Seriously? Who in the Hell starts shooting fireworks on the 30th of June?

Wow…. Eva is an “Art-Snob.” Why in the Hell can’t I say, “That looks simple enough…,” without catching 2 elbows. But she can tell the artist to their face, “Scanning your original work to make copies for profit cheapens your effort.” I thought about giving her the patented “throat-chop.” Instead, it was, “Eva… Next tent. Sorry Sir.” Oysterville Art Festival definitely could use some infusion of youth. Perhaps there’s someone out there that could help them out one day….. (Psssssst! That’s you Ms. Catfish)

Trashy rednecks, that’s who! To answer the title of this post. These assholes started at 5:30pm yesterday. The problem was, an hour prior I decided to “rest my eyes” for a few moments, after a long day of ripping & running with Eva along the peninsula. Like last year when they started, I jumped up reaching for my M16A2 Rifle. Ummmmmmm….. I don’t have one of those anymore. Thankfully. Goddamn PTSD this time of year is ridiculous. Who would think to make fireworks sound like actual mortars, AK-47’s & various forms of weaponry? I wonder how many combat veterans enjoy this time of year? I wonder how many suffer through it like me? I’ve got a ton of poor assumptions I could make. But I’ll refrain from sounding like too much of a jackass…. This early on in the post anyway. I totally digressed there…. Despite the fireworks, I was able to go back to sleep for a few more hours. But I was stuck listening to the shit til just after 2:30am THIS MORNING. It’s like these jerks didn’t hear my bold proclamation yesterday: I’m riding over the bridge & back. I need my sleep damn it!

Riding for Grandma Eva

7:58am…. And my dumbass was up til 3am, playing Madden & drinking a half bottle of wine & 2 North Jetty “tall boys,” of some flavor. Shower… No Kanye… No calf-raises… NOT surprisingly, I’m a little hungover. Happy birthday Grandma Eva! I’m about to ride out in your honor! And once I start this ride, I’ll drop dead on the road before I quit or call someone for help. “FUUUUUUCK! Should’ve been drinking water….” Approaching the bridge, I wasn’t tired at all. I had an ocean wind at my back. And then that dreaded right turn onto the bridge. What was once a friendly ocean breeze, became the biggest hindrance of all, slapping me towards a large pickup truck. At that point, the adrenaline kicked in. I remember riding next to gliding seagulls…. I remember the bike lane being wider than expected…. I remember 6 dead seagulls, neatly against the barrier & out of my way thankfully…. I remember flipping off the bridge as I approached the incline.

That incline broke me off. I earned the Haribo gummy bears, grape Gatorade & 3 large jo-jo’s purchased from the Shell gas station in Astoria. My legs hadn’t felt like that in a very long time. It wasn’t pain. It was something beyond pain: EXHAUSTION. And I still had to turn around & go back! Flying down the large incline versus struggling to pedal up it, was the only fun part of the ride. I’m not kidding. It was the one time I wanted a cop to clock me & tell me my speed. Hooking that left turn off the bridge left me feeling quite proud of my accomplishment. So proud in fact, I took both hands off the bike & flexed my biceps. And then that wind kicked me in the face. And it kept kicking. I stopped on several occasions just to look to the sky & ask, “Are you fucking kidding me? This is ridiculous!!” And I NEVER stop. But on this day? I was beginning to think a “Higher Power” may have read a couple of posts ago & decided, “I’ll show him he’s no God…. Blasphemer.”

Headed back home

I won again though. I don’t know what I expected. But what was supposed to be 5+ hours on a bike, ended up being 4 and a half. And I can’t help but know I’ll do better the next time I tackle that bridge. Yeah… Next time. I’m doing it again before the end of the summer. Not sure when. But I will do it again. But on another note: The plan for my 40th birthday is to ride to Portland. I’ve got 11 months to train for the two-day event. Hopefully, my brother will drive me back home. But knowing him, he’ll hit me up for gas money.

40th Birthday Destination

I’m currently sore as all could be, even two days later. I’m looking forward to sleeping-in tomorrow. That probably means I’ll awaken at 7am unfortunately. I envy anyone that can sleep til 9 or 10am. What’s proven to be more difficult than the bicycle riding the past couple of days has been Eva’s emotions/hormonal changes. Acne, weight gain, sleepy, unrealistic expectations…. Teenage girl shit I’ve got no damn clue about. How do you say, “Man-up” to a young lady? You don’t. I did. But I advise against it. She wasn’t too receptive. I enveloped the “Man-up” with a hug, kiss & “Goodnight. I love you.” But we all know you can’t sugarcoat shit & make it edible. I don’t recall being like that at 12. However, I was reminded that estrogen & testosterone are different. So that could be why. I’m reminded of a time 6 or 7 years ago…. Izabella was going through the same stuff. How did I handle it? “Jolene! I don’t understand this emotional shit. You handle it.” Yeah…. That’s not gonna fly this time around. And honestly, shouldn’t have flown then either. I think I know what will though: More hugs & confirmation w/ an apologetic milkshake attached.

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