More Cards, More Fun!

Here are more of the cards -- a few variations on a theme, as you can see.

I love my cooking ladies!

These images were from Vintage Workshop and I really do use them over and over!

The one below -- not sure where that came from -- but I love it!

Of course you have to have a cat card...

Or two...

Or three! (Or at least I do!)

And this little one was just so darned cute! I believe this image came from a disk my PBS/blog friend Shelley gave me long ago!

The card below was courtesy of a most generous friend, Shoreacres, who sent me a marvelous box of treats after the death of her dear (and crafty) mom.

I'm so grateful for this image and all the other marvelous bits of jewelry, buttons, fur, yarn and more in her box! (And yes, you'll be seeing more creations made from it here in future posts!)

This one is for Rick.

He just wrapped up a four-day, 400-mile bike ride captaining tandems for Nino and Marie, two of his bike riding friends.

Along with a group of intrepid riders, they pedaled from Lansing, MI to Mackinac City over four days -- one of which included a terrible downpour -- fortunately only for about a half-hour, but that's long enough!

Any time I spend with this gang is bound to be fun! I hope this annual tradition continues for years to come!

Tour de France Junkie

My name is Jeanie. I am a Tour de France addict.

While my own personal bike racer is wild to "compete in his mind" (he'd probably deny that, but really, what biker wouldn't?), I am content to watch my favorite riders take on mountains or pedal at amazing speeds to win a sprint.

I'm an Andy Schleck fan. I think he was robbed last year. But Caudel Evans is another favorite. Bike life. I marvel at the crashes this year...

The speed at which the bikes are repaired and back on the road.

I love the crowds, and watch eagerly to find places I know when they are touring through Paris or Normandy. And I long to visit all the other places the riders experience at such quick speeds, enjoying each shop, street or cafe at a more leisurely pace.

I am aghast at how these riders slog up the hills -- no, mountains -- at speeds I couldn't do no matter how hard I tried.

And then when they descend, what a feeling of exhilaration and freedom. I can feel it just watching -- and that's just fine with me!

Meanwhile, from 8-11 p.m. each night, you'll find me being a Tour groupie, enjoying the commentary of Bob Roll, Phil Leggett and Paul Sherwin. Routing for my favorites. Feeling bad for those who have crashed out.

And I'll be enjoying most of those nights with my favorite Faux-Tour rider! He'll explain things, I'll learn and we'll thoroughly enjoy!

If you are interested in the real Tour de France, visit HERE and if you want to visit the Paris in July postings, you can find a list on the right column of Thyme for Tea or Bookbath.

The Ride of Silence

Nine years ago, I was sitting at my office desk when the phone rang. It was Rick, who said he was in the hospital in Iron Mountain, Michigan, eight hours away. He had been hit by a car while riding his bike on a business trip in the Upper Peninsula.

Rick's a good rider, a former racer. He's had spills and crashes before -- some serious, some far worse than this accident. It can happen to anyone -- stopping too quickly, a tire blows out, a skid on something slippery or rocky, a crash with several riders, hitting a stone the wrong way.

But this was different. This time, it wasn't anything to do with chance. A driver turned left, crossing his lane, right in front of him, as he came down a hill -- with the right of way. Someone who wasn't looking or thinking or paying attention. He went over the hood of the car, shattering the windshield. It wasn't good -- but it could have been fatal. I swear, he has nine lives. I hope more.

That's why, in the cold, pouring rain -- 59 degrees that felt like 49 -- Rick and a host of other cyclists, participated in the Ride of Silence.

This annual event -- held worldwide on the third Wednesday in May -- is to honor bicyclists who have been killed or injured by drivers.

The group left the MSU campus and rode down the main east-west artery to the state capitol, where there was a program on the capitol steps.

There should have been media or legislators to greet them, to support them. People who can make a difference, tell their story. Perhaps they were at the start of the ride, but no one but a group of intrepid riders and several policemen -- some who rode bikes, others who accompanied them by car -- came to the capitol.

It's a shame. Media and legislators would have heard about Mason Barker -- an MSU triathlete who two-and-a-half years ago was hit by a car on a country road and was in a coma for five months. He is a bit of a miracle, recovering slowly -- very slowly. But recovering.

They didn't hear about my friend Jim DeLine, but they could have. You'd never know it to see him now, more than two decades later, but he, too, was hit by a car while riding.

They didn't hear about a lot of people -- but I would bet that every single person on those steps knew someone -- or knew of someone -- who had been on the wrong side of a car.

It's very easy for us all to get frustrated when we see riders "slowing down the traffic." We want to get where we are going as quickly as we can, and sometimes -- in our gas-guzzling cars -- we crowd them too closely. Some even try to push the envelope, saying they don't belong on the road.

And yet, on their healthy, eco-friendly vehicles, bicyclists have as much right to the road as the drivers. In fact, they have the right of way.

We all need to remember that.

I can't keep Rick off a bike. The fact that my heart sticks in my throat every time he rides is something I have to deal with, because to even suggest he not ride would be as cruel as locking a person in a tower. But I can ask everyone to think of Rick and every other rider when they see a cyclist -- and share the road.

(Note: Over on my book blog, Chopsticks and String, a look on another book about World War II -- the wonderful novel, "Sarah's Key.")

Olympic Withdrawal

It should be relatively apparent to anyone who knows me and reads The Gypsy that you seldom see posts relating to great physical activities. And certainly not doing them with a heck of a lot of skill.

I am not the one to bungee jump, my idea of fun on a snow day is hunkering down with art supplies, a good book and a full fridge, and you will never find me racing anything. I'm just not competitive in that way (or in most ways, for that matter).

Having said that, I have loved watching every minute of the Olympics and am having a bit of withdrawal issues.

I don't understand why I love the Winter Olympics. Even knowing the back story of Vancouver's mania to spin things a certain way (see Joyce's fabulous post on behind-the-scenes in Vancouver; you may have to scroll down a post or two, but it's worth it), I found myself adjusting my schedule to catch Olympic action.

I stay up late. I have favorites.

I am close to tears as I watch courageous athletes triumph over their deepest losses...

And I join along when the winners are so overcome, the joy is without compare.

I am in awe of those who do things that make my stomach turn, just watching.

I admire those who pick themselves up and just do it, even when injured or working in pain.

And those who triumph over their past demons to win and win again.

But mostly, I just want to see the most amazing athletes win and applaud those with the dedication just to make it that far.

And when their story is inspiring, tells of challenges or devotion or family support, I am as sucked in as the rest of the world. Call me a sap; it's true.

I suppose one reason is that lots of us have done Olympic sports from childhood. Although, I will say that most of my "sports" were better suited to the Summer Olympics!

True, you've seen this photo. Back when winter was fun. I was not a skeleton or luge athlete in training. To me, skeletons meant Halloween and luge -- who knows? I was just a kid.

My cousin David and seemed to be into team sports. Rowing, for example...

And I think he had great potential as a shot putter.

Even then, you see me with reading material!

I skated till I broke my arm at the ripe old age of nine. I never wanted to skate again (but I did learn to use my right hand to write, which came in handy when I had my shoulder surgery last year.)

My greatest athletic achievement was swimming across our lake -- about a half-mile or so. And holding my own on water skis.

And I could do a pretty mean hula hoop when I was nine.

And yes, I even rode a bicycle -- those races down Sunset Lane. I was in the bikini division then. It wasn't quite the last time I rode a bike. It may have been the last time I wore a bikini.

That was then. This is now.

Rick approaches his bicycling with athletic dedication.

And he's turned me into a fabulous spectaor, enjoying Versus bike ride coverage (coming soon!) and watching him speed past me (my heart a bit in my throat as he does until I see him safe off the bike).

But it's not my sport.

I sat through Kevin's football games in high school because he was playing. My heart was in my throat for those, too -- and I have to say, when he had to give up college football for an injury, I was sad for him, and relieved for us.

But it's not my sport.

In my quest to lose weight and gain better breathing capacity, I faithfully go to the gym and do my Zumba and the eliptical machine and sometimes the bike. I get sweaty. I get stronger. I hate it. But I do it. I visualize a healthier person who looks better in her clothes and breathes more easily, without wheezing and coughing. But I still hate it.

These Olympians don't hate it. They do it because they love it, like Rick and his bike.

They all deserve a gold medal for that. And really, doesn't everyone -- no matter how good or poor they are? Don't they deserve praise for doing something relentlessly, working to be their best?

I'll miss the Olympics. I'll miss these gifted athletes. I'll miss watching sports you never get to see on TV, and often never in person.

Time to go to the gym.