The Restaurant

So the restaurant I picked was amazing. The three of us ate so much food that we all wanted to puke when it was over. I literally left my pants unbuttoned under my long shirt after visiting the restroom. I wanted to think back and remember the deliciousness I'd just consumed during the last hour, but each time I even thought about food, I felt ill. Still, it was great!

We each ordered a cocktail. Mine was a Flaming Hurricane and came out with an actual flame on top. They brought us complimentary bread with two spreads. One was a jalapeno white bean spread. The other was more solid and also had some jalapeno in it. So unique and so good! The girls ordered gumbo, which I tasted (a few times) and wow!, very good. For the main course, I ordered Chilean sea bass that was specially crisped and baked on top of garlic mashed potatoes and sitting in a plate of jalapeno-infused black beans and greens and topped with salsa and guac. Upon finishing the entire plate, I decided dessert was going to make me sick, but how could I pass it up? So I ordered the bananas foster and it was the best bananas foster I've ever had! It didn't taste like rum at all, but was fantastic! I, again, cleaned my plate.

So, if you're ever in Philly, check out Crescent City. You won't regret it.

when separated, there's always email

New Girl and I split up at the big dinner last night to meet more people. We exchanged the following emails:

NG: I think the boy next to me loves me.

Me: Can you see me? Where are you sitting?

NG: I'm looking but I can't find you.
NG: So there's a dessert spoon but no dessert fork. What do you think that means?

Me: Good observation. Hmm. Did you eat your first plate? Interesting.

NG: A fig and a beet I think. The creme fresh was delish. I'm thinking the dessert will be chocolate mouse.

Me: Good guess. You're probably right. I'm cool with that. I wondered what I just ate. It was unique for sure.

NG: Wasn't the creme fresh perfect! Just like a light yogurt! Maybe it'll be creme brulee?

Me: Now that would be yummy!

NG: OMG! You love _____ ! (the speaker)

Me: Well he's right.

Me: I found you. Does the priest love you???

NG: I laughed out loud on that one. No, it's the bald guy.

Me: New Girl! He's married! Stop flirting with the bald guy!

NG: What? It's over? No dessert??!

Philadelphia

I've left the hotel only once to have dinner at a nearby pub, but in a few hours, the three of us will escape the world of policy wonks to have dinner on South Street. I've been given a very important task this afternoon; much more amusing than listening to speakers or emailing folks back at the office. The task is to pick a restaurant. My pleasure! So I've chosen South Street, of course - famous for its eclectic shops and diversity. And we'll be eating gourmet Southern cuisine. The menu looks delicious!

At the moment, I'm hanging out in New Girl's room. It's not fair that she got a chaise lounge and I didn't, so she's letting me hang out in here while she takes a nap . . pantless of course. The second we get back to our rooms, her pants are off in a flash. She likes to sit around in her underwear. And she calls me weird. I suppose you can do whatever you want in your own room. Don't let me stop you. And it's true that when I'm alone, it's usually not just my pants that come off. I always like to take advantage of my room's amenities (which is why I was so upset about no chaise lounge). I use the robe, the hair dryer, and the TV even when I'm not watching it, simply because I can choose the channel. I eat every single Hershey's kiss they leave on my pillow, and I use the provided toiletries too, although I never take them home with me. If my room is especially nice, I even take a picture . . but that should come as no surprise. I've taken a picture here . . . and then kicked myself when I realized my battery was dying, and I just wasted my last photo on a couple of beds!

If it wasn't pouring outside, I'd be sightseeing right now. It's much more fun than working. And besides, it's Friday. We're leaving early and heading home tonight. I'm enjoying the food and change of surroundings so much that I'm a little disappointed. Home may be home, but I don't have a television in my room, and I can't order room service, leave my towels on the floor or walk around without any clothes on.

Maybe Don Johnson would've been cooler

I guess you could say I met two famous people last night. The first is not so well-known, but his office is right next door to someone very well-known, so I'm gonna go ahead and call him famous. He was extremely nice, and I am so excited to be working with him on a project that takes something I love (that is usually mostly bad) and incorporates a whole lot of good into it. He is anything but nuts. He is light amongst a heck of a lot of darkness.

The second person I met was bad skin, lips loudly parting Edward J@mes Olmos. I, of course, told him I'd watched Miami Vice as a child with Dad. He made some comment about how long ago that was, and then he was stolen away by someone else. He was on the dinner agenda, and I was looking forward to hearing him speak . . until he started speaking. I found myself wondering if someone hadn't challenged him to see how many offensive and irrelevant things he could say in a half hour. Or dared him to embarass the very people that asked him to speak in front of hundreds of stakeholders. I've never felt so uncomfortable. I think the general consensus on his "speech" was . . . WTF???!!!!

Although it was painful hearing him speak, at least I got to sit there in my black dress that I got loads of compliments on. Unfortunately there was no picture taking to be done. Because "Work L___" can't be touristy and star-struck because she is working. Sad.

Now "Work L___" is in Philadelphia for three days in a hotel that is (as my co-worker Bourbon calls it) "pretty money". I can see the river from my 17th story room and right outside the front door is City Hall. I wish I had time to sightsee while I'm here. I really like this city with all its unique neighborhoods, and although I've seen quite a bit of it before, I know there's so much more to discover.

Setting myself up for disappointment

I’m going with the black tie part of “black tie optional”. But I’m afraid I’ll be out of place. To be more specific, I’m afraid I’ll be the only one with jersey knit sticking to every curve of my body! I have packed on a little more insulation since the last time I wore the dress. It would be one thing if I simply had to wear the dress to the dinner. But I have to put it on at work during business hours and catch a cab on the street corner. Like my colleague says, “You just have to put on your game face and be ‘Work L____’.

I have a few hopes and dreams for tonight. I’ll be seated at a table with P. D!ddy’s right hand man and I have oh so much I want to talk to him about (not even P. D!ddy and the fact that their offices are adjacent). On top of that, an actor from an 80s show Dad and I used to watch together – he’ll be there. Seeing him would be nice. Even nicer would be shaking his hand, telling him how much I loved M@rty Castillo and thanking him for his work with inner-city kids (I hear he likes to be known more for being an activist than an actor).

So basically I’ve set tonight up to be just an ordinary dinner where nothing extraordinary happens simply because I hope it will.

Midnight craving

It's 12:30 in the morning, and I WANT SOME ICE CREAM. The problem is that once my roomie TM comes home, junk food is out of the question. TM is a med student who keeps to herself, a sweetheart but frequently won't respond when you try talking to her (read: awkward), and a total health nut. All of this equals: I just can't bring myself to eat sweets around her. Not only does the uncomfortable silence and the fact that she's munching on veggies make me feel guilty, she closes the door to the kitchen (off her room) as soon as she comes home making you feel as though its off limits!

Update: I snuck a few bites while she went to the bathroom. Craving satisfied!

How to be the boss of me

I volunteered to baby-sit for one of my firm's VPs tonight. New Girl, a past baby-sitter of theirs, was a bit jealous that I was about to spend the evening with the two little girls. And I planned to do just what she feared . . make them like me better, of course (heheh). The 4- and 1-year old girls were just as adorable as she'd said they were, and I was confident that the night would go well. VP and wife mentioned that New Girl hadn't been able to get 4-year-old to bed before 10 p.m. when she baby-sat, so I also decided that not only would I be more fun, I would get that little girl in bed by her bedtime!! Just watch!

Two hours later, after watching only one episode of "Diego", putting the 1-year-old to bed and making a beaded necklace and bracelet, I began to prepare 4-year-old for our next activity - going to bed. I let her know that we'd have time to read just two books and encouraged her to begin thinking about which books she wanted to read. Ten minutes prior to bedtime, I led her up the stairs anticipating the challenge that lie before me.

She made no objection to the two book limit, and I was feeling pretty good about how things were going. After finishing the second Dr. Suess story I turned to explain that bedtime had indeed come. And that's when it happened.

She offered to brush my hair.

Now there are plenty of offers I could've easily turned down. Playing house. Making another bracelet. Reading another story. But I never turn down the opportunity to have my hair brushed.

And actually, she didn't just offer; she told me she was going to do it. And far be it for me to stop her. I immediately pulled the elastic out of my hair, held the mirror as instructed and let her brush away. About five seconds into the brushing and I was in a completely different state.

Oh, now you need to [pretend to] cut my hair? Go right ahead.

Oh and of course you can [pretend to] wash it. And dry it.

You need to brush again? By all means.

The girl owned me. I tried to tell her that we only had time for "one more thing", but she sweetly explained that "Honey, we're not done yet." And I simply answered, "Ok".

It's a miracle that she was laying down, head on pillow only ten minutes after 9pm. (Bedtime was 8:30-9.) I still beat New Girl's time by 50 minutes!

Feel the Love

Family rocks.

The two on the left are my cousins. My sister is to my right. This is a picture of us full from ham, cheesy potato casserole, Grandma's famous baked beans, a Jello dish, deviled eggs, bread . . . and also angel food cake and Grandma's special German chocolate cake with ice cream and hot fudge. Oh yeah.

This is also a picture of us oh so happy to be together. Cousins reunited. You can almost feel the love just looking at us.

This is a picture of why I love home.

Wednesday Night

Very strange that an entire paragraph of my last post has gone missing! Yet the whole thing still reads normal. Weird. So we actually did more during Shae's visit, but the shopping and eating - those are the most important parts anyway.

All the excitement about going home was building and building until I realized that the temperatures would be even colder than those forecasted here. Forty degrees!? It's because I put away my sweaters, that's why. I was hesitant to do it and now that I have, my dream of open-toed shoes and skirts has been snatched away from me. I'm tempted to defy reality and pack my flip flops anyway.

My week is creeping by at a snail's pace, but it's certainly not been boring. Monday evening, BSG and I took advantage of all 80 degrees outside by grabbing a bite at Clyde's on the Walk and eating it on her rooftop in the middle of the city. We then watched the local news, which by the way I am never doing again. This place is dangerous. If I don't get taken out by a terrorist taxi cab driver, I'll either get mugged or worse by a Salvadoran gang member or hit by a bus while crossing the street. On my walk home from the metro that night I was positive the man behind me was following me, and I jogged the two blocks in heels. There's no place like home, there's no place like home . . (Nebraska, that is).

Last night, my old roommate KC had fourth row tickets to the Capitals hockey game. More fun than watching the game was flirting with hot guy in the row behind me. It's not often I see someone attractive in this city, and I like to take advantage of each and every opportunity to get to know someone new. Thanks to KC for shouting "He's not for you" loud enough for him to hear . . because for a moment there I thought random boy at the hockey game might have been my next boyfriend.

Tonight I am writing on this blog because I want to avoid working for as.long.as.possible since I escaped my desk today for all of five minutes, and I NEED A BREAK. If I don't write again before the weekend, know that there will be many pictures to come!

Another Visitor!

Counting down hours to an event (namely “going home”) that is several days away can really wear on a person . . . which is why a visit from my good friend, Shae, last weekend was just what I needed to break up the anticipation. In Baltimore for business, she extended her stay through the weekend so she could come down and spend time with me. My bedroommate was in Boston, so the other bed in my room was available just for her, and after picking her up on Thursday night, we were able to lay there until way past my bedtime just gabbing about life. It was “one more thing” after “one more thing” until finally dozing off. I still worked on Friday, but she came in to the office to meet my co-workers, and we all headed to Papa R@zzi (probably one of my most frequently visited restaurants) and ordered Pollo e Spinaci pizza and gnocchi with mozzarella.

The unfortunate part of having a non-basketball liking friend visit on the weekend of the Final Four is that you’ll clearly feel bad if you force that friend to watch the games. So we had a compromise of sorts: shopping during the Georgetown game in Georgetown (painful), but later meeting up with my UCLA girls for that game. We ended the night with two pieces of cheesecake at the Cheesecake Factory. I highly recommend Banana Cream! . . the only thing it needed was mayybe a drizzle of chocolate, because I’m convinced that anything would taste a little bit better with a smidge (or a cup) of chocolate.

So Shae’s trip flew by, just like all of my favorite moments in life that involve people I love, shopping, and eating good food. And there are more of those great moments to come as I travel home to Omaha on Friday. I can’t wait!

Sister's Visit

"I like that girl. The one who called me 'homeslice'."

Sister met my favorite co-workers when she came into work with me last Friday. She had flown in the night before, just as the temperatures began to significantly drop and rain started to fall. I had taken her to the underground restaurant, The Tombs in Georgetown, because who wouldn't be famished after flying halfway across the country? She set up shop with her computer and a book in my office (ok, my cube) and was able to see what a Friday morning is like for me.

"Ohmygosh, Brangelina's adopting another kid?!"
"Aren't you supposed to be working?"

She was able to meet New Girl who immediately embraced her and called her Little P____, Em (from San Diego) who referred to her as 'homeslice', and a few other work friends. As soon as lunchtime rolled around, I cut out early to spend the rest of the afternoon with her. I took her to my favorite lunch spot, Best Sandwich Place (EVER), because we'd only eaten a doughnut and a slice of pizza that morning in addition to our breakfast bowl of cereal.

She's not a big museum person, but the rain was coming down pretty hard along with some serious wind (which is anytime the wind blows here), so I suggested we check out the Spy Museum in Chinatown. I'd never been. At the museum, I was reminded that I too could not be classified as a museum person. I'm good for about an hour, hour and a half, and then my brain threatens to begin oozing out my ear because it's FULL and can only take in a certain amount of information in one day. It's unfortunate that my stomach doesn't seem to have the same problem.

After scurrying through about the entire second half of the museum (which is a very cool museum), we hurried home for a change of clothes. Friday evenings at the Kennedy Center, there is always a free performance. And thank goodness the performance is free, because the parking is $15! That night, a school of traditional Irish dance was performing, so we watched ages 5-45 perform many dances in their many costumes. So exhausted from the long day, we picked up some Peruvian rotisserie chicken and began the BBC 6-hour version of "Pride and Prejudice".

After I took her to my favorite bagel place Saturday morning, we shopped for hours in Georgetown, stopping for ice cream at Thomas Sweet, and drove around Old Town Alexandria, too lazy to find a parking spot and walk and shop some more. We needed a good meal in our stomachs, and somehow despite our parents' boring palettes, we both enjoy seafood. Legal Sea Foods served us amazing crab cakes, clam chowder, rainbow trout, scallops, and shrimp and we were almost too stuffed to have the Girl Scout Samoa ice cream I had sitting in my fridge . . almost.

After church on Sunday, we hit up the flea market on Capitol Hill, went tanning, and split the largest ice cream sundae I have ever had with BSG at Gifford's. Gifford's = most amazing ice cream place ever. And BSG's idea to share the massive five-scoop sundae with a puff pastry, milk chocolate sauce, almonds and whipped cream was her most genius idea ever.

It was Sister's last night in D.C., and as stuffed as we were from all that ice cream, we had to head over to Cousin J & K's house for dinner. As you can imagine, we were a bit (or rather extremely) concerned about how we would eat dinner for the rest of the week, let alone in two short hours. But we managed to get down a beef kabob (in my case, two) and mexican rice. To our dismay, they announced "We have ice cream for dessert!" And rather than first saying "Oh no, we just had ice cream, thank you", I instead asked "Is it Haagen-Dazs, your favorite?" He replied that unfortunately no, it wasn't. And Sister offered up the fact that she had never tried it. And so I place all blame on her for the following. J jumped out of his chair, grabbed his keys, and said, "You've never had it? Then I'm going to get some right now." We sat there dumbfounded. MORE ICE CREAM? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? No sooner had we processed that thought, J was back from the store with two very large Haagen-Dazs ice cream bars. And the P____ girls finished every last bite.

The End.

Dear Internet Friends

It is only because I am a good employee and a good sister that I have not blogged in over a week. I won't blog at work, and I won't blog when company is in town. And all the other time has been spent counting down the clock til company arrived. I've been dying to blog about my sister's canceled flight and the fine dining at Bebo that helped me cope with her absence. Even moreso, her rescheduled trip for this past weekend, which went splendidly. I have so many pictures to post and so much food to talk about . . because that's what happens when you visit me. I take you to eat delicious food. Not even necessarily expensive (especially if you're in college), but delicious just the same. And now, instead of heading to bed I keep making this post many more sentences than the three I intended. And I'm starting to get hungry again . . because in order to punish myself for my overindulgence this weekend, I've limited myself to cereal for breakfast AND lunch, which is complete torcher by the way. My caloric intake has been so low today that I barely have enough energy in my fingers to type this. Tomorrow I'll have cereal AND toast so I can write a nice long post. Good night.

**Update: See up above - where I misspelled TORTURE? What is wrong with me? My dad was wondering that very thing and sent me an email about it. After all, spelling is the one thing in life that I do perfectly. I knew I was tired last night, but WHOA. Dad also pointed out that I misspelled my own.mother's.name on the last piece of mail I sent. I did realize it right after it happened. I guess that's what happens when other things are on your mind. Of course I couldn't just change it up above all nonchalantly. I had to say something. All the pride in me had to point out that "I KNOW HOW TO SPELL. Really I do!" At least "torcher" is a word. It means "one who gives light with torch". That explains why Dad said "Yikes! Call the fire department!"

Visitor!

My sister is coming for a visit tomorrow. I've been calling her every day this week to remind her, because you know, I wouldn't want her to miss her flight or anything. I have big plans for our weekend . . eating and shopping and eating and shopping. I'm so glad she doesn't like history, because I'm just not in the mood to be that kind of tour guide . . the one wearing tennies and walking miles throughout the District trying to recommend which museums or monuments to see. I think it's all great, I do, but not now . . not when it's 40 degrees outside and not when I haven't really been shopping for two months! I've been saving up for such a time as this.

(Besides, she has been here before and done the tourist thing.)

Crazy Daydreaming

Lately I've been living in Hypothetical Land. A case of homesickness came on strong recently, and I've been obsessing over the future and all the 'what ifs'. Even though I know I have choices, I still feel out of control (which makes sense because I gave God control of my life). I chose to come here, but it was totally God's idea, believe me, and it was a great one and proof that He made me and He knows exactly what is best for me. I take things day by day, and He just keeps paving the way and providing whatever I need. So why am I so focused lately on where I'll be in a year or five years (especially when I'm totally happy right now)? I don't know. But honestly I'm glad I'm not in control, because I have no clue what the right decisions would be. Sure I have things I want and ideas about what I'd like life to be like someday, but He knows way better than I. Phew.

Back on the slopes

After tearing my ACL (and then some) skiing five years ago, I wasn't sure I'd ever ski again. I wanted to, of course, but I'd since torn it a second time and never fully recovered. When given the opportunity to try again this weekend, I just had to go. Mom reluctantly mailed my ski coat and ski pants, and I promised to wear my brace and do my physical therapy exercises all week pre-trip. I rounded up two friends from home who live close by and off we went to Whitetail, Pennsylvania.

Strapping on the knee brace felt good and secure. To make myself feel even better, I met up with a group of beginner skiers to take a lesson. Most.boring.hour.of.my.life. Before the lesson had ended, I was already on a lift and ready for my first run of the day, breathing deeply and praying the whole way.

I'd love to say that I looked like a pro and handled myself with confidence but nothing could be further from the truth. I was freaking out. I mean, I knew you used your knees to ski, but holy crap, I didn't remember how much! I'm sure that hearing me speak became a blur of:

"My knee . . . blah, blah . . . knee hurts . . . . blah, blah . . . knees . . . scared . . still weak . . blah, blah . . my knee . . . knees . . . blah, blah. . "

You get the point.

But after a short while, I loosened up and my form drastically improved. I love being on the slopes and wish it could become another hobby of mine, but when my knee is aching the entire time, I'm seeing people carried off on stretchers, and I'm having flashbacks of the Keystone Ski Clinic, it just doesn't seem like the most brilliant idea. One false move and I could, for the third time, be in need of a new ACL. And that thought really limits how much fun a person can have.

I did have a blast with my friends, and I hope to ski again sometime, but sadly I'll never make it to the moguls or even the intermediate slopes with this knee. Good thing green is my favorite color.

Week o' Fun

"I'm so excited. Omg, I'm gonna cry, I'm so excited." New Girl is passionate about her alma mater, Boston University. She's been a college grad for only 9 months, but they have been 9 months of reminiscing and desperately wishing the real world hadn't come so soon. She asked me to join in the festivities Monday night as BU faced BC in "The Beanpot" hockey tournament and all BU alumni gathered round the big screens to watch. I'm always up for something different, so I tagged along. I'd have been stupid to turn down free all-you-can-eat buffalo wings or the opportunity to be surrounded by contagious school spirit at a sporting event. It ended up being a good time, and I walked away with a full stomach, a free souvenir glass, and a new favorite sports bar in Chinatown. Check out their pizza:

Tuesday night, I watched my favorite baby in D.C. - Walker. He's starting to say more and more words - mainly "Buh-bye" and "Bawl". And he's so active, now running around the house getting into everything, that after an hour I was more ready to go to bed than he was. Click here to watch him play with the phone/fill his pants after I had just changed him.

Valentine's Day was set to be "the most romantic night of my life" or so the Evite said. After getting stuck in the snow three times in a one hour period, I finally ended up in Georgetown for a fondue party with my girlfriends. Honestly, I think fondue sounds a lot cooler than it is, but the dessert was quite tasty, and like every other V-Day I've had, I wasn't hating my life as a single. How could I be when I was dunking angel food cake and brownie bites in a pot of chocolate and peanut butter?

Last night, I laid low. I never have much energy to speak of on Friday nights. I've already put forth the effort of dressing myself and applying make-up once that day and the thought of doing it again doesn't excite me. I like starting with a fresh palette when getting ready, and I feel anything but fresh at the end of a work day. So instead of going out in public, I opted to cozy up on the couch at the Georgetown house and watch "Last of the Mohicans" and "Steel Magnolias" - two great movies that I'd never seen before. FYI: Edy's Slow Churned Yogurt is delicious, and the vanilla flavored bowl that I had was only 100 calories per half cup. Let's be real, no one is ever going to eat just a half cup, but the number sounds real nice.

Update: I did a little research on Edy's Slow Churned Vanilla Ice Cream v. Yogurt and the calories are the same, but the saturated fat, cholesterol, and sodium are slightly lower in yogurt, while the sugar and carbs are slightly higher. Interesting, no?

another fav

It should come as no surprise to anyone that I'm adding this site to my favorites.

(BTW, I've been to his #4 favorite and I wholeheartedly agree . . best steak ever!)

blessings

We gathered tonight for a cabaret-style dinner: wine and amazing food and chocolate souffle and singing waiters. Six co-workers that still like each other on the weekends. It's nice. We toasted to camaraderie . . and promotions. New Girl and I will bid farewell to the ____ floor on Monday and move our things upstairs a floor. More responsibility and more money. Two very fantastic things. And both of us in the same department. The concern (voiced by co-workers) over our ever being parted has been assuaged. And I'm glad. Because she brings laughter to my day. I roll my eyes and smile simultaneously. The girl I once wished to the other side of the office is now my best friend in the District. She's one reason in many that I love my job and I love my new home. One proof of many that God is the orchestrator of my life.

Sick-o

I can now say from experience . . food poisoning sucks. Not that it ever sounded pleasant. Rather than celebrate our promotions with a gourmet dinner as planned, New Girl and I parted ways last night - she to the restaurant, despite my absence, and I to my bathroom to rid my poor stomach of the taquito salad I had eaten for lunch. I'm still not 100% after a full day of sleeping, watching "Kindergarten Cop", sucking on ice cubes and sipping Gatorade, reading 100 pages of Emma, and finally nursing half a bowl of chicken and rice soup, but I'm clearly feeling much better. Tomorrow is Friday and New Girl and I have plans to attend my church's Newcomer Potluck. Considering my recent unluckiness when it comes to food, I'm less than excited. Like Dad always says, "It's called a potluck, because you're lucky if you find the pot that you brought". Right now, there isn't much that sounds appealing to me, including a stranger's green bean casserole, but I am looking forward to the fellowship.

at the bike racks

You call me Mom, and you don't mean it in an endearing way. You're two seconds away from hurting me and putting me in my place. If we were younger, you'd chase me through the house until I found refuge behind a locked door, breathing heavily and knowing I'd narrowly escaped your wrath. Later, I'd come out and we'd play Matchbox cars in the basement and pretend that I never upset you. We'd create a city with stores and parking lots. Or we'd use your blanket - the one with the bright colored map full of winding roads. No need to invite friends over; we had each other. We liked each other. We agreed that riding bikes was fun. Saturday morning cartoons were easy to wake up for. Whole grain cereals tasted better with sugar on top. And snow trails in the backyard were the best part about winter. We were playmates as long as you didn't misbehave or do something stupid. Then I became Big Sister. Or as you call me, Mom.

It's because I read you books when you sat in your swing. It's because I knew you when you couldn't pronounce "ketchup" and "ice cream" (which by the way are two very important words). It's because I remember when you still wet the bed every night. And, let's be honest, it's because I can't keep my comments to myself.

One day at the bike racks in elementary school, the biggest kid in my class haughtily mocked your bike riding hobby, and I can still recall the rate at which my blood pressure rose. I dug my nails deep into both of his arms breaking skin and making him bleed and put my love for you behind a powerful kick to his shin. (Which left a bruise by the way.)

And that's how I still feel about you. I hate when people hurt you. I want you to ride your bike, do what makes you happy. And if you do it with a helmet on, I won't have to be Mom. But no matter what, I'll be at the bike racks loving you.