I told my husband, since he’s retired, he could choose between a European trip or dental implants. He chose dental implants and the generous person I am, I threw in Solvang.
We had two little nutcrackers, too short for their wooden outfits, with us. After the obligatory dip in the hotel hot tub, we left for aebleskivers – pancakes in the shape of a tennis balls, sometimes filled with apple slices, topped with powdered sugar and raspberry jam. We rented a surrey, hoping for four active pedalers, but some legs were too short to accommodate. The heavy duty work was up to me and the Reporter. The others were just there for the adventure.
“Grandma,” the Worm shouted from her lookout position, “we’re going so fast my helmet’s going to fly off.” We were only able to maintain that lightening speed for about two blocks.
After a few more blocks of strenuous exercise, we heard honking and yelling. As far as we could tell, we hadn’t run over anyone, so we continued. The yelling did not stop. Brave person that I am, I looked back to see a “perfect” stranger, darting after us in an exhaustive lope (we weren’t exactly moving at galactic speed), waving a dropped jacket.
With inviting smells of chocolate and sugar in the air, it was time, in more ways than one, to take a break — the closest Danish bakery we could find. Whatever calories I burned in the blocks of pedaling were now a wash with the goody I walked out with. The Bug chose a chocolate, whipped cream, custard éclair that was as long as his forearm. The Worm chose a chocolate mousse filled cupcake that she licked like a lollipop. And the Reporter came out with an assortment.
“There’s a bike ride in town this weekend,” the Reporter read aloud from a banner.
“Well, we’re definitely not signing up,” I panted.
“I think we’re in the race,” said the Worm.
“Who do you think is in first?” I asked.
“Us,” said the Bug.
“Yep, you’re right,” I laughed. “We’re so far behind, we think we’re in first.” Heck, it wasn’t until after the first half hour that I realized all the steering I did had no effect on our journey. I had the dummy steering wheel. It’s the same feeling I get from the directional compass I use for my life.
A good friend last week had given me a fun plaque. “Life’s journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well preserved body, but rather to slide in sideways, totally worn out, shouting ‘Whoa, what a ride!’”
I am on my way!
Related posts:
- Family vacation Chevy Chase style
- Long ago in the land of milk and cookies
- The gaps in my life
- The magic of youth
- Halloween on a budget
Print This Post
i can’t believe you take grandkids on vacation with you! sounds so wonderful. i needed a postcard saying wish you were here. so i could wish i was there! more more on your vacation. i want to know everything!
I love it, keep it coming, your grandkids are sooo precious! Every post I read has me in stitches. You are a classic. I really enjoy reading your blog’s adventures!
Another wonderful post. I wish I was with you. Sounds like so much fun and so yummy! The surrey ride brought back memories of decades ago doing the same thing in San Diego. From the above article it appears a good time was had by all! Gma
Love the bike race you were in, and that you came in before anyone else.