I hate Steve Jobs

Well, actually, I have a working iphone and therefore was not home from work throughout the day checking status reports on the release of 2. But we are a collective unit here in the Trimama household, so if one of us hates Steve Jobs, we all hate Steve Jobs. The man clearly has no idea how important "Monkeyball" is to a family vacation or else he would have had the minions working overtime to produce. Oh well.

"Mom, you got new shoes". This being the third Tribe member to notice the nifty pair of hiking sandals I grabbed from the clearance rack at REI caused me to realize one of two things: I need to get out and shop more; one new pair of shoes a year (that aren't tri intended) probably puts my merit as a woman at risk. And two, It's summertime! These are my annual summertime shoes. Last years REI summertime shoes held up extremely well, they will continue to represent good times.

We were at REI to find more neoprene for Tac. He is now so sufficiently bedecked in neoprene he could perform a moonwalk undeterred. If we had been this mindful of protection years ago there would be no Tribe. "How are you going to even know you have swam if you never feel the water?"

"Stop humming Darth Vadar music!" How can I help myself. We are on the hourly countdown to CdA, and since each pronouncement has an air of angst, DV music seemed suitable.

Try it. See, it works.

But Ironman isn't doom, it's adventure. So the new theme music, heretofore will be, Bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Steve Jobs gets Darth Vadar.

We are ironing out the post- school stress and depression wrinkles from the Tribe. Some acclimate to summer better then others, and I am giving them all a wide berth to be chippy and short; family needs to be a safe place to vent, so long as no gratuitous damage is done in the venting. Vacation will be a good remedy for all.

"Mom, we need the guy who fixes the front door to come."

The guy who fixes the front door was currently making cookies, but has otherwise been detained by training and keeping a roof over our head.

The handle has fallen off of the front, glass, storm door. That has nothing to do with the constant slamming of that door by the Tribe et al.

It certainly has nothing to do with the Soapinator's Pied Piper effect in the neighborhood. Every time I glance outside there is some new kid in my yard.

"Who is that?"

"So and so"

"Where is he from?"

"I don't know, but he's nice"

Add one more Little Neighbor Kid to the mix and it's all good. Off, to Costco I go, Little Neighbor Kids get hungry. But I'm hiding the water canons before I leave. Last time I returned to find a nice trail of grass, mud and water going in the front door and out the back. Apparently they figured out the shortest distance between two points, say the front yard to the back yard, is through the house. Not to mention the nice launching pad off the back steps.

Training is going well. For the amusement of al I am going to the "speed" workout with my Local Tri Club tonight. I'm really only going because, A) I can-finally and B) there are a number of people I haven't seen all winter and I look forward to catching up with them. Verbally, not physically. Who knows, I might shave a few seconds off my 5K.

I trained 7 clients in 6 hours yesterday. Whew. Collectively, I probably completed a few hundred squats, lunges, ab curls and plank minutes.

So, that's a wrap. By this time next week, if all goes according to plan, I'll be eating breakfast in Fargo.