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We’re sitting in the living room after supper.

I’m reading – Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret – can’t believe I’ve never read this before! Bill’s on his cell phone, checking the stats for The Open (they don’t like you calling it the British Open!), when suddenly my husband breaks the comfortable silence.

“Let’s go ride our bikes.”

After an eager and enthusiastic start a few years ago – all tricked out with the latest gadgets and gear – bicycling was relegated to the west wall of the garage where Bill’s Trek and my Townie Electra have hung upright the past three years.

Bill checked the bikes over, making sure the tires were all properly inflated and then, per my hesitation, we simply rode around the cul-de-sac / loop where we live.

And it was GLORIOUS.

I was transported to sensations of freedom and youth and experience and wondered why in the heck I’d let this joyous act of riding my bike pass me by.

Well, no more. The batteries on our odometers need to be replaced and Bill will have to install the bike rack so we can transport our wonder machines to any number of delightful trailheads in the area and then – then! – the splendid exhilaration of new vistas, the heady rush of wind in our faces, tunneled bike trails, glimpses of nature and wildflowers, deer sightings, blue birds, etc., etc., etc.! Even those tired muscles, sure to resurface after such an extended absence, won’t be without some small measure of satisfaction.

More to come, my friends. More. To. Come. 🙂

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I’m cranky.

There. I’ve said it. Don’t ask me why, because I can’t really explain it, but since we got back from our wonderfully relaxing vacation in Colorado last week I’m in a mood. First day back I felt GREAT! Isn’t life fantastic? Lots of energy, sleeves rolled up, told husband I felt like I had my mojo back.

And then it all went south.

My first thought was that perhaps my foul demeanor was due to the change in elevation. Many of the trails we hiked in the Rocky Mountains brought us higher, ever higher, our lungs expanding in the thin air and our hearts pounding like jackhammers in our chests. One day last week we stood at a high point along the Trail Ridge Road where we towered over everything else around us at more than 12,000 feet, wind howling and bellowing, it seemed, from every direction. But now, here we are, back in the lowlands of the Midwest (Des Moines, elevation 958) and my poor body has no idea what to do with all this extra, heavier, moisture-laden air. While in Estes Park we pretty much ate what we wanted but came back at our pre-vacation fighting weights, thanks to all the hiking we did. Stuck in ‘pig-out’ mode, we’ve maintained the same eating habits so maybe that’s a contributor as well to said crankiness.

But when I ponder this further I think I know the answer. In Colorado, for one glorious week, we knew FREEDOM. We did pretty much whatever we damned well pleased and never (well, hardly ever) gave work more than a glancing thought or two. Monday morning when the alarm clock went off at five-twenty, it was truly a rude awakening and an evil reminder that our time, now, was no longer ours to call our own.

Sing it Soul II Soul: Back to life, back to reality!

Bill and I have taken very few trips longer than a three or four day weekend. This time we were away from work for ten whole days. That’s a long time to get used to being on your own schedule, being master of your minutes and hours and days. I loved it! But oh how cruel having to return to the workaday world after such a carefree existence as that which enveloped us in Colorado. Perhaps it’s because retirement isn’t really that far off but this little ‘vacay’ of ours has just made it seem even more tantalizing than ever before. I want it and I do, yes, want it now. The harsh, financial vagaries of life, however, intrude.

The state-run lottery here has a slogan that urges folks to buy tickets by (not so?) gently reminding them that you can’t win big bucks if you don’t play the game. So please excuse me while I, ahem, make a quick run to the nearest convenience store.