Today I am jumping the gun on 2014 and sharing my New Year’s resolutions. Actually these are more like “life resolutions.” No, I am not going to say I won’t drink beer, swear, look at boobs (or butts) not belonging to Wifey or anything else so wildly over the top and drastic as that. Basically I am going to attempt to do two–somewhat attainable–things every day for the rest of my life (which I give another two years, tops):
Prior to this past week, there were threats here and there that winter was coming, but it’s now official–despite what the calendar tells us– winter with all its teeth grinding cold and blustery ice and snow is here. I could complain about it, Nay! I WILL complain it about over the coming months, but when you get down to it, there’s nothing any of us can do about it, especially a sub-par blogger and mortal human like me. Winter is here and survival (both mental and physical) is key.
To survive, some will ride fat bikes, some will brave the icy pavement on road bikes and some (like me) will retreat to the woods on snowshoes and cross-country skis (no matter how lackluster their skills), to basements and garages to climb aboard stationary trainers, or to the humid crotch-like stank of the gym. Almost everyone will bitch about it at some time or another. Such is life.
Bell’s beers are brewed here in Michigan, but I wouldn’t say they are exactly local (in the 989) with the brewery located a couple of hours southwest in Kalamazoo County. However they are more local than I had though! It turns out that the 2-row barley used in their Midwestern Pale Ale, Christmas Ale (seen in my fridge drawer above) and Harvest Ale is grown just a few minutes from my house on a farm down in Shepherd, Michigan. A farm that I have no doubt passed at one time or another on my rides. Of course I’ve ridden by so many farms, they all start to look alike.
As you can see, the Shepherd wheat field and farm are both depicted on the labels of the Christmas Ale and the Midwestern Pale Ale. It’s pretty neat to know that beer that I enjoy quite often is made with ingredients grown just minutes from my home. You can see more about the Bell’s Brewery Farm at bellsbeer.com.
By the way, Bells’ Christmas Ale is one of my favorites of the season. It’s unusual in that it doesn’t have all the spices that one comes to expect in a Christmas beer, yet the lack of hops and the malts they use somehow give it a bready, candied toffee/carmel-ish taste that is very Christmasy and reminiscent of a Scottish Ale. I didn’t think I would be into it, since I usually like either BIG hoppy IPAs and Oatmeal and Imperial Stouts, but I am digging it.
Today was another day on planet Hoth (AKA Michigan). Wind swept frozen snow and ice now covers everything and probably will until June. As per my standard operating procedure, I did not ride outside but did go to the gym for my cardio and strength training. It was pretty uneventful other than seeing one of the many characters I have come to encounter (or make up in my mind based on their appearance alone) each visit… today it was the Lesbian Mafioso.
Who is she? Hell, I don’t know, what I do know is that I spent my first few visits assuming she was a 50-year-old man. I’m not trying to be a dick or rude, I just thought she was a dude with a mullet and a track suit. Turns out he’s a woman, and from what I can tell, based on recently seeing her at the grocery store with her kids, NOT a lesbian (not that there’s anything wrong with that). I also have my doubts that she’s in the Mafia but if you don’t want to be stereotyped as such, don’t drive a Cadillac and wear track suits while looking like a high school gym teacher circa 1989. How do I creepily know so much about her? Easy, she pulled into the gym parking lot the same time I did one day driving a Cadillac and she always wears track suits.
All this makes me sound like I am nebby, prejudice, judgemental and homophobic doesn’t it? I swear, all this is in jest, not to mention if you would see her, you too would think that she’s a lesbian Good Fella. OK, forget all that, I am grasping at straws for something to write about. I guess I could talk about my past history of not doing stuff or not doing enough to make me a better bike rider or racer? OK, I will…
The trainer; instrument of physical and mental torture to some, hated by many. Me? I’m OK with it.
It’s the eve before Thanksgiving Eve (also known as Tuesday) and the day/eve, was a fucking mess. We got an ice storm last night, so B-Man’s school was cancelled today and I needed to get the snow tires back on the xB. Not to mention I had a million other things to do as we prepare for our trip back to Western PA for the holiday. Thankfully (or not) I had the chance to squeeze in 40 minutes on the trainer. 40 minutes that would have been better spent guzzling a vodka/sleeping pill/Lexapro cocktail instead of half heartedly spinning along and going nowhere for 40 minutes of a planned 60.
Don’t get me wrong, I am anxious to see my father, brother, sister, and in-laws, but mentally I would rather suck on a gas pipe than have to endure four days of explaining why the magazine went bust and I am mooching off my Wife’s brain and (thankfully) its associated income with no gainful employment in sight. But… such is life. I am very thankful. A slacker, but a THANKFUL slacker.
There aren’t many artists, musicians, or sports figures that I would honestly care to meet and NO political figures at all (swarmy bastards!) I always fear that they would be total assholes and ruin any fondness I ever had for their art or abilities. Why ruin it?
The photographer (and painter) Saul Leiter would be an exception to this rule.
Long before I ever moved to Michigan I was a fan of Michigan brewed beers from Founders and Bell’s. Then once I moved here I found even MORE delicious beverages from breweries like Short’s, Arcadia, Brewery Vivant, Dark Horse, Greenbush, North Peak, Right Brain and many more.
I am also lucky to live stumbling walking distance from pubs like The Brass Cafe and The Bird that aren’t afraid to serve craft beers from all over Michigan and the country.
Blessed be thy FOAM FREAKING ROLLER!!
I have had this torture device for a while now, but never really took the time to use it. Then after suffering with some mild back discomfort (most likely due to my half assed weight lifting technique at the gym) the past few days, I decided to take the time and watch some videos (like the one below) on the proper use and how to really fuck myself over with it.
New Belgium Brewing’s Accumulation White IPA tastes like a glass of air with a hint of hops.
Why even bother? I refuse to believe that it’s 6.2% ABV.