Emma with toy earrings:

Look, Dayee! My ears are pursed.

Emma and I learning how to count:

Emma, how many fingers do I have up [ .lll, ]?
One, Two, Free-four!
OK, good!

Dayee, how do I have much fingers [also with three]?
[repeating the turn of phrase to cement it in my brain I say] How do I have much fingers?
[correcting me] No…I!

I guess my crash today didn’t only damage my right cheek (the one you don’t want to see a picture of).

I made the decision to buy a recumbent.
I made the decision to commute by bike.
I made the decision to use a field-of-vision limiting fairing.
I made the decision to NOT buy a bus pass this January.
and
I made the decision to go straight on Rainier this morning.

That’s the teaser.

Approaching a hill this morning I saw a new, manhole-sized, brick lined, pothole. We are talkin’ deep, 1911, Denny-Renton bricks. With cars approaching (from behind) on the western hemisphere of this abyss I chose the eastern hemisphere. I saw the driveway entrance to the sidewalk and committed.

I missed the eastern hemisphere of the entrance to Wonderland and found myself nose-to-nose (or rather, wheel-to-curb) with a stealth curb. It was hunkered, a mere 2-3 inches above ground level, in a clever burm of sand that smoothed it’s cliff like appearance not unlike a VW bug in 25 inches of snow.

That’s the decision I had to live with now and at about 10 mph my small, front wheel approached that stealthy little curblet at a VERY acute angle. Then that part of my body closest to the ground, for the second time in just over 12 hours, kissed the pavement. I think my right cheek was jealous of my left cheek; this time I had momentum.

A skilled forensics team may yet determine the speed at which impact occurred by measuring the scratches, accounting of course for a thin layer of spandex which remains (thankfully) untorn.

I would say my ego was further damaged, because I always say matter of factly

I don’t fall.

but it really isn’t; I am still gonna be Spider-Man someday.