A dog's fascination with cat feces.

Yesterday I started looking more closely at the application for KU's social work graduate program as a distraction from working on my portfolio. I figured looking at the application would be good motivation for working harder on my seminar's final project rather than just doing it to get it done, but the application does not require that I submit my portfolio. So much for that.

Last week, I got a couple of good rides in, though they were more eventful than I would have liked. Friday's ride was 26 miles, and at about 10 miles in, I observed an adult male pushing a large jogging stroller in the biking lane. I've gotten used to people completely ignoring the divided lanes on the Provo River trail, so I've given up on saying anything (never mind a cyclist actually broke his neck because someone was in his lane when he turned a corner). I slowed down and went to cruise around him, when just as I was passing him, he turned and spit.

Now, in case you haven't experienced it, guys usually do not spit with just spit. It's not like a bit of water-consistency coming out of their mouth. No, this was a mucous wad that coated my entire right arm, and it was instantly weighed down with the disgust and much too thick saliva. The guy apologized, but "sorry" didn't make the loogie disappear.

Saturday's ride was 30 miles, and it was quite joyful, especially since I managed to find some cows (oh, Kansas, I miss thee). I was headed down 89 toward Spanish Fork and had reached some pretty po-dunk back country. I was riding in the shoulder, and got to a place where a road turned off 89, so the shoulder became the right turn lane. When I got to this point, I looked at the off road and saw a lady in a large pick up wanting to turn left. I looked at her, she looked at me, and because I had not signaled and was not slowing down (I was at about 18 mph), I foolishly assumed she knew I wasn't turning right. I was actually halfway through the quasi-intersection, two feet from the front of her pickup, when she took her foot off the break and started to move forward. Thank goodness for Scott engineering for their women's bikes, because the brake was right at my fingertips and I was able to tap it a few times until the lady got the picture. After swerving and coming as close as I get to swearing, the lady gave me a really confused look and let me by. Ahem.

Yesterday's ride was uh MAY zing. It was only 20 miles, but while on the ride, I saw a mama quail with her little babies, eight squirrels (one baby) running across the trail, and in the middle of the trail at about mile 9, there was a young buck just looking at me. He let me get ten feet from him before he walked away. It was fantastic.

It's official: We're moving back to Kansas next May. Bobby's going to finish in Sport Science at the grand University of Kansas while I am in my graduate program. If all goes well, we'll be able to walk with each other the following May (three cheers for one year graduate programs). I'm not sure how Peli's going to like Kansas, what with her affinity for mountains, but looking at my graduate program instantly starts the butterflies in my tummy, and having Karlee and Trevor to play with every day will help her adjust more quickly, I'm sure.

Well, Bobby leaves for a race tonight after work, and will be gone tonight AND tomorrow night, so I'm going to pretend I'm going to actually be on time for my 7 a.m. weights class so I can leave a little early to spend time with him. As much as I love and adore Peli and Chuck, snorgling with them just isn't the same.