got two more days until I leave, and if San Diego or Ensenada suddenly go up in flames or get hit by a hurricane, I'll consider myself duly warned.  Until then, citizens of San Diego and Ensenada, you might want to watch your back. Someone's going to great lengths to prevent me from going on this cruise.

Ways to liven up the cycling experience...

• Try on new bike helmet and sunglasses while wearing only bra and panties. Attractive black and white checked grandma panties, no less.

• Run like hell when boyfriend lunges for camera upon witnessing such spectacle. Trip over laundry basket and land in crumpled heap on cheap, lavender bedroom carpet, just as blinding flash from camera goes off.

• Curse boyfriend while thinking to self that $40 spent on bike helmet not at all wasted.

• Finish getting dressed for bike outing.

• Begin lugging bike downstairs. Again curse boyfriend for letting out rip-roaring, gag-inducing fart that cannot escape because pinned by bike against stair railing about halfway down flight of stairs.  Attempt (in futility) to kick boyfriend down remaining stairs.

• Finally get bike downstairs and out front door.  Hop on bike and ride immediately into enormous, spiky bush when shoelace gets caught in pedal.

• Adjust helmet, ipod earbuds, and sunglasses and try again.

• At last, successfully and easily riding bike, glance back at boyfriend who is eating dust. Smirk just a little.

• Glancing at stop sign just ahead, pull to a slightly unsteady stop. Wonder briefly when forgot how to handle bike.  As dismounting bike, accidentally snag shorts on bicycle seat, thereby flashing granny panties to 7 cars sitting at the four-way stop on very busy street. Praise the heavens that disguised by glasses and helmet. (That $40 purchase has saved butt twice today.)

• Manage to ride uneventfully for next 35 minutes, except for occasional stopping to pull up socks that will not stay up.

• Decide hard part of cycling is not the cycling itself.  It's carrying that damned bike up and down the stairs. Especially up.

• Fall onto couch beneath ceiling fan. Decide to work from home.