On a gorgeous Tuesday, September 11 morning in 2001, I took off on my Canondale road bike and went for a ride just outside Nashville, TN. It was a crystal clear, sparkling diamond of day with the leaves on the trees beginning to turn. Humidity was low and, because it was early, it was relatively cool and crisp. The ride was exhilarating and I remember telling Ira upon my return home that, “I live for days like today.” The high stayed with me while we did a little grocery shopping. I don’t remember what else we had planned for the day, if anything because on the way home we heard on the radio that a plane had crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center in New York. Even then, we both thought that it had to be a private plane and decided to check out CNN when we got home. Still exhilarated from my ride, I had no idea how quickly life would change. Exhilaration to devastation in the time it took to turn on the TV. It would take me years before I would give voice to my exaltation of a gorgeous Indian summer day.
In essence that’s me—a happy little piggy. Don’t worry, the piggy thing isn’t derogatory. I am a self-described snork, sometimes to my own detriment, (take a look at my new blog, “Taming the Young Wildebeest”). My ringtone on Ira’s phone is the “Wee, Wee, Weeeeeee” of Maxwell the Geico piggy. Basically, Ira and I think pigs are cute. And I love my big button