A Night in a Tent

The Tent is up! What a Team!

Well we got back to the tent after touring downtown Webster City and started to make ourselves at home when CaDiva and HRH decided to walk down to the Kybos, which were at the park entrance and as I told you, we were camped in the far corner.

Weenies.

I decided to sit in the shade and hydrate since I was sweating out as much as I took in. I still had the lemonade glass which had been refilled with water and tea and water again and I'll admit I was zoning out a bit when I heard something oddly familiar behind me.

A deep soothing masculine voice assuring someone that it was no bother at all. I turned my head and broke out laughing as I recognized CaDiva riding in the utility golf cart with a fine-looking Webster City police officer. She was hugging him as HRH approached on foot. All I could say was, "How did I know it was you?"

CaDiva explained it later when she said the young officer had asked her if there was anything he could do to help and she asked him for a ride back from the Kybos. He complied and HRH walked. She mentioned SEVERAL times that she was standing right there when CaDiva climbed aboard and road off. I think next time we do this, she may take her bike to the Kybos and just count that CaDiva let get her own ride home.

By this time I had connected with Not-Hank and TWC. They weren't going to even leave Des Moines until 7:30 so we decided to find dinner without waiting for them. As I was more than comfortable where I sat ... well comfortable was a strong term ... I was more like melted into the camping chair. And since HRH is younger and the car belongs to CaDiva it seemed only sensible for the two of them to go back to the Casey's and get some food. And since the Casey's was so close to those lovely pork chops on a stick, they might as well bring some back.

At that point, we didn't know the pork chop dealer would come scoping out the camp site at regular intervals to deliver their beguiling meaty moistness to the other-white-meat-addicts around the park. By the time we found that out we had scarfed down the last pork chop run and were sucking back some more iced tea while whining about the lack of pie.

We were laughing and telling tales and making plans when the lady in the next camp over came by with three pieces of apple pie still warm from their stove. Oh, I do love Iowans.

We were a little worried about losing TWC's parking place when a GREAT BIG RV started to pull in between the two trees we were set up behind. We watched in amazement as the behemoth barely missed being wedged under a lower branch. As the driver let youngsters out of the side doors we thought they were just going to abandon the hulk where it sat. Then, just as slowly, the driver worked it back out from under the tree limb. When she unwound the RV and got it headed back towards the road, she beckoned her young passenger back into the vehicle with the single instruction..."This never happened."

Soon the sun began to set and we were a little concerned about Not-Hank and TWC when we got the first of several phone calls as they navigated the same jumble of closed streets and park entrances masquerading as a towing service driveway. We discussed driving down to direct them in but feared losing our parking space. Soon enough, though, TWC declared he thought he found us.

I walked to the edge of the bike trail to wave TWC into the parking space. I had been there a few minutes when a two-wheeled missile approached me as if I were lit up by the infrared beams of a Seal Team. By the time I recognized TWC he was laughing his butt off.

As he is considerably younger than, well most adults, I used the time honored response..."You know you are adopted." He didn't care, we had plenty of space for what turned out to be more of an 18-wheeler than a truck with a trailer and he and Not-Hank were ready to party. They wandered towards the road and we settled down for mature lady time. I warned both of them I wasn't going to explain anything back at the office if they failed to return in time to start the bike ride the next day. I'm not certain, but I think I heard something akin to "Yeah Yeah sure mom."

Soon HRH, CaDiva and I realized the music we were hearing was live. We thought Three-Dog Night wasn't going to start until 9:00 but it was only 8:30. But as we heard the first strains of "Momma Told Me Not to Come" we realized the breeze wasn't the best thing about our site.

We listened for a few hours and then settled into the tent. I discovered this involved a lot of crawling around on the ground to get down to to the air mattress. This is not only completely undignified but more than a little uncomfortable for a fat woman with arthritis. However, the definition of undignified was raised considerably when the temperature dropped just enough for me to quit sweating and needing to pee.

But once again, it is late and the Fab Five are being interviewed wearing their golds, so I'll finish this tomorrow.

Touring Webster City

This is a girl-trip as you will remember. Which means our first stop was a Convenience store with a ladies room. Oh, and we needed some ice and drinks and such. But we were saving most of our appetites for the promised pie, pasta and pork chops. Which would have to wait, as CaDiva started chatting with the store manager. For a woman who never recognizes flirting when it is offered, she sure does attract it. While we waited for her, HRH and I checked out the youngster in the parking lot, gesticulating wildly with a small cardboard square sign.

You couldn't actually read the sign since it was written in ball point pen and a 23-point font. Regardless, the saying is true ... and a little child shall lead... Just as CaDiva wandered out of air-conditioned mini-mart we signaled PORK CHOP HO!!!! The youngster was directing us down the hill behind the store where a welcoming aroma wafted down wind to our waiting nostrils...Pork Chop on a Stick. $5.00

We didn't know what else would be available in our travels, so we split one of the moist, peppery, slow-cooked, blond steaming treasures wrapped in aluminum foil and impaled on a skewer. And it was MAGNIFICENT. As we wiped our chins, we considered getting a few more but we still hadn't found the campsite at this point.

With pork chop down and two points of our triangle of dietary treasure hunt before us, we climbed back into the car and headed to the campsite. As I explained, we were successful in setting up camp but after you have staked out your territory, it is inviolate and you can apparently just leave for sight-seeing or pie-hunting.  That's what HRH said anyway and she is the only one of the three of us who found sleeping in the out of doors an acceptable alternative to the cool, crispness of an elevated sheet en-robed mattress with indoor plumbing conveniently placed. Who were CaDiva and I to argue? I mean did Jack climb up onto that floating door just because Rose closed her eyes?

We found parking near where the vendors were setting up several blocks from the brick building we targeted as the City Hall, which housed our first stop, the Information Center. Most of the vendors and presumably purveyors of pie and pasta, were still setting up since they knew the bulk of bikers wouldn't hit town until noon or later. So we would have to live on our 1/3 of the pork chop for a bit longer. Besides, HRH was anxious to find out if that bike path so near our campsite truly was the start of her grand adventure. Not to mention CaDiva wanted to get some idea how to find the support driver's route.

The volunteers at City Hall were very helpful and informative, not to mention apologetic for the locked bathrooms. We got maps, directions, and really cute little bicycle pins. No one actually mentioned the wearing of our wristbands would get us discounts on food and souvenirs, but apparently we would know that if we read the directions. Who Knew?

We found a slightly cooler than the hinges of hell shaded bench to wait until the official Ragbrai licensed vendor was able to vend. She didn't have any money even though we promised to spend so much she wouldn't need to give us change but there were rules and such. As I waited there, I struck up a conversation with an obviously experienced biker who turned out to be HRH's neighbor. Yeah, from home...but that is the way when you go anywhere with HRH, you are going to run into someone she knows.

By this time we gave up on the licensed vendor and decided to wander down to the corridor of vendors back where we parked the car. The buildings provided a pleasant amount of shade and we got in plenty of people watching until we found the food vendors were up and over several more blocks in the unshaded parts of town.

Do you know how hot concrete gets on a 106 degree day? According to the thermometer in the car it was 120 degrees. When we finally got to the corridor of food we had to park CaDiva on a porch stoop. HRH and I went in hunt for the promised pie and pasta. After walking to the end of the food vendors and back we ended up with gyros, turkey sandwich and the best Lemonade we drank since DC in '76 (but that is a whole other story - remind me to tell you about losing a rented fire-engine red Merc Cougar during a march on Washington).

Actually, HRH found the lemonade. CaDiva was giving the mom a report of our activities thus far when she saw HRH approach with the icy golden nectar. CaDiva reached out like the little hrh after she spotted a cookie. HRH asked her if she wanted a drink. At that point CaDiva opened up her big green eyes very wide and let her lower lip quiver slightly as she asked, "You mean it wasn't for me?"

As for me, I brought back water for CaDiva but as long as HRH was offering to get the lemonade I said, sure bring me one. I mean if you can't get pie or pasta, you should at least get lemonade. Right? Yeah, that's what I thought too.

After we ate, we decided not to worry about dinner until after Not Hank and TWC arrived and we began the long trudge back to the car. Funny, it was parked in the same place we left it but it was a lot further walking back than it had been when we started the meander through town.

But it is late now and I still have the tale of dinner and Three Dog Night so I'll sign off tonight and fill you in on the rest tomorrow. I will also go through the pictures HRH let me download from her camera and you can see what we saw in my next few posts.

So we begin

CaDiva and I rolled out of bed at 5:30. We  had very clear instructions from HRH not to try to pick her up until closer to 7 than 6:30 since she had to drop the little hrh off at daycare. But we needed to eat a little something, well I had to because of the diabetes. You don't mess with that shit, it kills you by inches, you know. And we needed to top off the tank and pick up a little ice for the liquids...hydrate hydrate hydrate...

We got everything done and showed up at HRH's house just before 7 but she wasn't home quite yet. I visited with the prince consort and he, once again, assured me that I would adore camping. I hear CaDiva and HRH talking in the front yard and head out to help load of the last of HRH's gear. Even the prince consort came out to help. Help as in he undoes everything that HRH had spent the weekend preparing and does it over again. HRH apologized for the smell of petrochemical since the prince consort lubricated her entire bicycle and, for an as yet explained mystery, her helmet. At this point, the word lubricate had not been banned from our vocabulary.

But none of this mattered as we rolled into Starbucks for the liquid portion of our breakfast and Mickey D's for fat, salt, and carbs. We are girl-tripping again and everything is good. Webster City isn't that far from home so we only have to stop one time to pee. Jillian, our GPS device kept us right on track until we got into the city. These layover cities, and even some of the pass-through towns, set aside much of the main drag for the bikers, vendors and exhibitors. Which means our poor Jillian just couldn't understand why we wouldn't follow her directions. We finally muted her when we couldn't tolerate "At your next opportunity make a legal U-turn" even one more time and followed the open roads in the general direction of the campsite.  

Webster City had ambassadors staffing the odd little corners and if you slowed down and looked pitifully at one of them, he would point you in the right direction. Ours did warn us that the camp site we were looking for was pretty much filled up. This was one of my fears, since no one had actually given us a reservation, but we persevered. We needed to turn twice, following the detour but not go under the train trestle. We needed to turn into the road that looked like the driveway. And then there is the line of cars, one after the other being turned away. 

I dig into my bag for the e-mail assuring me there would be plenty of camping sites. CaDiva rolls down her window and tells the young man we don't have a reservation but we had an e-mail. The young man says we have one team with over a hundred riders over that side and another with 30 on the other side so he doesn't know what he can do for us. But he takes the printed e-mail anyway and smiles. Well, he says, if the boss said we had a place for you we have a place, how many are you? We'll just one, we tell him. Actually we had three but only one tent so we didn't fib. 

We drive down the gravel and then across the grass to find a place in the corner, as directed by the young man at the gate. Oh and such a corner. Tall trees, just off the bike path, which turned out to be the starting point for our riders on the next morning, between the road and river with a pretty steady cooling breeze. Ok, so it wasn't near the kibos, but that has a few pluses too. Not great ones when you have three overweight, middle-aged women who take magic pills, but there is the breeze.

We got the tent up and the car unloaded a lot faster than we ever imagined we could do in our first few practices. Ok, so the tent blew over one time...just once and that was only because we had both air mattresses and the bike on the same side of the tent. Besides, we had shifted position twice trying to find the least sun. Remember it was going to be 106 F on Tuesday.

HRH was glad we brought a camp chair for her too so we were able to get squared away before we headed downtown to find food and instructions. And more about that tomorrow, along with meeting up with neighbors, lemonade, and Three-dog Night.

Things I learned from Ragbrai XL

• XL does not only stand for extra large. 
• There are people who actually look good in bicycle shorts, Not-Hank for example. 
• Pie is not anywhere near as prevalent as advertised.
• But if you are in Iowa and the people in the next campsite find out you haven't had pie, they will give you some. 
• The difficulty of peeing in the weeds is inversely proportionate to individual necessity.
•  An air mattress on a Residence Inn fold-out sleeper couch is infinitely more comfortable than one on the ground.
• Asking CaDiva how she possibly fell off the edge of said air mattress on the ground is better addressed after you help her.
• Pork chop on a stick is a good meal whenever it is available.
• I can drive a huge SUV with an even larger trailer but only forward.
• HRH is freaking fantastic.

When I recover from lack of sleep and the heat I'll give you all the details but our little band had a grand adventure. TWC finished, Non-Hank went wheels-up after the first pass-through town but is already planning for next year's ride, and HRH made it to St. Anthony. St. Anthony was the 2nd to last pass-through town and about 20 miles before the end point at Marshalltown. It was also at the beginning of a 700 foot climb in elevation, so a very sensible stopping point.

When I checked with her later today, she taken little hrh to the daycare, stowed her gear, made lunch for the prince consort, finished three loads of laundry, tended to her vegetable garden, played with little hrh and teased her older sister. As I said, Freaking Fantastic.

We have so many stories to tell and I need to download the pictures. I will share both of them over the next few days but for now, I have to go to work tomorrow so I'm off for bed.

And they're off

House shut down, cats fed, litter changed, ice chest loaded. We can't try to pick HRH up before she drops off the little hrh. So we will eat a light breakfast then top off the tank and grab some ice for the road.

 Poor CaDiva she hates a trip she can't plan for. (Remind me to tell you of the drive to Portland Oregon with two days notice.) But this isn't a trip, it is an adventure. We'll figure most of this out on the way. Next year is early enough to plan things. 

I'm not bringing a computer with us. So unless we shelter in a cooling station with computers, this is the last you will hear from me until the deed is done. Then I hope to have a wonderful tale to spin.

Have a good one and see you soon.

T minus 9 hours

The car is loaded with everything except the ice chest and HRH's bike. We exchanged HRH's blue tooth device which should have accessed both her Ipod and cell phone but it didn't. So now she has ear buds on a string and a blue tooth for her phone. No good tank tops to be had but I got an ice tea. My core body temp is finally down to the point we don't need to worry about spontaneous combustion.

Tomorrow at 6:30 we'll stop at the Git and Go for Ice and pick up HRH after she drops the little hrh at day care before we hit Starbucks. Within the hour we'll be in a part of Iowa none of us has visited before. We'll set up the tent and scope out the town, looking for pie and pork chops and pasta. After work TWC and Not-Hank will drive up and we'll make plans for the night, but I imagine it will involve pie, pork chops and pasta.

Not-Hank and HRH are jazzed about the ride. TWC is being as patient as a veteran non-com surrounded by greenhorn 2nd louies. He is not only the only Y chromosome on the crew, he is the only one who has ever been on this adventure before. He plans on sleeping in his air conditioned truck and trying to keep us from drowning him in estrogen.

Yeah, what are the odds that is going to happen?

The Mom has assured us she can rescue the cats if something keeps us from getting home on Wednesday. The cats just want to know why we keep hauling things in and out the back door without bringing in food. Yes, I said cats. Yes I know unmarried women shouldn't have cats. I have drawn the line at two since, as we all know, the Odd Cat Lady kit is delivered with the third cat. But still you have to have something living and breathing that is happy you are home. And I just couldn't do another dog so soon after I put my Roxie girl down. 

No bummers now. Except Sally Ride died and she was 61 and that was just too young. And if I see even one more thing about Aurora, Colorado I'll just collapse in a heap. I can't generally say traveling across Iowa in the midst of the hottest July anyone can remember is a good idea. On the other hand, if you are going to commit such insanity, this is the week to do it. Sally Ride died and she was only 61 and Greg Zanis made that long drive down from Illinois with 12 crosses for a second time and that was too soon.

So I think shutting down my mind and pooling my senses with 10,000 other like fools who need to let the beauty of Iowa in the blazing July heat cleanse our souls for a day or a week is just what I need now.

HRH's Training Advances

Oh dear goodness, HRH rode to Adel (maybe it was Adair, I'm not certain which) today and that was over 45 miles. CaDiva brought up the suitcase and did more laundry today. I tried to set up HRH's new blue tooth for her Ipod. Who knew the Woz and the Late Jobs didn't think people would need blue tooth.

Ah well, after we load the car tomorrow we'll go back to Wally-world and return the bilateral headset and get her a one-sided blue tooth just for her phone. The plan is that she can get in touch with us when she finds the pie mother lode...oh I mean when she needs help. Yeah that's it, when HRH needs us to rescue her and maybe the not-Hank, she needs to be able to call us even if she can't dig out her phone with her hands full of pie.

This will also help in the kibo.There are problems associated to long bike rides, kibos and biking shorts that I never considered. Not the least of which is worrying about dropping your cell phone in a kibo. I'm telling you right now, if my phone was all that smart it wouldn't need to be fished out of the bottom of one of those holes. So I think it is best just not to drop it.

We'll discuss the other problems after we discover if there is such a thing as bike short chalk.

Well cans need to go to the curb again, so we'll let you know how things are going when we move the rocket to the launch platform.

Ramping up for the adventure

Saturday is the day we usually go out with the Mom and HRH. I talked to the Mom yesterday but no plans set for certain until I texted HRH this morning. It was a major morning for me given that it was a Saturday and I was not only awake and out of bed, but I had on clothes. I even made some toast and ice tea for CaDiva. Well the tea was already in the fridge but I added the ice. And according to HRH, that is a significant part of the recipe in Iced Tea.

When HRH texted me back she said she still needed to shower. Remember I was already up, dressed and had cooked but HRH still hadn't showered? Must be nice. Ok, so she had to shower because she had just finished a 35-mile bike ride, but that is no excuse. She told us to pick her and the little hrh up. Did I mention HRH is a grandma? Yeah, she is, and riding in Ragbrai...you impressed? Me too.

We we went to a diner we liked the first time we went there but no so much the last two times. What can I say, HRH had a coupon. Maybe it was the heat or we just got there at the wrong time, but the services wasn't that good and my eggs were scorched. Not to mention 1200 calories based on the food journal I'm keeping. But little hrh enjoyed eating jelly off my toast and watching the jukebox bubble. CaDiva said her burger was very good. I'm just not ready to endorse this place. We have had better but we'll probably go back. After all, HRH may have another coupon.

HRH had some ideas about how we could have two vehicles in Webster City and end up in Marshalltown without having to drive separately. She is worried CaDiva and I aren't going to have any fun. I'm thinking we should just get into Webster City and make a decision after we set up the tent. Speaking of which,we still had some things to get ready for camping out on Tuesday night. Oh, by the way, did I mention the most recent weather reports says we are going to have record breaking heat, the hottest Ragbrai since the late 80s?

But that is next week and this is this week. For now, the Mom needed her after lunch cigarette and the little hrh had to run off the jelly while CaDiva and I settle the check. The Mom wanted to go home after that, since she wasn't handling the heat well and the little hrh was getting cranky. So we climbed into the Toyota and started to sing. It had been 89 degrees when we parked and was 102 now, what was there to do but sing.

Since CaDiva couldn't remember the words to Puff the Magic Dragon (that's true irony from a woman who literally never inhaled) we started with the songs the Mom taught us when we were kids until she forgot the words to Old Shep. Then we segued into the songs Grandma sang, not the bawdy ones, and by that time, the little hrh was out like a light.

We had to wait for the little hrh's mom to get off work before we headed out again. At Wally-world, we found a new air mattress but it was almost 90 bucks so HRH bought the 30 dollar one. CaDiva couldn't find a second fan which she wanted since it recently occurred to her we had a three room tent and only one fan. I wasn't worried because not-Hank is going to be in the middling room, HRH will have brand new air mattress, TWC says he is sleeping in his truck, and the fan will be in the front porch of the tent with CaDiva and me. But that is just me.

We did find a padlock for my new gym locker so I was having a good day. We decided against stopping at Mr. Walton's Club to buy a case or two of Magnum's, after all we are trying to be healthful. Besides they only have the caramel or the white chocolate ones, and I really prefer the mocha, but the main reason was the healthful thing. We are riding Ragbrai you know, even though carbs are good for bike riders and I just read the thing about burning 3500 calories a day. I just don't think that counts for the persons in the truck even if we are pulling a trailer. So we stopped at the other store, never owned by Mr. Walton, picked up CaDiva's prescriptions, some weed-killer and took a second look for a fan. As it stands now, the front porch of the tent will be the only one with a fan. Well, you know what Meatloaf says, two out of three ain't bad.

Laundry and packing tomorrow. Loading the car on Monday. Then hit the road bright and early on Tuesday. Well bright is a bit strong, but it will be early.

Lunch and Truck-driving

As always, CaDiva's luncheon was a wondrous success. Wild Rice with Chicken and Artichoke Heart chilled salad, Olive Bar and Black Forest Cherry Cake. I never want to serve a 12-layer cake ever again. CaDiva says she could try a shorter version by using a sheet cake. I suggested we do the trifle as individual servings. Whichever way it goes, we don't have to worry about lunch until after Ragbrai. And that is for a team we have already fed twice.

Now by "we" you understand that means CaDiva. I support her in all her efforts...by standing just outside the kitchen cheering her on. Well standing is a bit strong...maybe more lounging but I am definitely cheering. Not as much as the ones who only get to eat her cooking once in a while, but definitely cheering.

At lunch she stayed around to help me serve the cake yesterday and TWC sidled up to chit chat about the Ragbrai. He knew she wasn't really looking forward to leaving her Toyota at the start and riding, or worse, driving a strange truck. You have to know CaDiva to understand why I'm so confused by this.

This is a woman who learned to parallel park on San Francisco hills in a car with neither power steering or automatic transmission. She not only drove cross-country with me 8 or 9 times but when we are in town she does almost all the driving. She drove through Atlanta, in and around Washington, DC not to mention 80 miles a day in Miami. (Remind me to tell you about the three weeks in Sunny Isle, Florida.)

But I figure if I can talk her into sleeping in a tent and TWC can talk her into riding in truck, then we should have a pretty interesting story to tell as this adventure unfolds.

Way more than a big hole

So nothing to do tonight to get ready for next week. In fact CaDiva spent the entire day preparing for another of my work celebrations. When one of the teams meets a quality measure my team feeds them lunch. Now that means CaDiva has to plan, plot, shop, cook, deliver, pickup, clean-up and collapse into a quivering mass. But I do wear a very blingish chef's hat and tell everyone how much I appreciate their effort.

But I want to stay in the habit of blogging until the trip is finished. As you can see from my earlier posts I have a little problem with sticking to this. I left you, in fact, on my way out to Big Brother's wedding, which was lovely and we adore the new wife, not to mention getting to visit again with the Nephew and two Nieces, and two Jr Nephews and a Niecelette, and the Nephews-in-law.

We drove out the southern route and returned the same way, making certain we had time for a side trip. We wanted to see the Grand Canyon. All the tour book information said the best time to go was off season to the south rim if we hoped to see anything but other tourists. And we wanted to see everything.

We picked Williams, AZ and the Grand Canyon Railway to carry us off on this new adventure. We got to the Railway Hotel a little later than we planned, but that is not new. Getting the two of us headed in one direction first thing in the morning is a little like putting a wet noodle up a feral large feline's alimentary canal.

But still it was a lovely room and we slept well. The package came with two dinners and two breakfasts as well as a lunch at the Grand Canyon. After we wandered down to breakfast we toured the the gift shop before we went down to the train depot. The train offers three services and we chose the deluxe car, sans children (sue us, we are crotchety little old ladies) but included music and meals.

It was so exciting to watch the countryside glide past us without either one of us watching the road. Well exciting for CaDiva, I passeng a lot and don't watch the road that much even when I drive. We laughed and ate and just chilled for an hour on our way to the southern rim. Our car steward was wonderfully informed. She kept the car alive with stories and laughter. She even took our National Park Passport to get it stamped since we didn't know if we could make it all the way to the visitor's center before the bus left for lunch.

I can't say much for the lunch, standard cafeteria fare but it got us on the tour in time. Now for our bus tour guide, he literally grew up on the south rim. Did you know they had a school there? It turns out the families who work at the Grand Canyon live there year round. Shopping is a bit difficult given that there there isn't a Piggly Wiggly or Food Lion in the vicinity. But still he loved his life and he shared it with us.  My favorite type of tour is being shown the wonders of a person's home as they describe their favorite places and memories. We got off at every stop, which is not as easy as it sounds for the two of us, but we didn't want to miss a bit of it. 

I know I have used the phrase Mother Nature overdose (I'll have to tell you about the Columbia River Gorge one day) but this was MNO to the Nth degree. As the day wound down, CaDiva rested at the train station waiting for our ride back.  I took the opportunity climbed up to the top of a mountain ... it may have been a foot hill...or possibly a ridge...could have been a hill (how the heck am I supposed to know I live a in prairie remember) but it was way up there and they had a gift shop. We didn't have nearly enough souvenirs yet. It wasn't as easy to shop as it is in most places since HRH instructed us not to bring anything back that said Arizona. Grand Canyon, California, or Colorado was ok. But she has political scruples and Arizona is a little further down her list than Florida was for us back in days of Dade County and Anita Bryant.

Even so, I made it back to the train station in time to catch our ride back to Williams. Our Steward was as good as her word and we had our second National Park stamp in our passport. 

I have to tell you, if you have had a long, exciting day of sight-seeing...end that day with a train ride. We were cradled back to the hotel with a cowboy singer interrupted only by a small train robbery.  We didn't even go looking for another place to eat or try the horse carriage rides (which we almost always try.) We had a great dinner in the hotel dining room and climbed slowly back to our room. I made an offer to the front desk clerk to chip in up to 5 bucks if Arizona would buy some extra air for the tourists. As much as I loved the trip the air is a bit thin from Needles to Fort Collins. 

The next morning we were getting ready to head out when the young man at the gas station came up and said, "Ma'am I think you may need a new rear tire. I'm a AAA station would you like me to put the car up on the rack and put on your spare." Ok, now last fall the dealership said we would need new tires but we could wait until summer and I guess driving cross-country may shorten that up a bit but we were not ready for this.

Well the young man was right....did you know your tire had a warning band that tells you when you have waited a couple thousand miles too long to buy new tires? And it wasn't on one tire, or two, all four tires were showing so much wear we had to have been carried on the wings of angels through those late nights into the mountains on the way out to California.

He quoted us a price that was about 50.00 less than the dealership told us we would pay and they could replace and balance the tires that day. So we left, a half day behind schedule but safe, riding a whole lot smoother and increased mileage about 6 miles per gallon. So all things taken together, we are two lucky ladies.

Birds and Ocean in a Bottle

One last night at Seaside. One last morning tea on the balcony at the hotel. One last breakfast before we had to check out. Vacation was coming to an end. We still wanted to see the 17-Mile Drive not to mention we need to get some ocean in a bottle.

And the Band Played On...

So even as we plan our latest adventure I still have things to do. I've got work and reports and coding consistency analysis and meeting with my Trainer at the gym. Oh what, you thought I was just a big old lump of middle-aged Midwestern cellulite? Ok, maybe that is true but I am trying to do something about it.

I have been a member of four different gyms over the last ... hmm it is either 20 years or 18 months depending on if you count calendars days or days I actually went to the gym. Regardless, I went to my new gym tonight after work, changed into my gym togs and met with a sweet young thing who laughs a lot but was very knowledgeable. After all she agreed that getting into gym togs counts as aerobic exercise and that togs is a real word.

I think I'm going to like this one though. It is just blocks from my office, it has a swimming pool heated to 88 degrees, and I get to meet with this trainer every two months. Oddly though, my next visit with her is not in September but next week. In fact, the appointment is coincidentally 4:30 PM the day after we get back from Marshalltown and Ragbrai.  I told her we had to schedule it for later in the day as I expected HRH to demand ice for various parts of her body. I'm certain she'll also require that CaDiva and I deliver many Iced Venti cups of sweet chocolaty things she will call herbal tea. And we'll cater to her demands given that she will have ridden a bicycle 70-some miles over the gently rolling hills with no sunscreen.  By the way, if any of you are reading the advice regarding bicycle shorts, she has assured us that sunscreen is the only thing she is going without.

But the important thing is to remember is I'm going to be going to the gym after sleeping out of doors in an unair-conditioned tent in the heat of an Iowa July night with very limited access to PIE. Not to mention she has Friday off too and I have to go back to work...pie or no pie.

I suppose I shouldn't whine because I think TWC and our fourth member, non-Hank, are going back to work on Thursday. I have plenty of vacation days to use but non-Hank has told me if I mention again how much leave I have in the bank she will do to me what HRH says her bicycle seat does to her new shorts, so I'll leave it at that.

One last thing, CaDiva just pointed out that HRH is probably reading my thoughts and this may cause her to expect us to cater to her sad broken body after her efforts. So HRH, you need to stop reading at Marshalltown and Ragbrai and pick it up again at But the important thing is....

You're going to do WHAT?

I can't say going on Ragbrai has been on my bucket list but I started this new job you see, and my Ops Manager mentioned how we could do social things to build the team. There was Caroling at the Vets Hospital, working at a Soup Kitchen, even a day working for Habitat.

So how did I end up on the Sleep-overnight-in-a-tent-before-trying-to-keep-track-of-my-team-as-they-pedal-along-the-asphalt-ribbon Team? Well the only thing I do worse than cook is sing, and if you think I had trouble with the tent you should see me with a hammer. Besides HRH did have it on her bucket list and we may have to amend the girl trip rules to include a clause about having your sister's back when she is crossing off her bucket list. Maybe one of these days I should tell you about the corn maze...

But I digress. So I am at the office and say, "Is anyone going to ride Ragbrai?" and sure enough two people are interested. One of them has actually ridden a couple (or a dozen) times before and says we can use his truck and trailer. The Ops Manager and one Department Manager even consider coming up to party with us to Three Dog Night (they are playing at Webster City Tuesday).

Well now I am committed (or at least should be) and have to explain to CaDiva that there won't be a hotel, or room service, or happy hour. But there is Wi-fi and pie so she is willing to give it a try. She found a battery powered fan and a butane powered mosquito repellent. And did I mention pie? 

So now is the time for the list...

• Bike shorts in grown-up Midwestern woman size  - DONE
• New bike shoes - DONE (she likes them better than the shorts...if you know of some Bike shorts with a waistband wider than one inch let me know)
• Practice setting up the tent - DONE (long side to the top)
• Mend and mount the bike rack - DONE
• Get Team Warped Captain his Ragbrai instruction book - which he will pointedly ignore but he won't tell me and that way we are both happy.
• Everyone needs to trade Cell numbers.
• At some point TWC has to show me how to drive his truck. I am thinking we shouldn't tell him the theory I have about 50% of the tires on the road at any one time is a good thing. 
• HRH needs cash and quarters. Cash for Pie. Quarters for vending machines - do you know how sweaty a dollar bill gets on a bicyclist?
• Sunscreen - HRH swears she doesn't need it  but she thinks CaDiva and I do.
• Something to sleep in that you can wear to the Kibo but don't die of heat prostration over night.
• First aid kits. 
• And stop at Starbucks before we leave. 

On the Road Again

If you are not from the Midwest you believe the Midwest is flat. We have many ways to disprove this theory. I have always used the Ask-a-Midwesterner method as she will explain, in a very informed but patient tone, the Midwest is made up of gently rolling hills. Thus far I have not had great success with that technique.

The second method comes once a year (at least it has for the last forty of them) in July. We just call it RAGBAI. Which stands for the Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa.

Basically 10,000 people, seeking to prove Iowa is not flat, dip the rear wheel of a bicycle in the Missouri River then ride the approximately 430 miles across Iowa during the heat of July. Unless, of course, it is cold and rainy. In which case they ride the approximately 430 miles across Iowa into a cold rainy headwind. After a week of eating Church Lady Pie, chasing down a school bus painted like a giant pig from which they serve pork chops on the fly, and lining up for a Kybo, the cyclists dip the front wheel of their bikes in the Mississippi. This madness was originated 40 years ago by two Des Moines Register columnists Donald Kaul and John Karras. More about them later.

Why am I telling you this?

Simply this, HRH has always wanted to ride Ragbrai. She is sweet but you will also recall she tends to try to ride luggage carts across hotel parking lots while wearing flip flops. Consequently we don't encourage her to do these things solo. This explains why Cadiva and I have agreed to join her as day riders. Day-riding is taking individual fits of madness instead of a week-long decent into all that is is Ragbrai. To be more precise, HRH is going to don spandex bicycle shorts and a helmet to ride a bicycle. Cadiva and I will ride in a car with only limited access to pie and pork chops, and agree to sleep in a TENT on AIR MATTRESSES ... OUTSIDE. And did I mention the limited access to pie?

Today we worked on learning to set up the tent...note to self ... the long end of the poles for up and the hooks go down...and tried to fit a bike rack on the Girl Trip Chariot (which you will recall is called a car because it has a wheel in each corner and is steered by one inside...see the Girl Trip Rules.)

We will discuss at length the preparations and activities coming up this week and next. But I have to take the cans down to the curb so this is all for tonight.