Ghost Bikes And Ghost Husbands

During my horrid ride of Saturday, I found out whose ghost bike it is that's placed in Kenmore. The cyclist who died was 70-year old Gordon Gray.

The detective on the case determined Gray failed to stop at a stop sign right before the crash.

While I don't know if that's true or not, it's a miracle no one else has died or gotten seriously maimed in that particular area. I have yet to see a single bicyclist stop by at the stop signs in Kenmore (unfortunately myself included), the cars do and don't, and don't even get me started on the low-flying pelotons. I'm sure being a member of a group has its advantages but from the outside it's still hella annoying. The groups I encounter on my rides are rude as hell - meaning they ride four abreast, taking the entire trail, not moving when I come along, and they don't say anything when they pass me with less clearance than the asshats driving cars.

Did I mention I detest pelotons? Not saying there might be great and very polite groups that consist of gentlemen whose mothers taught them manners, but I have yet to encounter one.

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's a peloton!

Things have improved somewhat on the homefront. Hubby and I did a few things together this weekend which was nice. That means I have to rethink my new nickname for him, which would have been Casper - as in the friendly ghost. You know, because I never see him even when he's home. We went out for dinner on Saturday, then lunch on Sunday. So sorry, Channing, we'll have to reschedule our rendezvous.

Most of the time I don't think about this, but from time to time it hits me how much work it is to be a grown up. Work is work, responsibilities are work, relationships are work, kids are work, and even relaxing is work. I can't spend too much time thinking about this and ultimately question the meaning of life, because I'll most likely go bonkers like most of the famous philosophers did. One just can't start thinking about how a table isn't really a table or whether the shadows on the cave wall is what's real or not and expect to remain sane. Seems like most of my life is spent forging on these days and I don't like it so something's gotta give. Just to clarify - I am not unhappy just restless. Perhaps it's an early midlife crisis of sorts.

Hubby is going away for a few days which will give the heart a chance to grow fonder, but if I know myself the time will most likely be spent on Netflix. Unlike hubby, I don't typically take my work home which allows me to untangle completely from work related issues. I've always preferred it that way, all though I have been thinking about moving on from where I am now. Major changes are taking place where I currently work, but for now I'll sit it out and see where all the pieces land once it's all said and done.

To stop or not to stop, that is the question.

This morning's commute was great! Except for a very stern school bus driver - which leads me to a question: do I have to make a full stop for school buses when they have their red blinky lights on when I'm on the side walk on the other side? On my bike? Up where I live there are quite a few school buses in the morning if I time it just wrong. This morning I saw red lights up ahead so I went onto the sidewalk so I wouldn't have to wait for the children to board. As I'm biking passed the bus while on the sidewalk, the driver opens the window and yells that I have to stop. Say what? I have never seen a pedestrian stop and wait for a school bus but what do I know. Apparently not traffic laws.