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cycling / Monday / photo — Comments Off
7
Jul 25

Welcome back to me

OK then, back to the normal things. How have your last few days been? I’m getting my eastern time zone legs back under me, thanks. Tuesday night was our first night back home, and so naturally I was awake at 6 a.m. on Wednesday. THursday morning my internal alarm came to life at 7:30. We can darken the bedroom, so I can’t blame early morning light.

I went to the office for a while on Thursday, and then spent the rest of the day at the library. On Friday, and today, I have been doing some work finishing up the design for a fall class. I have one week left to build, and then some supplemental things to sprinkle throughout the term for that course, but I’m pleased with how it’s come together so far. (Now, who wants to make the syllabus for me?) For the Fourth we had ribs and that was about it. The weekend was similarly low key.

Happily, the cats welcomed us home with little grief, and we all slipped back into the normal rhythm of the house. And then Phoebe made a good point: feature us on the site, or Poe will do something wacky, and you know how wacky he can be.

She was not wrong … We had some baked goods stored in the microwave to keep them out of reach. I opened the thing to heat something up, walked away to do something else in the kitchen, came back and found that the door wouldn’t close.

The door is an automatic thing. There’s an Open and Close button on the microwave. I bet you can guess what those buttons do. Only the Close button suddenly only worked halfway. I pressed that button two or three times with dissatisfaction, and then looked down to see what the problem was.

So the cats are doing well, thanks for asking.

We went for a bike ride on Friday. I got dropped, but only because I caught traffic at every intersection. A bit later we crossed paths near the turnaround point.

I had another ride today, only because I couldn’t drag myself out this weekend. Today, it was hot, and muggy. When I got in it was 80 degrees with 90 percent humidity. It felt a lot like home. You forget how it feels when that mugginess saps your energy. This was as bright as the whole ride got.

But, in 25 miles I was only passed by 21 cars and I only had to unclip and put my foot down one time, so it was a nice little ride.

Now seriously, who wants to work on a syllabus for me?

adventures / cycling / photo / Switzerland / weekend — Comments Off
22
Jun 25

Cycling in Switzerland

Our starting view for the morning — at least after a one-stop train ride.

Click to embiggen.

That’s Interlaken, which is where we rented bikes today. We ditched the in-laws — leaving them sitting happily by a lake from their balcony view — and rode all over Switzerland. Including by the same lake.

We took a wrong turn, because we don’t know the roads here, of course. And so that added a climb we weren’t anticipating. We don’t climb a lot at home anymore, living just 43 feet above sea level and all. But we found a lot of barns. Here are a few.

It looks like a livestock area, but we didn’t see too many animals.

Here’s one that looks abandoned. Or close to it?

OK, last barn, a closeup.

Look at this beautiful waterfall!

Those photos were all from this beautiful valley.

We’re riding rented gravel bikes — for some reason — on a single track there. We’d started with e-bikes, but those weren’t going to get the job done for the course we’d planned. And the guys didn’t offer us roadies. Maybe he didn’t have any, I’m not sure. Anyway, gravel bikes, for the uninitiated, have a similar geometry to road bikes. They’re slightly heavier, offer a bigger tire for gravel and such. The difference is the difference. You notice it. It behaves fine, just not quite like what you’re used to. And that’s the story I’m sticking with throughout the day, on both downtown roads, the highway, and these single track paths.

The next time we go through a valley like this, I realized, I am going to have to ride ahead for photos like this. But these are good too.

At the foot of the day’s big climb, I did something I’ve never done before: I broke the chain on my rental bike. I tried to switch into the smaller gear on the front and suddenly found myself freewheeling and fighting to get unclipped before I fell over. When I stopped, the chain was behind me. Behind me came a Frenchman, and I asked him if he would share this news with my lovely bride, who was a bit ahead of me — no phones! — and he did. After a time, she came back for me, and we found a train station and rode back to the town where the bike shop was. I freewheeled the thing, like a balance bike, back to the shop. They repaired it with no fuss, but the delays ruined our intended plans. So our second ride was called Plan B.

Also, it was 90 degrees today, and we didn’t have enough water. Fortunately, we ran into a couple of public fountains. Public fountains are awesome. Douse your head. Slam a lot down into your belly, then have some more, because you’re a rule breaker. And then fill up your bottles, hoping the next fountain isn’t too far away. Because public fountains are awesome.

Not that we were staring at the lakes and waterfalls and making ourselves thirstier or anything.

It’s a beautiful area to ride in, even on this made up route that we improvised. And the drivers here are much, much more respectful here than what you get in most any place in the U.S. Plus, the color of this water …

We just got to ride alongside that lake for a good long while.

Totally worth it, she said.

And, look! Proof I saw it all, too!

Too bad I ruined the intended ride. Then again, who can climb big climbs anymore? Maybe I did us a favor?

Tomorrow: We go to Jungfraujoch!

cycling / memories / Monday / photo — Comments Off
16
Jun 25

Gummosis is actually the term for it, yes

I set two alarms, 18 minutes apart. There’s no reason for this. At one point I made an alarm in my phone for the top of the hour and at another moment I had cause to make one for 18 minutes after the hour.

If you had to log an explicative for your alarms, they would be as banal as they are amusing. On this, we can all agree.

So I set an alarm in my phone, doing the math, figuring, “That’s a good solid 8 hours of sleep. That’ll help fix me right up.” And then I stayed awake for the next two-plus hours.

But when the alarm went off, I’d been woken twice. Once by the light, because I did not configure the doors for optimal photonic blockage, and once when my lovely bride began her industrious day. And so it was that I was surprised when the top-of-the-hour alarm finally went off. And doubly so when that next one sounded, 18 minutes later. That was a delightfully long 18 minutes.

And so the morning things. And then the afternoon things. We watched the FedEx man sprint across the yard to hurl a small box on the porch. It was our version of those insurance commercials, when homeowners become their parents. What if he slips and falls?

Simple, we bury the body. Of course you have to do something with the truck. That’s a bigger hole to dig. But, you’d of course pull other people’s deliveries out first. Maybe there’s a shovel — or an excavator, or a front-end loader — in there.

Happily, he did not slip. I fetched the box, one the cats will not enjoy, for it has their medicine in it. It is designed to reduce the thing that cats do that you have to clean up. (I don’t want to be too descriptive, because you are perhaps reading this over a snack.) We administer it twice a week, it’s a gel that is rubbed on the foreleg, which they lick off and, despite it’s pleasant-to-cats odor, it is the worst thing that has ever happened to them, ever. Just ask.

So I opened the small box and put away its contents when they weren’t around. The shipping box is now in the recycling stash, ready for tomorrow morning’s run.

I checked the mail. DirecTV wants me back. We haven’t had DirecTV in several years, never at this house and it wasn’t in my name. But they want me back. I do miss the DVR function and the UX they offered. Well, not the last one we had. They’d just rolled out a new guide system and we dropped them before I had time to adjust to it. Still, in these, our modern times of convenience, after navigating apps for six minutes before waiting to find out if the Internet connection is going to work (pretty solid here, actually) I do miss good old fashioned TV.

Several years ago we had a grad student stop by our house for something, this was a woman in her mid-20s, easily. She walked through the living room, did a double take at the TV and said, “Oh, you have one of those.”

Earlier this year I read a study that argued that people that watch streaming things still think of it as TV. And I was gratified by that, until I remembered I saw an interview with an NBC bigwig from last year who said the same thing, and there’s no way they were both correct, right?

Anyway, we’ve lately been streaming West Wing. Just sort of waiting out time until the next big bike race, which we will also stream on our own delayed schedule.

I can’t remember if that race is taking place on the app that showing you a preview as you scrub through the slower parts of the program, or not. The inconsistency of thoughtful little features like that is just one more argument against a la carte streaming.

Which is funny. People argued for a la carte cable. Cable wouldn’t or couldn’t comply, so there’s another industry taking a 3-iron in the teeth. We, meanwhile, have six dozen apps and, bizarrely, a Samsung TV package we don’t acknowledge.

When I was young, I knew two things about peaches. The first was about that sticky bit of gooey ooze that comes out of the fruit on the tree. Hands should not be sticky, and that impression influenced a lot of my young thoughts about peaches. The second thing I knew was that peaches and chocolate cake make for an excellent pairing. And if you didn’t know that, you’ll need to do a little research. Bake yourself a Betty Crocker cake and crack open a can of peaches and become the person you were meant to be. This will also influence your thoughts about peaches.

Now, we have a peach tree and I have learned several things. I know the three-pronged test for determining ripeness (color, squeeze, and smell). I know this tree will be all-encompassing come August. And I know to recruit peach recipients early, which we have been doing.

So I checked on the peaches. They’re coming along. Another banner crop, I’m sure.

They are a small fruit, but they are delicious. And they are plentiful. And that’s how I have learned so much about this particular stone fruit the last two seasons. We still have some from last year. We might still have some from last year. So long as you stay away from the gummosis.

I set out for a haircut today. I have tried this once before, last week, which isn’t unusual. It often takes several attempts. Mostly because everyone needs haircuts, everyone seems to go to the same cheap place I go to, and they all go at the same time I want to. And the only worse than sitting in the big chair is sitting in the waiting area.

The last time I went I just told the woman that cut my hair: I don’t like to be here. She was cool with it. Of course, she was deep into her shift and on her feet that whole time and probably felt the same way. She was very nice. Gave me a good cut. Did not, however, remove all of the silver hair.

It was a different person this time, of course, because more than 15 minutes have elapsed. And she picked up on my pleasant style of chatty silence quickly. She asked if they’d thinned this part the last time. I, a guy, said Maybe? It gets poofy and I probably complained about that, and it didn’t seem to get so poofy. So maybe. She said it felt like her colleague had thinned it.

I wanted to ask why it all grows at different speeds out of my head. Why are some parts of my scalp more exceptional than others? Just look at this discrepancy. I could not help but look as she held it up, appraising the problem, arriving at the solution and sharing my shame with all of the world, or at least the old man behind me and the fidgety little kid to my left.

Anyway, haircut done. The various layers are trimmed and shaped and “My! What thick hair you have!”

I don’t mind that part. I like that part. Everything else, not so much a fan.

Our neighbor invited us for a group ride this evening. The three of us went out with another who was, apparently, on her second road ride — today, she figured out her shifting. She’s training for her first triathlon, a sprint, in August, and tonight we took her on a 17-mile lollipop.

She’s a runner and a swimmer. Her parents did tris. Now our neighbor and the Yankee, both Ironmen, are giving her tips and advice. She’ll be just fine. Best of all, we found another person to ride nearby. This is going to turn into a full-on group ride before long.

Just when I got out of the echelon, they pulled me right back in. Only kidding, I haven’t done a proper group ride since 2019. I’m OK with that. You’re never last when you ride solo.

cycling / memories / music / photo / Tuesday / video — Comments Off
10
Jun 25

How do you hold an aerosol?

Sunday was the sixth time we’ve seen Guster in the last two years. (Proximity has its advantages.) Twice we saw their “We Also Have Eras” tour, which they now call a play. We saw them once in a standing venue. We caught a lunch set they put on for a local radio station. We also saw the second night of their weekend at the Kennedy Center.

I was trying to count how many times, overall, I’ve seen them now, and finally decided to just count the states. It’s at least five. To be fair, I guess, to me, that’s over almost 30 years now. (That is in no way fair to me. Or to them, really.)

Anyway, Ryan did a little crowd work, as has lately become the custom, and he came right by us.

Guster as the feature act, did a tight, nine song, 40 minute set. Which gets us to the headliner, which we’ll play tomorrow.

I had a pretty crisp bike ride this evening. And for 26.7 miles (or 42 kilometers, because it sounds more impressive to the American audience) I held my average speed throughout. That includes when I had to stop to take this photo.

That section of road has been closed for several months now. Ordinarily we turn left there anyway, but the closure has made the nearby stretch even nicer. But today I turned right, just to see what was going on with that bridge. And, yep, the road crews really don’t want you going through there right now.

This was about 20 miles in, and you can clearly see I was going fast by how blurry the asphalt appears.

And now, a reminder about how stop signs work.

There’s a four way stop near our house. I need to turn left to go home. An SUV approached from my right, and stopped, as it should. A car then approached from my left, and stopped, as it should. And then I completed my stop. And waited.

And waited some more.

Finally I shook my head, lowered my eyes and waved on the SUV coming from the right, a driver so flummoxed by car brain and the presence of a person on a two wheel self-propelled bicycle that they did not know what to do at the intersection.

So I ask you, who, really, is making roads dangerous?

This configuration of vehicles is sure to stymie anyone who has forgotten how stop signs work. This is how they work. The person that arrives, and completes their stop, first, is the first to go. In this case, I was last. Also in this case, people had no idea how to behave.

I went out this evening to put the cover on the grill and water a few plants. The air was still. The night was quiet. The moon shone brightly, peering at us through a thin skin of clouds, who’s main contribution to the atmosphere was, well, atmosphere. The clouds had a “We’re here!” vibe. And I wanted to take a photo. Only my phone was inside.

So I finished covering the grill, watered the four plants I set out to water, and then went inside to retrieve the image capturing device. It all took about as long as reading about it, I’m sure.

But when I came back outside, the clouds were gone.

Nobody needs spooky night sky stuff in June, I said to the moon. She had no reply, because she’s an orbiting satellite, and not a character than I can dialog with.

But if it were, the moon would probably say, “I can’t hold those in place, I’m a quarter of a million miles away from your clouds.”

Guess I’m doing it by myself.

How do you hold on to clouds?

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9
Jun 25

An entrance to eternal summer slacking

I’d like to share with you this Hemerocallis daylily. Native to parts of Asia, beautiful anywhere in the world. This one is holding down the corner by our garage.

There are always wonders in the yard. I just have to go outside to find them.

Daylillies require almost no care. I wonder why the people that used to live here didn’t have them planted everywhere. But, I suppose, you could ask that of any beautiful thing. And we have quite a few lovely things in the yard — have I noticed this daylily before? — but most of them are quite singular. And most of it takes care of itself pretty well. The rest, well, they’re stuck with us.

There’s a grapevine, and we are trying to rework it over its trellis. Nearby, the honeysuckle seems to be rebounding well from the early springtime work we did on it. Other things are coming along nicely. We had to recently remove a few bushes that had died. I view this as a personal shortcoming, a promise I never made to the sellers of our home, not that I’ve done a lot to help those planted things that struggled and died, even while others have thrived. Everything grows here (weeds best of all!), but some things stopped last year. Maybe it was that drought. Maybe it was something else.

Anyway, the daylily is lovely.

We had a nice bike ride Saturday morning with our neighbor. It’s great. He rides around the loop and right up our driveway. Then he set us out on a course that included a few roads we know, and a few we haven’t been on before. It sprinkled a bit, and the conversation was nice, and the roads were quite empty at that time of the day.

This was soon after I’d done my big turn on a Strava segment, which I felt like I managed quite well if I must say, but did not set a new PR. Our neighbor just sat patiently behind me after the sprint, through the left turn and then the quick right that turned me back up hill. As soon as it pointed up, he went around me.

I was going to sit up, but I had to keep up. And so I tried, and did.

He’s a nice guy, our neighbor, and it’s nice that we have the chance to take the occasional ride with him. You need a few people like that from time-to-time.

When I went out today — a perfectly pleasant solo ride of some of the standard routes ridden backward — I rode alongside a little boy on his BMX bike for a moment. We met at the road that enters-exits the subdivision, but from opposite directions. And that guy was fast. So I had that to think about on my perfectly average pace 27-miler. If he suggests a ride in a few years, when he’s a bit older, I’m probably going to be busy that day.

We went to a concert last night, and I’ll share tiny little clips of that to help fill up our week. Here’s the opening act. You might remember Fastball from the 1990s. A bunch of guys from Texas who scored two Grammy nominations and two or three songs at or neat the top of the charts in 1998. They also went platinum on that record. Later they had trouble because what genre even is this? But musical genres in general, and their style of rock in particular, was struggling at that same time.

I never actually liked this band. They’ve been at it all these years, honing their touring craft, and it shows. I liked their performance. They had a tight 25 minute set and held a crowd like you don’t often see for a warm up. Also, they threw in a bit of Steve Miller, just for fun, as a medley.

Maurice, by the way, means “Gangster of Love.” That was mixed in with their minor 2013 hit, which is peppy.

These days, Fastball says they “combined a fondness for melodic, Beatles-inspired pop with the alternative aesthetic of late-’90s mainstream rock,” in which case everyone should love them, right? But I just never got into them. I did enjoy this mini-set, though.

And, tomorrow, we’ll see a clip for the feature act.

On the way to the show, we passed this U-Haul truck. We passed it, it passed us back, like this photograph was meant to be. Of all of those little bits of Americana that they could share …

I just saw a television reference to that fungi. And, as I look at it now, I find I can learn more about fungi on the website, but U-Haul is of … questionable credibility on this issue.

Probably no one who’s rented that truck has thought about it, or tried to look that up on the site. When you’re trying to move, you’re on a mission: minimize the effort and aggravation of the move.

And you hope there are daylilies where you are going.