One perfect day

This is, of course, how my nickname came to be

Call me Sandy Bottom Bracket.  Actually, please don't.  Although I find my new nickname--given to me by a female cycling friend--fabulous, I'm not sure if I want it to stick.  This name was chosen for me on one of the messiest rides of the year.  And I loved almost every minute of it.

One of the prints I got to see

Really, the entire day was quite perfect.  After work, I hustled home so I could ride down to the Ellsworth Kelly print exhibit at MMOCA. I've never been a big fan of abstract field art, but with two weeks of clouds weighing heavy on my psyche, I needed a bit of color.  The vivid colored shapes lifted me out of my stupor--but it was his line botanical line drawings and his black and white lithographs that really drew me in.

This is one of my favorites

Needing to spend a bit of time outside, my husband and I then rolled over to one of our favorite bike shops and proceeded to harass a riding friend until she agreed to come out and play--really, no arm twisting was required.  What was supposed to be a quick ride around lake Monona turned into a fit of laughter as we tried to navigate our way through roads covered in 2-3 inches of slush/ice/potholes/puddles.  There were no good lines and I'm sure a snail could have passed us.  A few miles down the road, conditions finally improved.  As I picked up my cadence above five rpms, crunchy, grinding noises started to sing from my bottom bracket--now covered thick with sand, salt and road grime.  And that my friend, is how I got my new name.  The stripe of sand covering my entire backside didn't help.

A lovely road ride

On the way back, I was treated to a high five by another cycling friend coming home from work.  A perfect end to a perfect day.