Everything Can Be Fixed

Allie and I went to Borders last weekend. Thousands of books and she picks out one that explains how things work: vacuum cleaners, the I-phone, etc. She is so much going to be an engineer. While Allie learned about the internal combustion chamber engine, I looked for a Valentine’s Day card that wouldn’t come across as sarcastic.

Allie’s book took the mystery out of how things work, like the I-phone. When looked at carefully, everything can be fixed. My truck is back up and running. The garage door works better than new. The furnace is warming our house as it is suppose to. There has not been any sign of lice in our house since my neurotic cleaning frenzy two weeks ago. Everything can be fixed but sometimes the energy required to fix something is better used by cutting your losses and starting fresh.

Typical Friday Night at the Wagner's...

Trip to Block Busters for a DVD and a trip to Urgent Care for Emilie. I need to think about this for a minute, but I don't think we went one week this year without a trip to the hospital. I find myself addressing the doctors by their first names.

Valentine's Day

Allison got her first pimple this week, a reminder that she will not be my little girl forever. We are going to the Daddy Daughter dance Saturday. Em didn't want to go, she is a little too cool for all that. I was thinking about this last night as I looked through the Valentine's Day cards Allie made for her class. I saw a card to Griffin. It seemed to have a few extra stickers on it. I heard Allie mention Griffin's name before so I pulled it out of the pile and carefully inspected it. Allie giggled. Oh man.

The whole concept of Valentine's Day is perplexing to a 9 year old, much more perplexing to a 43 year old.

Life Starts At 176 BPM

It's been a tough year, not whining, just pointing out the obvious. The problem, as it turns out, wasn't my new, crappy health care plan or my truck giving up the ghost or anything else I have little or no control over that seemed to hit the ground like Humpty Dumpty. The problem is I have been in a base building funk. Building a base is important for athletes but I am just a regular guy with a high need for endorphins. This week I started including anaerobic workouts on the stationary. I have a much better disposition now.

Blue Skies Part II

Allie spent the day at a friend's which left Emilie and I home alone. As I was about to get on the trainer, Em asked if we could go out to eat. I'm always up for that. I threw on jeans and my Cahartt so we would go to Toco Bell. Em dressed up so we could go to Johnny Carino's. We had an excellent Italian meal and excellent conversation. Despite a series of things breaking down around me lately, this is a great time of my life. I almost deleted me last few (slightly bitter) posts but instead decided to just stop whining for the rest of the year. And if I do whine, it will be so subtle that it will be virtually undetectable. I'm even optimistic about the upcoming race season.

Blue Skies

The furnace went out last night leaving me calm in the assurance that this year cannot possible get any worse; therefore, it must, by default, get better. I can live with that. I started slacking as things got a little messed up this year. I recommitted myself to suck it up and do the things I know I should.

I told myself I would ride yesterday. Fridays are tricky since it is movie night for the kids and me. Since I avoid riding when the kids are around, I rode after they fell asleep. And since they fell asleep sometime after 11:00, my Friday ride spilled over into Saturday but that's fine.

I also committed to volunteering 40 hours this year with the MMBA. This morning I helped build a board walk over a swampy part of the Poto trail. Normally I only volunteer when they are cleaning up the Brighton Req Area after a storm since it feels like they are working on my trail. I like Poto but it isn't "my" trail. I'm glad I helped; they had Bell's Winter Ale afterwords.

I decided before going to the Poto that I would make an effort to talk to people I didn't know instead of staying in the little group of guys I ride with. No big deal for a normal person but I tend to fall more towards the introverted end of the spectrum. It was a good decision. Everyone I had a conversation with was interesting and one even owns a Yamaha RD350 like mine. Funny, I thought I was the only person hip enough in Michigan to have affection for these vintage race bikes. My Yamaha wasn't vintage when I bought it, I smuggled it across the Canadian border when it was new since they weren't legal in the States. Perhaps I'm not old, I'm vintage. I can live with that.

Self-esteem

I took another day off work, this time to fix the garage door and sort out the issues with my truck. I did sneak in an uninspired 60 minute ride because Iceman is only 40 weeks away and I am getting concerned.

It looks like my truck will need a new engine. The dilemma is a re-manufactured engine costs about what my truck is worth. While I contemplated this, I called my dad at his winter house down in Florida and asked if I could borrow his classic 1989 Mercury Sable that was parked at his summer house up in Michigan. The car is in perfect condition and has never been driven in a salty, Michigan winter. I know this because he pointed it out several times during our brief conversation.

The kids threw a fit when I picked them up from school in my smoke'n hot Mercury but I have no self-esteem left in me so this car is perfect. It has rain guards installed over the side windows and, for some reason, I cannot turn off the wipers. This will prove useful in the unlikely event of rain this month. The alternator light came on when I reached highway speeds so I slowed down to see if it would go off. As my luck this month would have predicted, Cindy happened to be on the same road and past me. She sends me the following text:

"You're driving a tan Sable with handicap license plates and rain guards. You can't at least drive the speed limit so everyone doesn't think you are an old man?"