I know my luck too well, and whenever something happens to me (medically speaking), shit always goes pear-shaped. No worries, I’m used to it. So when my dentist pulled one of my wisdom teeth last week and said “you should feel fine in two or three days… unless you get a dry socket.” I KNEW right there and then that I was destined for a dry socket. Ever see one? Here look [HERE]… ah, I can’t do that to you, sorry.
Sunday brought little in the way of riding, but much in the way of gusting winds and even some blowing snow at times. It also brought me and Wifey to a local furniture store to buy new mattresses and our first set of bedroom furniture that wasn’t a hand-me-down or dug out of a dumpster. It actually felt kind of nice to finally do that and will probably feel even better to sleep on a mattress that doesn’t feel like it’s stuffed with dead pigs.
While we were out and about, I dropped off a roll of film that I recently shot with my Holga 135. It’s sort of fun to shoot pics with the $35 plastic Holga. It’s also a roll of the creative dice pretty much every time you click the shutter as to whether the crap photo will be a GOOD crap photo, or just a crap photo.
In a post earlier this month I mentioned how happy I was to be back on skinny (40c) tires and off of the Farley for a while. That time off of the Farley lasted about two weeks. It’s not that I found myself longing to ride slow, soft, heavy, four-inch tires on dry dirt roads or anything, but with Saturday’s ride time temps hovering around 30˚ I figured I might as well roll fat and slow, work harder and thus stay warmer.
As a you may, or may not know, this is a cycling blog. Well, it used to be MORE of one, but since I seem to ride and race less and less as the years go on, this blog seems to be more of an online journal for me [a 43-year-old doofuss]. I often find myself apologizing for the blog posts that are strictly about my crap, mundane self and the goofball shit I do. But I think I am going to stop apologizing. I’ve said it before, I’ll surely say it again– I’m always happy to get some readers, but in the end, it’s no big deal. This is a hobby, it’s free (for you) and as of right now, no one is putting a gun to your head to read this drivel (although I am in talks with a small militia group of kooks that might be willing to help me out if I go against my core beliefs and post occasional, outlandish Fox News worthy, radical right-wing propaganda.
Sigh… I guess I’ll just have to continue on with my three faithful readers without help from The Brothers of Paranoid Delusions with Arms (Michigan Chapter).
Sculpture by Mu Boyan. Photo: Aye Gallery
Today I’m making a super quick drive home to western PA for some real life family stuff. Riding and general blog mischief is on hold until Friday and/or the weekend.
Until then enjoy looking at these cool ass sculptures of naked fat people by Mu Boyan. I think I could pose for him given my current fitness.
Later.
Even though I could easily do so (and should), this isn’t going to be another post where I blather on about my love of potatoes (like I did here and here). It’s more of a post where I blather on about nothing in particular.
Part I (Friday & Saturday)
After two cold, windy days of riding out on the roads of Michiganderburgh last week I decided to skip riding on Friday and take shelter from the cool winds with a hike in the woods of Deerfield Park. It was nice to be out and enjoying the sunshine and crisp spring temps without having to be layered up in several moisture wicking layers of Lycra and wool. Still, it wasn’t riding.
There are plenty of things I should have been doing today instead of riding. We all know what those things are (probably what you did all day). I’m not happy about that, but there’s no use getting too worked up about it since I can’t do much about it.
So I rode my bike for a bit.
After two three days of poop [literally], gusting winds, falling temperatures and local streets littered with drunk college kids dressed in various shades of dumb ass, green and vomit, I was finally able to pinch off [no poop pun intended] a short, hour and forty minute ride today: the Better Than The Trainer Ride (North Dirt Version)™.
After what I would consider a good(ish) week of early March riding last week, this week has gotten off on the wrong pedal stroke and has felt slightly off. Monday greeted me with what some might call “a bout of irritable bowel.” I tend to be a bit more colorful and descriptive (at least when talking to Wifey) but I’ll just leave it at that for now and say that I’m not sure what’s up with my guts? OR what’s coming out of them!
