Pi Day

Pi Day at the office (a day early; Saturday is 3.14.15)

Our esteemed colleague John Rasche, looking a little pale

Two quiet days. Haven't seen Mom since Wednesday, and I had hope that the matter of the bras was behind us, but she called this afternoon to make an arrangement for tomorrow, and said she thought that after lunch she should probably go to the store to return the bras that didn't fit.

I said we'd returned them.

"Did you return them? Not Julie?" Sparing Julie additional effort is her first priority.

"We returned them," I said. That was the "we" as a collective, sort of like Olson & Vosper Enterprises Inc. had returned them. By which I meant of course that Julie had returned them.

"Both of you together?"

"Um" -- long pause -- "yes."

I put my bike back into commission last night -- a deeply therapeutic rite -- and today rode to work and back, suffering only the right amount. It's about 30 miles roundtrip, broken, obviously, by hours at the halfway point, so it's really not so bad. I rode all winter indoors on a trainer I bought a couple years ago, and could feel that behind  me.

So my plan to see Mom tomorrow was to ride there, have lunch, putter in her room, and ride back. None of this communicated to her, as, I feel, it's not her business how I get there, and my biking makes her fret.

But she said she wanted to "take you out to eat. And Julie." I told her Julie was booked -- zumba -- and felt privately that going out to eat would mean I'd need a car, which would mean I couldn't bike there. Still, I couldn't deny her. Cranberry can be stifling, and the weather has turned gorgeous.

We lately go to a place called Simple, which is two blocks away, and it was that famous Julie who suggested I bike there and take her to Simple in the wheelchair.

So that's the plan.

What I think will really happen is that I will get there and she will say, "Oh let's just eat here."