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adventures / cycling / photo / Thursday — Comments Off
24
Jul 25

It starts with the next one

A great deal of weeding was done this week. Hours and hours of it, to be honest. So much so, that you can now smell the fragrant smells of some of the herbs (not pictured) you aren’t sure that you really want. The herbs that grow in such abundance you know you’ll never need them all. There aren’t enough recipes or neighbors for those things. But they smell like summer, and now they’re commanding the nostrils’ attention, a sensory system which was, until yesterday and today, previously overwhelmed by the site of so many weeds. But now the flower beds all look pretty grand.

There are also flowers to deadhead. And maybe I’ll do that one day. And then, in a week or so: the peaches.

But, first more heat, and a lot of it.

Went out for a bike ride this morning which was a great big ol’ bust. We set out to do my little 25-mile time trial, and I was so proud to introduce it to my lovely bride. Proud if for no other reason than that she didn’t know all of the turns, so she’d have to ride with me, rather than drop me in the wind somewhere. (She’s much stronger in the wind than I am.)

But we were about 10 miles in and I flatted. I glanced down to try to ascertain what was going on and at that same time, in front of me, she almost got whacked by a car coming out from the right. We’re sensitive to that sort of thing, as you might imagine. So she collected herself and went on … somewhere. I sat under a shade tree and replaced yet another tube. That makes five for the season.

And then I think I might have punctured the new tube on the way back in. I was too frustrated to check. All one must do is go out tomorrow, squeeze the back tire and mutter Belgian cycling oaths.

Look, I have a blessed life, exceedingly so, and I can’t really want for much. These, however, are the things I want for at the moment: to fall asleep at regular times consistently, to go one, maybe two whole months without having a service call at the house (looking at you, August and September) and to have maybe a dozen high quality bike rides in a row.

Starting, one hopes, with the next one.

cycling / memories / photo / Wednesday — Comments Off
23
Jul 25

Almost fast

I worked on a class meeting today. That means, if my notes hold up, one more day’s work is prepared — at least in brief. There’s always some refinement, some bright idea, some thing that has to tie in, or some other thing that has to carry over. These things, in my experience are never done. But if we can all leave a class with two or three things to really ponder and learn from, we’re doing something right.

Also, I have discovered my first meeting of the new term. It will happen next week, a full month before the term begins. And that’s how it begins, in dribs and drabs in the months when you are off the payroll. Funny, that.

I had a nice bike ride this evening. One of the better ones of the year, which I suppose makes up for the last several mediocre experiences and outright failures. Probably it is meant to carry over through the next several of each, as well.

Went out fast, and with a tailwind, apparently. And I worked so hard on the way back in to keep up the speed that I forgot to take a photo. So here’s a bit of asphalt, right at the end.

So that was an 18-mile outing, and I was done in an hour. You can do the math. Even I can do that math.

I recall reading somewhere years ago that, for amateurs (which needs the added superlative “very” in my case), riding 12-15 mph was slow, 15-18 was considered average, and 18-21 was fast. So this, then, was one of those brief times when I was approaching fast.

Also, when I got back in the measurements say the headwind was 13 mph. I’m terrible in the wind, so I must have gotten quite aero today.

You might recall that in April we had to do some work on the honeysuckle. It was growing over a trellis, but the trellis was rusting through. The trellis was rusting through because it was made of a cheap metal and that’s just the nature of cheap products. One time last year the wind got into the honeysuckle, which was top-heavy, and pulled the whole thing down. We carefully stacked it back up, put some pavers on the feet of the trellis to way it down and hoped for the best. And it worked. But, this spring, we realized that rusted metal doesn’t heal itself, so the old trellis had to come out, which meant we had to do some surgery on the vines, because it was woven in … about like you imagine vines would do. In extricating all of that, which was the best part of an afternoon, we found just how deep into the earth the old trellis’ post hoc anchoring went. The old owners of the house had sunk some metal rods into the soil, here where the heavy land and the green sands meet. Some of it was pretty cheap itself. But two of the pieces were honest-to-goodness rebar, and those were put in with enthusiasm.

All of that came out. The honeysuckle got cut back out of necessity and for shaping purposes, and I was a little nervous about the whole thing. For one, it’s a plant. And we’re stewards of the thing now and I’m a bit overmuch about that. For another, its honeysuckle, and it’s easy to want to cheer for something with this much character. Plus, it’s honeysuckle in a garden, over a trellis. And the triplets who lived here probably ran through that, hid behind it, and wondered why the flowers were so stingy with nectar. (This species is stingy with nectar.) And it is easy to be sentimental about that.

Sometimes we are haunted by our own ghosts, and the ghosts of others. It’s difficult to know which ones are the most welcoming, or the most distracting.

I remember saying aloud, “It’ll be fine. It is honeysuckle and you can’t kill this stuff.” I didn’t feel it, but I said it. And then I remembered something important a few days later, as we waited and hoped it would bounce back from a hard spring pruning: It is honeysuckle and you can’t kill that stuff.

And here it is today.

You can’t kill that stuff. But now we’ll find out if it can learn through that sort of stubbornness. I am trying to train it to grow over and down the other side of the trellis. We’re a little way over halfway there.

All of this makes me wonder what I might do if it wasn’t so hot out. Just the 80s today, but it’ll hit 93 tomorrow and the heat index for Friday is forecast to reach 110. I do not do as well in the heat as I once did, and I’m old enough to admit that to myself now.

But hey, the summer is the life for me. Except for the class prep. And the meetings.

adventures / food / photo / Tuesday — Comments Off
22
Jul 25

The difference between inspiration and vision

Inspiration comes in many forms, and perhaps the sweetest form is when the inspiration is someone else’s and you still somehow benefit. And that was the case at lunch today, when my lovely bride decided that a BLT sounded good.

And I agreed! Because I agree! And, because she is kind, she will also cook enough bacon for me to enjoy as well.

I also agreed because the alternative is to disagree. And I could disagree! A BLT did not sound good today, a BLT sounds good each and every day.

So BLTs were her inspiration, but daily BLTs are my my vision.

Since we didn’t do it yesterday, and I am quite literally getting the business for it right now, we are now past due for the site’s most popular weekly feature, our check-in with the kitties.

After lunch, Phoebe, who has become very demanding in the kitchen, was ready to relax on the sofa. (I was watching Le Tour.)

(Some time later …)

And, now, after a big cuddle with Poseidon, made his feelings about the day known, stretching himself across the keyboard. The work day is over.

So I guess I should take the hint, cut this short, and give him more pets. That is, after all, his vision.

But first I must get the cat hair off the laptop.

adventures / cycling / friends / Monday / photo — Comments Off
21
Jul 25

Barbecue, batteries, books, bikes, and also batteries

Saturday night was date night. This was our date. We went out for dinner, barbecue at one of the better places around. Barbecue is one of the only things I’m legally allowed to be a snob about, and I take that seriously. What we had was flavorful, and moist. It was probably slow cooked. It was not over an open flame. If there’s no chimney stack coming out of the building, it isn’t technically barbecue. But, here, and in a pinch, it’ll do.

My lovely bride order the brisket, and there was some modifier on the order, which threw me for a loop. What did that mean? So I just said, Order whatever you usually get for me, because I was struggling to understand the variation in her order. She gave me a look. “You change your order so infrequently, how do you not know what you get? For some reason this amused the young woman running the register. She thought it was undeniably cute, and asked us to please come back often. I did a little joke or two and The Yankee wisely, but slowly, said, “Don’t encourage him.”

Wise because, of course, she knows better. Slowly because, of course, the encouragement had already happened.

I took this as my cue to get the drinks.

I got the drinks. And then there was our food, which we enjoyed.

And then, to cap off date night, we went to Lowe’s.

The store closes at 10, we got there at 9 and picked up the things we needed, filters for the air conditioner, some plumbing supplies, steak seasonings.

We did not get steak seasonings, but they had an entire end cap devoted to some of your finer mid-range shake-on condiments. We were in the market for a weed eater, because ours recently died, and the weeds did not stop growing out of respect for our loss.

So there we stood, trying to figure out the thises and thats. And an employee walked by. Volunteered to help, and was very helpful. (When was the last time either or both of those things happened at a big box store?) Helpful for the most part. Some of the things he said weren’t accurate, it turns out, but that’s OK. He was helpful in the ways that mattered the most. Then he gave us a brief bio on the 1960s-1980s band Badfinger. He was definitely the sort of guy that could do that. And then he gave us his testimony. He also saved us $20 on the list price.

We decided that going late at night is the time. Because the guys might help, and they’re really just trying to get you out of the store, of course.

So we bought a battery-powered weed eater. The selling point, to me, seems to be the battery life. Otherwise, dig out machine, machine turn on, machine chop up green things. Store machine. So the little tags at the store said this battery runs for 25 minutes, this one for 70 minutes, and this one works for 45.

I figured that the 45-minute battery is sufficient for our needs. And if it’s not, I could buy another battery. The batteries are expensive, so rationale number two. If I run down the battery, I simply go inside, charge the battery, cool off and live to eat weeds another day.

Sunday afternoon, buzzing after our successful date, I assembled the weed eater, glanced at the manual, and went outside already sweating from building the thing in the garage. I ate about six weeds, and then went inside to charge the battery. (The guy said it was 70 percent charged out of the box. It was not.)

I charged the thing. And then went out later and gave those weeds the what for.

Right away, the battery-powered element of this new tool paid for itself. I didn’t have to collect the extension cords. I didn’t have to run them to an outlet and plan my attack based on cord length and outlet placement. And, when I was done, I didn’t have to roll cords back up. Two or three more rounds, I figure, and this will have paid for itself based on convenience alone. And when has anyone ever been enthused about running a weed eater.

So now I’m rethinking my positions — not strongly held, mind you — about battery-powered power tools.

Today, buzzing after my successful weed eating efforts, I spent the afternoon at one of the local libraries doing school work. Being a public library, it was only somewhat useful. But nevertheless, I got something for my efforts. See if you can guess which one of these books was the most helpful.

The one in the middle. I picked it up as a flier, and eventually decided it will define an entire day’s worth of lecture. Then I bought the book. Not from the library, which would make it a store. But through the powers of the 21st century I found it on e-bay and had it sent directly to the house. Next week, I guess, I’ll start making slides.

As I write this, there’s a back-to-school commercial on, which isn’t bumming out anyone.

Anyway, this class will meet 28 times in the fall term. I think 19 of those meetings are now accounted for, so I have had some productive summer work.

But there is much more to do!

We got invited for a bike ride by our neighbor. The guy that lives behind us is also a big fan of the self-propelled two wheel experience. He’s of the sort that must decide which bicycle he wants to ride today. It’s a problem to which I aspire.

He bought a new computer and the Varia radar, which we have and enjoy. It’s a light that you attach to the seat rails. It sense cars and communicates with the headset and you when cars are coming up from behind. Or, as one Reddit reviewer wrote, it’s “The peace of mind I didn’t know I needed.”

We coached him through it, though he had most of it figured out in the brief ride around the neighborhood to our place. Then my lovely bride found she had a flat, so she had to switch bikes. (It’s a problem to which I aspire. The bikes, not the flats.) Not wanting to hold us up, she didn’t put her Varia on her bike. And, of course, after about half an hour mine died. (So, after all that about battery-powered tools above, I’m now looking for an extension cord version of the bike radar.) That meant our neighbor had the only running radar.

Of course, we put him the front, as you see the shadows pictured here.

It would, of course, make sense for him to be in the rear, so he could call out the cars. But it was in the evening and we were on some mostly abandoned roads and it wasn’t a problem. Plus we can watch out for vehicles the old fashioned way, listening and looking.

There’s not really a good point or resolution to this story, other than we enjoyed a nice ride. As we got back to the neighborhood they turned right and I kept on riding, just to add a few more miles before dinner.

There are always more miles ahead.

OK, that’s 1,220 words, and the best ones were about bikes and a weed eater. I should probably wrap this up.

cycling / Friday / photo — Comments Off
18
Jul 25

I made a time trial

Milder today. Just a summer day on Venus, rather than a July day on the surface of the sun. And it was, for the most part, an ideal summer Friday, passing by uneventfully. So much so that I forgot, until tonight, to finish the laundry.

Why do tonight what solar power can do tomorrow, namely, move the dryer drum around and around and make my clothes toasty and fresh?

While admiring the flowers and the weeds today, I noticed this little hydrangea. It’s smaller shrub, hiding beneath larger things. I’m not sure if I’ve seen him before.

So in our 25 month here, I am still learning new things about the place. I love that. Though, I am glad that at this point most of the things I am learning are small things. They’re more charming and less harmful. And when I say harmful I am thinking of the pocketbook.

Since it wasn’t terrible hot today I set out for an early evening bike ride. Into town, through some neighborhoods, by the park, out into the pastureland again. I eased through a crossroad that has a name for no reason whatsoever, and then up past the rodeo arena. I rode on the closed shoulder.

It’s been closed for more than a year now. Maybe it’ll never re-open again. For now, it’s a nice stress-free stretch of three-quarters of a mile without worrying about traffic. And then you turn right, and into the wind, trying to stay low until you turn left again, driving your way through a cornfield, into the woods, and to the crazy house. The guy that lives there was outside today, doing whatever he was doing, until he stopped to yell at me. Then an overpass, more woods, some rural houses, more woods, two intersections, another overpass — I’m probably doing those out of order, because I’m trying hard through there and not paying attention.

Eventually I get into another neighborhood, which yields to a park which blends into a series of apartment complexes, which heralds the stop sign and the right-hand turn. And then it is four miles of town, businesses, houses, industrial complexes and trees, before turning right once more, the last turn and then seven miles straight home.

This is my 25-mile time trial, which I have just invented. I have done it three times now — once last year and twice this summer — and today’s ride was my fastest. So, of course, I have now added a new page to the spreadsheets. One more thing to track. One more place to try to ride a bit faster, a bit more efficiently.

The real metric, though, is that I had to put my foot on the ground just twice in 25 miles. Nine turns, 11 stop signs or lights, and stopping twice, that’s the real trial.

Funny how you can come to measure your minor successes.