This post is a little backwards, so if you want a look into the December 24th debauchery, skip this sentimental stuff and go straight down to where you see the alien holding a glass of wine.
Since I don’t personally know anyone who was born on December 25th, I typically take the day to either ride my bike on reduced-traffic roads and/or visit with family. Today I drove down to Drew, Mississippi, where my grandmother (on my Mom’s side) lives. We eat large quantities of various casseroles, then everyone rolls around on the furniture like colicky horses and “visits” for a while before dispersing.
Granny, Aunt Scarlett, and Mom (front to back)…
Several cousins (l-r) Brad, Brittany, Aunt Georgia, Brad’s Wife, Brent, and his wife (the hair in the foreground):
We agreed that Brent (who works as a crop duster pilot) and I used to be “the bad ones,” but now, his kid has taken over that role. Probably so, considering I thought she was cute, and I normally have a strong dislike of anyone under the age of 20.
Uncle Johnny and the “new” bad one along with Uncle Pete and my dad…
And yes, hate on it all you want… Those ARE house shoes, and exactly zero f***s were given.
My family is great, though often times when I visit, I feel like Roger from American Dad.
Yesterday, the foldies (nickname for any non-bike shop employee) celebrated making it though nearly 1 month of being really busy (good thing they don’t work in the bike shop, where we’re generally slammed from the first day of spring until the first time the temperature drops under 50). Everyone in the store gets to let their proverbial hair down a little, have a catered lunch sandwich, and drink a beer or two. This year, Matt Robbins put his PT training to the test in checking out all of Boyd’s vertebrae injuries:
After that, the atmosphere was electric. Like a tazer.
When I left work, Matt and I took off for a little night ride. He rode Death Bike 3000 for the first time… it basically did OK, unless he had to pedal harder than 300 watts:
I guess he still has a little work to do on that one.
Basically, a good two days of laying off a little and pretending like I’m a “normal” person instead of someone who is systematically repeating a cycle of destroying herself with intervals and recovering just enough to rinse and repeat. Tonight, whiskey. Tuesday, back to work.