Three Stories High! - September 28, 2019
This week’s Sunshine story is actually three stories that all happened on Saturday, September 21, 2019. They are loosely related – at least, to me…
Story One – Hair to Dye for!
Hee hee hee!!!
Last Saturday, I felt so good after our 84 km bike ride and after my shower, I said, “I know what! I’ll dye my hair!” Those things don’t really go together – but in my little brain they do.
For the last few months my hair has been chlorine blonde with grey roots. What little is left of it. But I decided not to pay to get it dyed. It’s $80 plus tax plus tip every time. And while I do love my stylist and what my stylist is able to do, I don’t like that. After a few swims in our very chlorinated Good Life pool, my hair is back to its straw and cinder look.
Just over three months ago, likely a day or two before my big fall that resulted in my fractured clavicle, I went to Sally’s Beauty and ask for dye that would give me dark blonde hair – what I usually get at the stylist. Going this route will give me hair dyeing that will cost me less than $20. I figured for that price I could dye my hair every month instead of every three months or so.
But then the bike accident happened and I was not to raise my arm over my head. Very hard to dye your hair when you can’t use your favoured arm. Yes, I know, I could have asked Laur for help. But Laur dislikes doing this kind of thing. I understand – I don’t enjoy it either. I could have asked a friend or family member, but to be honest I was too depressed.
I didn’t know how depressed I was until I came home from that bicycle ride and felt so elated – like I had my life back again. I got the dye and crème out – you’re supposed to mix them – but I could not figure out how much to use of each or how long to leave the dye on. Normally I would just guess but I thought to myself, “One phone call could save you a lot of grief…” Good heavens! A sign of maturity! [Laur agrees…]
The gal at Sally’s was great. “Equal amounts of each, shake it up, and apply. And leave on for 30 minutes.” Sounded easy enough. So I did. Meanwhile Laur went for a nap. He knows somehow that if he is awake, I’m going to ask him to help with something…
I splattered the stuff all over my scalp and got some on the mirror – which washed off – and some on the wall – that didn’t. Ooops. Thirty minutes later I washed my hair out and tra-da!!! I had MEDIUM BROWN hair, not dark blonde. Not sure how that happened. Am sure I really don’t care. After a few swims it’s going to be its usual sorry sight.
Laur took a look at it as we were heading off to church and said, “Hmm. You look more like your old self…” Laur has yet to learn to simply say, “I like it. Looks great!” I mean, what is “you look more like your old self…” supposed to mean?!
But before I had a chance to quiz him, he said, “I hope my sermon goes OK.” Laur is an occasional preacher, to which I responded, “No worries. I’ll have the bucket of tar heated up and pillowcase of feathers ready for folks, just in case it doesn’t.”
I think both of us need to take that pre-marriage course about becoming – what is called in the Bible – a suitable “helpmate.” 😊
*****
Story Two – Our Bike Ride to Port Colborne – My Version (Happy!)
I truly could not be happier.
Laur and I cycled to Port Colborne and back – a mere 84 km. I’m not being boastful. I just used to be able to strongly request no less than 100 km. And hubs was happy enough to help out. (OK, “happy” is not likely the best adjective.) My collarbone did not hurt on this venture. I was able to climb the escarpment on my bike. I was a little disappointed when we got to the restaurant so early. I had another 10 km in me.
We went to The Flying Squirrel in Port Colborne and I cannot recommend it enough. Great eats at a great price. Not a chain, and there was cool music and décor. AND FANCY GOLDFISH! The subject of my Sunshine story this past week.
I said to my hubs, “I feel I have my life back!” And I do. I can go to the gym, I can cycle, I can jog, I can drive the car. My Mom is doing super well and all our kids including their sweeties and their kids are in happy places in their life.
We head to Korea in October. GBOH we head to AZ in November. I said to hubs, “If something happens that we cannot go to the States, I’d be happy to go really North for the winter. That way we could ski, skate and snowshoe through the season. Hubs said, “I’d be happier to try Australia.”
But just the fact that I can imagine the future again...
PS I love this "full bodied" pic of me. As someone (OK, it was my hubs) once said, "Legs like the spawn of Godzilla..." [IT WAS NOT! Ed aka Laur.]
*****
Story Three – Our Bike Ride to Port Colborne – Laur’s Version (Hummffhhh!)
The Ride After the Heal, Sept 21, 2019
It was June 17th, three months and four days ago, that Jan ended our 60 km ride by falling over the curb and breaking her collarbone--5 minutes from home. Needless to say, her cycling was curtailed for the summer. So was her driving, gyming, even cooking for a short while. Thankfully short. But today she remounted her trusty Raleigh and we started out on a nice, gentle, therapy ride...NOT. It was her idea, so of course it was "the canal trail, both ways!" But Jan, I said, that's 84 km. Perhaps something shorter is in order. No way. "I'll turn back if there's a problem." What about the escarpment, I said. That's a steep climb. "I'll walk it," she said. Fine, I said.
So, we headed out at 9:40, into a 11km head wind. Piece of cake, said Jan. Hummffhhh, said I. I'd only done a few rides without her, and one with a friend. I wasn't at the top of my game. But then again, neither was she, right? Well, if not top, she was darn close. We got to the escarpment and she pretty much coasted up the 150 feet. Me? I walked it the first half, then was shamed into climbing back on and grinding it out. By the time we got to Allanburg, into the wind the whole way, I was ready to turn back. But not her.
I used the rest room (really just to catch my breath...), and when I came out, Jan was talking to two female Ironman cyclists. They'd completed the Mont Tremblant Ironman and proudly wore the shirts as they sat astride their hi tech bikes. (An Ironman, for the inquiring minds, is a "2.4-mile (3.86 km) swim, a 112-mile (180.25 km) bicycle ride and a marathon 26.22-mile (42.20 km) run," according to Wikipedia.) Jan was almost swooning. There was no way we were turning around.
And you know, it did get better. There was more tree cover the rest of the way to Port Colborne, and I sort of found my stride. We still had the headwind, but I powered through it (Jan floated through it...). We arrived in Port C at 12:10, right on schedule. Lunch was at the Flying Squirrel, a new to us bistro that made a great veggie sandwich and salad. And then the return trip, with the wind at our backs! It felt so much better! We got home at 3:24; the return was 15 minutes faster that the outbound leg. My considered opinion, after the ride, is that Jan is good to go. Me? Another story.
Story One – Hair to Dye for!
Hee hee hee!!!
Last Saturday, I felt so good after our 84 km bike ride and after my shower, I said, “I know what! I’ll dye my hair!” Those things don’t really go together – but in my little brain they do.
For the last few months my hair has been chlorine blonde with grey roots. What little is left of it. But I decided not to pay to get it dyed. It’s $80 plus tax plus tip every time. And while I do love my stylist and what my stylist is able to do, I don’t like that. After a few swims in our very chlorinated Good Life pool, my hair is back to its straw and cinder look.
Just over three months ago, likely a day or two before my big fall that resulted in my fractured clavicle, I went to Sally’s Beauty and ask for dye that would give me dark blonde hair – what I usually get at the stylist. Going this route will give me hair dyeing that will cost me less than $20. I figured for that price I could dye my hair every month instead of every three months or so.
But then the bike accident happened and I was not to raise my arm over my head. Very hard to dye your hair when you can’t use your favoured arm. Yes, I know, I could have asked Laur for help. But Laur dislikes doing this kind of thing. I understand – I don’t enjoy it either. I could have asked a friend or family member, but to be honest I was too depressed.
I didn’t know how depressed I was until I came home from that bicycle ride and felt so elated – like I had my life back again. I got the dye and crème out – you’re supposed to mix them – but I could not figure out how much to use of each or how long to leave the dye on. Normally I would just guess but I thought to myself, “One phone call could save you a lot of grief…” Good heavens! A sign of maturity! [Laur agrees…]
The gal at Sally’s was great. “Equal amounts of each, shake it up, and apply. And leave on for 30 minutes.” Sounded easy enough. So I did. Meanwhile Laur went for a nap. He knows somehow that if he is awake, I’m going to ask him to help with something…
I splattered the stuff all over my scalp and got some on the mirror – which washed off – and some on the wall – that didn’t. Ooops. Thirty minutes later I washed my hair out and tra-da!!! I had MEDIUM BROWN hair, not dark blonde. Not sure how that happened. Am sure I really don’t care. After a few swims it’s going to be its usual sorry sight.
Laur took a look at it as we were heading off to church and said, “Hmm. You look more like your old self…” Laur has yet to learn to simply say, “I like it. Looks great!” I mean, what is “you look more like your old self…” supposed to mean?!
But before I had a chance to quiz him, he said, “I hope my sermon goes OK.” Laur is an occasional preacher, to which I responded, “No worries. I’ll have the bucket of tar heated up and pillowcase of feathers ready for folks, just in case it doesn’t.”
I think both of us need to take that pre-marriage course about becoming – what is called in the Bible – a suitable “helpmate.” 😊
*****
Story Two – Our Bike Ride to Port Colborne – My Version (Happy!)
I truly could not be happier.
Laur and I cycled to Port Colborne and back – a mere 84 km. I’m not being boastful. I just used to be able to strongly request no less than 100 km. And hubs was happy enough to help out. (OK, “happy” is not likely the best adjective.) My collarbone did not hurt on this venture. I was able to climb the escarpment on my bike. I was a little disappointed when we got to the restaurant so early. I had another 10 km in me.
We went to The Flying Squirrel in Port Colborne and I cannot recommend it enough. Great eats at a great price. Not a chain, and there was cool music and décor. AND FANCY GOLDFISH! The subject of my Sunshine story this past week.
I said to my hubs, “I feel I have my life back!” And I do. I can go to the gym, I can cycle, I can jog, I can drive the car. My Mom is doing super well and all our kids including their sweeties and their kids are in happy places in their life.
We head to Korea in October. GBOH we head to AZ in November. I said to hubs, “If something happens that we cannot go to the States, I’d be happy to go really North for the winter. That way we could ski, skate and snowshoe through the season. Hubs said, “I’d be happier to try Australia.”
But just the fact that I can imagine the future again...
PS I love this "full bodied" pic of me. As someone (OK, it was my hubs) once said, "Legs like the spawn of Godzilla..." [IT WAS NOT! Ed aka Laur.]
*****
Story Three – Our Bike Ride to Port Colborne – Laur’s Version (Hummffhhh!)
The Ride After the Heal, Sept 21, 2019
It was June 17th, three months and four days ago, that Jan ended our 60 km ride by falling over the curb and breaking her collarbone--5 minutes from home. Needless to say, her cycling was curtailed for the summer. So was her driving, gyming, even cooking for a short while. Thankfully short. But today she remounted her trusty Raleigh and we started out on a nice, gentle, therapy ride...NOT. It was her idea, so of course it was "the canal trail, both ways!" But Jan, I said, that's 84 km. Perhaps something shorter is in order. No way. "I'll turn back if there's a problem." What about the escarpment, I said. That's a steep climb. "I'll walk it," she said. Fine, I said.
So, we headed out at 9:40, into a 11km head wind. Piece of cake, said Jan. Hummffhhh, said I. I'd only done a few rides without her, and one with a friend. I wasn't at the top of my game. But then again, neither was she, right? Well, if not top, she was darn close. We got to the escarpment and she pretty much coasted up the 150 feet. Me? I walked it the first half, then was shamed into climbing back on and grinding it out. By the time we got to Allanburg, into the wind the whole way, I was ready to turn back. But not her.
I used the rest room (really just to catch my breath...), and when I came out, Jan was talking to two female Ironman cyclists. They'd completed the Mont Tremblant Ironman and proudly wore the shirts as they sat astride their hi tech bikes. (An Ironman, for the inquiring minds, is a "2.4-mile (3.86 km) swim, a 112-mile (180.25 km) bicycle ride and a marathon 26.22-mile (42.20 km) run," according to Wikipedia.) Jan was almost swooning. There was no way we were turning around.
And you know, it did get better. There was more tree cover the rest of the way to Port Colborne, and I sort of found my stride. We still had the headwind, but I powered through it (Jan floated through it...). We arrived in Port C at 12:10, right on schedule. Lunch was at the Flying Squirrel, a new to us bistro that made a great veggie sandwich and salad. And then the return trip, with the wind at our backs! It felt so much better! We got home at 3:24; the return was 15 minutes faster that the outbound leg. My considered opinion, after the ride, is that Jan is good to go. Me? Another story.