My life has changed so much – and in such wonderful ways – that the original tone and usual content you found here just isn’t who I am right now. However, there’s still so much I’d like to share with those of you I’ve come to adore over the years. Expect an email from me in coming weeks with a link to the new site.

As for the Atomic Bombshell, she will not fade into oblivion just yet. In fact, I plan to relaunch this site to cover my passion for cycling. Eventually, I hope to help build a local cycling team and utilize this site as the communications hub for that group. Or who knows, maybe it can even serve to support female cyclists and related events throughout the region.

Here’s to new beginnings!

I’ve heard travel has become quite a nightmare lately, but now we have firsthand experience to substantiate that theory. You see, the Ninja had to fly from Southern California to Rhode Island where he was expected to appear as a groomsman in a childhood friend’s wedding. As charming as that sounds, I wish we had turned them down.

Even though we are desperately low on funds since their wedding so closely followed our own, and even though we were required to pay for tuxedo rental, airfare, accommodations, and more… It still wouldn’t have been so bad. What made it terrible was this series of events:

1. Thursday 10pm Red-Eye LAX to RI w/connection in NC
2. Friday 11am Check in then attend pre-wedding events
3. Saturday 12am Return to the inn and collapse… Zzz
4. Saturday 9am Wake up and have some breakfast
5. Saturday 12pm Be showered, dressed, and ready
6. Saturday 2pm Participate in the wedding ceremony
7. Saturday 3pm No air conditioning and 90 degrees
8. Saturday 4pm Take wedding pics in the pouring rain
9. Saturday 5pm Board trolley and bus for next event
10. Saturday 6pm Arrive at Goat Island for reception
11. Sunday 12am Return to the inn to pack and rest
12. Sunday 4am Take taxi to airport for flight to JFK
13. Sunday 5am Notified of flight reschedule to 11am
14. Sunday 7am Notified of flight reschedule to 5pm
15. Sunday 8am Notified of rerouting bus to Boston
16. Sunday 11am Bus driver gets lost on the way
17. Sunday 2pm Arrive in Boston for 5pm flight
18. Sunday 5pm Flight to Salt Lake City delayed
19. Sunday 9pm Arrive in SLC too late for LAX
20. Sunday 10pm Voucher for motel from hell
21. Monday 12am Return from finding a meal
22. Monday 6am Shuttle back to the airport
23. Monday 10am FINALLY arrive at LAX
24. Monday 11am Directly to the office
25. Monday 2pm Meeting with client
26. Monday 9pm Home and sleep

If you’re counting, that means from when he woke up at 7am on Thursday morning to when he finally went to bed on Monday night, poor Jordan was awake over 100 hours while only sleeping a total of 14 hours in four nights. Furthermore, 40 hours were spent waiting for and/or being transported. In particular, the trip home took over a day.

So umm… We’ll be sticking around town for a while.

Would you believe I finally got the very first stamp on my passport?

The Ninja brought me along on an all-expense paid trip to a resort in Mexico! He kicked some butt at work and earned a vacation that began on his birthday. We kicked off the last year of his 20s at the Pueblo Bonito Rose in Cabo San Lucas with a few dozen of his co-workers.

It was a four-day trip and Jordan’s company organized transportation, lodging, meals, and even provided an additional $125 per person room credit that we could use on spa treatments, room service, or whatever. The resort wasn’t brand new, but our experience was still very nice.

Most of our friends went on excursions (riding quads, parasailing) but the two of us mostly relaxed in and by various pools and worked on undoing some of our cycling tan lines. We enjoyed a preview of summer weather with temps in the 90s by day and mid 60s at night.

Had I written this right after I returned, my review of Mexico would be slightly more glowing. But I’m still getting over (for lack of a better term) intestinal trouble, bug bites, and a head cold, so I’m slightly less than thrilled with travel in general, especially to third world countries.

In fact, if you take a look at how we spent the room credit, it pretty much sums up what trips with the two of us are all about: we’re always hungry, so there are tons of charges for room service, and the rest went for snacks, hydration, bug sprays, lip balms, and sunscreen.

We may not be well-suited for travel, but we still had fun!

So, the Ninja and I hopped in the car and drove to Vegas. We stayed at the Signature at MGM Grand, which was made even more enjoyable thanks to a free upgrade to a penthouse suite. Pretty nifty. Not that we spent a lot of time there, since we were in the other city that never sleeps, and there’s no shortage of fun things to do and see.

However, the whole point was to meet Misty, Dena, Shelly, Lisa, Gina, Monica, Tasha, and Salena. Regrettably, only 5/8ths of that goal was achieved because (despite my best effort) I couldn’t track down the last three. However, it was lovely meeting those first five special ladies. Turns out your blogs very accurately portray who you are and what you’re all about… You’re each as fantastic as I’d imagined, and more!

Now that I know how awesome you are, I wish that Virginia Beach were right next door to Southern California. Though the Ninja and I are a couple of premature (yet immature) fuddy-duddies who don’t drink, smoke, or gamble, we hope there will be many more fun times to spend together soon. Maybe with hubbies and kids even… No? …Or not.

I should have done this in person, but I didn’t want to get all serious on you in the midst of all the fun, so listen: Blogger friendships may seem too distant or detached from outsider perspectives, but the laughter and support we share means a lot me. Thank you for sticking around through some very tough times, and for never forgetting that I exist even when my posts dwindle down to once or twice a month.

You’re each amazing, wonderful people, and I love you… XOXOX!

(The bunny on my handlebars helps though.)

Normally, I prefer 30-50 mile rides while surrounded by ten to twenty of my other road biking buddies, and of course, the one and only Jordan. I’m stoked that we’re once again enjoying daylight savings time (also known as cycling season). My office life sucks, but it’s made more tolerable when I can ride off the stress after work.

This weekend we’re heading out for yet another road trip. We’re gearing up for Las Vegas where we’ll be meeting a few of my favorite peeps on earth! I’m so excited. Good thing I’ve been so busy lately, otherwise I’d be obsessing over what to pack, dreaming about the fun we’ll have, and stressing that I’ll be too shy to enjoy it all.

As it stands, I’m worried about not having appropriate shoes for all the walking required in that town, so I wrote to Manolo the Shoeblogger for advice. To my great pleasure, he wrote about it and made suggestions. I’ll try and head over to a nearby Cole Haan boutique later tonight and find some of those Nike Air heels he recommends.

See you gals soon! XOXOX

It doesn’t take much to get me into the holiday spirit. The first sign of red and green gets me smiling, even if it’s while strolling the aisles at Target in October. So, it came as no surprise that last night’s theatrical event threw me over the top, and into full-on yuletide zeal.

My best friend on earth (Whom I just happen to be dating. Did I forget to mention it before? Interesting. Maybe I’ll share the story some day.) is a private banker, and his firm bought out the seats for last night’s performance of “A Christmas Carol” by South Coast Repertory.

I’m no theater buff, but I can see how people get into seeing shows on a regular basis. It was oddly relaxing and thoroughly entertaining. You can kind-of lose yourself in the drama, and there’s an interactive quality that could be addicting, especially when you have great seats.

Not only was the show fantastic, but it was a hoot getting to wear a pretty new cocktail dress and spending the evening on the arm of a very dapper gentleman. Even the obligatory schmoozing with clients and co-workers was unusually tolerable. Last night was such a treat!

So, it was no big surprise when, after months of panic attacks on the bike every time I rode within proximity of a silver Toyota Tacoma, one finally ran me down on what would have been our tenth wedding anniversary. No, it wasn’t my ex that took me out, but a total stranger… But still, pretty eerie, is it not?

I was riding with about thirty cyclists that morning and I was fifth from the lead. The truck overtook most of us, then cut a quick right turn into a driveway ahead of me, offering me no option but impact. I was able to slow down from about 18-20 mph to about 6-10 mph prior to the collision, but hitting a wall of steel at any speed is gonna hurt.

And hurt it does. This is my first day back at the keyboard in over a week, and I’m making it a short visit just to update. Although I was extremely fortunate that I didn’t go under his back wheel, I did suffer a great amount of damage from the three impacts: my bike hitting the truck, my body hitting the truck, and my body hitting the ground.

My left side bore the strongest impact, with my hip at the focus, but the doctors were impressed that my bones fared so well. Keep taking your calcium, girls… It works! Despite pain in places I never even knew I had, and having more contusions, pulled muscles, and pissed-off vertebrae than you can imagine, I am very lucky things weren’t a lot worse.

The driver was cited for a multitude of offenses: not carrying his drivers license, no proof of insurance, and last but not least, that unsafe turn. The police report places all blame for the collision on the truck driver. He swears that he has proper insurance, and he’ll have to show proof or lose his license, but if he’s lying, I’m going to weep endlessly.

Let’s not even begin to calculate the doctor’s bills and ongoing physical therapy costs I’m in for, but cycling is a huge part of my life. The sense of freedom and joy that I’ve experienced over the last year and a half has been invaluable. Not only have I made so many treasured friends through this sport, but as a cancer survivor, riding the bike as an outlet for stress and to achieve greater fitness is vital to me.

So, even though one legal battle (the divorce) is finally behind me, and the best part of that was no longer having to deal with (or pay for) attorneys, it seems that now I must sign on for a new fight, and brace myself for all the fun that comes with it. I’m pretty sure any insurance company will choke when they’re told the replacement cost for this bike runs in the thousands of dollars, thanks to fancy carbon components, brand new racing wheels, and a custom frame.

Keep your fingers crossed that I’ll find the right team of doctors, physical therapists, and legal help to set me quickly back to right.

Despite my shyness it was such a treat to meet Dave of Blogography and his crew of devoted Los Angeles fans at Lucky Strike on Hollywood Blvd. Unfortunately, I had to cut out early to see UCLA vs. UW at the Rose Bowl, so I missed out on bowling and meeting Neil and Sophia of Citizen of the Month. Which is lame since I’m the one who tipped him off that Dave was coming to town. Our guest of honor was every bit as cool as I’d already presumed from his writing, in fact, now that I’ve witnessed him in his full three-dimensional glory, I’m betting that his writing will take on some extra dimension for me, as well.

Dave, thank you so much for giving long-time readers like me the opportunity to get to know you a little better. I was really impressed with all the fun things you did to make your guests feel so greatly appreciated. I wore my artificial duck button to brunch today alongside my Ninja who donned his “I am the decider” pin. He’s now a believer regarding the undercover geek status I claim. We both hope to see you again some time. Oh, and here’s the pirate joke we owe you:

So a pirate walks into a bar, swaggers up to the barkeep and demands a glass of rum. The bartender, being a reasonable fellow, makes no complaint but simply grabs a large glass, a bottle of fine dark rum, and begins to pour. And while he’s waiting for the glass to fill he sizes up the pirate, having never seen a real honest-to-God pirate before.

This pirate is in full regalia: gold earrings, patch over the eye, a big filthy white blouse covering his swarthy chest, tattoos everywhere, all of it… but protruding from his pirate trousers is the unmistakable form of a ship’s wheel. As the glass of rum tops off, the barkeep skims it across the bar to the pirate, who nods curtly and downs it in one huge swig. Slapping a dubloon on the bartop, he turns to walk away when our bartender’s curiosity gets the best of him.

“Wait, one second. What’s up with the steering wheel?” and the pirate turns back and fixes him with a beady glare from his lone eye, “Arrr, I don’t know, but it’s drivin’ me nuts!”

Perhaps if I could stop laughing so hard every time I see that sign, I might be able to mozy in and place an order for some chicken-fried sushi with a side order of eda-yo-mame.