I bought cycling gloves on Friday night. Seriously, I was not getting on that bike again with my hands as cold as they were on previous rides. NO MORE. But finding the right cold/wet weather gloves has been a real PITA (pain in the arse) for me. If they're too bulky, I feel like I can't control the bike as well. I already struggle with controlling the bike enough, haha. Refer to countless earlier posts about not wanting to fall. Or see other earlier posts about having fallen (okay, those were low-speed "getting used to clipless pedal" falls...they don't really count).
Anyway. I went to the little independent bike shop. I'm totally crushing on the young boy who works there. I do this, actually. I have a couple of cute little barista boys in my building that I crush on, too. I like to think of it as "hot older woman ready to school these young boys," but to them it probably looks more like, "Oh, isht, the cougar is back again." Ah well, life is for fun, yes?? Oh yes, there is also a boy who works in the building who I have pined for for awhile now - my friends and I estimate he might be 25, hahahaha. (I doubt it.)
But, that's not why I go to the overly-expensive independent bike shop. Well, I guess mostly it is. I like the guy, and it's only about a mile from my house. I try to go there first when I am bike-shopping, although they do tend to be more expensive and have less selection. Plus, my boyfriend is new to the state and not well-familiar with riding around here and I feel gave me bum advice on my first bike light purchase, thus wasting my money. There was another purchase, too, that I felt like ended up being a waste of money. Can't think of what it was.
Oh, hello, I was going to tell you about having egg on my face. So. I went to the bike shop, I bought two pairs of gloves: skinny wool liners and a bulkier pair to go over them.
|Skinny wool ones.|
|Bulkier outer ones.|
Well, by the time I talked to Mr. W about it that evening, I decided I should have bought the bigger size outer gloves, because they were tight over the liners. Then Mr. W. pointed out that the outer gloves were not waterproof, which was contrary to my need for waterproof gloves on rainy rides. Hrumph.
Okay. Back they'll go. Later that evening, I stopped at REI and I bought two pairs of waterproof warm and fuzzy gloves with funky fingers. I crossed my fingers (before putting on the gloves) hoping I'd be able to work through the funky fingers issue.
I bought two pairs because I am THAT PICKY about how gloves fit: in general, but most especially while on my bike. I tried them on with and without the wool liner that I had purchased at the independent bike shop earlier that night.
Okay. I'm getting to the egg on my face part, really. Imagine me at REI with 2/3 of my children, trying and trying and trying on gloves. Liner. No liner. Small. Medium. Every variation of these three pairs. (Except Small on Medium, or Medium on Small, I didn't go that crazy.)
And the whoooooooollllllllllllllllllllleeeeeeeeee time, I am so conscious about not losing these wool liners that I bought at another store but brought into REI specifically to try on with their gloves. Don't lose the brand new gloves.
Okay. I bought two pairs of funky-fingered gloves, and I also bought a hundred dollar pair of snow pants (IMPULSE BUY!) for my trip to Lake Chelan with Mr. W. this weekend. Umm, I think I'll return those. I have like ZERO use for snow pants. Well, except I did wear them to ride on Saturday. Comfy! But extravagant. We'll see. Oh, and a $40 pair of Merrell hiking boots that were on clearance. IMPULSE BUY!
The whole decadent shopping spree cost me $85 in gloves at store #1 and $202 at REI. Oops. But I knew I was returning at least two pairs of gloves: one to REI and one to the independent store. And by the time I got home (wearing my new funky-fingered gloves) I knew I'd return BOTH pairs to the independent store. Even though I also knew this would break my bike-store-boyfriend's heart. I do not know how that store stays open - it is so dead - unless he has a whole cadre of middle-aged biking women who just adore him. (Bitches. Stay away from my man.)
Alright, so now my registration fees for the Cascade bike training series and the RSVP (Ride from Seattle to Vancouver BC and Party) are gone - oops - that would have been about $250 bucks or so. No worries. I'm taking back three pairs of gloves and maybe the snow pants. Seriously, those Merrell boots were originally $115 and I got them brand new for $39 - I'm keeping those puppies.
|I can't find a pic, but they are a-dor-able.|
Well, I'll probably keep them, anyway. They are a 7.5 and I really should have an 8. But they're cute. And $40!
Still with me? I'm home now, and I'm assembling my return bag. Two pairs back to the bike shop, one pair back to REI. I'll do that in the morning.
Where. the. flying. f. are. the. wool. liner. gloves?
"OH!" Reid (my 7yo) says. "I told you to pick them up from the rock wall! You shouldn't have left them there!"
Hmm. I think it is valiant that he falls on the sword so quickly, but I distinctly remember taking the gloves back from him while we were in the store.
I must have left them at the dang cash register. I call REI, but they're already closed. Thankfully, we were in right before closing and I'll call them first thing in the morning and everything will be A-OK.
I am so pissed at myself for losing these gloves. Argh. I call REI at 9:00 a.m., but they don't open until 10:00 a.m. At 10:00 a.m. I'm in the thick of a bike ride with Mr. W. and Ms. V., the group leader for my regular Wednesday night ride. If I ever finish telling you that I lost, and then found, a pair of gloves, I'm posting separately about this ride and my weekend with Mr. W.
(See, this whole post could have been "I thought I lost a brand new pair of gloves, but no worries, I found them." But you have to hang in for another page or two to get to that point.)
Okay, so at 10a, everyone's waiting on me and I call REI. Nope, no gloves in the lost and found. They'll keep an eye out for them. My suspicious heart says "Yes, keep an eye on them as you are wearing them, GLOVE THIEVES!" I ask to talk to a manager, who is sweet, but also claims to not be wearing my brand new gloves. I explain that they are brand new and I lost them. She seems to be not as moved by this plight as I am.
Over the course of the day, I tell myself things like, "Well, at least they were only the $25 gloves." As opposed to the $50 gloves or one of the $37 pairs. It's small consolation. I'm having big-time buyer's remorse and I am freaking at the financial pinch of both pursuing my real love and one true reason for living, e.g. cycling, and...deep sigh...feeding and housing my children. Seriously, who has nearly $300 to drop on gloves and isht like that?
Well, REI says they'll look for the gloves. But you know as soon as I finished that bike ride (also known as a Hilly MF'er - more later), I drag Mr. W. down to REI and we search the store. No gloves. I inquire about the lost and found. Nope. I leave a note with all mine and the gloves' info with the cashier. I am in full pout.
Here, Mr. W. was very nice and helped me look and only yakked one woman's ear off about the STP (Seattle to Portland ride) because he happened to overhear her buying cycling-something-or-'nother and he gave her an earful of what I would call unsolicited advice...hmm, but I was in full glove-search dither so I really cannot judge her perception of the exchange. I walked away, hoping to find my gloves.
Dammit. I give up.
We stop at the bike shop and I break my bike shop boyfriend's heart, both by being seen with another man (that will keep him interested in me, though, spurred on by the challenge) and by returning the remaining pair of gloves I haven't lost. It is a sad exchange. The men mask their pain by talking about handlebar tape. I don't even think I'm supposed to call them handlebars...everything on a bike has a different name when you're a grown-up. Anyway, they push through the pain, and Mr. W. is buying handlebar tape. He asks me for my frequent buyer card so I get a punch for the purchase. Because he's just that nice.
Well, I can't find that damn thing, either. Even though I was JUST THERE the day before. ARGH! I am so frustrated. I search my purse and wallet, nothing.
There is one pocket inside my purse. It's my panties pocket. You know, I have had more occasion than you would think to carry my panties in my purse. Every Wednesday before leaving work when I change into my bike shorts in preparation for my group ride - there go the panties into the panties pocket. What am I supposed to do, wear them over my head?
I can feel the panties in that pocket from my earlier Wednesday ride, but now I'M PISSED and totally willing to open the pocket in front of these boys. They should keep their eyes to themselves, anyway. And, truth be told, I'd show either of them my panties, if asked.
THE GLOVES! I FOUND THE GLOVES!! Look how carefully and painstakingly I (utterly subconsciously) put them in a protected zippered pocket in my purse so they wouldn't get lost! What a responsible adult I am!!
|Oh, I know you know this movie.|
Seriously, I'm glad the store is dead inside because I yelled with glee! And Mr. W. and my boyfriend, err, bike shop boyfriend, celebrated with me! Right up until I told Bike Shop Boyfriend I was returning THOSE gloves, too. That kind of hurt his feelings, and I think he sort of wished I hadn't found them. Aw, don't be that way, baby. You know I'll come back to you again.
This was a good test for Mr. W., since he pretty much got to see me unravel from happy glove owner to despondent and broke single mom who is never, ever allowed to have any fun and life really sucks, and then back to joyful crazy lady dancing in bike shop. I kid you not (I am tired of saying "Seriously" in this post)...this man is getting the wholly unvarnished me to take or leave. Stick a fork in me, I am done.
And we all lived happily ever after. Except I forgot to call REI and tell them I found the gloves, so they can stop worrying. And I did take away money from the independent shop. And I do probably plan to return the snow pants to REI after wearing. And when Mr. W. said something sensitive like, "Is there anything I can do to make this better for you?" I did bark at him, "PUH-LEEZE do not talk to me like a self-help book."
So, I won and everyone else lost. But sometimes that's enough. And Mr. W. laughed about the self-help book comment - really, either he has a good sense of humor or I am crushing his soul by not allowing this kind and sensitive talk.
Closing sidebar: In the "five love languages" (um, acts of service - yes, do that one - a lot - it's my favorite, really this is the one I like - a lot; touch - well, yes, I love this one lots but really, Mr. W. we are still working on our boundaries because apparently you just touch a whole lot all the time like when I am "having a seizure" looking for my gloves, as my daughter describes me; gifts - well, those are nice but don't do a whole lot for me, go back to acts of service,
seriously certainly, when you helped me clean my roof that was like the sexiest thing ever; quality time - well, yes, that's okay, too, but probably not a biggie for me; and then there's WORDS OF AFFIRMATION. Okay, don't bother with that one. :) I don't like feeling like I'm being "handled" (we always hate most what we need most, hahaha). Mr. W. lays these on a bit thick - or maybe he just says them at all and I have that low of a tolerance for them. He is so awesome, and really, I wish he'd realize if he didn't like me quite so much, or want to be with me quite so much, or be quite so supportive - well, I'd be all over him like white on rice. And TRULY, it is relationship karma because I see now that this is EXACTLY what I did to Greg, and I can see how he must have weighed through everything (I am not defending Greg, who was an asshat) and thought "DAMMIT, I like you so much but..." and that's where I'm at with Mr. W. When I am with him, I am crazy about him and just when I'm about to fall for the guy he hits those He's So Into You afterburners and I'm backpedaling.
Ah, we'll see. But! I! Found! My! Gloves!!