20:57:37 o'clock GMT
A Brush With The El Tour De Tucson
This morning, I got the boys up early and we headed out for our drive around Tucson. We were looking for the elusive bargain at the various yard sales in town.
I'm quite adept at going from house to house and bartering my way into bringing home wonderful things such as today's finds: a gorgeous set of lamps (sans shades) for free, a cereal keeper and a ceramic Christmas tree.
I spent more on the drinks and donuts at the pit stop before heading out.
One of the reasons I love my Saturday mornings jaunts around Tucson is simple; this place is beautiful at 7 am. The sun is coming up over the Rincon Mountains to the East and the air is crisp and cool.
Today had the added bonus of the El Tour De Tucson. For those of you who don't know, it's a 66 mile bike ride around the perimeter of Tucson. (Could be around 125 miles, but I'm not certain.) Over 5000 bicyclists take part in this event and we were blessed to find ourselves right smack in the middle of over 300 cyclists as they headed up towards the Catalina Mountains.
I don't think I have to elaborate too long about how fast these folks were traveling. We followed a group uphill at roughly 15 miles an hour. They were huffing and puffing, but none were giving up. The boys rolled down their windows and shouted at them as they pulled up alongside the truck. They're shouts of, "Keep going!" and "You can do this!" were followed by smiles and the occasional wave. Most were just concentrating on getting up the hill.
As we crested the top of the hill, something incredible happened. The cyclists in front took off, easily reaching close to 40 miles an hour. I stayed at 30 for fear that one of them might hit a rock or something in the road and biff it right in front of me. You never know.
When the road flattened out and their coasting leveled out even with mine, they once again appeared alongside the truck. This time, instead of the errant smile, they started conversing with the boys.
"Thanks for the encouragement," said one woman, decked out in blue and black with reindeer antlers on her helmet.
A man who appeared to be in his 30's coasted alongside and asked the boys if they had any ice cream, causing both to burst out laughing.
Another couple soon appeared and the womanasked the Butter if he rode a bike.
"No," he replied. "I hit a short wall a few years ago and I got hurt pretty bad. They scare me now."
She apologized and then quickly added, "I had to lay down my bike in the middle of the road one time. I was covered in bruises and scrapes, but figured out that those things heal pretty fast. Maybe one day you should try again. I bet you'd be good."
The Butter grinned broadly, turned to me and said,"I might just do that."
We continued on for another two miles or so, shouting encouragements, talking to those who were slow enough and generally just enjoying watching these people give it their all for the sense of accomplishment.
We turned off the route with a wave and shout and watched as the throng of riders disappeared in the rearview mirror.
I've never been a bike fan and many of the regular bikers in Tucson often put drivers and themselves at risk by not obeying the rules of the road. But this bunch of folks, from all over the country had the road to themselves today.
And we're the better for it.
The Butter has since asked for a new bike.
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jcgeorgiapeach
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05:48:16 o'clock GMT
Did They Think We Wouldn't Notice?
Earlier today, the Big Guy collided with another kid during basketball practice. His cheek swelled slightly and was incredibly painful. I offered Tylenol, ice and a comforting hug and sent him to bed. I noticed the knot on his cheek even before he did.
The Butter sprouted at least two inches and gained a few pounds recently. I bought him some new shirts and new underwear. I noticed the change in the way his clothes fit before anyone else did.
Scout (my brother's rescued pup) developed a cough one Saturday morning two weeks ago. He ambled off the couch and walked slowly towards me, hacking quietly. His breathing was a bit labored; unnoticiable to the untrained eye. I recognized the symptoms of Valley Fever right away and made an appointment with the veternarian. The diagnosis was correct and he was quickly put on antibiotics because I saw that something was amiss the moment it appeared.
So, it didn't take a rocket scientist and years of research to determine that something wasn't right when I checked my journal Wednesday morning. I see my journal as much as I see my children's faces. I spot things that are amiss quickly on people and things that I hold dear. Suffice it to say, I spotted the advertisement for that bank immediately.
At first, I was angry. Now, there's serious disappointment mixed in with my feelings of violation.
This is a paid service. When I pay for something, I expect to get what I pay for and nothing more. Sometimes, if a waitress if attentive enough, I get a quick refill on my Pepsi in the middle of the dinner rush...but I don't expect it and welcome her attention to detail if it happens.
When I pour out my thoughts and feelings into a journal that I visit daily, I expect to see my entries there, exactly how I had written them. I hope for comments, but know that that isn't what I'm paying for.
But, when I see an advertisement intruding on my personal space, I become indignant.
AOL claims to listen to its customers. AOL claims to keep our thoughts about our AOL experience in mind when they make decisions that affect its members.
AOL didn't do that this time.
They probably thought we wouldn't notice. They probably thought that since they offer enough services and perks, their paying customers wouldn't mind a little advertisement at the top of their personal spaces.
AOL thought wrong.
To the powers that be: Your decision can be reversed. Your ads can be placed elsewhere. There can be a happy medium here. Won't you at least listen to the people who pay your mortgage and for your child's education?
Remove the ads in the US Journals.
The people that use your Journals service have brought great revenue (and publicity) to you.
Please, don't bite the hands that feed you.
The AOL Journals Community noticed.
Written by
jcgeorgiapeach
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00:25:47 o'clock GMT
Take THAT You Insolent Child
Nearly everyday, I am called a name. Usually, it's not meant jokingly and usually, it's a female dog.
I normally don't mind, since there are days where that particular term can apply. However, when I am doing my job, reminding a teenager about a missed test, an upcoming quiz, the importance of attending school and about how the real world doesn't give a rat's ass if you "stayed out all night long so that's why you're tardy" and then they let loose with the B-world, I get a tad insulted.
Actually, I get ticked. I know it's not me personally, but using the B-word is the least of the curse words that spew out of a child's mouth towards me or any of my co-workers on any given day.
When I was in school, I tested the smartass waters plentys of times with teachers and administrators. Each time, I was nearly drowned when I was yanked back into reality by a ticked off elder. Furthermore, I feared what would happen when I got home.
Needless to say, my forays into troublemaking usually ended with a grounding and a tongue-lashing that haunts me to this day. I learned that by God, I wasn't going to shame my parents by speaking so coarsely to an adult and if I chose to do so, there would be hell to pay.
I still don't talk to adults the way I hear kids speak to them. Children spew the f-word to mothers inquiring about their whereabouts and ignorants talk to teachers worse than a criminal would talk to a prison guard. And don't even get me started on truancy.
So, it was with great delight that I read the article about the mother that insisted that her 14 year-old daughter stand on a street corner wearing a sign that read, "I don't do my homework and I act up in school, so my parents are preparing me for my future. Will work for food.''
If only more parents would take such an active interest in their child's behavior once they reach the teen years.
Props to mom.
And for the record, it's not psychological damage like the idiot on the cell phone complained. It's called punishment for irresponsible and willfully disobedient behavior.
I'll bet you money that daughter doesn't want to have to do that again.
Tags: family, children
Written by
jcgeorgiapeach
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02:52:13 o'clock GMT
Now This Is An Answer!
I don't know how she did it, but Pam over at One Girl's Head Noise came up with an ingenius idea.
Go International!
Sure, our journals are well-known here in the states, but the rest of the world may not even know we exist!
So, if you're looking for a place to go that is ad-free (for now) and you don't want to leave the familiar settings of AOL Journals for a site that you are having a heck of a time figuring out, AOL Journals UK is the place to go! (Those crazy Canadians have AOL Journals as well.)
So, welcome to the Peach Pages International!
Viva The Peach!
(Mirrored on The Peach Pages original)
PS. Don't forget to add me to your alerts!
Written by
jcgeorgiapeach
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