As I assumed, the weekend was void of anything other than traveling to and from and watching soccer games at B’s tournament. That’s fine with me; I love watching him play and his team won the U14 Division Championship. The competition wasn’t as strong as they’re used to facing in league play but it was still a good time.
Friday was not the day I expected on so many levels.
No, this isn’t a post-Valentine’s Day entry about lost love. However, it has everything to do with losing the excitement and mystery of travel.
Three tomatoes are walkin’ down the street.
Papa Tomato, Mama Tomato and Baby Tomato.
Baby Tomato starts lagging behind, and Papa Tomato gets really angry.
Goes back and squishes him and says: ‘“Ketchup.”
—Mia Wallace, Pulp Fiction
2018 has arrived. Great.
I like to believe that a new year is a catalyst for change, but I am a realist (that’s code for pessimist) and greet the new year with as much enthusiasm as getting French kissed by your great aunt (the one with the perfume that smells like Febreze, sagging bosoms, and a beard).
Never has so much nothing been done in a week filled with so much.
Back in early 2017 I had a doctor’s appointment in which I was encouraged to think about losing a few pounds. In turn, I cut back my liquid calories (beer), tried to control my portion sizes, upped my mileage on the bike, and flirted with the goal of 5,000 miles by January 1, 2018. That resulted in losing almost 15 pounds by my next visit in early May. I was stoked, at least for a little while.
Finding time to blather on about shit here is not something that I have ever had trouble with. Even back in the days of working a “real” full-time job at the paper (then busting my ass to publish XXC Mag), “racing,” and “training” for said “racing” all while helping to raise a young son, I somehow found time to publish this dross.
As your luck would have it, these days, I often find myself opting to spend my spare time processing the pics I’ve taken, having a few beers and watching soccer, or practicing my dance of seduction to woo Wifey into fighting crime with me. Let’s just say I spend a lot of time watching soccer, drinking beer, and processing photos. Anyway…
IT’S NOT FALL!! Well, at least not technically, but it’s starting to look like it. Shit.
Time for another Soiled Chamois Mega Post, a post in where I post a bunch of photos and attempt to play catch up with my cycling, and non-cycling, life.
