My life, am I right?
My life, am I right?
The more things fail to change; the more things stay the same.
I’m starting to sound like a broken record, or a corrupt file for you youngsters, but I find myself —yet again—playing shit show catchup.
My excuses are longer than a porn star’s manhood. My slack is stronger than a pre-castrated bull. And my waistline’s girth and body weight are that of a Mart-Cart fatty with a basket full of Ding Dongs and Mountain Dew.
Mistakes were made. Again.
I don’t give myself credit too often, mostly because there is little to give credit for, but I will give myself a quick pat on my meaty back for somehow getting up and out the door on my bike early Sunday morning.
Wednesday night as I looked at the next day’s schedule of Dad duties, house duties, and a mid-afternoon appointment with my mind bender, I made the decision that I would get up with the dogs at 5:45 AM, get them fed and outside to poop, then immediately get out for a ride. This would have me home in plenty of time to get B to his morning conditioning session at the soccer fields.
Hiking. It’s pretty much just walking. And walking it just putting one foot in front of the other. So, with Michigan being graced with another day of Pittsburgh-like “partly cloudy skies” and rain on Saturday, I was back in the woods putting one foot in front of the other with my camera.
I’ve never been a great writer, but enjoy writing; thus, the continued publication of this blog. Sorry?
However, in the past couple of months, my posts have become more subpar than usual. One of the major factors has been the appearance of Lola (the dog) in my life. I love her, but she’s a puppy and puppies need near constant attention lest ye have your living room shat upon and chewed to bits. Every week she gets a little better, but finding moments of peace to sit down and write can be difficult when home alone.
I got out for a nice 27-mile ride on Tuesday. I’ve had better rides, but God knows I’ve had worse rides, so I’ll just shut my cake trap and be happy that I was out on my bike, the sun was out, and I returned with the faint hints of sunburn to my raw chicken fat looking man-flesh.