Watching the Bird Watchers

Our ALC/FAH training has reached an entirely new level.

Friday night started out with me feeling like a loser for having no one to hang out with. It's on the weekends that everyone I know seems to be out of town or busy that I miss having a TV the most. So, Sunny was out to dinner with some pals and I was at home cleaning my kitchen and just about to make some bread when she called asking if I needed to be rescued. I love her.

I said 'Yogurtland', which is Criqet for 'yes' and we were on our way.

Yogurtland had coffee flavor this weekend, and suddenly, everything changed for me.

We made a bet that if we walked into Blockbuster to rent a movie (yeah, people still do that) we'd take at least an hour to decide. We then made a bet that we'd both be asleep half into the movie anyway and promptly decided that it was still worth the effort.

Public Enemies. Wasn't very good. Sunny made it 25 or so minutes and I made it about half way through. And when I say that Sunny made it 25 minutes, I really mean that she and I spent the first 20 minutes of the movieinternet stalking Chesty McHotPants (not his real name). It was here that husband training took a turn for the worse.

Fast forward to Sunday.

Really, things are blowing up. Mostly, our tires. And by blowing up, I mean they are being blown up. My favorite part of this entire adventure might just very well be watching Sunny try and pump up our tires before our Sunday ride this past weekend.

Let me reenact.

Criqet: Ummm Sunny, I don't think this is wor . . . [loud expletive].

Sunny: What happened?

Criqet: I fail at pumping up tires apparently because there is now less air in this tire and I have a blood blister from pinching my finger in the pump.

Sunny: Move.

(Now Sunny is on the floor, vigorously pumping one hand on the bike pump forward and back between her belly button and the bike tire.)

Sunny: Is it hard yet? My arm is getting tired.

Criqet: That's what she said.

Sunny: [Mental expletive]

Criqet: This is husband training Sunny. You need to develop your stamina.

Tee-Hee.

I'll just openly declare now that this past weekend was one of the most beautiful weekends So Cal has seen in a long time. 80 Degrees. Blue Skies. No Haze. Fantastic Views. Just all around perfect for being out of doors and in of nature.

So, with our forearm muscles sufficiently tired, bike pumps attached to the bike, tire tube sort of secured in bike bag, paper IDs secured in plastic bags, water bottles filled with water, shorts on and sexy back . . . we were off.

We started in Culver City and made our way to the Ballona Creek Bike Path which took us again to the marina. You know you're close because the number of water birds increases along with the smell of rotten fish. At the marina we take a water break to admire the amazing view of the snow covered mountains. That's right. It's okay to be jealous. It's no myth. We really can go surfing and snowboarding in the same beautiful 80 degree day here, if we want to.

Once through the marina, it's all beach all the time. While I am in love with this beach path, I did discover that it's hard not to run over small children while you're focused on volleyball players.
Don't worry they are all fine.

It was along this path that Sunny and I began formulating our husband requirements list so if you happen to be a short list candidate for one of our husbands (haha) listen up.

1. You don't have to look like Chesty, or act like Chesty, or dress like Chesty, or lack-of-dress like Chesty. You don't have to be shinny and sparkly all the time from the glow of your fabulous tan. You don't have to have a full head of hair and you don't have to wear those Dbag glasses he wears sometimes. All you have to do is understand that some times when we are being "intimate" I might be thinking about Chesty and not you. You cannot take offense to this. And rest assured, it's not a double standard. I will understand that sometime when we are "intimate" you'll be thinking about Chesty too. We're human, after all.

2. As Sunny so aptly put it, our husbands have to "let us be us". Simple concept but I bet a fair number of couples fail at it constantly. Letting us be us basically means that when we're both retired we might decide to go halvsies on an RV and take off for a few months to wander the Canadian outback. You may or may not be invited because we may or may not just want some space to be giggly little girls. Our license plate will read CHSTYLUV. We won't be mad when you want to go fishing in Alaska with the boys either and we wont ask any questions when you name your boat Marylin. We might be mad if you decide you want to taxidermy your kills though . . . because we'd much rather eat them.

3. I don't think Sunny and I have talked about this one yet, but it's on my list so you should know. I'm going to teach my children to play with their food. Probably not intentionally, just because it's something I do and I'm sure they'll pick it up eventually. Okay, that's kind of a lie. I'm going totally going to teach them when it is the appropriate time to fling broccoli across a crowded restaurant. It's specific and they need to know. If this bothers you I'll probably teach them to throw broccoli directly at you.

4. You have to wear a helmet when you ride your bike. Guys that don't wear helmets do not make it on the husband list because we have to assume a less than desirable IQ. It's socially irresponsible to pass on such genetics. Note: to pretty cute emo kid who was near Dockweiler with the broken chain . . . we would have stopped to help (read: flirt and try not to make matters worse) if you'd only been wearing a helmet. Your loss.

Back to our ride . . .

Somewhere in Hermosa Beach we turned around. It was sad having to turn back this week because the views were so great and because it was downhill the entire way up until that point. Sigh.

Feeling pretty on top of the world by the time we made it back to the marina and our sweet mountain views when I learned something very valuable about myself. As much as I like to watch birds, I think my real hobby is watching other bird watchers. There was a gaggle of them standing next to us on the bridge with telescopes and other fascinating technology, talking bird talk, wearing nature vests, and I about peed myself with happiness. I could have stayed there and watched them for hours, but Sunny needed lunch and ice (don't worry she's fine) and I also kind of wanted to eat.

Fast forward to Culver City - like three blocks from Sunny's house . . . stopped at a stop light . . . when for whatever magical reasons involving balance and effort caused me to fall towards my foot that is clipped into the pedals and again flail around like a stunned octopus in a four wheeler (what?). This near death [by embarrassment] causes my heart to beat faster than it has all day and gets Sunny's ab workout in as per usual. Sigh.

And then we ate.

And there you have it. Actually riding our bikes in the name of training for the second time.

This weekend, the moon!