Freedom On My Bike

Geoff has a dream. It is me, riding free and happy on a bike.

With two small kids, who can not yet ride bikes solo, it hasn’t happened. But in a few days, both kids will be in school, leaving me to at least 2 hours of alone time.

So I have Jane, my bike, but if I wanted to pop onto to my bike and head to the grocery store, I had no way to transport those goods home.

Until now.

View from back of bike


Elijah holds the bike to show off my new bag

Basket open


Oh, the places I will go. 🙂

Cake Day on Atlas Quest

Those words probably don’t mean anything to you, but to me, it means I am celebrating my one year anniversary of letterboxing.

What began as a fun activity, turned into a passionate hobby. Now for the backstory:

Letterboxing began in the 1800s in England, where the boxes were few and far between. It started when a man left a bottle (later it became a box) in the middle of nowhere, with a postcard. The next person to pass by was to pick up any mail left in there and mail it.
It has been gaining steam since the late 1990s here in the U.S., with thousands of boxes planted. Now, letterboxers carry with them a signature stamp, and leave its image in a logbook found in the box. Also inside the box is a (usually) hand carved stamp, which you ink and imprint in your own logbook.

Here is my signature stamp.

My Signature Stamp

It is not hand carved, I bought it at a store. But the boxes I have hidden contain stamps I carved.

Being immersed in this “hobby” there’s lingo to know, there are guidelines, and there are a lot of other fanatics. But I love it. The kids enjoy it a little too. It has allowed us to explore new parks, and see places we probably never would have before. I’m lucky enough to have my family indulge me, whether it is hiking in a rainforest, or climbing a mountain.

If I have intrigued you, please feel free to visit Atlas Quest or LBNA. And of course, I’m happy to talk to you about it.

Happy Trails!


There is a hole in my heart, where once there was a soft furry loved one.

My cat died. Honey Cat.

In December 2001, Geoff and I talked about getting a cat. But we didn’t want to get one before Christmas. So we waited until January. We visited the Irvine Animal Care Center, and met a few cats. None of them were right. We left feeling a little disappointed. The staff told us, “come back tomorrow, and get to know Honey Cat. We think she’d be a good fit.” We returned the next day, and waited for her in the “get acquainted” room. She was so cute, a 4 year old tabby. I called to her, to come sit on my lap. She came. The first cat to respond to me. I knew she was the one. We made arrangements to bring her home.

First days at home

And like that, she’s was in our lives. We took so many pictures of her, everything she did was so adorable. The way she slept in a sunbeam. How she would stand on her back legs to barked at the birds and squirrels. Everyone who met her, adored her.

She transitioned fairly well after the move to Colorado. She found new favorite spots to nap. And when Elijah came along, she didn’t seem to mind, too much.

As she got older, she became less playful. But in the winter months, she was always searching for a warm lap to curl up in.

The last few months, we’d seen her showing her age (13). And we knew our time with her was numbered.

A visit to the vet this week confirmed it was time to say goodbye. We were not ready. I spent the day crying and moping, telling Geoff he had to make the call, I couldn’t say the words. That night, praying with the kids, I thanked God that we got to love her, that she had been in our lives. Miles cried, “I want her to stay with us forever”. Elijah tried to console him by saying, Miles, “she gets to be an angel cat”.

The morning of the appt, I just pet her and kissed her. Touching her soft fur, tears streaming down my cheeks. Geoff had to take her in, I was far too emotional to go. As he drove away with her, I saw her face in the car and lost it. Geoff was there, he saw her last moments. When the life left her eyes. And she was gone. When he returned, we held each other and cried. It was a the loss of someone dear to us. The child before there were offspring.

The house feels strange to me. I see the places she liked to lie, but she’s not there. I can’t bear to remove her water and food dish, though they sit empty. I turn corners expecting to see her. I wait at night to hear her tags jingle, but there is just silence. Elijah left a stuffed animal on the floor, and for a split second, I thought it was her.

I pray this gets easier. I pray that I won’t forget how soft her fur was, the sound of her purring. The sweet kisses she would give me on my cheek.

Rest In Peace Honey Cat. We loved you very much.

Our sweet girl