The wrong weekend to think about giving up drinking, anyway. I swear I did have some good intentions that way. Must-lose-weight/alcohol-is-empty-calories kind of intentions... but the moon, stars and planets have to be in perfect alignment for me to carry off such a feat of willpower; the slightest hitch, and I'm all " Oh god, I need a drink."

The new washing machine installation went off with only a tiny hitch. The cold water inlet tap/cock (probably not turned in 9 years) started leaking once I tried to do the first load (one stuffed washer..) Purhase of new washing machine cocks and a handy husband sorted that one out on the Friday, but it warranted a glass of something on Thursday night, especially after the drama of getting the damn thing delivered in the first place.

Friday morning things started to go more awry. The 'lemon delicious' cakes I was making for Zoe's birthday (to share with her class - she has a couple of friends who LOVE our lemon delicious cake) stuck to the pans BIG TIME. Both pans. With the cake delivery deadline being before 11.00 (recess), as I had an appointment in town at 11.15, I had no option other than to ring the school and get them to deliver the message that 'Mum has had a cake cooking disaster, and she'd have to make more for Monday.' With Saturday being her birthday, I figured I could get away with it, though I could have done without the spousal support: "What are you doing? Ringing the school? What are you going to say? Why didn't you make them last night? Well you left yourself no room for error." Thanks. And shut up. And why do you have to be hanging around at home instead of being at work?

Apparently she was upset, but her Wonderful Teacher told her that Mum would likely be more upset, so she should give me a great big understanding hug when she got home. So she did. And was able to giggle at just how stuffed the cakes were. They still tasted good, but they couldn't have been cut up into slices for classmates! Despite the rest of the day going ok, I felt justified in washing down the day's frustrations with a beer.

On Saturday things got a bit worse. I fell off the bike - the tandem I was riding with Cait - and I've wrenched my knee.

We were on the community ride, and I clipped the back wheel of someone in front when they braked suddenly. Cait, on the back, kept upright and held onto the bike, but I went tumbling off to the left, landing, luckily, on some grass at the side of the bike track. Good look that - NOT. We all know to be careful riding in a bunch, but I stuffed up. My left knee felt jarred but I got back on and it was ok riding. So I rode another 50km before and after a bacon and eggs breakfast at a cafe (in honour of Zoe's birthday). Strangely enough I seized up once we stopped riding, and by evening (despite icing it) I was hobbling - effecting an ungainly gait in order to favour said stuffed knee, and consequently putting stress on other parts of the old bod, so I'm a bit sore everywhere now. I have some impressive bruises to show for it, front and back of my thigh (and one bruise over on the right thigh!)


[Photo1 = bruise on front of thigh day 1.
Photo 2 = bruise on thigh day 2
Photo 3 = bruise on back of thigh]

So no riding for me on Sunday. The rest of the family rode the next day with another family, while I played support crew.

Caitlin rode my road bike, wore my bike shoes, and my bike glasses, a baptism by fire of 50km for her first time on a road bike and with cleats. (She did well too.) She'd like to keep all three, but she's starting with the shoes. (Meaning I need to buy myself another pair. That's cool, I can cope with that!) I just hope I'll be ok for the Gong ride in two weeks - and for some training rides this weekend.

So meantime, I need at least one drink a night to ... um ... soothe the frustrations?

I'll stay off the glue!

Labels: bike riding, doh