Boo-tooth equipped*

Right deity last week, wrong patient. Boo did manage to escape the wrath of the tummy bug from hell, but yours truly did not. By mid-afternoon last Tuesday I was starting to feel kind of wonky, and by the time I needed to be on the road to go see the Harlot, driving did not seem like a good idea. Particularly not an hour of driving through Houston's o-so-lovely rush hour traffic. So, crushingly, I stayed home instead of getting to see her. A great disappointment, since I really enjoy

her blog

and I knew it would be a good talk. In fact, I like her blog a lot more then I like her books (of which I own two). So be it. I'll get her the next time she comes to town.

My picking up the tummy bug from hell, plus Devil's somewhat inconsistent (hah!) attendance at daycare last week has made for not-so-much-progress on the knitting front. And even less on the spinning front - part II of the Tour de Wool posts is languishing with 1.5 samples left to finish, so I'm aiming to get that done this week and posted on Friday.

In other news, as the title indicates, Boo's first teeth have finally come in and she is a much happier little girl for it. When I walked into her class to pick her up on Friday, one of the teachers said "Ooooo, the good girl's mommy is here!" Apparently she'd been smiles, lightness and joy all day. Which made me wonder a) what is she like there normally? (gulp) and b) who else's child was the spawn of Satan that day to make her look so good in comparison?

*all credit for this pun has to go to Daddy Ironman, who is quite pleased with himself for coming up with it.

Uh oh!

Here comes Humberto! Think dry thoughts for us down here in Space City, and the rest of the Gulf Coast if you would please...

A fiber Friday with no fiber

In lieu of posting fiber-related items here today (since I have a multitude of projects ongoing and no pictures of anything to share), and since as of yesterday I am now old enough to run for President, I'm going to discuss my favorite present so far:

The cow print Mukka Express stove top cappuccino/latte maker. Some might be tempted to classify me as a bit of a coffee fiend. As far as I can tell, I am nowhere near as bad as some other people I might name (PWB I'm thinking of you), but fine - when you live with a man who refers to the nectar of the gods as "evil bean water" there's only so much you can do. My at-home coffee making has been sorely limited in the last three years due to my conversion to decaf, since I've been either pregnant or nursing for all but three months of the last 36. And it's a bit tougher these days to sit down and enjoy a nice cup of coffee when the instant my butt hits the chair someone starts a) screaming to be picked up, or b) throwing themselves on the floor in a dramatic show of My-life-is-ending-right-now-because-you-won't-let-me-eat-graham-crackers-until-I-puke. Not exactly relaxing.

In any event, thanks to my mothers-in-law (thank you, thank you!), I am now equiped to grind beans, pour in water and milk, and set on the stove for a brief few minutes before enjoying a lovely cup of cappuccino or latte. Bliss!

Now my only complaint is this: what, they didn't have it in

purple and gold cow print

?

We're baaaack

We have finally returned from our excursions across the globe. Ok, only just across the pond, but when you get on a jumbo jet for 8+ hours with two small children, it does feel a bit like taking on an epic journey on the order of an interstellar expedition. Here is the short, photo-less account of events.

The wee ones did terrifically well on the plane rides - on the way over, Boo fell asleep in her lovely bassinet ten minutes after taking off and stayed that way until an hour before we landed. She promptly made up for this remarkable feat by refusing to sleep longer then 2 hrs since, but hey, she's only six months old. There's only so much we can ask for, right? Devil did well too - she didn't get nearly as much sleep, but she was quite happy to entertain herself with stickers and food and such (my apologies to the cleaning crew in London who had to unpeel seventy-gazillion stickers from her environs). We were picked up at the airport by our soon-to-be-married friend and went off our first staging area, the very lovely town (village?) of Esher.

We spent three days in Esher going to the wedding and reception (very very nice), and various other wedding-related events, as well as checking out the local playground. We then picked up a car (gasp!) and drove out to Somerset to stay with our friend's new inlaws, who, despite never having laid eyes on us before, were extremely gracious about offering us a place to stay for the week. Plus they ended up being perfectly lovely people, and we had a lovely time with them. Typical tourists, we romped around the southwest, looking for fossils, riding steam trains, climbing beacons, all the while marveling at the lovely, extremely "un-English" weather (meaning it didn't rain once while we were there and was mostly sunny and beautiful, if a bit cool for our now delicate southern blood).

The worst part about the whole trip, aside from that pesky driving-on-the-wrong-side-of the road thing (and the fact that our street at home is the equivalent of a two lane road in the UK), was having to come home. I always find the trip back rougher then the trip over - besides being an hour or more longer on the plane, you don't have the excitement of the vacation to look forward to. But we made it home in one piece, and I managed not to fall asleep until past 7 pm, which is pretty good given how little sleep I was getting during the trip. When we've got the pictures uploaded, I'll post more details.

Back to the races

Yesterday was my triumphant return to the world of triathlon post-Boo. I am glad to be back, even in a slower, larger version then a few years ago. And it went much better then my first race back after Devil was born (where I landed on the pavement 6 miles into the bike and was laid up with road rash and a pulled back muscle for about a month).

The day did not start auspiciously – our drive down to Pearland was very dark, punctuated with brilliant flashes of lightening and the proverbial Ark-floating downpour. It’s always a bit of a concern when the place you’re headed for is completely hidden by the Black Cloud of Doom. The transition area was very wet, the thunder was booming, and I was pretty sure this race wasn’t going to happen at all. But eventually we all got lined up for a hop into the pool. The first racers started just as the thunder started up again. But they kept going (and got through the swim without mishap thankfully). Most sprint races in this part of Texas have pool swims, there being few appropriate (and clean) bodies of water for swimming in and loads of pools. Somehow there was a mix up on my swim time (swim is self-seeded, so you send in a predicted swim time when you enter and you start with people who swim about the same as you) and I ended up passing six or seven people in 300 meters. Hauled out of the water (only two seconds slower then the time I’d sent in) and ran off to transition.

My transitions were just a wee bit rusty after more then a year off, but I finally got out onto the bike course. It was very wet and slick, although the rain had tapered off quite a bit. The road was about as good as they get down here – fairly smooth, no major expansion joints or potholes. I felt pretty good on the bike, although I had no idea how fast I was going since my computer crapped out on me (maybe it doesn’t like the rain?), but I finished about when I thought I would. And then it was off on the run.

The usual M.O. for my triathlon experience is this: kick butt on the swim, fly on the bike, and then watch all those people I just passed speed by on the run. I am not a small person. I do not run quickly. In fact, I run quite slowly. Mr. Iron Man runs about twice as fast as I do at his race pace and my easy pace. So I knew what was to come. I decided as I headed out (legs aching and thinking to myself “Whose bright idea was this anyway?) that my goal for the run was no walking. Given the problems I’ve been having with my feet (@(#&$)^% plantar fasciitis), this seemed like a reasonable goal. No walking and passing the two very large guys I could see ahead of me. The run course started off through the park and then turned onto a gravel path for about half a mile. As soon as I hit the path, the sky opened up and the deluge commenced again in earnest. My first thought was “I’m glad I’m not still riding!” and the second was “My feet are getting really wet, but hey – it’s not four bazillion degrees out!” As suspected the run was slow. Very slow. But I didn’t stop and I did pass the Clydesdales I’d marked at the start, as well as some other folks. Came to the finish line and there was the family cheering away. Well, Iron Man was cheering, while Boo drooled and Devil watched, thumb firmly in mouth.

The best part of the day (other then finishing the bike upright and road rash-free)? Walking in the rain over to the transition area holding hands with Devil, and having her look up at me and say “Yay Mama!” I was tired, my feet were killing me, but my daughter was excited to be out there, even with the crappy weather. There’s not much more I could ask for.