Dust-Catcher and Recumbent: A Tale of Two Bikes

This my new gym-caliber recumbent bike, a Schwinn 230.

I bought it to replace my 30-year-old dust-catcher of a stationary bike which I purchased from Sears to drop weight after my first child... now 32 years old... was born.

I rode Dust-Catcher about 600 miles a year since 2003, so I did see use it... but turns out it was half-broken. And half-effective.

A couple months ago, to avoid eventual knee surgery, I embarked on a physical therapy regimen, and it's not been easy. But WOW...I feel better. Exercise has already made a huge difference in my health, and I'm just getting started.

My new recumbent bike is professional caliber... more so than I imagined, since I bought it via Amazon. I've been using it for two weeks, and have discovered that it's light years more effective... and tougher... than Dust-Catcher.

Gleaming, sturdy, computerized... Recumbent challenges me. Stares at me. Sometimes overwhelms me.Occasionally frustrates me. Frequently wears me out.

But Recumbent will never defeat me. Instead, I will work my way up to 30 minutes daily.

I refuse to be defeated.

Or to succumb to knee, or perhaps hip, surgery until doctors believe there is no better way. And that may be never, given that I'm motivated.

Competitive Tomato Growing

At our couples book club dinner last week, half-a-dozen men were huddled, thoroughly absorbed in conversation about... not golf, not MLB spring training, not their latest home improvement projects, and surprisingly, not the economy or the spiraling unemployment rate.

In hushed tones, these middle-aged, comfortably dressed, contentedly married men were earnestly discussing the upcoming tomato plant sale at the local arboretum, which features 200 varieties of heirloom, organic and newly developed species of their favorite backyard spring crop.

They were plotting strategies both for snagging the most desirable plants, and for nurturing their prized plants to produce mouth-watering, premium fruits. They were comparing notes on on the best qualities of certain varieties, and of the unsurpassable culinary experience of home-grown tomatoes.

Today, this quietly gray Saturday morning, Ron rose and nervously prepared for his anticipated foray to the arboretum, which opened 10 minutes ago at 10 am.

Armed with a six-column spreadsheet analyzing various attributes of his top 15 plant types (ranked in order of his preference), my engineer husband murmured that he wasn't sure when he would be home, considering all that he has on his plate: soil condition and plant health and fertilizer.

After all, our next book club get-together is May 8. He has much to accomplish before then.

2009 New Years Wish to Stop the Planet

I've posted here very little in 2008, but not because I've lost interest. Far from it.

In fact, this blog is my favorite writing venue. But the year got away from me, I guess, buried under an avalanche of political news and profound family milestones and events.

All is well, my friends, but so much is changing. Not that change is a negative, mind you... it just is, and it's time and energy consuming.

Andrea will be leaving home and going to college in 2009, most likely to UC Berkeley, University of Chicago or Tufts University, in Boston. Possibly Swarthmore College outside Philadelphia. (I'm privately rooting for the California school. Closer to home.)

My parents celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary a month ago. All three of our parents are now in their 80s, and dealing with bewildering, slowly deterioriating health, both physical and mental.

Our two adorable grandchildren are healthy, happy toddlers. Our adult children and their spouses are caught in the inevitable whirl of career, busyness and accumulation of too much stuff.

Ron continues to take five daily medications for diabetes, and I finally succumbed this month to obtaining an official diagnosis for the family arthritis in my hips and knees.

In our family, everyone knows they are loved. There are no family feuds, and relationships are in reasonably good repair. No one lost job or home. No one is facing life-threatening disease. Most know God, some intimately. All look forward to the future. We are blessed beyond words.

Life is good, but it's ever-changing. Sometimes, I wish time could stop for a while, so I could savor, at my own pace, a non-changing snapshot of the pleasures, the pains, the beautiful collage of life.

But that's not the nature of our existence. Instead, it keeps moving forward like a mighty river. Or like a proverbial avalanche that temporarily overtakes me.

This year, my resolutions have less to do with physical tasks or relationships, and more to do with my spiritual and personal growth. One of my resolutions for 2009 is more writing here.

My wish for you in 2009 is the same: deliberate focus on personal and spiritual growth, and the time and space to do it well. And finding something you love to do as much as I love writing.

Happy New Year, and God bless you!

(Art courtesy of NASA)

Slipping Off to the Park

This morning about 8 am, while my husband and daughter slept in, I slipped off to the local park a few blocks from our home for a sunshine-filled walk....something I rarely do.

And it was lovely, of course. Our park is smallish, with gentle green slopes surrounding a lake filled with ducks, geese and assorted other water bird, and stocked with trout and catfish. Tall, aging eucalyptus trees sway in the breeze, scenting the park and shading sojourners. (See photo.)

What struck me most this morning, though, was the quiet love that filled the park:

• A 30-something couple, her with a walker, he walking alongside, gently helping her. They laughed together, sat on a bench for a while, then slowly walked a bit farther.
  
  
• A young father with his daughter, feeding the ducks, taking photos
  
  
• A father fishing with his boys
  
  
• An elderly, eightyish couple walking hand-in-hand
  
  
• Mothers chatting quietly while their children clamber on the playground

And walkers of all ages, sizes, and ethnicities, with and without dogs...mothers and daughters, women friends, couples, singles.

Everyone savoring the moment and enjoying the morning.

The pastoral park scene reminded me of the beauty of life.

Summer Postmortem - 2008

Hard to imagine that it's been two months since I've posted here, my favorite journal.

Summer was filled with visits to college campuses, two trips to Northern California to take and pick-up Andrea from her 11-day, 73-mile backpack through Yosemite, and a delightful, weeklong sojourn in Portland, Oregon with my 31-year-old daughter and her husband.

Chestnut, our beloved 11-year-old dachsund, died about a month ago, peacefully of a natural causes (a heart attack?) in our backyard. We adored her from the time she entered our life as a 12-week-old puppy. She had a sweet temperament, and brought much love and fun into our home. We were genuinely surprised at the depth of sadness we felt at her passing.

Politics, and writing about politics, have consumed my energies, too, of course.

Politics and the pursuit of social justice can be a good and noble calling. But political shenanigans, and political devotees, can also be frivolous, infuriating, and even destructive and nefarious.

So to officially kick-off the post-convention, fall political season, I took this weekend off from all things political. Instead, I:

• Langorously read from a relaxing book, "A Year in Provence," by Peter Mayle.


• Enjoyed a glass or two of velvety California pinot noir.


• Watched baseball with Ron, especially our surging Los Angeles Angels.


• Attended our annual church picnic.


• Listened to 1960s-era jazz I've grown to savor on my iPod, by Dave Brubeck.


• Made a delicious dinner for Ron and Andrea: seared pork loin chops and paprika cauliflower, followed by lime sherbet.


• AND... took a Sunday afternoon nap.

I now feel refreshed and ready to face the last 57 days of this political season.

And I'm already planning my post-election relaxation: on November 6th, I fly to Denver to spend five days celebrating my parents' 60th wedding anniversary, and to enjoy the Rocky Mountain fall air.

Ron and Andrea can't get away to join me. And I'm thinking that my laptop may stay home, too.

Secret, Small Sadness

Haven't written in several months here at my favorite blog. I'm not sure why, except to repeat the tired cliche that life's been busy. And time glides by much too fast.

Daily life in our home has changed greatly since the holidays, and yet, the changes are normal. To be anticipated. And wonderfully bittersweet.

Our youngest, and only, child at home got her first job in January... and wow! The responsibility of a job, and the empowering joy of one's own money, have matured her beyond our imagination. Her new self-reliance has gifted her with a self-confidence belied by a new, deeper smile.

Between work, school, activities, church and friends, we see her mainly at family dinner. When she's here.

She finished her junior year of high school with outstanding grades, and unbelievably great scores on that triad of college-bound tests: SATs, APs and IBs. So..... one year from now, we will be packing her off to college. And to beginning of her adult life.

As I write these words, Ron is driving her home from the airport while I make her favorite dinner (chicken soft tacos with all the trimmings) . She's returning from a week-long trip to the East Coast generously provided by her 31-year old-sister (my oldest) and her husband, who has relatives in New England.

Besides catching a Red sox game in Fenway Park (Ron was eating is heart out!), savoring "Young Frankenstein" on Broadway, and seeing sites previously unimagined, she toured Yale, Columbia, Brown and Tufts.

When she walks in our door 30 minutes from now, she will be different from the girl who left eight days ago. She'll be more traveled, wiser, less young.

And despite my unending joy for and pride in her, the mother in me will secretly, quietly feel a small but discernible sadness....

Remembering Scott

I heard the news today that an old friend, Scott Foster, passed away last year of cancer.

Scott was the first boy I had a crush on... he was head of the boys line in first grade Sunday School, and I was head of the girls line. He was fun and friendly and had a wonderful, hearty laugh, even then.

Our parents were friends, and we had younger brothers the same age. We attended the same schools and church.

Scott and I were like brother and sister in many respects, friends who felt comfortable with each other at that awkward teenage time when we mostly feel uncomfortable with our peers.

We went to a movie together the night of our senior prom because, like foolish kids. we were afraid that other kids would think we were boyfriend-girlfriend.

We lost touch in college.He married a lovely girl from our high school, a year younger than us, and I married, too. And life moved on, as it inevitably does...

Scott and I danced at our 20th high school reunion. Both our spouses stayed home, so it was natural that we would laugh and talk and dance together, just like old times.

He hadn't changed a bit from first grade.

But that was almost 20 years ago. We never saw each other or spoke again.

Scott left his heartbroken wife of 33 years, and two young adult children.

I know their loss is terrible and great.

But I grieve today, too. Somehow, I always thought I'd see Scott again...