Biking

The daunting London to Paris ride is quickly sneaking up. Most weekends Andy and I go for a training ride, which I begin to dread on Thursday. Last week the weather was horrendous and predicted to get worse throughout the weekend. Then I heard the magical words come out of Andy’s mouth, “Looks like we won’t be able to go for our 40 miler.” He sounded devastated, as if someone told him his five star vacation to Hawaii had been canceled, where I on the other hand, could have sworn I heard angles singing!! I could finally look forward to the weekend and not have to think about climbing on that purple piece of metal crap!  Then Sunday rolled around….

We woke up to the sound of sea gulls singing and people laughing. The sun was showing it’s face for the first time in what seemed like weeks. It was a gorgeous day. And then Andy muttered those horrible words that made it feel as if my world was collapsing down around me, “What a beautiful day! We can go out for our ride!!” And right then is when my mood turned from happy go lucky to negative Nancy!

There Andy was with a big bright smile across his face as he put on his black spandex pants equipped with a padded butt and reflective paint, as I moped around complaining about anything that came to mind. I hated every minute of this bike ride and it hadn’t even begun.

Once we did get on the rode chirpy Andy raced ahead as if in training for the Tour De France, while I peddled with all my might and still barley able to break 7 miles per hour. After 10 minutes we reached a busy roundabout where Andy zipped through it at the speed of traffic waving his hands around doing fancy road signals, leaving me to fend for myself. I had no idea what to do. Do I stop, look left, look right, go in the middle of the road, stay to the side???? I had no idea! It looked like a bike riding death trap! So I stopped and got off my bike and crossed two roads walking my bike to a safe parking lot where I could get back on with ease. However, when I got my bike safely across Andy was impatiently awaiting me. And this is when I lost it shouting, “I can’t believe you LEFT me back there at the roundabout to die!!! How was I ever supposed to get around!?!?! I didn’t even know which way to look!!! I was almost run over!!!!” To which he responded, “How could you almost get run over when you didn’t even try to cross!”

Fuming I got on my bike and stormed off down the road only to look back and see no Andy. I turned around and saw him peddling toward me in a state of rage shouting, “ Where are you going?” I sassily replied, “I don’t know! You didn’t tell me! I don’t even know where I am!” And eventually after much back in forth I said,” That’s it! Give me the keys I am going home,” which opened up the door for Andy to give me a military motivational you can’t give up and be a quitter speech! UGGGGG I hate those! I keep telling him I am not a military recruit. I just wanted to scream, “I don’t care if I am a quitter!!!!” as I throw my bike into the river, but instead I got back on the bike with the look of sheer disgust on my face.

And on we went. Me hating every single minute of being on that bike wishing I was anywhere but peddling along the boring road on a bike the squeaks with the thought “I HATE this running through my head every 3 seconds, while Andy does circles around me saying “Isn’t this great! Don’t you love it!?” Lets hope on the London to Paris ride Andy and I are nowhere near each other because it might just start WWIII! 

A day in the life of Mr. Hearty

To keep myself busy, since my visa does not permit me to work, I volunteer with the British Heart Foundation. The other week the head of volunteers called and asked if I would like to go to a local elementary school during health and safety week and speak to a few different age groups about the BHF and how to keep a healthy heart. I of course jumped at the opportunity, since this meant an entire day outside of the house! She emailed me the talk, which told the little kids what a heart looked like, what a volunteer was, how exercise keeps your heart healthy, what to eat to keep healthy and so on and so on. I was basically going to be the boring lady who comes in, is probably taking up recesses time, and talking about monotonous healthy nonsense, while out the window the luckier class gets to tour the fire engine.

When I got to the school I spoke to three different groups. The youngest ones had a hard time understanding my accent and looked at me like I was from Mars when I would slip up and talk American, saying jump rope instead of skipping and trash instead of rubbish. When I finished with the last class I thought it had gone pretty well and my goal of getting out for a few hours was accomplished, even if it was spent at an elementary school full of children. But I was totally mistaken because it was far from over. Zoe, the head of volunteers said, “Now if you don’t mind can you go and put on Hearty.”

Hearty is the BHF mascot. It is a 4 foot wide, six foot high, Bozo the clown shoe wearing, white glove waving, red, smiling heart! It is AWFUL!!! It is huge, smelly and had probably been worn by some of the UK’s finest. I couldn’t believe I had been asked to put this thing on and parade around with children. But, being the push over I am, said, “Yes of course” with a smile on my face, which was followed with Zoe saying, “Great and don’t for get you are Mr. Hearty…. So just wave and don’t talk!”

There I was changing into this god-awful costume in the principle's office with all the 10 year olds pointing and laughing at me from the playground. Then, all suited up, I had to be literally pushed by two other people through the door, out onto the playground, where they continued to point and laugh, and shoved through another door to where I was going to be photographed for the local paper. I waddled my way through the room with little girls screaming “It’s Mr. Hearty” as I awkwardly waved my hands which stuck out the center of Mr. Hearty’s body. As the children gathered around me for our picture, I heard some of the rug rats saying, “Kick him over” followed with about four boys punching and kicking my legs and the enormous heart I was wearing trying with all their might to knock me down. Then came the hands poking through the arm holes and bottom of the heart trying to feel what was inside this hideous thing, followed by a girl sticking her entire head through the arm hole proclaiming, “Its not a Mr., it’s that American lady!!” Then they all tried to cop a feel to see if I was a girl or rip off the costume to see if it really was “that American lady”. After another 10 minutes of this torture it was finally time for me to retire as Mr. Hearty.

I just can’t believe at the ripe young age of 24 my life has come to dressing up as a big red heart named Mr. Hearty for free!!

Back in the Sunshine State

As much as I hate to agree with Andy, England is an absolutely beautiful country… when the sun decides to come out and play! I would even go as far as say it is one of the most beautiful places in the world, when the sun is shinning and you are whipping around the tiny country lanes, passing though little village after little village, stopping off at old pubs, and having a pint of real English Ale with your lover. However, it is not so picturesque when, in a span of two and a half weeks, the sun only shows his face for a total of two times! And this would be called the entire month of February. I was dying to get back to the Sunshine State! And lucky me, here I am! I came back Sunday to attend, and be in, my friend Ashley’s wedding (my very first bridesmaid experience)!!

When my plane landed at the Orlando International Airport, it felt like I was a bear coming out of hibernation after a winter of sleeping in a dark cave. The sun was blinding bright without a cloud in the sky, just as a Florida evening should be. And once I was welcomed back with smiles from customs, I got my bags, and ran into the welcoming arms of my mommy! Could being home in the south and the sun be any better?

YES! When I arrived home my fabulous dad had a glass of crisp but fruity chardonnay (my fav), peel and eat shrimp, and filet wrapped in bacon waiting for my mom and me. I think this is on par or even better than being Her Majesty the Queen! When I woke up it was on to daily womanly duties with my mom. We started by educating our minds with an afternoon showing of Valentines Day before meeting my dad and being treated to an early dinner of sushi and Japanese plum wine. It was then time for me to meet up with the girls, and bride to be, to talk about all things direly important: dresses, cakes, flowers, and the men we are about to marry!

Next I had my father daughter day. We did all the things one should do when having a day of just the two of you… get measured for his May 15th costume (top hat and coat tails), have Philly cheese steaks and fries at a greasy diner dive, and pick up the new seat for the newer, meaner looking motorcycle he just bought. Then in the evening I was wined, dinned, and serenaded with the sounds of the acoustic guitar as we watched a movie. I am pretty sure this is how Scarlet O’Hare felt in Gone with the Wind as she gallivanted around the South, before the war of course!

Well, it's time I go. My duties of being a Floridian lady of leisure must continue…. I have a lady’s breakfast in an hour and I mustn’t be late!