My husband competed in his 6th Ironman triathlon race recently — so we drove 6 hours (what was supposed to be a 3-4 hour drive) through the mountains with Alfie in tow. We rented our first Air BnB, speaking of which— have any of you guys stayed at one of those before?
I was really looking forward to it.
Then I was really looking forward to being back home in the comforts of my own home with more than 1-ply toilet paper. Guys, that stuff is like sandpaper… I can’t believe they are still allowed to make that!
The weekend was long, because let’s be blunt: the internet access was limited due to the area we were in. The entire mini-town basically gave my cell phone signal “emergency” or “g” —whatever that means. I just know it was slow.
Either way by the second night I ended up deciding that I actually enjoyed not having the internet for a little bit. Just like when we first moved down here to the states. We didn’t have internet access for a whole tootin’ month and it didn’t seem to bother me. In fact, during this weekend I reminisced about the times before the internet existed. Isn’t that the strangest? Kids these days have no idea what world I grew up in. I’m preachin’ to whoever here, and I feel like an old fogey saying that, but it’s true! I remember being super crafty, and painting, and sitting down to the supper table with no cell phones directly next to us.
I told off a small-town man and his child in their pickup truck for not allowing Alfie and I to cross at a cross-walk. By telling off, I mean I shouted “HEY!” until he heard me. Which was twice, in case you were wondering. He didn’t let me cross either. Just waved sorry and took off.
An old man walked up to me asking me if Alfie needed water, thinking he was offering. He wasn’t. He was just telling me that Alfie was very furry (no crap) and he looked thirsty. Alfie later drank water from my hands from a water bottle I poured. But before that he wasn’t having any water — he’s a picky little feller.
I also wanted to say that I’m some friggen happy race season is over. It means I have my husband back. It means I am more tempted to put away my cell phone and sit down and chat with him at the supper table. Race season takes its toll on the entire household for months on end. It’s not something I like to talk about much. But I’m glad my husband isn’t training at this moment in time. Meaning he doesn’t have to get up at 5am to race to the pool, then immediately get on his bike trainer at home after work. I can finally spend some quality time with him and finally relax together.
I totally didn’t take any photos of him during the race because first comes cheerleader duties: ringing that godforsaken amazingly loud and obnoxious cow-bell until you get blisters, ignore the sore fingers and keep ringing it and jumping up and down when you see him anyway :) He told me later that he was looking forward to seeing me ring the cowbell and scream and chase after him for as long as I could run, at each location where he thought I’d be. I knew that would cheer him up.
And then we grabbed pizza together.