Don't know how to begin this, so I'll just plunge right in.
Time for change. All these cheesy lyrics are running through my head.
For every season, Turn, Turn, Turn.....
Time to ring some changes....
And more which just escaped me.
What's happening? I no longer have a show on WMNF, and I'm going to be going back to work, to a full time job, for the first time in 10 years.
Let's begin with the WMNF stuff. I've been a programmer on and off for the past 20+ years. The Program Director decided to do significant changes to the schedule in response to our main competition, WUSF, going all Public Affairs and News during the day. After a few months of discussion, a new schedule was issued, which did not include my 9 am slot on Monday morning. There was a 3-4 pm 1 hour specialty show time slot.
Long long story short. I didn't apply for one of the 3-4 pm positions. I applied for the Morning Show or the new Afternoon Show slot form 12-3 pm. I was not chosen for either of those slots. What can I say, it sucks for me. It's hard, but also....I've just started applying for real jobs that actually pay real money (and not just the occasional positive phone/email feedback) and the hours of the real jobs would interfere with doing the volunteer radio gig. At least to start. So, it's really hard to realize that I won't be on air anymore. On the other hand, if I'd been given one of those slots, I didn't know how to tell the PD that I wouldn't be able to be full time for the next four months or so, until after my training was finished.
I've accepted one job offer and am waiting/expecting another. After ten years of being a stay at home mom, my life is going to turn upside down If I get an offer at USAA, with any luck I'll be able to ride my bike to work ( and pass the ghost bike on 30th St. every day.) I'll get to go back and be professional and help people and meet a whole bunch of new people and become more, hell, I don't know, fulfilled.
So, it's all bittersweet. No show...sucks. Going to work...good. Not being able to do both...life.
Just worried about the affect of all this on my kids. They are going to have to shoulder some more of the family burden/chores. It'll probably be good for them, but I will miss them, too. I like our lazy days around the house, listening to Myth Busters in the background.
I'll miss my days in the woods on my mountain bike. I'll be able to ride on the weekends, but it won't be the same.
I've had it good for a long time. Now it's time to help out financially around here. It's time to go back to work for a paycheck and not just for fun.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Excellent day
I'm currently reading Ruth Reichl's book, Garlic and Sapphires, The Secret Life of a Critic in Disguise, about her experiences as the Food Critic for the New York Times. I'm really enjoying the book. It's about some of my favorite things: food, eating out, and New York City. I highly recommend the book to anyone who likes reading about food. My paper's food section comes out on Wednesday, and I always pull it out and read the restaurant reviews with my breakfast. (Not that we can afford to eat out very often, but it's fun to vicariously live and eat through the reviews.)
And I had a chance to live fully (not vicariously) this past Thursday. It was a great and full day.
I got an email Tuesday afternoon asking if I could do the Sonic Detour on Thursday, and Justin Townes Earle (JTE) was coming in to play live. I know Nell often has bands in and she is far more comfortable than I am interviewing people, thinking off the top of her head, and in general presenting a cohesive sounding interview. Any time I have to do an interview, I'm nervous. In addition, Marcie (aka Queen of the Morning Show) had interviewed JTE and done a fabulous presentation on her show on Tuesday morning, asking questions about songs and then playing the songs they had talked about. She did such a sympathetic interview and got him to talk about his myriad problems. I didn't want to do the same thing that she did. (I can thank my friend Joyce for suggesting this...she said do something different and direct the listeners to the archives to listen to Marcie's interview.) I spent Thursday morning prepping for the interview and for the show.
It's a bittersweet time. I've been a programmer at WMNF for over 20 years, and major programming changes are coming up. My time slot is no longer there. I've had shows and lost shows and not been renewed and got passed over for slots that I thought I should have. In other words, my heart has been broken time and time again when the Program Director and I didn't see eye to eye on what I should be doing at the station. I won't go over all the history here, but suffice to say that WMNF is an important part of my life, and being a programmer at WMNF is an important part of my identity. Thank goodness it is not all. I've got a lot more parts to my life than just the station. My family is first and foremost. Next is my love for riding my mountain bike. There's lots more in me too: shopping at thrift stores, bargain shopping for groceries, cooking, gardening, growing african violets and roses. Exercise beyond riding my mountain bike. I love my road bike. I fall in and out of love with running. I've been a gym rat and miss it. Love swimming laps, too. What I'm trying to say is if I don't have a slot in the new schedule, it'll be incredibly difficult and painful but it won't the end of my world.
Knowing all this, I prepared the Sonic Detour show for this past Thursday as either an audition for a show on the new format or a swansong for what has been.
I had several themes for the show. (This may sound silly for anyone not connected to community radio, but almost all of us who do shows take what we do to heart and try to do the best we can each week) First and foremost was JTE. I also wanted to play some of my top ten songs of the year since it is that time of year. I was also gonna be playing songs from the 80's, trying to promote our New Year's Eve show. And I had to give away the CD of the week. And I wanted to throw in some Christmas stuff. That's on top of the normal DJ stuff to do: Underwriting, PSA's, cross promotions, forward promotions, priority copy, etc.
Musically, I was proud of what I played. The songs I played rock my world and I hope the listeners enjoyed them as well. The interview went well. Marcie came and sat in on it and watched and listened. She gave me a thumbs up, and if Marcie said I did a good job, well, that's that. JTE was an incredibly easy interview, very talkative. The songs he played sounded great. He did throw me for a loop, however, when he confessed to having been through rehab 13 times. How does one respond to that bomb? I stuttered something like, "Oh, well, then you can teach the class now, huh?"
I'd asked my music list, Postcard From Hell, if they had anything they wanted to know or any songs they wanted to hear. Before the interview started, I told JTE about the requests. He said, well, uh, I hadn't planned to play either one of those. (Good thing, Christchurch Woman's got an FCC violation word) I was going to come out of the news with the title cut from his CD, Harlem River Blues, before I introduced him, but he said.....no, I plan to play that one. So I played Move Over Mama at his suggestion. He played
Harlem River Blues as his first song. It's a folk/gospel song. I've had the damn song in my head for the past month. I get up at night and it's there, reverberating in my brain. He slowed it down just a tad, and the result was wonderful:
Lord, I'm goin' uptown to the Harlem River to drown
Dirty water gonna cover me over and I'm not gonna make a sound
The other songs he played sounded fabulous, too.
After the show, I hustled down to New World Brewery (NWB) to eat before heading out for the shows. I love pizza and NWB makes the best pizza ever. My husband doesn't like pizza, so if I get a chance to eat at NWB I take it. I phoned in my order and headed down.
I walked in with a copy of the new Creative Loafing under my arm. Steve Bird, NWB owner and husband of my bestest biking buddy, Nancy, greeted me and asked, "Did you see page 19?" I said I hadn't read it yet. I sat down and opened the paper. It was a restaurant review of NWB, and the paper awarded them 3 1/2 stars. Steve was giddy from excitement. It was an extremely complimentary, glowing review, which the reviewer is not known for giving. I thought it was quite a coincidence, since I'm reading the book about restaurant reviews now. I promised Steve that I'd loan him my copy once I finished.
Bev got there are we devoured the pizza I had ordered. And friends started showing up. First, Mike Fisher, (former WMNF DJ) then John Palmer (current WMNF DJ) and friends of his. Then Nancy Bird arrived with some SWAMPers, Jason and Ron and Gruff. They were planning next week's Christmas ride. It was fun hanging out, but I needed to head over to The Bunker. Will Quinlan, my favorite local musician and one of my favorite musicians from anywhere, was playing a solo set.
Amy Snider, who does the Tuesday Sonic Detour, hosts a free singer songwriter night every Thursday at the Bunker. This was the first time I've made it. More 'MNFers were there: Patty was doing sound, then the entire news department showed up. Will started at 9 and did an excellent half hour solo set. He really is an amazing talent. He played Diviner's stuff, did a Uncle Tupelo cover for Amy, and did some of his side project, The Holy Slow Train.
Almost everyone who was at the Bunker walked down the street to the Crowbar for the JTE show. There was a nice crowd, and we got to see the last few songs of one of the openers, Caitlyn Rose. The first person I ran into was Bryan Childs, who has an excellent blog at http://ninebullets.net/
He's into the same type music I am, but even more so. I can say that he and his wife are DINKS, so he's got time. He's also a mountain biker. He does a monthly podcast and blogs extensively about music. He might be getting a show on WMNF with the new schedule, which would be cool as hell.
Kamran was DJing between sets. After Caitlyn Rose played, the first song he played was Mumford & Sons, followed by Slobberbone, followed by cool song after cool song. I told him that it could be me doing the DJing.
OK, it just occurred to me that this entry could turn into all the friends I saw on Thursday night, so I'll just skip that part and get to the show.
JTE came on about 10:45, just him and his guitar. (OK, details will get fuzzy because by this time I'd had a few) The first few songs were just him and his guitar, and that big, noisy room was paying attention. You could have heard a pin drop. He had the crowd in the palm of his hand. He did an excellent job of seeming to make eye contact, but he was looking over our heads. But he would scan the crowd from one side to the other and back again. He brought his band out, a cute woman playing upright bass and a fiddle player, and just ripped it up. They made their way through most of the new record and some of the older stuff. The between song banter was great, too. Justin told charming, disarmingly honest and funny stories about his father and mother, his father's drug addiction, his drug and alcohol addiction, Townes Van Zandt, and anything else that came to mind. It all seemed fresh. Sometimes I'll interview someone at the station and they'll tell a great story. When I see their show, they tell the exact same story. Not JTE. All new material, from Marcie's interview to the interview I did to what he said on stage. I guess he's a born storyteller.
There were some sound issues, for a while his vocals were getting lost, but the sound guy fixed that fairly quickly.
He brought out Caitlyn and her band to join them on Harlem River Blues, the title cut to his new record. The recorded version is a bluesy, gospel send up, and the version they did just killed. He then sent the band away and did an a cappella version of Randy Newman's Louisiana 1927. It's a song about the horrible flood in the 20's. It's been covered a zillion times, but became an anthem after Katrina:
What has happened down here is the wind have changed
Clouds roll in from the north and it started to rain
Rained real hard and rained for a real long time
Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline
The river rose all day
The river rose all night
Some people got lost in the flood
Some people got away alright
The river have busted through cleard down to Plaquemines
Six feet of water in the streets of Evangelne
CHORUS
Louisiana, Louisiana
They're tyrin' to wash us away
They're tryin' to wash us away
Louisiana, Louisiana
They're tryin' to wash us away
They're tryin' to wash us away
President Coolidge came down in a railroad train
With a little fat man with a note-pad in his hand
The President say, "Little fat man isn't it a shame what the river has
done
To this poor crackers land."
CHORUS
Just Justin and his voice. It was an amazing musical moment. Again, not a sound could be heard except from the voice from the stage.I felt privileged to be there to witness the magic.
He brought the band out for another song or two and after a few encores, it was over. It was truly a magical musical evening.
I will admit that Justin Townes Earle's first two releases didn't do much for me, but I totally love his latest. After seeing him live, I am going to revisit those first two CDs. There's a lot more there, I just need to spend the time to find it. He is as brilliant as his father.
I don't go out and see live music much anymore. It used to be a necessary element to nurture my soul. It still nurtures my soul. I guess I'm more selective about what/who I choose to lose sleep over. I'm glad I made the choice to see this show.
And to run into everyone. Who haven't I mentioned? Joyce, Dot, Andrew, John M., Miss Julie, Beth, Roxanne. And those two cute ever so young girls who were superfans. The ones I had to drill and make sure that they knew that the song he just sang was a Replacements cover.
And I had a chance to live fully (not vicariously) this past Thursday. It was a great and full day.
I got an email Tuesday afternoon asking if I could do the Sonic Detour on Thursday, and Justin Townes Earle (JTE) was coming in to play live. I know Nell often has bands in and she is far more comfortable than I am interviewing people, thinking off the top of her head, and in general presenting a cohesive sounding interview. Any time I have to do an interview, I'm nervous. In addition, Marcie (aka Queen of the Morning Show) had interviewed JTE and done a fabulous presentation on her show on Tuesday morning, asking questions about songs and then playing the songs they had talked about. She did such a sympathetic interview and got him to talk about his myriad problems. I didn't want to do the same thing that she did. (I can thank my friend Joyce for suggesting this...she said do something different and direct the listeners to the archives to listen to Marcie's interview.) I spent Thursday morning prepping for the interview and for the show.
It's a bittersweet time. I've been a programmer at WMNF for over 20 years, and major programming changes are coming up. My time slot is no longer there. I've had shows and lost shows and not been renewed and got passed over for slots that I thought I should have. In other words, my heart has been broken time and time again when the Program Director and I didn't see eye to eye on what I should be doing at the station. I won't go over all the history here, but suffice to say that WMNF is an important part of my life, and being a programmer at WMNF is an important part of my identity. Thank goodness it is not all. I've got a lot more parts to my life than just the station. My family is first and foremost. Next is my love for riding my mountain bike. There's lots more in me too: shopping at thrift stores, bargain shopping for groceries, cooking, gardening, growing african violets and roses. Exercise beyond riding my mountain bike. I love my road bike. I fall in and out of love with running. I've been a gym rat and miss it. Love swimming laps, too. What I'm trying to say is if I don't have a slot in the new schedule, it'll be incredibly difficult and painful but it won't the end of my world.
Knowing all this, I prepared the Sonic Detour show for this past Thursday as either an audition for a show on the new format or a swansong for what has been.
I had several themes for the show. (This may sound silly for anyone not connected to community radio, but almost all of us who do shows take what we do to heart and try to do the best we can each week) First and foremost was JTE. I also wanted to play some of my top ten songs of the year since it is that time of year. I was also gonna be playing songs from the 80's, trying to promote our New Year's Eve show. And I had to give away the CD of the week. And I wanted to throw in some Christmas stuff. That's on top of the normal DJ stuff to do: Underwriting, PSA's, cross promotions, forward promotions, priority copy, etc.
Musically, I was proud of what I played. The songs I played rock my world and I hope the listeners enjoyed them as well. The interview went well. Marcie came and sat in on it and watched and listened. She gave me a thumbs up, and if Marcie said I did a good job, well, that's that. JTE was an incredibly easy interview, very talkative. The songs he played sounded great. He did throw me for a loop, however, when he confessed to having been through rehab 13 times. How does one respond to that bomb? I stuttered something like, "Oh, well, then you can teach the class now, huh?"
I'd asked my music list, Postcard From Hell, if they had anything they wanted to know or any songs they wanted to hear. Before the interview started, I told JTE about the requests. He said, well, uh, I hadn't planned to play either one of those. (Good thing, Christchurch Woman's got an FCC violation word) I was going to come out of the news with the title cut from his CD, Harlem River Blues, before I introduced him, but he said.....no, I plan to play that one. So I played Move Over Mama at his suggestion. He played
Harlem River Blues as his first song. It's a folk/gospel song. I've had the damn song in my head for the past month. I get up at night and it's there, reverberating in my brain. He slowed it down just a tad, and the result was wonderful:
Lord, I'm goin' uptown to the Harlem River to drown
Dirty water gonna cover me over and I'm not gonna make a sound
The other songs he played sounded fabulous, too.
After the show, I hustled down to New World Brewery (NWB) to eat before heading out for the shows. I love pizza and NWB makes the best pizza ever. My husband doesn't like pizza, so if I get a chance to eat at NWB I take it. I phoned in my order and headed down.
I walked in with a copy of the new Creative Loafing under my arm. Steve Bird, NWB owner and husband of my bestest biking buddy, Nancy, greeted me and asked, "Did you see page 19?" I said I hadn't read it yet. I sat down and opened the paper. It was a restaurant review of NWB, and the paper awarded them 3 1/2 stars. Steve was giddy from excitement. It was an extremely complimentary, glowing review, which the reviewer is not known for giving. I thought it was quite a coincidence, since I'm reading the book about restaurant reviews now. I promised Steve that I'd loan him my copy once I finished.
Bev got there are we devoured the pizza I had ordered. And friends started showing up. First, Mike Fisher, (former WMNF DJ) then John Palmer (current WMNF DJ) and friends of his. Then Nancy Bird arrived with some SWAMPers, Jason and Ron and Gruff. They were planning next week's Christmas ride. It was fun hanging out, but I needed to head over to The Bunker. Will Quinlan, my favorite local musician and one of my favorite musicians from anywhere, was playing a solo set.
Amy Snider, who does the Tuesday Sonic Detour, hosts a free singer songwriter night every Thursday at the Bunker. This was the first time I've made it. More 'MNFers were there: Patty was doing sound, then the entire news department showed up. Will started at 9 and did an excellent half hour solo set. He really is an amazing talent. He played Diviner's stuff, did a Uncle Tupelo cover for Amy, and did some of his side project, The Holy Slow Train.
Almost everyone who was at the Bunker walked down the street to the Crowbar for the JTE show. There was a nice crowd, and we got to see the last few songs of one of the openers, Caitlyn Rose. The first person I ran into was Bryan Childs, who has an excellent blog at http://ninebullets.net/
He's into the same type music I am, but even more so. I can say that he and his wife are DINKS, so he's got time. He's also a mountain biker. He does a monthly podcast and blogs extensively about music. He might be getting a show on WMNF with the new schedule, which would be cool as hell.
Kamran was DJing between sets. After Caitlyn Rose played, the first song he played was Mumford & Sons, followed by Slobberbone, followed by cool song after cool song. I told him that it could be me doing the DJing.
OK, it just occurred to me that this entry could turn into all the friends I saw on Thursday night, so I'll just skip that part and get to the show.
JTE came on about 10:45, just him and his guitar. (OK, details will get fuzzy because by this time I'd had a few) The first few songs were just him and his guitar, and that big, noisy room was paying attention. You could have heard a pin drop. He had the crowd in the palm of his hand. He did an excellent job of seeming to make eye contact, but he was looking over our heads. But he would scan the crowd from one side to the other and back again. He brought his band out, a cute woman playing upright bass and a fiddle player, and just ripped it up. They made their way through most of the new record and some of the older stuff. The between song banter was great, too. Justin told charming, disarmingly honest and funny stories about his father and mother, his father's drug addiction, his drug and alcohol addiction, Townes Van Zandt, and anything else that came to mind. It all seemed fresh. Sometimes I'll interview someone at the station and they'll tell a great story. When I see their show, they tell the exact same story. Not JTE. All new material, from Marcie's interview to the interview I did to what he said on stage. I guess he's a born storyteller.
There were some sound issues, for a while his vocals were getting lost, but the sound guy fixed that fairly quickly.
He brought out Caitlyn and her band to join them on Harlem River Blues, the title cut to his new record. The recorded version is a bluesy, gospel send up, and the version they did just killed. He then sent the band away and did an a cappella version of Randy Newman's Louisiana 1927. It's a song about the horrible flood in the 20's. It's been covered a zillion times, but became an anthem after Katrina:
What has happened down here is the wind have changed
Clouds roll in from the north and it started to rain
Rained real hard and rained for a real long time
Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline
The river rose all day
The river rose all night
Some people got lost in the flood
Some people got away alright
The river have busted through cleard down to Plaquemines
Six feet of water in the streets of Evangelne
CHORUS
Louisiana, Louisiana
They're tyrin' to wash us away
They're tryin' to wash us away
Louisiana, Louisiana
They're tryin' to wash us away
They're tryin' to wash us away
President Coolidge came down in a railroad train
With a little fat man with a note-pad in his hand
The President say, "Little fat man isn't it a shame what the river has
done
To this poor crackers land."
CHORUS
Just Justin and his voice. It was an amazing musical moment. Again, not a sound could be heard except from the voice from the stage.I felt privileged to be there to witness the magic.
He brought the band out for another song or two and after a few encores, it was over. It was truly a magical musical evening.
I will admit that Justin Townes Earle's first two releases didn't do much for me, but I totally love his latest. After seeing him live, I am going to revisit those first two CDs. There's a lot more there, I just need to spend the time to find it. He is as brilliant as his father.
I don't go out and see live music much anymore. It used to be a necessary element to nurture my soul. It still nurtures my soul. I guess I'm more selective about what/who I choose to lose sleep over. I'm glad I made the choice to see this show.
And to run into everyone. Who haven't I mentioned? Joyce, Dot, Andrew, John M., Miss Julie, Beth, Roxanne. And those two cute ever so young girls who were superfans. The ones I had to drill and make sure that they knew that the song he just sang was a Replacements cover.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Road ride
I started riding bikes as a roadie. And a safe roadie. All of my rides consisted of driving my car up to Flatwoods and doing the seven mile loop. As many times as I could. Which is usually only 2 or maybe 3 because I get bored to death. And I get distracted. And uncomfortable in my seat. So I squirm and sigh and I haven't been having that much fun. That's why I spend so much of my time on my mountain bike.
I've ridden a few times on the actual road, and I've always been scared to death. Is that next car that comes up behind me going to be the one that causes my death? And this was years ago, before the spate of what I'm calling roadkill of cyclists in the Bay Area over the past few months. Nine people on bicycles have died in the past four months. Nine.
But some folks I know from my mountain bike club also do road riding in the hills north of here around San Antonio. I've been pestering them about tagging along, and yesterday was the first time that schedules worked. It was Becky and Sally and me. This was Becky's third time up there and Sally's second. We did spend some time at stop signs looking at maps trying to figure out which way to go but we did find our way back to the cars.
I was worried, worried, worried about keeping up. I can't hang right on someone's back tire in the woods and I can't do it on the road, either. Even if they are parting the wind/air for me. I'd end up back 20 feet or so behind Becky and Sally. I had on a deep red jersey, so I called myself the little red caboose.
I've read some things about driver road rage against cyclists, but we didn't see any of that at all. Most drivers swerved all the way over into the other lane and gave us tons of room. In fact, that earlier fear about imminent death never crossed my mind. Really. Guess I was too preoccupied worrying about keeping up and not wimping out.
We'd not talked about the planned ride beforehand, but when we were unloading our bikes and getting set up, Becky said, "I really want to get in 40 miles today!" I almost choked. But I had sorta invited myself along to this ride, so what could I do? I've done a 50 mile road ride before, on the Withalacoochee Trail, but that's all flat. And we stopped every 10 miles and ate, either our bars or lunch or ice cream. I didn't know if I could make a 40 mile hilly ride. And after climbing Happy Hill and burning my legs and lungs and still not having 10 miles invested yet in the ride, I was kinda getting worried. Would I be able to make the ride or would I be a total nut sack?
I was able to hang with Sally and Becky, but barely. They are both stronger riders than I am. They both have been riding longer than I have as well. I'd drop back and catch up when I could. But then we discovered something funny. On the downhills, all things being equal, I was faster than them. We'd all worked like hell getting up a hill, and I was at the end. We'd crest and go down the other side, gloriously flying down with the sense of power and freedom and a funny thing happened. Going downhill, I was faster than they were. I'm thinking it's because I weigh more than they do and am closer to the ground, but I was just flying downhill. It was wonderful.
In the end, we did a little over 31 miles, not 40. I probably could have made the 40 if I'd had more fuel, but I was really, really glad to stop. I felt amazing and strong. I didn't have one moment of boredom. I was amazed at the hills and the gorgeous scenery. My bike felt good, not uncomfortable at all. And I can't wait to do it again.
I've ridden a few times on the actual road, and I've always been scared to death. Is that next car that comes up behind me going to be the one that causes my death? And this was years ago, before the spate of what I'm calling roadkill of cyclists in the Bay Area over the past few months. Nine people on bicycles have died in the past four months. Nine.
But some folks I know from my mountain bike club also do road riding in the hills north of here around San Antonio. I've been pestering them about tagging along, and yesterday was the first time that schedules worked. It was Becky and Sally and me. This was Becky's third time up there and Sally's second. We did spend some time at stop signs looking at maps trying to figure out which way to go but we did find our way back to the cars.
I was worried, worried, worried about keeping up. I can't hang right on someone's back tire in the woods and I can't do it on the road, either. Even if they are parting the wind/air for me. I'd end up back 20 feet or so behind Becky and Sally. I had on a deep red jersey, so I called myself the little red caboose.
I've read some things about driver road rage against cyclists, but we didn't see any of that at all. Most drivers swerved all the way over into the other lane and gave us tons of room. In fact, that earlier fear about imminent death never crossed my mind. Really. Guess I was too preoccupied worrying about keeping up and not wimping out.
We'd not talked about the planned ride beforehand, but when we were unloading our bikes and getting set up, Becky said, "I really want to get in 40 miles today!" I almost choked. But I had sorta invited myself along to this ride, so what could I do? I've done a 50 mile road ride before, on the Withalacoochee Trail, but that's all flat. And we stopped every 10 miles and ate, either our bars or lunch or ice cream. I didn't know if I could make a 40 mile hilly ride. And after climbing Happy Hill and burning my legs and lungs and still not having 10 miles invested yet in the ride, I was kinda getting worried. Would I be able to make the ride or would I be a total nut sack?
I was able to hang with Sally and Becky, but barely. They are both stronger riders than I am. They both have been riding longer than I have as well. I'd drop back and catch up when I could. But then we discovered something funny. On the downhills, all things being equal, I was faster than them. We'd all worked like hell getting up a hill, and I was at the end. We'd crest and go down the other side, gloriously flying down with the sense of power and freedom and a funny thing happened. Going downhill, I was faster than they were. I'm thinking it's because I weigh more than they do and am closer to the ground, but I was just flying downhill. It was wonderful.
In the end, we did a little over 31 miles, not 40. I probably could have made the 40 if I'd had more fuel, but I was really, really glad to stop. I felt amazing and strong. I didn't have one moment of boredom. I was amazed at the hills and the gorgeous scenery. My bike felt good, not uncomfortable at all. And I can't wait to do it again.
Friday, November 19, 2010
What's been going on
When I started this little blog, I was burning to write. What happened? I'm not sure.
Life, I guess.
I was up in NC for a lot of the summer and could not post anything. I tried to write something on my phone, but either I'm not smart enough or it isn't. (Probably me.)
And I'm new to this blogging thing. I'm not quite sure what to share and what not to share. Obviously, I'm writing about me and my experiences, but sometimes things happen that I really don't want to share with the entire world and I'm not sure how to proceed without oversharing, so instead I write nothing.
Trying to get back into it. Or, I'll post when I can.
Just want to say, though, that I've had two really good rides the past two days.
I got the notice yesterday morning that SWFTMUD (or whatever it's called) will be closing parts of the Wilderness Park Trails for the next month to build fire roads. My park, my park. Parts will be open, but I won't be able to do the entire loop during the week. Really, that shouldn't be a problem. You can take either half of the park (either Flatwoods side or Hole in the Fence side) and with doubling back--doing trails both ways-- get a 20 mile ride in. But I just had to get a full ride in.
Yesterday afternoon, Wednesday, I set out to get as much out of the park as I could. I'd ridden the previous day with my friend Bev. She's a roadie, and we've had a few off road rides. It's been a while since she's been in the woods, and she found the roots as intimidating as I did when I first started. She was exclaiming over the same roots/parts of the trail that used to give me fits. It was funny to hear her go "Oh, my!" to the same sections that used to stop me or fell me. It was slow going, but I used to be that slow, too. I'm delighted to show her the trails. But I was ready for more of a challenge the next day.
On Tuesday, with Bev, I'd taken her on the double track by the trail called Panther while I took Panther. I fell, hard, on Panther when I first started and have been a wimp (nut sack) about it ever since. I've been working on conquering it for the past year or so. I got it from North to South a while ago, but have not been able to navigate one portion the other way. It's a sketchy left turn, through tight trees over big roots. There's a couple ways to do it and I usually end up unclipping and walking over it. I did that Tuesday.
But Wednesday I'd had enough. I made myself do it. And damn if I didn't.
On Tuesday, I kept looking for the hard part that felled me, hurt me. I went over it without a problem. It was no longer a problem.
On Wednesday, I kept looking for it too, and again, it was no problem. Yay! I've made progress.
I was with Bev on Tuesday, but Wednesday it was just me and my headphones. I tried to make sure it's not too loud, so I can hear what's around me. I love the sound of the woods, but I love riding with my tunes more.
Over on the Morris Bridge/HITF side, I made myself do Indian. Another of the trails labled 'Very Difficult Trail' which isn't actually very difficult but parts of it are, so (IMHO) the label is deserved. I've made it both ways, successfully, but it's been awhile because it's been closed due to it being wet. But last time I tried it, there were a lot of sandy parts which made it not so much fun. There's a stair climb toward the start that I had to put a foot down for last time. Yesterday I nailed it. I made it through the whole trail. The progress I'm making is so slow. I'm so careful 'cause I don't want to hurt myself, but if I can say it, I'm proud of my progress.
Today, me and Nancy met at Boyette. Didn't have a perfect day. Had to walk over some stupid palmettos in the middle of the trail (which I should be able to go over but when I see them my brain sends an immediate signal to my index fingers to jump on the brakes) and I fell one time 'cause I'd slowed too much in one of the stupid tight turns they have in the Quadrants and ran into another big palmetto root without enough speed and had to clip out and walk a few times on Golfcart and realized that I'm not actually riding some of the trails but coasting because I'm so tight and tense and nervous because they're so narrow and had to walk some more through Wood Trails because even though it's labeled easy that have stupid big palmettos in the middle of the trails but all in all I had a great ride. And that's all that matters.
Spent great girlfriend time, the importance of which cannot be overstated. Got 18 miles in of riding more challenging than I'm used to. So another great day on the bike.
It's a great time of year to ride in Florida. I'm making myself take the day off, but am planning a hilly road ride for tomorrow. Woo hoo.
Life, I guess.
I was up in NC for a lot of the summer and could not post anything. I tried to write something on my phone, but either I'm not smart enough or it isn't. (Probably me.)
And I'm new to this blogging thing. I'm not quite sure what to share and what not to share. Obviously, I'm writing about me and my experiences, but sometimes things happen that I really don't want to share with the entire world and I'm not sure how to proceed without oversharing, so instead I write nothing.
Trying to get back into it. Or, I'll post when I can.
Just want to say, though, that I've had two really good rides the past two days.
I got the notice yesterday morning that SWFTMUD (or whatever it's called) will be closing parts of the Wilderness Park Trails for the next month to build fire roads. My park, my park. Parts will be open, but I won't be able to do the entire loop during the week. Really, that shouldn't be a problem. You can take either half of the park (either Flatwoods side or Hole in the Fence side) and with doubling back--doing trails both ways-- get a 20 mile ride in. But I just had to get a full ride in.
Yesterday afternoon, Wednesday, I set out to get as much out of the park as I could. I'd ridden the previous day with my friend Bev. She's a roadie, and we've had a few off road rides. It's been a while since she's been in the woods, and she found the roots as intimidating as I did when I first started. She was exclaiming over the same roots/parts of the trail that used to give me fits. It was funny to hear her go "Oh, my!" to the same sections that used to stop me or fell me. It was slow going, but I used to be that slow, too. I'm delighted to show her the trails. But I was ready for more of a challenge the next day.
On Tuesday, with Bev, I'd taken her on the double track by the trail called Panther while I took Panther. I fell, hard, on Panther when I first started and have been a wimp (nut sack) about it ever since. I've been working on conquering it for the past year or so. I got it from North to South a while ago, but have not been able to navigate one portion the other way. It's a sketchy left turn, through tight trees over big roots. There's a couple ways to do it and I usually end up unclipping and walking over it. I did that Tuesday.
But Wednesday I'd had enough. I made myself do it. And damn if I didn't.
On Tuesday, I kept looking for the hard part that felled me, hurt me. I went over it without a problem. It was no longer a problem.
On Wednesday, I kept looking for it too, and again, it was no problem. Yay! I've made progress.
I was with Bev on Tuesday, but Wednesday it was just me and my headphones. I tried to make sure it's not too loud, so I can hear what's around me. I love the sound of the woods, but I love riding with my tunes more.
Over on the Morris Bridge/HITF side, I made myself do Indian. Another of the trails labled 'Very Difficult Trail' which isn't actually very difficult but parts of it are, so (IMHO) the label is deserved. I've made it both ways, successfully, but it's been awhile because it's been closed due to it being wet. But last time I tried it, there were a lot of sandy parts which made it not so much fun. There's a stair climb toward the start that I had to put a foot down for last time. Yesterday I nailed it. I made it through the whole trail. The progress I'm making is so slow. I'm so careful 'cause I don't want to hurt myself, but if I can say it, I'm proud of my progress.
Today, me and Nancy met at Boyette. Didn't have a perfect day. Had to walk over some stupid palmettos in the middle of the trail (which I should be able to go over but when I see them my brain sends an immediate signal to my index fingers to jump on the brakes) and I fell one time 'cause I'd slowed too much in one of the stupid tight turns they have in the Quadrants and ran into another big palmetto root without enough speed and had to clip out and walk a few times on Golfcart and realized that I'm not actually riding some of the trails but coasting because I'm so tight and tense and nervous because they're so narrow and had to walk some more through Wood Trails because even though it's labeled easy that have stupid big palmettos in the middle of the trails but all in all I had a great ride. And that's all that matters.
Spent great girlfriend time, the importance of which cannot be overstated. Got 18 miles in of riding more challenging than I'm used to. So another great day on the bike.
It's a great time of year to ride in Florida. I'm making myself take the day off, but am planning a hilly road ride for tomorrow. Woo hoo.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Summer off
I can't believe I've not written anything all summer long. How is that possible?
Well, for one, I spent a lot of time in the NC place. I tried to post one blog from my phone but it didn't work very well. Darn, all the drama and excitement and ups and downs didn't get recorded. I will try to do better.
I love the NC place, but I think it put me at a disadvantage as far as cycling in Florida during the summer. I was gone for three weeks. I kept busy and did some cycling there and I was going up and down mountains (not on trails, on roads) and think I improved my fitness and confidence (making it up a steep steep hill, huffing and puffing but still having 3-4 gears I've not used yet...can we say quads of steel?...and barreling down the other side saying to myself no brakes no brakes...YIKES am I really doing 30...35...36..37 mph? OK feather the brakes, feather the brakes!) But I missed three weeks of riding in the Florida heat and think I messed up my body's acclimation process. At least, that's my excuse.
So it's Monday morning. I've got free time. Why am I not out on my bike? 'cause it's 91 degrees out there and I don't want to pass out. Went to Croom last week. Perfect trails, the sand was packed down due to all the rains we've had. But I had to get off my bike about 1/3 of the way into the ride. I was overcome with nausea; the heat really got to me. I'm almost afraid to go riding.
So here I sit in my air conditioned house. Hopefully it will cool down soon or I'll find some motivation, somewhere, to get me up and out.
Well, for one, I spent a lot of time in the NC place. I tried to post one blog from my phone but it didn't work very well. Darn, all the drama and excitement and ups and downs didn't get recorded. I will try to do better.
I love the NC place, but I think it put me at a disadvantage as far as cycling in Florida during the summer. I was gone for three weeks. I kept busy and did some cycling there and I was going up and down mountains (not on trails, on roads) and think I improved my fitness and confidence (making it up a steep steep hill, huffing and puffing but still having 3-4 gears I've not used yet...can we say quads of steel?...and barreling down the other side saying to myself no brakes no brakes...YIKES am I really doing 30...35...36..37 mph? OK feather the brakes, feather the brakes!) But I missed three weeks of riding in the Florida heat and think I messed up my body's acclimation process. At least, that's my excuse.
So it's Monday morning. I've got free time. Why am I not out on my bike? 'cause it's 91 degrees out there and I don't want to pass out. Went to Croom last week. Perfect trails, the sand was packed down due to all the rains we've had. But I had to get off my bike about 1/3 of the way into the ride. I was overcome with nausea; the heat really got to me. I'm almost afraid to go riding.
So here I sit in my air conditioned house. Hopefully it will cool down soon or I'll find some motivation, somewhere, to get me up and out.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Runner's high, biker's mellow
I was a runner before biking became by obsession. I've done a few triathlons and for some reason made a semi-goal to do a marathon. I had my training log and was dutifully doing my runs; mostly up at Flatwoods. I was road riding a lot more back then. I was trying to cross train, to give my body a break from the pounding that running does to you. I was swimming a lot back then, too. And going to the gym. (Gee...what happened....I discovered off road riding and now I spend all my time in the woods.)
I'd heard about this mysterious and elusive 'runner's high' and admit to wishful thinking about it. I'd never had one. I've run lots of miles, sweated a lot, been through a lot of shoes, but most of what I felt was more akin to misery than euphoria.
So when it finally happened to me, I was overjoyed. I don't know where I was, maybe 5 1/2 miles into a 7 mile run. I had my Ipod on, my tunes were helping me move. And all of a sudden, all thoughts left my head. I couldn't hold onto a thought. A thought would come in one side of my head and just dissipate. I was chugging along, trying to think of something and nothing worked. My mind is usually Grand Central Station. I've got a zillion different things going on at the same time, in all different directions, all working a whirlwind inside my brain. Typical woman, I guess. I tired to sing along to songs that I knew and the lyrics wouldn't come to me. It was just so cool that my mind was at peace. There was nothing clamoring inside my brain for attention. It was true serenity.
Alas, that happened only one time.
Contrast that with a bike ride. I don't get the runner's high I just described, but I get what I call the biker's mellow. After a ride, I get in my car and head home and I'm just a big bucket of contentment. Nothing bothers me. I don't speed (uh, my usual MO), I don't get upset if someone cuts me off or is otherwise an asshat in traffic. I feel great. I exude good vibrations. I'm happy. This happens after almost every single bike ride I go on; especially the off road rides. Is it any wonder I do it as often as I can?
So, I'm heading to the money pit for the next three weeks. I probably won't write anything, unless I get really inspired and take the laptop into town. I'll be back on July 10th.
Jen
I'd heard about this mysterious and elusive 'runner's high' and admit to wishful thinking about it. I'd never had one. I've run lots of miles, sweated a lot, been through a lot of shoes, but most of what I felt was more akin to misery than euphoria.
So when it finally happened to me, I was overjoyed. I don't know where I was, maybe 5 1/2 miles into a 7 mile run. I had my Ipod on, my tunes were helping me move. And all of a sudden, all thoughts left my head. I couldn't hold onto a thought. A thought would come in one side of my head and just dissipate. I was chugging along, trying to think of something and nothing worked. My mind is usually Grand Central Station. I've got a zillion different things going on at the same time, in all different directions, all working a whirlwind inside my brain. Typical woman, I guess. I tired to sing along to songs that I knew and the lyrics wouldn't come to me. It was just so cool that my mind was at peace. There was nothing clamoring inside my brain for attention. It was true serenity.
Alas, that happened only one time.
Contrast that with a bike ride. I don't get the runner's high I just described, but I get what I call the biker's mellow. After a ride, I get in my car and head home and I'm just a big bucket of contentment. Nothing bothers me. I don't speed (uh, my usual MO), I don't get upset if someone cuts me off or is otherwise an asshat in traffic. I feel great. I exude good vibrations. I'm happy. This happens after almost every single bike ride I go on; especially the off road rides. Is it any wonder I do it as often as I can?
So, I'm heading to the money pit for the next three weeks. I probably won't write anything, unless I get really inspired and take the laptop into town. I'll be back on July 10th.
Jen
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Baby day
I've been watching my husband's grandson (his daughter from first marriage's son. I'm far too young to call myself a grandmother, though chronologically, if I'd started really early, I could be up to a great by now, perhaps even a great great if me and my progeny tended towards early, unprotected sex) on Tuesdays while his mother works since November or so. The first few times were rough; basically, the baby cried all day. He's since gotten used to me and I to him and we generally have a good time together.
I will post another time about his peculiarities, but he's a great kid.
I've been looking for a baby jogger and/or bike trailer for a few months now. Zane likes being outside and I like riding my bike so I thought this would be a good solution. A buddy from SWAMP was selling one and by the time I got around to telling him I was on my way to look at it, someone had already bought it. My friend Bev found one in a thrift store, just two days before the half price sale. We decided to gamble and wait for the sale. She got there 10 minutes after the store opened on the half price day, and there was an old man in line with the baby trailer. Sigh.
Ever the optimist am I, so I've been trolling Craigslist and I'll be damned I found one this past weekend. A Trek brand that doubles as a jogger and a trailer, in good working condition, for $30. I just had to drive to Largo, almost all the way to the beach, to get it. It's got some mildew stains on it and some paint splatters, but it's mechanically sound, which is what's important.
I got up early today because I was too lazy to do anything to the trailer yesterday. Got it out of the car, figured out how it worked. Cleaned it up a bit. I couldn't get the hitch in at first, but a little WD40 did the trick. It took me half an hour of fooling around with it, but I finally figured out how it worked, how it hooked up, and how it folded. By this time I was dripping with sweat.
Chelsea (mom) and Zane (baby) arrived around 8:30. I hadn't eaten breakfast yet, so by the time I did that, got all my bike gear organized, got dressed in my bike clothes, changed his diaper and clothes, got sun screen on both of us, got drinks for both of us, loaded the car, got stuffed animals to prop him up with in the trailer, it was 9:30 before we left the house. Got to Flatwoods and had to do it in reverse. It was almost 10 o'clock before we headed out, and it was a scorcher of a day.
When I ride Flatwoods I generally have a plan in mind. The main loop is seven miles, and there's a jog over to another entrance at Bruce B. Downs that's another two miles each way. 2 loops over to Bruce B. Downs and back is 23 miles. If I do that and one more of the main loop I'm looking at about 31 miles. The minimum I do is 15 miles and that's if I'm not feeling well or if a thunderstorm is heading my way or if there's another good reason to have a short ride (like heat stroke.)
Pulling a trailer with 40-50 pounds behind me is a new experience. I started out briskly, watching my cadence and making sure I was spinning over 90 rpm. About a mile into the ride I realized I was having a hard time breathing. I had a bug last week and am not over it yet. I looked down and I was dripping sweat. The sun was no longer behind a cloud, it was pounding down on me and Zane, and I had a long way to go. I told him, after about 2 miles, that we'd be lucky to make one loop. And my prediction was right; I barely made it. If it'd just been me I would have gone to one of the pavilions and rested, but I thought it was best to get him back to the car and a/c as quickly as possible. We did stop at the third water stop for a bit 'cause Zane had been fussing. He calmed down and we set off again. He started fussing again. I made it back to the car as quickly as I dared. I was really scared of getting a heat stroke. It was a furnace outside. I almost passed out at Flatwoods three years ago from the heat; I didn't want a repeat performance, especially since I had the little guy to look after.
Back at the car I turned the a/c on full blast and got the little guy into his car seat. I put the bike and trailer in. It was really hard because it was so hot. I just wanted to find someplace cool and put my head between my legs.
OK, lesson learned. If I take Zane out with the bike trailer it must be early in the morning if it is summertime. If I get a late start again, I'm staying home.
On the other hand, I'm delighted with the trailer. While it's not easy to pull behind me, it adds another training dimension, right????? Next time, cooler weather, two loops (if baby cooperates.)
Jen
I will post another time about his peculiarities, but he's a great kid.
I've been looking for a baby jogger and/or bike trailer for a few months now. Zane likes being outside and I like riding my bike so I thought this would be a good solution. A buddy from SWAMP was selling one and by the time I got around to telling him I was on my way to look at it, someone had already bought it. My friend Bev found one in a thrift store, just two days before the half price sale. We decided to gamble and wait for the sale. She got there 10 minutes after the store opened on the half price day, and there was an old man in line with the baby trailer. Sigh.
Ever the optimist am I, so I've been trolling Craigslist and I'll be damned I found one this past weekend. A Trek brand that doubles as a jogger and a trailer, in good working condition, for $30. I just had to drive to Largo, almost all the way to the beach, to get it. It's got some mildew stains on it and some paint splatters, but it's mechanically sound, which is what's important.
I got up early today because I was too lazy to do anything to the trailer yesterday. Got it out of the car, figured out how it worked. Cleaned it up a bit. I couldn't get the hitch in at first, but a little WD40 did the trick. It took me half an hour of fooling around with it, but I finally figured out how it worked, how it hooked up, and how it folded. By this time I was dripping with sweat.
Chelsea (mom) and Zane (baby) arrived around 8:30. I hadn't eaten breakfast yet, so by the time I did that, got all my bike gear organized, got dressed in my bike clothes, changed his diaper and clothes, got sun screen on both of us, got drinks for both of us, loaded the car, got stuffed animals to prop him up with in the trailer, it was 9:30 before we left the house. Got to Flatwoods and had to do it in reverse. It was almost 10 o'clock before we headed out, and it was a scorcher of a day.
When I ride Flatwoods I generally have a plan in mind. The main loop is seven miles, and there's a jog over to another entrance at Bruce B. Downs that's another two miles each way. 2 loops over to Bruce B. Downs and back is 23 miles. If I do that and one more of the main loop I'm looking at about 31 miles. The minimum I do is 15 miles and that's if I'm not feeling well or if a thunderstorm is heading my way or if there's another good reason to have a short ride (like heat stroke.)
Pulling a trailer with 40-50 pounds behind me is a new experience. I started out briskly, watching my cadence and making sure I was spinning over 90 rpm. About a mile into the ride I realized I was having a hard time breathing. I had a bug last week and am not over it yet. I looked down and I was dripping sweat. The sun was no longer behind a cloud, it was pounding down on me and Zane, and I had a long way to go. I told him, after about 2 miles, that we'd be lucky to make one loop. And my prediction was right; I barely made it. If it'd just been me I would have gone to one of the pavilions and rested, but I thought it was best to get him back to the car and a/c as quickly as possible. We did stop at the third water stop for a bit 'cause Zane had been fussing. He calmed down and we set off again. He started fussing again. I made it back to the car as quickly as I dared. I was really scared of getting a heat stroke. It was a furnace outside. I almost passed out at Flatwoods three years ago from the heat; I didn't want a repeat performance, especially since I had the little guy to look after.
Back at the car I turned the a/c on full blast and got the little guy into his car seat. I put the bike and trailer in. It was really hard because it was so hot. I just wanted to find someplace cool and put my head between my legs.
OK, lesson learned. If I take Zane out with the bike trailer it must be early in the morning if it is summertime. If I get a late start again, I'm staying home.
On the other hand, I'm delighted with the trailer. While it's not easy to pull behind me, it adds another training dimension, right????? Next time, cooler weather, two loops (if baby cooperates.)
Jen
Sunday, June 6, 2010
These Late Night Are Killing Me
OK, so I went out a few week ago to see The Hold Steady in Orlando. Did I mention that it takes me a full day to recover from a late night out? I'm sitting here, blearily, a little after 1 in the afternoon. I got home last night at 1:30??? 2 a.m.??? It doesn't matter how late it was. Let's face it, my body is used to being in bed by 10 pm. My body is in full rebellion mode. (You messed with me so this is what you get. I'm not hung over, I'm just tired.) I missed my bike ride this morning. Got up (didn't really sleep well either) had breakfast, went back to bed. I'm not yet recovered.
OK, so what was the cause of my misery today? It was the Reverend Horton Heat/Cracker show. The Legendary Shack Shakers played as well, but we managed to miss them. It was that, but it began with dinner.
My friends Nancy and Steve Bird asked me to join them at Beaune's, a Wine Bar/Restaurant in Ybor City. They had a gift card to use. I'm not one to turn down a free meal, and I don't get to go out much, so I was delighted to accept. They have a wine shop next to the wine bar, and you choose and bottle from the store and they open it for a $10 cork fee (much less than the usual restaurant mark up.) They have a limited menu, but everything looked great. We decided to share stuff, so we ordered 3 appetizers, a salad each, and an entree to split. The problem (if you could call this a problem) is that the appetizer portions were dinner sized. I don't know if it's because the waitress is good friends with Steve and Nancy or if that's how it always is. There was a huge piles of mussels in a light cream tarragon sauce. I ordered escargot, and instead of a snail per compartment they stuffed 2 or 3 in each dimple. With tons of butter and garlic and bread crumbs. And the cheese thingy that I couldn't pronounce that had whole garlic cloves baked into it. We ate and drank wine and laughed and talked. Then the salads came, with a delightfully light lemony dressing. It was different from what I've had before and it was such a surprise. We could have done without the entree, duck, but they brought it out and we ate every bit of that as well, along with the cassolet and haricot verts. The only thing left was a few bread rounds and one mussel that didn't open. It was a meal fit for a king.
We staggered to our cars and drove to the parking lot behind the Ritz. We got there right as the Shack Shakers played their last song. I'm sorry to have missed them 'cause I really like them and haven't seen them in a few years, but from the reports I got it was the same wild show. We found Matt and then sat around a but and talked with friends who were there. Nancy had gotten us upstairs where there are chairs so we headed up there. I went to get us a beer, and when the bartender said $26 for three beers, I just started laughing. True, they were big beers, but over $8 a beer? WTF? The upstairs bartender had a good sense of humor about it. Well, since we'd been through two bottles of wine over dinner, I didn't need to drink that much anyway.
We settled in and the show started just a few minutes later. It sounded good from where we were. Let's face it, Cracker's been around a long time, have a loyal following, and know how to please their audience. They started with some old favorites, did some new ones, some more faves. Gave the crowd what they wanted.
I'm used to being in the thick of the crowd, so when Nancy suggested going downstairs after twenty minutes or so, I said, "Sure!" It was less crowded on the far side of the room, so we headed over there. I kept drifting closer into the back of the crowd, then I spotted a friend on mine, Henry, at the other side of the stage. Henry and I used to have desks that faced each other back when they had their great experiment at USAA of combining Policy Service and Claims into one unit. We run into each other every so often at shows. So I plunged into the crowd and made my way over to his side. He gave me a big hug. I looked up, I was just 4 people back from the stage. Henry went to get a beer, and Nancy joined me just at Cracker launched into their signature song, 'Euro Trash Girl.' (I often wonder if they wished they'd written fewer verses; the album version clocks in at over 8 minutes.) A girl behind me tapped me on the shoulder and started a tirade, "You know, it's just rude that you people just come in and get right in front of someone. I've been sitting here since before the band started and you just waltz up and....." Actually, I totally agree with her; it was rude of me. I apologized and turned to go, but Henry grabbed me and pulled me in front of him, and his friend pushed me in front of him, and I was right at the front of the stage, right under David Lowrey, lead singer of Cracker. Aaaah, where I belong.
The first thing I noticed is that Lowrey's looking his age. Whew! He's been at it, first with Camper Van Beethoven, now Cracker, since the early 80's. Rock-n-roll is not an easy lifestyle. The second thing is that the man I had displaced (or rather, had been displaced by Henry's friend) looked a bit uncomfortable. I decided to bow out of my stage position and find my friends.
The rest of the night goes onto blur fast forward. Cracker ended, Heat started, mosh pit ensues. Nancy and Steve disappear, Matt and I hang out, I dance and sway to my favorite songs and avoid the sweaty young men who are circling the pit. It was my first time seeing the Reverend Horton Heat, and the show was as expected. Obnoxious fans, but we were able to avoid them so it was all good.
OK, I've not been writing this all day. Went to the store and have done a few other things, but it's almost 3:30 and I'm closer to feeling like myself again. But I've got to limit these late nights.
I just looked at Creative Loafing's concert listing for upcoming shows. I don't see anything that tempts me. For now.
Jen
OK, so what was the cause of my misery today? It was the Reverend Horton Heat/Cracker show. The Legendary Shack Shakers played as well, but we managed to miss them. It was that, but it began with dinner.
My friends Nancy and Steve Bird asked me to join them at Beaune's, a Wine Bar/Restaurant in Ybor City. They had a gift card to use. I'm not one to turn down a free meal, and I don't get to go out much, so I was delighted to accept. They have a wine shop next to the wine bar, and you choose and bottle from the store and they open it for a $10 cork fee (much less than the usual restaurant mark up.) They have a limited menu, but everything looked great. We decided to share stuff, so we ordered 3 appetizers, a salad each, and an entree to split. The problem (if you could call this a problem) is that the appetizer portions were dinner sized. I don't know if it's because the waitress is good friends with Steve and Nancy or if that's how it always is. There was a huge piles of mussels in a light cream tarragon sauce. I ordered escargot, and instead of a snail per compartment they stuffed 2 or 3 in each dimple. With tons of butter and garlic and bread crumbs. And the cheese thingy that I couldn't pronounce that had whole garlic cloves baked into it. We ate and drank wine and laughed and talked. Then the salads came, with a delightfully light lemony dressing. It was different from what I've had before and it was such a surprise. We could have done without the entree, duck, but they brought it out and we ate every bit of that as well, along with the cassolet and haricot verts. The only thing left was a few bread rounds and one mussel that didn't open. It was a meal fit for a king.
We staggered to our cars and drove to the parking lot behind the Ritz. We got there right as the Shack Shakers played their last song. I'm sorry to have missed them 'cause I really like them and haven't seen them in a few years, but from the reports I got it was the same wild show. We found Matt and then sat around a but and talked with friends who were there. Nancy had gotten us upstairs where there are chairs so we headed up there. I went to get us a beer, and when the bartender said $26 for three beers, I just started laughing. True, they were big beers, but over $8 a beer? WTF? The upstairs bartender had a good sense of humor about it. Well, since we'd been through two bottles of wine over dinner, I didn't need to drink that much anyway.
We settled in and the show started just a few minutes later. It sounded good from where we were. Let's face it, Cracker's been around a long time, have a loyal following, and know how to please their audience. They started with some old favorites, did some new ones, some more faves. Gave the crowd what they wanted.
I'm used to being in the thick of the crowd, so when Nancy suggested going downstairs after twenty minutes or so, I said, "Sure!" It was less crowded on the far side of the room, so we headed over there. I kept drifting closer into the back of the crowd, then I spotted a friend on mine, Henry, at the other side of the stage. Henry and I used to have desks that faced each other back when they had their great experiment at USAA of combining Policy Service and Claims into one unit. We run into each other every so often at shows. So I plunged into the crowd and made my way over to his side. He gave me a big hug. I looked up, I was just 4 people back from the stage. Henry went to get a beer, and Nancy joined me just at Cracker launched into their signature song, 'Euro Trash Girl.' (I often wonder if they wished they'd written fewer verses; the album version clocks in at over 8 minutes.) A girl behind me tapped me on the shoulder and started a tirade, "You know, it's just rude that you people just come in and get right in front of someone. I've been sitting here since before the band started and you just waltz up and....." Actually, I totally agree with her; it was rude of me. I apologized and turned to go, but Henry grabbed me and pulled me in front of him, and his friend pushed me in front of him, and I was right at the front of the stage, right under David Lowrey, lead singer of Cracker. Aaaah, where I belong.
The first thing I noticed is that Lowrey's looking his age. Whew! He's been at it, first with Camper Van Beethoven, now Cracker, since the early 80's. Rock-n-roll is not an easy lifestyle. The second thing is that the man I had displaced (or rather, had been displaced by Henry's friend) looked a bit uncomfortable. I decided to bow out of my stage position and find my friends.
The rest of the night goes onto blur fast forward. Cracker ended, Heat started, mosh pit ensues. Nancy and Steve disappear, Matt and I hang out, I dance and sway to my favorite songs and avoid the sweaty young men who are circling the pit. It was my first time seeing the Reverend Horton Heat, and the show was as expected. Obnoxious fans, but we were able to avoid them so it was all good.
OK, I've not been writing this all day. Went to the store and have done a few other things, but it's almost 3:30 and I'm closer to feeling like myself again. But I've got to limit these late nights.
I just looked at Creative Loafing's concert listing for upcoming shows. I don't see anything that tempts me. For now.
Jen
Friday, June 4, 2010
At the produce market this week
It's tomato time in Florida, which means tomatoes can be had dirt cheap at the produce market located at Hillsborough and 30th. I went earlier this week and bought a 25 pound box for $5. Considering that tomatoes--on sale this week at Publix-- are $1.29 a pound....well, you do the math.
Great, but what does one do with 25 pounds of tomatoes all at once? Well, I opened the box the last two mornings and got a really ripe one out and ate it atop my pita and hummus for breakfast. Slathered thick slices on my half turkey sandwich for lunch. Mmmm.
Today I decided to tackle the rest of them. I blanched and skinned almost all of them and put up six quarts in the freezer. I put a few aside to eat. I put a few in the window to get super ripe and I'll make salsa out of them. And I'm making spaghetti and meatballs tonight. The sauce is simmering in the background as I type and my stomach in growling.
Also in season are cantaloupes (the Florida kind). Big ripe juicy fragrant and tasty at 2 for $1. And watermelons are in. Can pick up a small to medium sized seedless for $2-$3.
Happy shopping.
Jen
Great, but what does one do with 25 pounds of tomatoes all at once? Well, I opened the box the last two mornings and got a really ripe one out and ate it atop my pita and hummus for breakfast. Slathered thick slices on my half turkey sandwich for lunch. Mmmm.
Today I decided to tackle the rest of them. I blanched and skinned almost all of them and put up six quarts in the freezer. I put a few aside to eat. I put a few in the window to get super ripe and I'll make salsa out of them. And I'm making spaghetti and meatballs tonight. The sauce is simmering in the background as I type and my stomach in growling.
Also in season are cantaloupes (the Florida kind). Big ripe juicy fragrant and tasty at 2 for $1. And watermelons are in. Can pick up a small to medium sized seedless for $2-$3.
Happy shopping.
Jen
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
House smells
My husband swears I'm crazy, but each place I go has it's own unique smell. Just as each person has their own unique smell, so does each place. Each of my friends' houses have their own distinct odor. It's not bad, it just is. It's a person's aura, I think, that settles into their living area. When my friend, Cindy, moved from her condo to her new place a few years ago, her new house smelled like her old house did.
And I don't think that my sense of smell is that sensitive.
Maybe it's a combination of products one uses that creates each unique scent. I think it has to do with who inhabits a dwelling.
It's not just houses. A Publix smells different from a Sweetbay, which smells different from a Winn-Dixie. Surely I can't be the first to notice this? Almost all K-Marts smell alike.
I'm sharing this, 'cause whenever I come home from being gone for awhile, my house doesn't smell right. Like I said, my husband thinks I'm nuts. But when we pulled in at about six o'-clock last night and I walked in the house, it didn't smell like home. I've been home almost 24 hours and the fragrance (which is generally unnoticeable to me, except when it's off) is about back in balance.
Whew.
Jen
And I don't think that my sense of smell is that sensitive.
Maybe it's a combination of products one uses that creates each unique scent. I think it has to do with who inhabits a dwelling.
It's not just houses. A Publix smells different from a Sweetbay, which smells different from a Winn-Dixie. Surely I can't be the first to notice this? Almost all K-Marts smell alike.
I'm sharing this, 'cause whenever I come home from being gone for awhile, my house doesn't smell right. Like I said, my husband thinks I'm nuts. But when we pulled in at about six o'-clock last night and I walked in the house, it didn't smell like home. I've been home almost 24 hours and the fragrance (which is generally unnoticeable to me, except when it's off) is about back in balance.
Whew.
Jen
A Weekend in the Mountains/The Money Pit
My husband, way before he was my husband, vacationed around Bryson City, NC. Once we had a family, the tradition continued. Then he found out that a co-worker, Troy, had a place outside Bryson City, and we got to stay there a few times. It was a tiny one bedroom cabin, but it had a killer view. It was remote and peaceful.
We'd always talked about being snowbirds after retirement. Let's face it, Florida summers suck. And Florida winters are great. We'd hoped to find a place to settle in the mountains of NC for our summer place. The last time we were up there, the 4th of July two years ago, we'd talked about it, looked at real estate catalogs, and decided to start looking for a place. In fact, we'd planned that I would come back on my own after the kids were back in school and scout around to see what I could see.
We mentioned this to Troy's neighbors, and they said, "Well, you know, there's a log house on top of this mountain we kit built 20 years ago for a lady who's since passed on. There have been several owners, but the last ones lost it. It's bank owned now." Ed and I traipsed up to the top of this very steep driveway that we didn't even know was there, and there was this log house, fireplaces on each side, a long covered front porch. We looked inside. It was a mess, but very fixable. 3 bedrooms, 3 baths (well, 2 1/2..the previous owners had taken the claw footed tub that was in the middle bath)...laundry room, nice sitting room in the back, lots of cabinets in the kitchen, and that great front porch. 9' x 60'.
We talked, discussed, sweated and decided to make a low ball offer. After some dickering, it was ours.
We love it, but let's face it, it's a money pit.
Cue Sad Trombone:
http://www.sadtrombone.com/
OK, that's the intro, but we escaped there for the weekend.
We've spent so much time working over the past almost two years, it was good to take a relaxing weekend. I mostly sat on my front porch, in the one rocking chair that we have, and read. And blissed to the view. And watched the pair of birds who built a nest on our porch chirp and fuss over my presence. (Eastern Phoebes.) With my dog, Serra, sprawled out on the porch close to me.
As a family we played games and games and games. (Cranium and chess and cards and dominoes and scrabble) I'm hoping my kids will have fond memories of these days when they get older. I know they both hate the car ride up the house. It is 10+ hours sometimes, but in my mind, it is sooo worth it. It is so peaceful. So cool. So serene. So beautiful. So green. So isolated. A large part of my heart gets left there whenever we leave. I feel that I really belong there.
Was gonna ride my bike yesterday but it rained. Hopefully next time.
I'm back in Florida, glad to be. I've missed my friends. But I miss my rocking chair on my porch on my house outside of Bryson City, NC.
Jen
We'd always talked about being snowbirds after retirement. Let's face it, Florida summers suck. And Florida winters are great. We'd hoped to find a place to settle in the mountains of NC for our summer place. The last time we were up there, the 4th of July two years ago, we'd talked about it, looked at real estate catalogs, and decided to start looking for a place. In fact, we'd planned that I would come back on my own after the kids were back in school and scout around to see what I could see.
We mentioned this to Troy's neighbors, and they said, "Well, you know, there's a log house on top of this mountain we kit built 20 years ago for a lady who's since passed on. There have been several owners, but the last ones lost it. It's bank owned now." Ed and I traipsed up to the top of this very steep driveway that we didn't even know was there, and there was this log house, fireplaces on each side, a long covered front porch. We looked inside. It was a mess, but very fixable. 3 bedrooms, 3 baths (well, 2 1/2..the previous owners had taken the claw footed tub that was in the middle bath)...laundry room, nice sitting room in the back, lots of cabinets in the kitchen, and that great front porch. 9' x 60'.
We talked, discussed, sweated and decided to make a low ball offer. After some dickering, it was ours.
We love it, but let's face it, it's a money pit.
Cue Sad Trombone:
http://www.sadtrombone.com/
OK, that's the intro, but we escaped there for the weekend.
We've spent so much time working over the past almost two years, it was good to take a relaxing weekend. I mostly sat on my front porch, in the one rocking chair that we have, and read. And blissed to the view. And watched the pair of birds who built a nest on our porch chirp and fuss over my presence. (Eastern Phoebes.) With my dog, Serra, sprawled out on the porch close to me.
As a family we played games and games and games. (Cranium and chess and cards and dominoes and scrabble) I'm hoping my kids will have fond memories of these days when they get older. I know they both hate the car ride up the house. It is 10+ hours sometimes, but in my mind, it is sooo worth it. It is so peaceful. So cool. So serene. So beautiful. So green. So isolated. A large part of my heart gets left there whenever we leave. I feel that I really belong there.
Was gonna ride my bike yesterday but it rained. Hopefully next time.
I'm back in Florida, glad to be. I've missed my friends. But I miss my rocking chair on my porch on my house outside of Bryson City, NC.
Jen
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Enduro-rides
OK, for anyone who's been riding for a long time, what I consider an endurance ride may be laughable, but you know, we've all gotta start somewhere. I'd been talking about it with Nancy for awhile. Our rides from Trout Creek usually end up being about 17 miles; the main trail loop is about 15 miles, but we do some side trails and add some mileage. I thought it was time to ramp up our riding. Do the loop both ways.
Last Wednesday, Nancy, Matt and I attempted the ride. Nancy was on her son John Paul's bike because hers was in the beloved and trusted hand's of Abner, owner of Links Cycle Works, our go-to guy, for repair. They're about the same height, but he's got a 29er with just front suspension, vs. her full suspension Giant Trance. The bike didn't fit her well and she had a hard time the entire ride. It's hard enough to ride a bike that doesn't fit you well, much less for a looooong ride. We tried to take a short cut back but ended up doing 27.26 miles. I got home and face-planted it into the bed.
Matt and I met Thursday and duplicated the ride, but I added an extra jog to make it to a total of 30 miles. We got back to the parking lot and my odometer read 29.40 so I circled the parking lot until it clicked over 30 miles. Matt thought I was mad. The guys we'd helped with a flat tire in the woods probably thought I was a bit nuts, too. But you know, I can't say that I rode 30 miles unless I actually did. I felt dead after that ride, too.
This past Wednesday, uh, yesterday, we debated and decided to do the enduro ride again, vs. just trying to do a loop of the hard trails. We ended up doing two of the more difficult trails: Gator Bait and Heartbreak Ridge. I felt good most of the ride; I wasn't wiped at the end of the ride. I pushed hard at the end and still had something in the tank. I was actually feeling pretty good about my riding. A woo-hoo moment.
Matt and I met today and for some unknown reason decided to do enduro again. And we added Panther to the mix. I haven't posted my old long blog entry about my first encounters with Panther from my Myspace page, but I will soon. I've always been a weenie, and when I first started I had this wonderful woman try to help me through Panther. I think it was too early in my mountain biking career. I crashed hard, bled a lot, and have been wary of the trail since. I didn't make it through Panther clean today, but I did 99% of it and feel confident that I will be able to clear it soon. Just need to find some good lines.
Matt and I did the main trail to the hole in the fence (HITF) and back again. I was hurting and feeling the ride by the time I got to the HITF but somehow, stupidly, decided I needed to finish this ride. It was about at this time, 1/2 way through my ride, that my normally comfortable saddle started to feel like a seat of wood. Every root, every bump, it reverberated through my rear. I found some reserves, occasionally, but for the most part limped back to the car. We had a long rest at the Morris Bridge stop and I made it all the way back. Matt kept asking me if I wanted to stop and rest and I said no. I don't want to have to climb back onto my bike again. Just ride. My ass hurt; my ass still hurts. Don't know if I can I ask my massage therapist for a butt massage. Too embarrassing.
So, I feel good that we've made these epic (to me) rides. I've had a marvelous time in the woods with my friends. And I obviously don't have a trainer to give me a training plan. But in the overall goal of increasing fitness and riding ability, I will not do two days of long rides back to back.
There may be a day when a 30 mile ride is no longer long. I'll let you know.
Jen
Last Wednesday, Nancy, Matt and I attempted the ride. Nancy was on her son John Paul's bike because hers was in the beloved and trusted hand's of Abner, owner of Links Cycle Works, our go-to guy, for repair. They're about the same height, but he's got a 29er with just front suspension, vs. her full suspension Giant Trance. The bike didn't fit her well and she had a hard time the entire ride. It's hard enough to ride a bike that doesn't fit you well, much less for a looooong ride. We tried to take a short cut back but ended up doing 27.26 miles. I got home and face-planted it into the bed.
Matt and I met Thursday and duplicated the ride, but I added an extra jog to make it to a total of 30 miles. We got back to the parking lot and my odometer read 29.40 so I circled the parking lot until it clicked over 30 miles. Matt thought I was mad. The guys we'd helped with a flat tire in the woods probably thought I was a bit nuts, too. But you know, I can't say that I rode 30 miles unless I actually did. I felt dead after that ride, too.
This past Wednesday, uh, yesterday, we debated and decided to do the enduro ride again, vs. just trying to do a loop of the hard trails. We ended up doing two of the more difficult trails: Gator Bait and Heartbreak Ridge. I felt good most of the ride; I wasn't wiped at the end of the ride. I pushed hard at the end and still had something in the tank. I was actually feeling pretty good about my riding. A woo-hoo moment.
Matt and I met today and for some unknown reason decided to do enduro again. And we added Panther to the mix. I haven't posted my old long blog entry about my first encounters with Panther from my Myspace page, but I will soon. I've always been a weenie, and when I first started I had this wonderful woman try to help me through Panther. I think it was too early in my mountain biking career. I crashed hard, bled a lot, and have been wary of the trail since. I didn't make it through Panther clean today, but I did 99% of it and feel confident that I will be able to clear it soon. Just need to find some good lines.
Matt and I did the main trail to the hole in the fence (HITF) and back again. I was hurting and feeling the ride by the time I got to the HITF but somehow, stupidly, decided I needed to finish this ride. It was about at this time, 1/2 way through my ride, that my normally comfortable saddle started to feel like a seat of wood. Every root, every bump, it reverberated through my rear. I found some reserves, occasionally, but for the most part limped back to the car. We had a long rest at the Morris Bridge stop and I made it all the way back. Matt kept asking me if I wanted to stop and rest and I said no. I don't want to have to climb back onto my bike again. Just ride. My ass hurt; my ass still hurts. Don't know if I can I ask my massage therapist for a butt massage. Too embarrassing.
So, I feel good that we've made these epic (to me) rides. I've had a marvelous time in the woods with my friends. And I obviously don't have a trainer to give me a training plan. But in the overall goal of increasing fitness and riding ability, I will not do two days of long rides back to back.
There may be a day when a 30 mile ride is no longer long. I'll let you know.
Jen
Sunday, May 23, 2010
The Hold Steady- Orlando, FL 5.22.10 at The Social
I'm starting this post a little after 2 am. Just got home from the show. I was blown away. Have been thinking for hours how to articulate and explain a Hold Steady (THS) show. I don't know if I'm capable, but I'll try. (And I'll finish this later today after I sleep some.)
My buddy Adam, from my music listserv Postcard From Hell (PCFH) and his lovely wife, Beth, met me and he drove us to Orlando. We had an unremarkable Thai dinner and got to the venue a little after the doors opened, about 8:15. While standing in line I heard one of the bouncers say that the opening band wasn't going to hit the stage until 9:30. I was hoping I heard him wrong, but it turned out he was right. So, we had over an hour to stand around and chat.
I'm 5' tall, so I usually like to be right up front by the stage; otherwise I can't see what's going on. Even though we got there early, it was already five deep. One of my superpowers, however, is being able to maneuver myself into a place in front of the stage. By the time the opening band started, I was right up front, below where THS leader singer Craig Finn would spend most of the night.
They say politics makes strange bedfellows; you can say the same about music. We struck up a conversation with a guy behind us. He was from West Palm, his diminutive girlfriend was from Gainesville, and we exchanged insights into bands we liked. Adam and he got into a deep discussion about stuff, so I moved over and started talking to the next group over and met Matt from Tampa. I didn't catch his buddy's name. His buddy, a red-tank-top-wearing, unibrow, neanderthal-forehead-looking-walking-testosterone-ad had me worried, but he greeted me with a drunken smile. I moved away from them and met Jaden and his wife from Ocala, and Britt who'd flown down from Pittsburgh for the two shows. Beth moved up too and we hung together until the first band started right a little after 9:30.
I had been worried because Matt, his buddy, Jaden and Britt all looked like big guys. THS shows are not known for their campfire peace singalongs, but instead are known for their raucously loyal fans madly singing/screaming along, waving their arms wildly and pumping their fists, pogoing, dancing...in general, the shows are a rock-n-roll smack down. Why in the world I wanted to be smack dab in the middle of this madness I don't know, but as long as it's not too wild up front, that's where I like to be.
The guys behaved themselves during the opening act, Twin Tigers, from Athens. Probably because we were all struck mute by the shear wall of sound coming out of the speakers. I've been to some loud shows, but this has to be in the top 10. Even earplugs couldn't muffle it. And when it's that loud, you can't hear anything. Lyrics, melodies, all lost. The chick bass player did slow things down a bit when she sang, but the song she chose was a Bob Seger cover (really, WTF?) The only good thing I can say about Twin Tiger is their drummer was phenomenal. And he was phenomenally cute, too. No, make that drop dead gorgeous. All the girls up front were struck dumb, myself included. He was an incredibly intense drummer, he was pounding wildly, almost savagely, throughout their entire set, his arms flying and his hair flaying about. He went through a half dozen or more drum sticks, he just shredded them. I was thinking he should wear protective eye gear; you could see the bits of wood flying from the sticks and I was afraid one may spear his eye. As they left the stage, my new buddy Jaden called out, "Hey drummer dude, my wife thinks you're hot!" All the girls up front agreed.
We had another wait between stage changes. It was very orderly and precise. The placement of the monitors. The tuning of the instruments. The towels folded just so. Water brought out. Set lists carefully taped down (with everyone up front craning to see...Yay! They'd be opening the set with the opening track to their new record, Sweet Part of the City.) Beer bottles opened up and lined up. Adam had drifted to the back before the first band came, but Beth hung up front and we continued our conversation with Jaden and his wife, who was talking with all the guys around her, and Britt from PA. I was right up front, and their was an under 21 waif right next to me and her rather burly boyfriend. The anticipation was building.
I'd mentioned to Jaden that I was worried about being in the middle of a mosh pit, and he said, "Nah, don't worry about it, I can't see that happening." Well, it wasn't exactly a mosh pit, but when THS took the stage, their legion of fans responded how I expected. All crowding up to where Finn was doing his thing, center stage, raising their arms in support, and at the end of those arms many of the hands had beer, which of course sloshed all over everything, including my back and my head. Some of those bottles and elbows were making contact with my head as well. Beth and I were dancing along, laughing and dodging what we could. (It hurts but it's worth it.) It was a zillion degrees in the pit, with sweaty bodies bumping into each other as we danced and cavorted and swayed and shouted and sang and smiled along with the rock and roll greatness that is The Hold Steady.
After a while, though, I'd had enough, especially of unibrow. I grabbed Britt and wedged him between me and unibrow. When that didn't work, I asked him nicely to be my protector and he braced his two arms on the stage and I got between them and he acted as my shield. I was able to enjoy the show and not be bumped every 30 seconds.
How to describe front man Craig Finn? I was late to THS. PCFH had been raving about them for years and I'd thrown some stuff on my Ipod but I just didn't get it. What is it? Why does this guy keep singing about the same things over and over again? Why doesn't he sing, why does he just talk sing-song like? Why does he keep name dropping people and places. Who is Charlemange and St. Theresa and why should I care if Ybor City almost killed him? Then I got their last record and it just slayed me. It all clicked, it all made sense. I went back in their catalog and listened and now am a huge fan. These hopeless, hapless characters Finn writes about over and over again, they somehow find hope and sometimes redemption. So I finally got the songs.
But the front man, Finn. I've never seen anything like it. He's not exactly rock star god material. He looks like the guy who works in the mail room. Not particularly tall or handsome, he's got nerdy rectangular glasses, a receding hairline, and dressed in short sleeve, western snap button shirt. Not exactly a fashion plate. But when he gets on stage he's a bundle of energy and nerves. He breaks out all kinds of dancing styles, he interprets his lyrics with his emotions, he's sometimes twee, sometimes conspirator, sometimes gang leader, sometimes goof ball, sometimes preacher, sometimes disco queen, sometimes mad man. He was all that and more, a sweaty spastic. All I can say is I've never seen anything quite like it before.
The show was a little over an hour and a half and they didn't play nearly all my favorite songs. I'm tempted to go back to Orlando tonight but think I'll take it easy, instead, and bask in my memories.
Let me try to add a video here:
Jen
My buddy Adam, from my music listserv Postcard From Hell (PCFH) and his lovely wife, Beth, met me and he drove us to Orlando. We had an unremarkable Thai dinner and got to the venue a little after the doors opened, about 8:15. While standing in line I heard one of the bouncers say that the opening band wasn't going to hit the stage until 9:30. I was hoping I heard him wrong, but it turned out he was right. So, we had over an hour to stand around and chat.
I'm 5' tall, so I usually like to be right up front by the stage; otherwise I can't see what's going on. Even though we got there early, it was already five deep. One of my superpowers, however, is being able to maneuver myself into a place in front of the stage. By the time the opening band started, I was right up front, below where THS leader singer Craig Finn would spend most of the night.
They say politics makes strange bedfellows; you can say the same about music. We struck up a conversation with a guy behind us. He was from West Palm, his diminutive girlfriend was from Gainesville, and we exchanged insights into bands we liked. Adam and he got into a deep discussion about stuff, so I moved over and started talking to the next group over and met Matt from Tampa. I didn't catch his buddy's name. His buddy, a red-tank-top-wearing, unibrow, neanderthal-forehead-looking-walking-testosterone-ad had me worried, but he greeted me with a drunken smile. I moved away from them and met Jaden and his wife from Ocala, and Britt who'd flown down from Pittsburgh for the two shows. Beth moved up too and we hung together until the first band started right a little after 9:30.
I had been worried because Matt, his buddy, Jaden and Britt all looked like big guys. THS shows are not known for their campfire peace singalongs, but instead are known for their raucously loyal fans madly singing/screaming along, waving their arms wildly and pumping their fists, pogoing, dancing...in general, the shows are a rock-n-roll smack down. Why in the world I wanted to be smack dab in the middle of this madness I don't know, but as long as it's not too wild up front, that's where I like to be.
The guys behaved themselves during the opening act, Twin Tigers, from Athens. Probably because we were all struck mute by the shear wall of sound coming out of the speakers. I've been to some loud shows, but this has to be in the top 10. Even earplugs couldn't muffle it. And when it's that loud, you can't hear anything. Lyrics, melodies, all lost. The chick bass player did slow things down a bit when she sang, but the song she chose was a Bob Seger cover (really, WTF?) The only good thing I can say about Twin Tiger is their drummer was phenomenal. And he was phenomenally cute, too. No, make that drop dead gorgeous. All the girls up front were struck dumb, myself included. He was an incredibly intense drummer, he was pounding wildly, almost savagely, throughout their entire set, his arms flying and his hair flaying about. He went through a half dozen or more drum sticks, he just shredded them. I was thinking he should wear protective eye gear; you could see the bits of wood flying from the sticks and I was afraid one may spear his eye. As they left the stage, my new buddy Jaden called out, "Hey drummer dude, my wife thinks you're hot!" All the girls up front agreed.
We had another wait between stage changes. It was very orderly and precise. The placement of the monitors. The tuning of the instruments. The towels folded just so. Water brought out. Set lists carefully taped down (with everyone up front craning to see...Yay! They'd be opening the set with the opening track to their new record, Sweet Part of the City.) Beer bottles opened up and lined up. Adam had drifted to the back before the first band came, but Beth hung up front and we continued our conversation with Jaden and his wife, who was talking with all the guys around her, and Britt from PA. I was right up front, and their was an under 21 waif right next to me and her rather burly boyfriend. The anticipation was building.
I'd mentioned to Jaden that I was worried about being in the middle of a mosh pit, and he said, "Nah, don't worry about it, I can't see that happening." Well, it wasn't exactly a mosh pit, but when THS took the stage, their legion of fans responded how I expected. All crowding up to where Finn was doing his thing, center stage, raising their arms in support, and at the end of those arms many of the hands had beer, which of course sloshed all over everything, including my back and my head. Some of those bottles and elbows were making contact with my head as well. Beth and I were dancing along, laughing and dodging what we could. (It hurts but it's worth it.) It was a zillion degrees in the pit, with sweaty bodies bumping into each other as we danced and cavorted and swayed and shouted and sang and smiled along with the rock and roll greatness that is The Hold Steady.
After a while, though, I'd had enough, especially of unibrow. I grabbed Britt and wedged him between me and unibrow. When that didn't work, I asked him nicely to be my protector and he braced his two arms on the stage and I got between them and he acted as my shield. I was able to enjoy the show and not be bumped every 30 seconds.
How to describe front man Craig Finn? I was late to THS. PCFH had been raving about them for years and I'd thrown some stuff on my Ipod but I just didn't get it. What is it? Why does this guy keep singing about the same things over and over again? Why doesn't he sing, why does he just talk sing-song like? Why does he keep name dropping people and places. Who is Charlemange and St. Theresa and why should I care if Ybor City almost killed him? Then I got their last record and it just slayed me. It all clicked, it all made sense. I went back in their catalog and listened and now am a huge fan. These hopeless, hapless characters Finn writes about over and over again, they somehow find hope and sometimes redemption. So I finally got the songs.
But the front man, Finn. I've never seen anything like it. He's not exactly rock star god material. He looks like the guy who works in the mail room. Not particularly tall or handsome, he's got nerdy rectangular glasses, a receding hairline, and dressed in short sleeve, western snap button shirt. Not exactly a fashion plate. But when he gets on stage he's a bundle of energy and nerves. He breaks out all kinds of dancing styles, he interprets his lyrics with his emotions, he's sometimes twee, sometimes conspirator, sometimes gang leader, sometimes goof ball, sometimes preacher, sometimes disco queen, sometimes mad man. He was all that and more, a sweaty spastic. All I can say is I've never seen anything quite like it before.
The show was a little over an hour and a half and they didn't play nearly all my favorite songs. I'm tempted to go back to Orlando tonight but think I'll take it easy, instead, and bask in my memories.
Let me try to add a video here:
Jen
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Roadies
Met Matt at Flatwoods for an early ride today. He had to hurry to hit his bootcamp class before he went to work. Have I mentioned he's nuts? Anyway, he doesn't have a road bike. He put fat slicks on what was his first mountain bike that's he's since replaced with a full suspension sweet ride but he's now using it for a commuter bike. Anyway, as strong as he is, he can't push that bike too fast for too long, so we had a nice paced ride but didn't push ourselves.
We're tooling along on the backstretch and we both hear a rather loud whistle coming out of the woods. We look off to our right and don't see anything, so we continue chatting. We hear another, then another. I thought it odd, cause I'd assumed it was runners in the woods trying to collect their group, but why was it keeping up with us. I finally heard a group of riders behind us. I veered off as close to the edge to the right as I could, and Matt went to the left. There was a wide area for them to slip through. A mouthy woman was giving instructions, telling Matt that the proper thing to do was to go off to the right. There were five of them I think, and they whisked on by.
I got pretty pissed. I've been riding at Flatwoods for, what, five years now? Longer? I've never been whistled at to pass. A hearty and loud "ON YOUR LEFT!" is sufficient to get my attention. I mean, I'm not your fucking dog. I've run into some pretty rude toadies, uh, I mean roadies in my time, but this really takes the cake.
They lapped us again, it's inevitable when we're tooling along at 15 mph and they're doing 20 something. I hear the whistle again. Matt makes a grand gesture and tells them to pass in French. The head guy pulls beside me and I sort of wobble. The mouthy woman demands, icily, "What are you doing?" as I stray from the right side of the path to the middle, I tell the guy, with what I hope is good humor:
"I'm not your dog, you don't have to whistle. An 'on your left' would be fine."
He said, "I did say it, you didn't hear me."
Bullshit.
The lady at the end of their group, now down to four, smiled at me as she passed. Don't know if it was in derision of me or sympathy with my point of view. And off they went. I was still kinda cranky about it, but glad I addressed it without using the 'f' word, or escalating it into a confrontation, which was an accomplishment. Because really, in my heart of hearts, throwing tacks in their path crossed my mind.
Matt and I passed a group of three that had been in the parking lot the same time I was getting ready. I asked them, "Did you get whistled at, too?"
One of the women answered, "Yes, and it's 'cause we're sooooo hot!"
Matt and I cracked up. I thanked her for her perspective. What a way to put a positive spin on the situation. Instead of getting pissed, like I did, this delightful woman found a way to see the humor in it.
Jen
We're tooling along on the backstretch and we both hear a rather loud whistle coming out of the woods. We look off to our right and don't see anything, so we continue chatting. We hear another, then another. I thought it odd, cause I'd assumed it was runners in the woods trying to collect their group, but why was it keeping up with us. I finally heard a group of riders behind us. I veered off as close to the edge to the right as I could, and Matt went to the left. There was a wide area for them to slip through. A mouthy woman was giving instructions, telling Matt that the proper thing to do was to go off to the right. There were five of them I think, and they whisked on by.
I got pretty pissed. I've been riding at Flatwoods for, what, five years now? Longer? I've never been whistled at to pass. A hearty and loud "ON YOUR LEFT!" is sufficient to get my attention. I mean, I'm not your fucking dog. I've run into some pretty rude toadies, uh, I mean roadies in my time, but this really takes the cake.
They lapped us again, it's inevitable when we're tooling along at 15 mph and they're doing 20 something. I hear the whistle again. Matt makes a grand gesture and tells them to pass in French. The head guy pulls beside me and I sort of wobble. The mouthy woman demands, icily, "What are you doing?" as I stray from the right side of the path to the middle, I tell the guy, with what I hope is good humor:
"I'm not your dog, you don't have to whistle. An 'on your left' would be fine."
He said, "I did say it, you didn't hear me."
Bullshit.
The lady at the end of their group, now down to four, smiled at me as she passed. Don't know if it was in derision of me or sympathy with my point of view. And off they went. I was still kinda cranky about it, but glad I addressed it without using the 'f' word, or escalating it into a confrontation, which was an accomplishment. Because really, in my heart of hearts, throwing tacks in their path crossed my mind.
Matt and I passed a group of three that had been in the parking lot the same time I was getting ready. I asked them, "Did you get whistled at, too?"
One of the women answered, "Yes, and it's 'cause we're sooooo hot!"
Matt and I cracked up. I thanked her for her perspective. What a way to put a positive spin on the situation. Instead of getting pissed, like I did, this delightful woman found a way to see the humor in it.
Jen
Blueberries
As I mentioned a few days ago, it is not easy to keep up with this thing all the time. I want to. I've got two half written entries just hanging in cyber space, waiting to be finished, destined not to be.
But I must tell you about my most excellent day.
My friend Cindy went blueberry picking years ago and brought me her excess. I've been planning on going since then, but it has not worked out until this year. Cindy had a day off work, so we planned a blueberry day. We asked lots of peeps but in the end it was me and Cindy and Heather and Nancy. Heather drove us in her big ass pick up truck; we headed out a little after 9.
Cindy had done the research and found us a place to pick. $3 a lb, or $15 for a 6-7 lb bucket. We headed out with a big bucket tied around our necks and commenced to blueberry picking. The owner said to eat what we wanted. What didn't get picked would go to waste. The price had dropped so low because the berries in Florida came in late due to the cold winter weather. The blueberries in GA and NC were ready and they couldn't sell theirs for a profit. Believe me, we ate like black bears while we were picking.
We pick for an hour or so. Cindy gets two buckets, the rest of us get one and 1/3. That was the fun part. But once you pick them, you have to do something with them.
After a few stops along the way, we end up back at my house around 1 o'clock, famished. Cindy headed home, and Nancy brought out the goodies she had brought. An excellent gouda cheese, some roasted veggies, a veggie pate, and some crackers. I dragged out the chicken salad I had made from the chicken left over from the night before, and I opened the nice bottle of Zin that Nancy had brought. We feasted while we worked.
Heather had to head home, but Nancy and I nibbled and sipped and rinsed all of the berries. Somewhere between 15-18 pounds or berries. That's a lot of berries. And we made two batches of preserves. One a blueberry marmalade and one straight blueberry. Ended up with nine 12 ounce jars filled with sweet gooey goodness.
It was a great day. It was a great way to spend a day.
Jen
But I must tell you about my most excellent day.
My friend Cindy went blueberry picking years ago and brought me her excess. I've been planning on going since then, but it has not worked out until this year. Cindy had a day off work, so we planned a blueberry day. We asked lots of peeps but in the end it was me and Cindy and Heather and Nancy. Heather drove us in her big ass pick up truck; we headed out a little after 9.
Cindy had done the research and found us a place to pick. $3 a lb, or $15 for a 6-7 lb bucket. We headed out with a big bucket tied around our necks and commenced to blueberry picking. The owner said to eat what we wanted. What didn't get picked would go to waste. The price had dropped so low because the berries in Florida came in late due to the cold winter weather. The blueberries in GA and NC were ready and they couldn't sell theirs for a profit. Believe me, we ate like black bears while we were picking.
We pick for an hour or so. Cindy gets two buckets, the rest of us get one and 1/3. That was the fun part. But once you pick them, you have to do something with them.
After a few stops along the way, we end up back at my house around 1 o'clock, famished. Cindy headed home, and Nancy brought out the goodies she had brought. An excellent gouda cheese, some roasted veggies, a veggie pate, and some crackers. I dragged out the chicken salad I had made from the chicken left over from the night before, and I opened the nice bottle of Zin that Nancy had brought. We feasted while we worked.
Heather had to head home, but Nancy and I nibbled and sipped and rinsed all of the berries. Somewhere between 15-18 pounds or berries. That's a lot of berries. And we made two batches of preserves. One a blueberry marmalade and one straight blueberry. Ended up with nine 12 ounce jars filled with sweet gooey goodness.
It was a great day. It was a great way to spend a day.
Jen
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Haul from Sunshine Thrift Store 1/2 price on clothing sale
The Sunshine Thrift Store has their monthly 1/2 price on clothing sale usually the second Thursday of every month. My friend, Bev, and I usually go together on a marathon shopping spree there about once every other month. We have our shopping down to a science.
First, we dress in tight fitting clothes. I've got a pair of what I would have called biking shorts before I started biking. They're black, tight, come down almost to my knees. (no chamois, that would be really awkward) A tight fitted tank top of top. Then I put my regular clothes over that.
Whoever gets there first grabs a cart (waiting for someone in line to pay and ask for theirs) and heads to a specific location. Today I got there first, around 9:15, and started in the kid's section. My oldest son's eighth grade graduation is in a few weeks and he needs a nice outfit for that. Since he's graduating eighth grade, it only makes sense that he is starting high school in August. He's worn a uniform to school since kindergarten, so I'm trying to bring him home some things he'll like and think are cool. I found quite a few things for him.
Bev arrives and we spend time there, in the housewares section, where I grab one of about 10 George Foreman grills for $3, and a set of vintage bar glasses (for consignment) for .40 each.
I need some shorts since I've (ahem) grown lately. Also wanted to get an outfit for Tropical Heatwave this Saturday night. We go through the racks, pull something that looks promising, and throw it in the cart. I hit the wall at 11:30. I was hungry and we still had to sort all that we had piled in the cart.
That's where the tight fitting clothes part comes in handy. I take off my top layer and try on the clothes by a mirror in the back. There are only 2 dressing rooms and the line for them is long. While Bev and I were doing that, we were talking with some fellow shoppers and they commented on how clever we were. (I'm clever like the Doctor.) I got a hand basket to put the clothes in that I wanted, folded nice and neatly so the price tag is showing, making the cashier extremely grateful.
So here's what I ended up with:
2 pair of capris
5 pair of shorts (I know, really???)
1 skirt
2 dressy blouses (1 of which combines with the skirt above to make up my Heatwave outfit)
3 tshirts
1 long sleeve tshirt
1 long sleeve boy's dress shirt
2 technical t's for riding or running
2 pair boy's jeans
1 pair men's jeans
2 pair boy's pants
1 small George Foreman's grill1 black velvet cocktail dress (w/ crinoline)
1 chinese silk jacket
4 vintage bar glasses (these last 3 items are for consignment)
Total tab $51. Less than you'd pay for a pair of jeans in the mall. I rock. Bev rocks. Sunshine Thrift Store rocks.
Jen
First, we dress in tight fitting clothes. I've got a pair of what I would have called biking shorts before I started biking. They're black, tight, come down almost to my knees. (no chamois, that would be really awkward) A tight fitted tank top of top. Then I put my regular clothes over that.
Whoever gets there first grabs a cart (waiting for someone in line to pay and ask for theirs) and heads to a specific location. Today I got there first, around 9:15, and started in the kid's section. My oldest son's eighth grade graduation is in a few weeks and he needs a nice outfit for that. Since he's graduating eighth grade, it only makes sense that he is starting high school in August. He's worn a uniform to school since kindergarten, so I'm trying to bring him home some things he'll like and think are cool. I found quite a few things for him.
Bev arrives and we spend time there, in the housewares section, where I grab one of about 10 George Foreman grills for $3, and a set of vintage bar glasses (for consignment) for .40 each.
I need some shorts since I've (ahem) grown lately. Also wanted to get an outfit for Tropical Heatwave this Saturday night. We go through the racks, pull something that looks promising, and throw it in the cart. I hit the wall at 11:30. I was hungry and we still had to sort all that we had piled in the cart.
That's where the tight fitting clothes part comes in handy. I take off my top layer and try on the clothes by a mirror in the back. There are only 2 dressing rooms and the line for them is long. While Bev and I were doing that, we were talking with some fellow shoppers and they commented on how clever we were. (I'm clever like the Doctor.) I got a hand basket to put the clothes in that I wanted, folded nice and neatly so the price tag is showing, making the cashier extremely grateful.
So here's what I ended up with:
2 pair of capris
5 pair of shorts (I know, really???)
1 skirt
2 dressy blouses (1 of which combines with the skirt above to make up my Heatwave outfit)
3 tshirts
1 long sleeve tshirt
1 long sleeve boy's dress shirt
2 technical t's for riding or running
2 pair boy's jeans
1 pair men's jeans
2 pair boy's pants
1 small George Foreman's grill1 black velvet cocktail dress (w/ crinoline)
1 chinese silk jacket
4 vintage bar glasses (these last 3 items are for consignment)
Total tab $51. Less than you'd pay for a pair of jeans in the mall. I rock. Bev rocks. Sunshine Thrift Store rocks.
Jen
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Gung-ho
I started out this thing a few weeks ago, writing something I hoped was entertaining, even if just for me. I was trying to write just about every other day. I was hoping my posts were a bit entertaining, engaging, maybe even funny, with a few pithy comments thrown in here or there.
It's hard to do this all the time. So I will say that my admiration has grown for those who have a full time blog, with a cadre of followers. It's hard to deliver, day after day.
Think about it.
A writer of fiction, whether it be novels or short stories: the time line between production (of proffered work) and induction (reading) of same can be quite lengthy. There are editors involved. And rewrites. And editors. And rewrites.
A painter can spend years (or maybe months/weeks/days or hours) on a canvas but there is still a time lag between the artist putting paint to canvas and the canvas being shown/appreciated. There can be representatives involved, who tell the artist which pieces should be shown. (Whether it's the spouse or a paid agent.)
A songwriter has an idea, and it can emerge in a flash or a song can develop over years, but it still takes time to get from idea/inspiration to audience. Most releases have producers, who do the editing function.
I can make the same analogy with filmmakers, writers who publish articles in magazines, even the people who work so hard to publish their church bulletins. There is a delay between thought, product (not the right word but want one to encompass all forms of expression) and reception by the audience. An in a lot of cases, there is a middleman who has given some input/constructive criticism.
But blogs are different. You write your thoughts down, hit enter, and it's out there. (Of course, if you're like me, you don't have much of an audience so you don't need to worry about disappointing anyone.)
This is new to me. So, if you're reading, please be patient with me through my explorations. My thought processes.
My inspiration is the Fat Cyclist:
http://www.fatcyclist.com/
If you have some spare time, I recommend starting with his 'Top Posts' section and go from there. He's a blogger that I follow religiously. I'm sure I'll refer to him often.
The point is, after doing this for a whopping two weeks, I just need to say that I admire those who can do this on a very regular basis. Trying to create something that people look forward to reading....hmmm...it's ..OMG.. it might become work instead of fun. But right now it is still fun. And right now very few folks are reading, so it all works out. And trying to be good/creative/fun with only myself to edit my ramblings, yeah, that is a challenge.
Jennifer
It's hard to do this all the time. So I will say that my admiration has grown for those who have a full time blog, with a cadre of followers. It's hard to deliver, day after day.
Think about it.
A writer of fiction, whether it be novels or short stories: the time line between production (of proffered work) and induction (reading) of same can be quite lengthy. There are editors involved. And rewrites. And editors. And rewrites.
A painter can spend years (or maybe months/weeks/days or hours) on a canvas but there is still a time lag between the artist putting paint to canvas and the canvas being shown/appreciated. There can be representatives involved, who tell the artist which pieces should be shown. (Whether it's the spouse or a paid agent.)
A songwriter has an idea, and it can emerge in a flash or a song can develop over years, but it still takes time to get from idea/inspiration to audience. Most releases have producers, who do the editing function.
I can make the same analogy with filmmakers, writers who publish articles in magazines, even the people who work so hard to publish their church bulletins. There is a delay between thought, product (not the right word but want one to encompass all forms of expression) and reception by the audience. An in a lot of cases, there is a middleman who has given some input/constructive criticism.
But blogs are different. You write your thoughts down, hit enter, and it's out there. (Of course, if you're like me, you don't have much of an audience so you don't need to worry about disappointing anyone.)
This is new to me. So, if you're reading, please be patient with me through my explorations. My thought processes.
My inspiration is the Fat Cyclist:
http://www.fatcyclist.com/
If you have some spare time, I recommend starting with his 'Top Posts' section and go from there. He's a blogger that I follow religiously. I'm sure I'll refer to him often.
The point is, after doing this for a whopping two weeks, I just need to say that I admire those who can do this on a very regular basis. Trying to create something that people look forward to reading....hmmm...it's ..OMG.. it might become work instead of fun. But right now it is still fun. And right now very few folks are reading, so it all works out. And trying to be good/creative/fun with only myself to edit my ramblings, yeah, that is a challenge.
Jennifer
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Mrs. May's Trio bars
I don't consider myself an advocate for many products. I have, really, very few brands I'm loyal to. I'm a marketer's nightmare (I can claim that proudly; my BBA degree is in Marketing.) Let me see if I can think of a few things that I hold so dear that I would not consider switching brands.
...pause while I open up fridge and pantry.....
OK, here's my list...and I think you will conclude, that for the most part, I'm price driven, not brand driven. I will buy a generic product before the brand product if I perceive the quality is equal.
Pop-tarts (store brand didn't pass the kid muster)
Hellman's mayonnaise. (hands down the best. reduced fat version is great as well)
Heinz ketchup. Kids probably can't tell the difference but on the rare times I use ketchup it makes a difference to me.
Uncle Ben's Long Grain and Wild Rice
Good Season's Italian Salad Dressing Mix
Gatorade powder mix
Publix Mac and Cheese
Cape Cod Sea Salt and Vinegar Potato Chips (though I'm trying to avoid them)
Organic Valley milk. OMG the absolute best thing to ever hit the shelves. I didn't drink milk growing up, I thought it was gross. Then hit my teens and found the 'good with sweets' connection, then the 'good with breakfast' connection. I've been a milk drinker since. When I was pregnant with my first child, I craved milk. I wanted to be showered/bathed in milk. I had dreams of buckets of milk being dumped over my swollen, pregnant body. (OK, oversharing here, sorry.) Only drink it now once or twice a week, usually with breakfast. The point is, Organic Valley milk is just fabulous. Their whole milk tastes like cream, the 2% milk tastes like whole milk, and their skim milk tastes like 2% milk. Color me impressed. (Listening to the radio archives and that song, by The Replacements, was just playing. How fitting.)
And the whole point of this post: Mrs. May's Trio bars. I can't wax enthusiastic enough.
Where do I begin?
To tell the story of how great a love can be?
(if you don't recognize the lyrics, that's the theme to Love Story)
I've bought a variety of bars since I've been riding. Really, after an hour of hard riding, you need something if you plan to ride another hour or more. So I've experimented around. I tried the Clif bars, Nature Valley, Gu, Power Bars, etc. I know I need to add fuel on a long ride, but most of these things are inedible, to me. The Kashi bars were exceptionally unpalatable. (An aside: I put the Kashi bars that I couldn't bear to consume in my glove box. My plan was to give them to the homeless guys who have the 'HUNGRY' signs. I don't have money to give them, but I try to keep something in the car to give them to assuage my guilt. My husband had tried one of the Kashi bars and quipped: That's a great idea, honey. You give one of those bars to those guys, and the next time they see your car they'll take off....'oh, no, it's the Kashi lady!' You won't be bothered by those guys again!)
On an impulse I bought a box of Trio bars at BJs. It says 3 nuts, 3 seeds and 3 fruits. No additives, no cholesterol, no preservatives, no gluten, dairy, wheat, or gmo. Kosher. Anyway, none of that matters if it doesn't taste good. And, my god, this bar does. It is a treat. Yes, it is higher in calories than other bars, but they are nutritious calories. When I'm on a group ride I try to break off a piece to share with someone. Converts, all. We're spreading the word. Just wish I could get a commission.
I've seen them at Sweetbay and at BJ's and at Amazon. If you work out hard and need a snack break, I think you'll be happy with a Trio.
Mrs. May's Trio bars. One of the best things, ever.
...pause while I open up fridge and pantry.....
OK, here's my list...and I think you will conclude, that for the most part, I'm price driven, not brand driven. I will buy a generic product before the brand product if I perceive the quality is equal.
Pop-tarts (store brand didn't pass the kid muster)
Hellman's mayonnaise. (hands down the best. reduced fat version is great as well)
Heinz ketchup. Kids probably can't tell the difference but on the rare times I use ketchup it makes a difference to me.
Uncle Ben's Long Grain and Wild Rice
Good Season's Italian Salad Dressing Mix
Gatorade powder mix
Publix Mac and Cheese
Cape Cod Sea Salt and Vinegar Potato Chips (though I'm trying to avoid them)
Organic Valley milk. OMG the absolute best thing to ever hit the shelves. I didn't drink milk growing up, I thought it was gross. Then hit my teens and found the 'good with sweets' connection, then the 'good with breakfast' connection. I've been a milk drinker since. When I was pregnant with my first child, I craved milk. I wanted to be showered/bathed in milk. I had dreams of buckets of milk being dumped over my swollen, pregnant body. (OK, oversharing here, sorry.) Only drink it now once or twice a week, usually with breakfast. The point is, Organic Valley milk is just fabulous. Their whole milk tastes like cream, the 2% milk tastes like whole milk, and their skim milk tastes like 2% milk. Color me impressed. (Listening to the radio archives and that song, by The Replacements, was just playing. How fitting.)
And the whole point of this post: Mrs. May's Trio bars. I can't wax enthusiastic enough.
Where do I begin?
To tell the story of how great a love can be?
(if you don't recognize the lyrics, that's the theme to Love Story)
I've bought a variety of bars since I've been riding. Really, after an hour of hard riding, you need something if you plan to ride another hour or more. So I've experimented around. I tried the Clif bars, Nature Valley, Gu, Power Bars, etc. I know I need to add fuel on a long ride, but most of these things are inedible, to me. The Kashi bars were exceptionally unpalatable. (An aside: I put the Kashi bars that I couldn't bear to consume in my glove box. My plan was to give them to the homeless guys who have the 'HUNGRY' signs. I don't have money to give them, but I try to keep something in the car to give them to assuage my guilt. My husband had tried one of the Kashi bars and quipped: That's a great idea, honey. You give one of those bars to those guys, and the next time they see your car they'll take off....'oh, no, it's the Kashi lady!' You won't be bothered by those guys again!)
On an impulse I bought a box of Trio bars at BJs. It says 3 nuts, 3 seeds and 3 fruits. No additives, no cholesterol, no preservatives, no gluten, dairy, wheat, or gmo. Kosher. Anyway, none of that matters if it doesn't taste good. And, my god, this bar does. It is a treat. Yes, it is higher in calories than other bars, but they are nutritious calories. When I'm on a group ride I try to break off a piece to share with someone. Converts, all. We're spreading the word. Just wish I could get a commission.
I've seen them at Sweetbay and at BJ's and at Amazon. If you work out hard and need a snack break, I think you'll be happy with a Trio.
Mrs. May's Trio bars. One of the best things, ever.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Coconut Grove and Techno Pig are now my bitches
Really. I rode them today, and hard.
OK, actually I made it through both of the trails cleanly today, for the first time.
In truth, I may have made it through TP last year one time cleanly, but that was before Squiggy when I crashed two times on the trail, thus erasing any perceived triumphs.
Don't know what got in to me today. Had planned to meet (OK, have to give these peeps names until I can get their permission to talk about them on my blog) Konaguy but that didn't work out so I had another solo ride. You know, I think I need to plan at least one solo ride a week. I've made great progress lately by myself. Why, oh why I can't try the tough stuff with someone around.....??? My mind is a mystery to me. I enjoy riding with someone, but I really like riding alone, too. Just me, my bike, my Ipod and I'm good to go. Well, gatorade and a snack, too.
Some of my friends give me grief for riding alone, but I feel perfectly safe at Wilderness Park. I've got the ranger's help line phone number in my cell phone. I've got some of the ranger's personal cell phone numbers in my phone. If I run into trouble, I can also call 911. And if I crash funny and break my neck, then I will die doing something I love. Don't think you can ask more out of a premature death. And out of all the years I've been riding (not that long, really..but) I've never felt intimidated or threatened.
OK, so back to me conquering the more difficult trails.
I've not been writing this blog thing for very long, but I think I've made it clear what a wuss I am. Some people hop on a bike and within months they're ready to join the pro circuit. HWWR comes to mind. My progress comes slowly, really slowly. (Or should that be slow, really slow?? Don't have a grammar editor here.)
The last time I tried to ride Coconut Grove was probably a year and a half ago. The sign at the entry says 'VERY DIFFICULT TRAIL' and that is enough to freak me out. Makes my heart pump faster and my breathing accelerate so that I'm sucking air. It's a short trail, with about three or so challenging sections. The last time I tried it I was, again, the horse refusing the jump. I can look at the trail and realize in my heart of hearts that it is very do-able, but that doesn't make me able to get my bike over that tough section of terrain.
After trying five times and being near tears of fear and frustration and embarrassment, I walked my bike the rest of the trail and have been too afraid/intimidated/embarrassed to try it again. I've run the trail a few times and said to myself, 'Yes, I can do this!' but, until today, have not had the courage to try it.
So, I'm not sure why I veered my bike to that trail today instead of taking the double track Bayshore around. 1) I was by myself. 2) There was no one else around. 3) It wasn't too hot. 4)???? I vaguely remember thinking to myself as I headed in that let's just see what we can do. The hurdle that stopped me the last time I tried (you approach then take a fairly sharp left turn over a log...you can't get over the easier side because there's another log hanging out over the trail...then after that you've got to take another left cut) I just sailed over today. I realize, after my log jumping the other day, that it was no big deal. Really, it's smaller than a lot of the tree roots on the trail. And after that there are some nasty palmetto roots to either thread through or go over. Think I got up on the pedals and muscled over them. That's all it takes, really. So, I was feeling pretty good about myself after finally, FINALLY, nailing Coconut Grove.
By now, the sun was up and the temperature was rising, and the humidity was already up. I swear, it's the first week of May but it could be July. So not fair, going from Winter to Summer without much of a Spring.
Was working on going faster and not braking through the corners ( but of course I did) and somehow ended up at the entrance of Techno Pig, so I went in. The start of the trail (from South to North) has got some of those really sharp turns that have me braking and going down to 6 mph to get through them. S turns, you know? So I got through them, slowly. (Uh, had fallen at one of those turns just last month.) Then there are the series of palmetto roots. Most of them are no big deal. Just gotta get some speed up to get over them. But at the end there is a fairly long series of palmetto roots followed by a big root. In the past, the colt on me has refused the jump, but today I saw it and just decided to hammer it. I did and I cleared that big root. And it gave me hope. Maybe I can get better. Maybe I won't be too embarrassed to go on group rides because I can't keep up or am too scared to hit the tough trails.
I've got a long way to go. Some of the difficult trails that I've conquered in the past have been closed for awhile due to the rain. I haven't ridden Indian or Gatorbait for awhile. So I'll need to work up my courage for those once they are open. And Panther. I've made it through that just one time, North to South. It's open but muddy so I'm waiting for a fresh batch of courage for that one.
But, as of today, I've successfully ridden all the trails in the Wilderness Park Trail System.
woo-hoo
np: Liz Phair 'Ride' ...oh, how appropriate
OK, actually I made it through both of the trails cleanly today, for the first time.
In truth, I may have made it through TP last year one time cleanly, but that was before Squiggy when I crashed two times on the trail, thus erasing any perceived triumphs.
Don't know what got in to me today. Had planned to meet (OK, have to give these peeps names until I can get their permission to talk about them on my blog) Konaguy but that didn't work out so I had another solo ride. You know, I think I need to plan at least one solo ride a week. I've made great progress lately by myself. Why, oh why I can't try the tough stuff with someone around.....??? My mind is a mystery to me. I enjoy riding with someone, but I really like riding alone, too. Just me, my bike, my Ipod and I'm good to go. Well, gatorade and a snack, too.
Some of my friends give me grief for riding alone, but I feel perfectly safe at Wilderness Park. I've got the ranger's help line phone number in my cell phone. I've got some of the ranger's personal cell phone numbers in my phone. If I run into trouble, I can also call 911. And if I crash funny and break my neck, then I will die doing something I love. Don't think you can ask more out of a premature death. And out of all the years I've been riding (not that long, really..but) I've never felt intimidated or threatened.
OK, so back to me conquering the more difficult trails.
I've not been writing this blog thing for very long, but I think I've made it clear what a wuss I am. Some people hop on a bike and within months they're ready to join the pro circuit. HWWR comes to mind. My progress comes slowly, really slowly. (Or should that be slow, really slow?? Don't have a grammar editor here.)
The last time I tried to ride Coconut Grove was probably a year and a half ago. The sign at the entry says 'VERY DIFFICULT TRAIL' and that is enough to freak me out. Makes my heart pump faster and my breathing accelerate so that I'm sucking air. It's a short trail, with about three or so challenging sections. The last time I tried it I was, again, the horse refusing the jump. I can look at the trail and realize in my heart of hearts that it is very do-able, but that doesn't make me able to get my bike over that tough section of terrain.
After trying five times and being near tears of fear and frustration and embarrassment, I walked my bike the rest of the trail and have been too afraid/intimidated/embarrassed to try it again. I've run the trail a few times and said to myself, 'Yes, I can do this!' but, until today, have not had the courage to try it.
So, I'm not sure why I veered my bike to that trail today instead of taking the double track Bayshore around. 1) I was by myself. 2) There was no one else around. 3) It wasn't too hot. 4)???? I vaguely remember thinking to myself as I headed in that let's just see what we can do. The hurdle that stopped me the last time I tried (you approach then take a fairly sharp left turn over a log...you can't get over the easier side because there's another log hanging out over the trail...then after that you've got to take another left cut) I just sailed over today. I realize, after my log jumping the other day, that it was no big deal. Really, it's smaller than a lot of the tree roots on the trail. And after that there are some nasty palmetto roots to either thread through or go over. Think I got up on the pedals and muscled over them. That's all it takes, really. So, I was feeling pretty good about myself after finally, FINALLY, nailing Coconut Grove.
By now, the sun was up and the temperature was rising, and the humidity was already up. I swear, it's the first week of May but it could be July. So not fair, going from Winter to Summer without much of a Spring.
Was working on going faster and not braking through the corners ( but of course I did) and somehow ended up at the entrance of Techno Pig, so I went in. The start of the trail (from South to North) has got some of those really sharp turns that have me braking and going down to 6 mph to get through them. S turns, you know? So I got through them, slowly. (Uh, had fallen at one of those turns just last month.) Then there are the series of palmetto roots. Most of them are no big deal. Just gotta get some speed up to get over them. But at the end there is a fairly long series of palmetto roots followed by a big root. In the past, the colt on me has refused the jump, but today I saw it and just decided to hammer it. I did and I cleared that big root. And it gave me hope. Maybe I can get better. Maybe I won't be too embarrassed to go on group rides because I can't keep up or am too scared to hit the tough trails.
I've got a long way to go. Some of the difficult trails that I've conquered in the past have been closed for awhile due to the rain. I haven't ridden Indian or Gatorbait for awhile. So I'll need to work up my courage for those once they are open. And Panther. I've made it through that just one time, North to South. It's open but muddy so I'm waiting for a fresh batch of courage for that one.
But, as of today, I've successfully ridden all the trails in the Wilderness Park Trail System.
woo-hoo
np: Liz Phair 'Ride' ...oh, how appropriate
Monday, May 3, 2010
Dreams
I've always had vivid dreams and nightmares. I can still remember some of the horrible nightmares I had as a child; they usually involved beasts with sharp teeth chasing me and wanting to eat me. They had usually already eaten my family.
As a programmer on WMNF for the past 20 years, I've had my share of dead air nightmares. The are universal amongst programmers; every one I've asked has experienced them. The theme usually involves dead air. There is some...thing preventing me from getting a song on the air. I'm locked out of the air studio, I can't find anything to play, I've already played all the CDs, I can't get the equipment to work, I can't get the CD to cue up. Last week, right before marathon, my dream had people coming in and out of the studio while I had the mike open, talking, laughing and joking, banging the door, as if the air studio was any other room in the building. The list is endless of the things that have gone wrong in my dreams about me being on air. I guess it's a variation of the naked dream.
So it was refreshing to have a good dream about me being on my bike. It was Friday night, after I had successfully jumped the log. I dreamt I was in the mountains, and I made the climbs and descents without any problems, and I felt myself pedal through a rocky mountain stream. It wasn't a long dream and I don't remember much of it, but it was nice to wake up to a positive vibe vs. a negative one.
As a programmer on WMNF for the past 20 years, I've had my share of dead air nightmares. The are universal amongst programmers; every one I've asked has experienced them. The theme usually involves dead air. There is some...thing preventing me from getting a song on the air. I'm locked out of the air studio, I can't find anything to play, I've already played all the CDs, I can't get the equipment to work, I can't get the CD to cue up. Last week, right before marathon, my dream had people coming in and out of the studio while I had the mike open, talking, laughing and joking, banging the door, as if the air studio was any other room in the building. The list is endless of the things that have gone wrong in my dreams about me being on air. I guess it's a variation of the naked dream.
So it was refreshing to have a good dream about me being on my bike. It was Friday night, after I had successfully jumped the log. I dreamt I was in the mountains, and I made the climbs and descents without any problems, and I felt myself pedal through a rocky mountain stream. It wasn't a long dream and I don't remember much of it, but it was nice to wake up to a positive vibe vs. a negative one.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Baby steps
I've been riding a mountain bike for a little over two years now. Yep, I just re-upped my SWAMP membership for the third year. I have a road bike and was riding that a lot up at Flatwoods. I didn't even know what fat tire meant. I ran into some people who kept telling me how much fun it was. I had a hybrid at the time and finally took in on a trail. Squiggy was the first one I went on. I thought, man this is great fun. Then I tried Panther (sign going in saying Very Difficult Trail) and said huh-uh, this is not for me.
The point is that I'm a chicken. Squawk, squawk. I'm not particularly interested in the tough stuff. I've had enough bad falls as it is, I don't want to invite trouble, you know? I took the 'Intro to Mountain Biking' class right after I started riding off-road, and I'm sure they thought they'd never see me again. I was too scared to do the dips, the really big palmetto roots struck fear in my heart, and I wasn't brave enough to try to jump a small log. I remember running into the instructor a few months later and he said, "Oh, yeah, you're the woman who wouldn't try anything." I wear my weenie mantle with pride.
But that doesn't mean I don't want to improve. I do. I want to be a better rider. I have improved....slowly. When I first started riding, my buddy John told me I'd be one day barreling over a section of roots like it was nothing. And he was right. Things that used to terrify me don't anymore. Things I used to walk my bike over I can clear with ease. But considering how little it takes to intimidate me on the trail, uh, that's not saying much. No, no, I'm not trying to put myself down; I'm trying to be realistic. I've come a long way, baby, but I've got a long was to go, too.
I've got a bad case of the nerves. Fears, neuroses, whatever you want to call it, I got it bad. Oh, and they're selective, too. One bridge I can't do, another one, exactly the same, I can. One dip with a rooty out is no problem, the next one will stop me cold. And I'm my own worst enemy. A year ago, someone said to me, in exasperation, "Jennifer, what is wrong with you?" I'm sure she didn't mean it to become a catchphrase that I flagellate my self with, but alas, it has. I can't turn off the negative tapes that loop in my head, no matter how hard I try.
So, the other day, HWWR and I were riding along and there was a probably 4" log in the path. No big deal, I should be able to clear it with ease. NOT. Like a horse refusing a jump, I just stopped cold. I approached it about three times before I said 'forget it', and apologized profusely for my idiocy. HWWR kindly dragged the log off the trail and we continued the ride. (HWWR is a kind fellow.) I can't do the hard stuff with other people watching, no matter how friendly, nice or kind they are.
It is an internal battle. I want to get better, but if I'm all worked up and afraid then I'm not having fun and what's the point in that?
So when I went out yesterday, I decided to try jumping logs. After all, there was no one else around (to judge or condemn me.) I found a place on a double track that had lots of fallen branches around. At first I set up 3 fairly small ones and practiced on those. No problem. Then I found a bigger log, bigger than the one I had refused the day before. I avoided it the first time by, but turned around and nailed it. It felt like jumping a horse. (Something I haven't done in over 30 years, mind you.) And I did it again and again. It was fun. It was good.
So, yay for me. One more tiny baby step towards proficiency (at least how I define it.)
OK, and it was a really good day for seeing wildlife. Let me count: one gopher tortoise, two wild turkeys, one raccoon, two whitetail deer, one wild hog, one snake (may have been a moccasin; didn't get close enough to figure is out) and two bald eagles. And today had a ride with hubby Ed and my friend Susan. Saw a large bird swoosh down ahead of me and land right by the trail. I came abreast of it and was staring at a very large owl. It took flight, leaving behind a dead squirrel. I'm sure it came back for his late breakfast after we were gone.
I had two solo rides this week. Thursday was on my road bike at Flatwoods and put in about 32 miles in two hours. Friday I was on my mountain bike and put in a little over 17 miles in about two hours. Both days had my IPOD on, rocking to tunes. I was so miserable by the end of the road ride; I just wanted it to end. I was bored, bored, bored. Not so on my mountain bike. I was happy and mellow and sorry the ride was over. So, I need to make sure that I've got someone to ride with when I do road rides.
NP: Frank Turner Poetry of the Deed
The point is that I'm a chicken. Squawk, squawk. I'm not particularly interested in the tough stuff. I've had enough bad falls as it is, I don't want to invite trouble, you know? I took the 'Intro to Mountain Biking' class right after I started riding off-road, and I'm sure they thought they'd never see me again. I was too scared to do the dips, the really big palmetto roots struck fear in my heart, and I wasn't brave enough to try to jump a small log. I remember running into the instructor a few months later and he said, "Oh, yeah, you're the woman who wouldn't try anything." I wear my weenie mantle with pride.
But that doesn't mean I don't want to improve. I do. I want to be a better rider. I have improved....slowly. When I first started riding, my buddy John told me I'd be one day barreling over a section of roots like it was nothing. And he was right. Things that used to terrify me don't anymore. Things I used to walk my bike over I can clear with ease. But considering how little it takes to intimidate me on the trail, uh, that's not saying much. No, no, I'm not trying to put myself down; I'm trying to be realistic. I've come a long way, baby, but I've got a long was to go, too.
I've got a bad case of the nerves. Fears, neuroses, whatever you want to call it, I got it bad. Oh, and they're selective, too. One bridge I can't do, another one, exactly the same, I can. One dip with a rooty out is no problem, the next one will stop me cold. And I'm my own worst enemy. A year ago, someone said to me, in exasperation, "Jennifer, what is wrong with you?" I'm sure she didn't mean it to become a catchphrase that I flagellate my self with, but alas, it has. I can't turn off the negative tapes that loop in my head, no matter how hard I try.
So, the other day, HWWR and I were riding along and there was a probably 4" log in the path. No big deal, I should be able to clear it with ease. NOT. Like a horse refusing a jump, I just stopped cold. I approached it about three times before I said 'forget it', and apologized profusely for my idiocy. HWWR kindly dragged the log off the trail and we continued the ride. (HWWR is a kind fellow.) I can't do the hard stuff with other people watching, no matter how friendly, nice or kind they are.
It is an internal battle. I want to get better, but if I'm all worked up and afraid then I'm not having fun and what's the point in that?
So when I went out yesterday, I decided to try jumping logs. After all, there was no one else around (to judge or condemn me.) I found a place on a double track that had lots of fallen branches around. At first I set up 3 fairly small ones and practiced on those. No problem. Then I found a bigger log, bigger than the one I had refused the day before. I avoided it the first time by, but turned around and nailed it. It felt like jumping a horse. (Something I haven't done in over 30 years, mind you.) And I did it again and again. It was fun. It was good.
So, yay for me. One more tiny baby step towards proficiency (at least how I define it.)
OK, and it was a really good day for seeing wildlife. Let me count: one gopher tortoise, two wild turkeys, one raccoon, two whitetail deer, one wild hog, one snake (may have been a moccasin; didn't get close enough to figure is out) and two bald eagles. And today had a ride with hubby Ed and my friend Susan. Saw a large bird swoosh down ahead of me and land right by the trail. I came abreast of it and was staring at a very large owl. It took flight, leaving behind a dead squirrel. I'm sure it came back for his late breakfast after we were gone.
I had two solo rides this week. Thursday was on my road bike at Flatwoods and put in about 32 miles in two hours. Friday I was on my mountain bike and put in a little over 17 miles in about two hours. Both days had my IPOD on, rocking to tunes. I was so miserable by the end of the road ride; I just wanted it to end. I was bored, bored, bored. Not so on my mountain bike. I was happy and mellow and sorry the ride was over. So, I need to make sure that I've got someone to ride with when I do road rides.
NP: Frank Turner Poetry of the Deed
Thursday, April 29, 2010
First one
I've had it niggling in the back of my head for awhile; no, a long time. Write, write, write. Don't know if anyone will be interested, but at least I'll have a catalog of my adventures. And the readers of the SWAMP forum will be grateful to be relieved of my too frequent posting.
OMG this really is the navel gazing generation, but now we get to share it with whomever is unfortunate enough to stumble by.
I'll be writing about my favorite things: music, being a programmer on WMNF, riding my bike, cooking, and bargain shopping. Pretty sure my family and friends will get mentioned as well, because they are all a part of me.
The older I get the more I realize that life really is a journey. You need goals in order to motivate yourself to actually get moving, but the moving is what it's all about.
The point, IMHO, is to have time to be able to stop and say, "This is a great day. I'm so glad I'm doing ___________ right now."
Had one of those days yesterday. Went out with a friend-He Who Will Remain Nameless Until He Gives Me Permission To Out Him As A Friend Of Mine-HWWRNUHGMPTOHAAFOM for short-Oh, never mind. Lets call him HWWR for now.
HWWR and I went for an off road ride yesterday. We left from Trout Creek and did the loop with some side trails and did almost 17 miles. Four or five times, HWWR exclaimed what a gorgeous day it was, what a perfect day. And it was. We're getting towards the end of April, but the morning was still a bit cool. You've got to clutch and enjoy these days, 'cause we know they won't be with us long. Summer will be here soon enough. But he and I agreed, we are lucky to be able to take a Wednesday morning and spend it in the woods on our bikes.
OK, so for now I'm writing for myself. But I just edited two paragraphs out in case there might be a stray reader...really, you'll thank me.
This is far more cheery than I normally am, but that's OK. Why I'm editing for non-existent readers is kinda perplexing.
OK, good night. Happy trails, happy whatever you want.
OMG this really is the navel gazing generation, but now we get to share it with whomever is unfortunate enough to stumble by.
I'll be writing about my favorite things: music, being a programmer on WMNF, riding my bike, cooking, and bargain shopping. Pretty sure my family and friends will get mentioned as well, because they are all a part of me.
The older I get the more I realize that life really is a journey. You need goals in order to motivate yourself to actually get moving, but the moving is what it's all about.
The point, IMHO, is to have time to be able to stop and say, "This is a great day. I'm so glad I'm doing ___________ right now."
Had one of those days yesterday. Went out with a friend-He Who Will Remain Nameless Until He Gives Me Permission To Out Him As A Friend Of Mine-HWWRNUHGMPTOHAAFOM for short-Oh, never mind. Lets call him HWWR for now.
HWWR and I went for an off road ride yesterday. We left from Trout Creek and did the loop with some side trails and did almost 17 miles. Four or five times, HWWR exclaimed what a gorgeous day it was, what a perfect day. And it was. We're getting towards the end of April, but the morning was still a bit cool. You've got to clutch and enjoy these days, 'cause we know they won't be with us long. Summer will be here soon enough. But he and I agreed, we are lucky to be able to take a Wednesday morning and spend it in the woods on our bikes.
OK, so for now I'm writing for myself. But I just edited two paragraphs out in case there might be a stray reader...really, you'll thank me.
This is far more cheery than I normally am, but that's OK. Why I'm editing for non-existent readers is kinda perplexing.
OK, good night. Happy trails, happy whatever you want.
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