I'm alive!

It's been raining here in Fort Collins for the past 3 days.

At about 1 and 1/2 days of non-stop rain I started to wonder if we were entering the great volcanic winter. I kept watching the news, listening for headlines telling us of the super volcano that has finally erupted someplace on the opposite side of the planet.

Upon no news of mass destruction, I figured that the world was just too busy with their obsession of Michael Phelps to inform us that we should start contemplating whom in our family would become the best meal upon starvation. - this has been a hard decision for us, given that we are a somewhat skinny family.

But alas! The sun has returned! And as far as I know, there has been no new mass destructions on the planet earth, except of course, for all of the ones currently burning hot, those of which I will not list because I've promised not to become political on this blog. Politics have proven not to be good for my relations with other people, like you.

So I'm doing a 'Happy Sun Dance' right now as I type. I've been reminded of how much I love- and need the sun, for my own happiness (that's code talk for 'sanity').

This is a picture to illustrate that the sun is out. Really, I've been contemplating how to show everyone this piece of art without seeming too vain and materialistic, and this is the perfect opportunity, it being a stain glass window, and the sun shining on it. and all.

Happy days are here again!

A happy marriage: Take 2

Me: You're fired.

Chris: You can't fire me. I'm the CFO, CTO, CDO and CFFTEO!

Me: Wait, then what am I again?

Mystery solved

The first time that I saw her pass, I looked up and down the block to see if there was a marathon in progress that I was not aware of. I actually did. Up and down the block. Was the Kenyan team about to round the corner? Nope. There was no one else, so back to my daily battle with the dandelions I went.

An hour later, there she is again! Running shorts, running tank, hat, 4 minute mile pace. Was there a number pinned to her back? I couldn't tell, she was too fast. She was there and then she was gone- leaving only dust lingering in her trail.

It's evening, I'm relaxing on my porch swing enjoying a gin and tonic. What's that? I can make out only a movement in the shadows, I watch. It is short in stance, thin and fast. It's her! This time, she's across the street on the running track. So fast. Around and around. I sit there and watch. I watch her for at least an hour. Nothing changes in that hour except for her direction on the track. Her knees must hurt.

This goes on and on, for about 2 months. Always alone, no running mate, and at a pace that looks to me to be a 4 minute mile. She's short and extremely fit, with a keen resemblance to a gazelle- a woman gazelle. Always looking forward, in the zone- as though Catherine Ndereba might be on her heals.

I'm at the dog park with Dyggs. A woman is telling me about a neighbor who ran the Chicago Marathon this past October. It was her first marathon ever and she was going to win- she actually thought that she had won. It's a quarter mile before the finish and she's still running her 4 minute mile, she gives a high five to a spectator, never breaking her intense gaze forward.

then suddenly

Those of you who know me know that I'm, well, curious. O.k., nosy. I have to know, I must know you're story. Everyone's got story. No one is an enigma. That would be a waste of a life.

This woman almost killed me with her 4 mile pace- no story-enigma like life. She was too fast to run with, even too fast to greet- that is, if she was even capable of noticing you through her intense gaze.

I told my sister this story, because she also ran the Chicago Marathon. She, being a curious one too, found the youtube clip above and sent it to me.

I opened it and watched. I almost fell off my chair. "Holy $#%*! It's her! The Enigma!" I screamed! Chris came running. "#@*$! It is her!" He screams back.

To this day, we sit on our porch swing enjoying our coffees and tonics, and we watch her pass in the morning, and in the evening. A gazelle like 4 minute pace. Eyes glued onto the molecules hanging on the horizon. But I can now understand. I have her story, all the story that I need. She is no longer an enigma.

She is an 'almost champion'. That's gotta kill. It's gotta leave a mark- a deep, infected mark. I'm sure that her life has been changed for forever and I am positive that she will run until she can no longer run another step.

Happiness is...

Meet the newest member of the Galli family.

She's greasy and heavy and made of all sorts of metal. I never thought that I'd ever be so happy! And the labor pains were nothing! As easy as writing out a check!

We haven't given her a name yet, as we don't feel that we know her completely - she's deep, all of those sprockets and clamps.

We've just picked her up in Utah and have been out in the flats breaking her in, she's a joy.

What is she you ask? She is a Winch. Not a winch like me, she is much stronger, and definitely much more quite. She's a tow winch, designed to tow paragliders into the sky, with the potential of reaching 3500 feet in elevation.

We purchased this 'rig' from Cloud Street Design. http://www.cloudstreetwinch.com/ and if you've been reading the life of galli thoroughly then you'll know what a 'cloud street ' is and this should make you very exited, your foot should be thumping.

Here's how it works, and no Jen, it is not as dangerous as you might think-there are no training wheels, but life is a dangerous ordeal- this addition just makes it more fun.

First, a special thanks to Mr. Galli, for the amazing photo's. I'm thinking that you should join Team Galli and be the team photographer. Not much money to be made here, but I promise that you'll get a great tan.


This is part of the preparation stage. I'm clearing the lines of the paraglider.








As the truck drives forward, the winch lets out line, then increases the tension slowly as the pilot pulls up the wing and steps forward. Just like that, the pilot is lifted from the ground and is on his/her way to cloud street neverland, at least, those are our hopes.


Once the pilot feels that he/she is high enough, they release the line, which falls to the ground under a drogue, and is reeled back in by my beauty, the winch. The pilot is then free to fly and to hopefully break, make and re-break records.

We can now fly anywhere in the world, given we can drive our truck and winch there. We no longer have the need for mountain side foot launches- this is huge! No more trespassing for us! Think of all the money we'll save by not having to be bailed out of jail...I'm joking Deb.

So we are now free to roam. The money press fits in the bed of the truck and we should be just fine. Happily ever off.

A happy marriage

Me: "You're fired."

Chris: "You can't fire me."

Me: "Why not?"

Chris: "Because I already fired you."

Me: "Good point."