The Connecticut Senate is slated to vote on the DOMA-amended civil unions bill tomorrow. The session should start between noon and 1 p.m.

The senate is likely to pass the bill as amended. The governor is likely to sign it. I don’t support the bill as is, but feel powerless to stop it.

As you all know, I’m frustrated with the process.

I feel strongly that equal rights will be achieved eventually. I feel just as strongly that this bill does not grant equal rights. Separate but equal has been proven over and over to be unequal. All of us suffer when some are left behind. And when we tie marriage rights and benefits (and responsibilities) to sexual orientation under the auspices of trying to prop up a flagging institution, I can’t see how any of us are served.

Earlier this week, a friend invited Rudi and me to go sailing today. An exciting prospect — especially when this morning dawned clear and blue (not that we were up at dawn, of course).

Unfortunately, someone forgot to tell the beautiful weather that we needed a bit of a breeze to billow our sails, and Phillip called to say his boat renter had called to say the water was “like glass” and that he should cancel. A very nice boat renter — it would certainly have been in her short-term financial interest to get us out on the water, anyway!

Rudi hit the farm market while I was getting dressed for sailing (rose a little late — what a shock!). He brought home the milk we needed, purple asparagus, four stems of ranunculus (very pretty!), and blueberry scones for us to eat en route to the marina.

Since we no longer had to race out the door, we settled in with the morning paper (I actually read a surprising amount of it today), the news pundits (CBS Sunday Morning‘s Bill Geist had a hilarious piece on Lawrence, Kansas, and their post office’s party for the late-night tax filers on April 15), and the scones. These were not the best scones Country Pleasures have given us, but the blueberries were very sweet and yummy.

Eventually Rudi and I managed to tear ourselves away from the Nats game on tv (baseball games are so addictive!) and out on our bike rides. After last week, I didn’t really want to go out for a long ride, so I headed down to Hains Point with my book and my knitting (and a radio in case the game was still going by the time I made my way down there).

It was beautiful — and a great choice for a warm spring afternoon. Hains Point is directly opposite National Airport, so you get amazing views of airplanes landing and taking off (although plane-spotting isn’t as good without Dr. Pepper and Wendy’s french fries). Boats were out sailing on the Potomac and the Anacostia (by this point the wind had picked up a little bit, so there were even some sailboats! :() Families were out picnicking — as I was packing up I almost got run over during a touch football game.

I got in a few chapters of the book (still plugging away at The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay) and a few rows of knitting in before heading home with a little bit of a tan (not enough to eliminate last weekend’s funny tan line, but maybe enough to blunt it so I don’t have to think about what shirt to put on in the morning) and 11.3 miles of riding under the belt.

All in all, a good day even without the fun of sailing.

Taxes have been finished and sent out for the year. Contrary to majority opinion (which seems to be a regular theme of my life, apparently), I actually enjoy paying taxes.

I know, I know… I don’t support this administration, either. I’d like to see my money spent on better things. I’d like to have them actually listen to me periodically.

Nonetheless, I do like quite a few things that are paid for by the federal government: NPR and public television (in ever dwindling proportions, I realize, but the amount I pay in taxes could subsidize that tiny amount), for instance. Highways. Coast Guard rescues. Forest fire watchers and fighters. National parks and national park rangers (like the very nice fellow down at the Cherry Blossom Festival last weekend who was taking family portraits for tourists — the check I sent off today probably paid for his presence for the two hours Karen and I were at the festival). The International Space Station and shuttle trips.

C’mon… There must be more good things paid for with tax dollars I’m not thinking of….

What type of sprite am I? A water sprite, of course… (more…)

Karen and I logged about 10 miles on foot on Saturday dodging parades and tourists, investigating the nation’s attic, and walking to and from dinner. By the end of the day, I could definitely feel that we’d been out hiking.

Sunday brought another walk (but only 2 miles or so this time) and, following a disappointing Nationals game on tv, a bike ride.

Now, I’m not a bike-for-the-fun-of-it kind of cyclist. I don’t mind riding to work or to the grocery store, but you won’t see me jumping up and down just for the opportunity to ride around the neighborhood. But it was a nice day and I managed to find a ride that sounded manageable in one of Rudi’s books — 14 miles from start to finish. It didn’t sound terrible and it paused in Bethesda, where I could catch my breath. Plus Rudi promised a field of yellow flowers along the way, and how could I argue with that?

So I trundled out and down to Georgetown, where the Capital Crescent Trail begins. And, sure enough, there is a lovely field of golden buttercups (or something akin to them) in the middle of the woods. And a spot along the Potomac where there’s a picnicking grove. But I hit the 6 mile mark on the trail (about 8 miles in on the ride) and suddenly I knew I’d been too optimistic about my abilities. But I convinced myself to keep going with the ride, thinking that I only had 6 miles to go and that Bethesda was only a few miles away.

So I reached Bethesda and treated myself to an ice cream cone (strawberry cookies-n-cream — yum!) and then followed the directions to get me to the Rock Creek trail. Following Broad Brook Road through Rock Creek was lovely and downhill; I managed to get up to 23.5 mph for a while. But Rock Creek trail itself was mildly hilly and at one point I just had to dismount and push the bike the rest of the way up. And by the end my whole body was moving with my legs and I was saying aloud to myself, “Just a little while longer. Keep going. You’ll be fine.” I’m sure the other cyclists thought I was crazy.

And as I pedaled up the street the burrow lies on, I gave up and phoned Rudi at home to ask him to come open the door for me. He went a step further and acted as my crew — came and took the bike for me while I groaned at each painful step downstairs behind him.

I was useless the rest of the evening and am still a bit sore today.

But the total journey was impressive — just under two hours of riding (which means there was also 45 minutes of stopping along the way) and 18.6 miles (the book lied). Since my career-high is about 22 miles, that was pretty impressive for me. But definitely no more double-digit rides again until next weekend when my legs and back have forgiven me.

When I was in seventh grade, we had a grade-wide fitness competition. We jumped rope, did some ridiculous number of situps, and ran various relay and distance races. When we got to the hurdles, I started out and managed to stumble into one instead of over it. I got a face full of dirt, a cut knee, and the laughter of my classmates for my effort.

But I was stubborn. And I got back up and, in the second round, I came up with the best hurdling time of everyone.

These days when I run into hurdles, I tend to get down on myself and psyche myself out of getting back up for a second try. There are easier things I can do instead, I tell myself, so I avoid stretching to reach a goal that could be beyond my reach.

So today, I will remind myself back to think back to seventh grade, stick a bandaid on the cut knee and sore pride after my public faceplant, and take another shot at getting over the impasse.

I may not win a prize or have my name highlighted for all to see when I do eventually make it through the course, but I will know that I didn’t roll over and give up. Which should be enough for me.