BAN THE BULGE!!!

I’ve decided to take a stand. I am wholeheartedly against spandex. I realize, that spandex, in and of itself, may seem harmless enough; but in the wrong hands (read: on the wrong behind), I assure you, it’s deadly. You might argue that it looks fine on some people to which I would say, that may be; but on the vast majority of us it does not look fine. And because of that said vast majority I am recommending, nay demanding, that spandex be ban in all its forms. Let’s face it, being naked, without really being naked is not okay. Let’s not allow these “decent” exhibitionists to literally stretch the moral fabric of our society. You don’t see nudist colonies anymore, that’s because they’ve all purchased really expensive bicycles, “clothed” themselves in spandex and now flaunt their goodies at every neighborhood coffee shop in America. Don’t let their friendly banter or disarming smiles fool you, they’re the same shaved legged perverts who used to play “all natural” volleyball behind privacy fences. Thats right forlks, they've taken their “show” on the road, but it doesn’t mean we have to stand for it. Unite with me in stopping this very real threat to the very sensibilities that made us great. Say, no to spandex and BAN THE BULGE!

The hand's off landlord

Paul and I are heading up to the mountains for a Labor Day Vaca. Being the responsible tenants that we are, we called our landlord to ask if he wanted us to pay next month's rent before we left or if he wouldn't mind waiting till we returned on the 2nd. I should preface the following story with some anonymous details of our landlord.

One, he had our apartment's previous tenant find the new renters, us. Two, he prefers cash. Three, we have yet to meet him at the same place twice.

We called him on the phone and are literally walking out the door to drive to the mountains and he asks if we could pay today rather than wait till we return on Tuesday. We said ok, and where did he want us to meet him. He gave us instructions to another one of his properties, this one called “Smuggler's Cove” and to meet him at 1:30pm. We kill a couple hours and reach the complex at 1:25 and call back to get the condo number. He says it will be the one with work trucks outside and presumably the garage door open. He also waits till now to inform us that someone named Andrew will be receiving the cash. Paul had pulled over on the side of the road to receive these oh-so-specific instructions and 90 seconds into the conversation enters older gentlemen onto the scene. He pulls up to the window and rolls down his passenger window, motioning for Paul to roll his down. Paul obeys but is still on the phone. This is when aforementioned person proceeds to berate Paul for apparently having blocked his ritualistic tight turn onto the Smuggler's property. Clearly Paul is on the phone, as it's up to his left ear. The guy isn't deterred and continues to yell at us while now completely blocking the road to both lanes in desperation to make his point. He starts to angrily wave his cell phone in the air, miming that if we don't move he's calling someone. Paul pulls forward slightly, I guess enough to satisfy the constipated grump who drives off to leave Paul to finish up with our landlord. It still takes us a few loops around the apartment/condo/duplex homes to find the one he was talking about. Paul runs inside, pays the Andrew character, also getting him to sign a torn envelope that he received it, and then we're off for a three-day weekend away from the crazies.

Who's your Daddy?

So this update is long over-due and I have a list of excuses, yadayada yada so let me just get on with it.

We have settled in Boulder Colorado for the time being; at least until life decides to pull the asphalt up to our door again and drop us off again at some other near or distant location. Paul got a job at the Boulder REI and he starts CU Boulder orientation August 18th. On that same day I will begin setting up my classroom/"pod" with my 2 fellow teachers at Boulder Journey School, referred to as BJS. In a long list of ironies that is my life, add to it one more: it is New Zealand's sister school I was previously working at and of which I wonder how related it is...its vaguely similar in that it shares the same basic philosophy of teaching but culture, location and a variety of personalities that make up its framework give it vast differences. (If you are privy enough to know my personal blog, check there for more oddities, or email me for the account.)

Now for an anecdote: Paul and I thought we'd use our time this summer to slam ourselves into shape for living at 5,400' above sea level (1,650 for you metric lovers). Paul has signed up for his first marathon this September and I recently competed in my second triathalon...I'm not going to get nit-picky with sharing details, suffice to say I didn't drown during the swimming and actually crossed the final finish line by myself, (and i use, 'by myself' loosely). The week prior to my tri, Paul suggested we do a training ride from Boulder to Lyons, a town about 18 miles away. I was all for it, especially since there was rumor of a coffee shop and I'm a sucker for beans. The ride was fairly routine including a few butt-numbing hills and we made it to Lyons in good time and start our search for a java shoppe. We spot one on main street. I get the usual, black fully-leaded, and Paul orders his. We choose a table outside for a few reasons: 1, we want to keep an eye on our bikes, 2, we wanted to save fellow patrons from smelling our lycra and 3, we wanted to save fellow patrons from staring at our lycra clad bodies. I sit down while Paul waits inside for his order. Immediately a friendly six-year-old girl hops up on the chair next to me. We start to chat about the lap dog that she just 'rescued' from another patron one table over who is now being dragged by its collar while afore mentioned kindergartner forces her threw a maze of table legs. Paul sits down and we start to ask her about her summer and if she's having fun, etc. Mid conversation she stops, looks at Paul, looks at me and in a voice reserved for secrets among playmates turns to me and asks, "Is he your Dad?" I try not to laugh. Paul shoots me a "not funny" glare. And almost before I can answer the dog-dragging girl is onto another subject. I could look at it two ways, obviously neither is good: she thinks I'm about 10 years old or that Paul is 40. Paul wasn't too excited about her observation but at least it made for a good story.

A toast to you, our beautiful fans!

In all fairness, I will now admit that we have more than 2 readers. I guess I just didn't realize people cared as much as they do. My apologies to you Grandma, the queen of rok, and anyone else offended by our measly count.

I will try to give you the latest update, however many you are.

I have been in Denver for a couple weeks now and Paul just joined me. We returned to the States from New Zealand after some family mishaps and will now be here for at least the next nine months, (nine months has nothing to do with a gestation period, just in case you were thinking that). Paul will be able to take classes at CU Boulder to keep up with his coursework until we are able to return to the magical land of Zealand that is 'New' and I will be teaching, hopefully, at the Bear Park sister school in Boulder. Slightly ironic isn't it?

So, we are officially back. We don't have cell phone plans yet, just in case the masses of fans that we have want to start ringing us off the hizzy, so for now, email us...but we are back and will be updating you on any new crazy accounts that seem to happen to us all too often no matter where we live.

Dog Shi-ca-ca

By now hopefully all two of our readers have caught up on the fact that we are no longer in New Zealand. We have returned to the land of the Obama's, Clinton's and McCain's. We aren't making this political, we are only mentioning this because we thought we might miss this very controversial election, come November, and seeing as neither of the choices are good ones we were not unhappy about missing all the ensuing drama.

But back to the task at hand...updating you, our lone reader. (yes, you Jen.) Other than major family drama that i'll spare you from at this current time, Paul and i celebrated our 1 year anniversary. Our original celebration destination was a toss up between Rotorua Mud Baths in New Zealand that come complete with cabins, tea time and mud OR surfing in Piha (world class beach) and we figured we couldn't go wrong. Our surprise return to the states took us for a loop, a BIG loop, therefore landing us in Indianapolis on our special date and calling in a compromise: the promise of a dog, our very own. Our current problem is: we are a little on the homeless side and its easier to find a bed for two people than a bed for two people and a dog. Not sure why, but not all people are dog lovers, so, we decided on this faux-furry creature for the time being. Our only solace is that we don't have to walk him or pick up his daily poo.