Define Normal

My whole life I've either been a step ahead or a staircase behind. I had short hair before it was cool. Rode a bike before it was green. Kissed a girl before it was on the Top 40.

What I did right on time was find my wife at exactly the right moment. We were planning our marriage just as our state was planning to legalize it. We were expecting our certified license in the mail the day the nation recognized our melded life.

Most couples are worried about colors and flowers and where to have the reception. We were concerned with rights and taxes and health care. Who would come and who would scorn, not where to seat them. As we became one, which companies would accept us and which would give us hurdles. There are plenty of hurdles...we continue to find. And yet plenty of people who won't bat an eye when a woman says my wife.

Some see our choices as unconventional. Okay, if you must. I've been different my whole life. But saying my wife feels as natural as my own skin. I don't care about your policies or loopholes. Falling asleep in my wife's arms erases any struggles in our day.

The heteroes bucked society by living together before getting married. And here we are married, living apart. Now I'm hearing the key to a successful marriage is not living together at all. Here we go again. A step ahead about to fall behind. Different as the day is long. C'est la vie. Haven't you read the new YouTube comments, she keeps me warm.

I'm not sure if I should be excited or not, the whole process has been such a stressful journey. I want to live with my wife. I want dinner at the table with conversations of our day. Dog walks, evening jogs, rides to the city, nights on the couch with the remote. Many many more blog posts about life with the girl.

She makes breakfast. I cook dinner. She kills poison ivy. I do dishes and laundry. We love each other, support each other, depend on each other. We are married. And soon we will live in the same house. Yeah, I'm excited. Normal or not.



Ups and Downs

I hate to call the girl out but this is how it went down. First, I'm not sure if this makes us a perfect couple or unable to ride together...but this is what's up. I like to go up. And she likes to go down.

That sounds a little dirtier than it really is.

So the girl likes to be on top. Again, you are thinking dirtier than it is. She doesn't like to be whipped...ahh, again. Let's just say, she's competitive. And I am kicking her ass...fancy bike and all.

From my position uptrail, I heard quite the clatter. She threw her bike. THREW her bike. In the woods. Things were definitely NOT looking up. Ah, but if only that meant it were all downhill from here. That could fix everything.

I hesitated to say it, but  baby, can you find it in your heart to try NOT to throw your bike into the woods? To which she replied, I knew I should have never let you buy me a bike. It is true what they say, you should never buy a girl a bike. But I married her so I thought it was okay.

No, it is your bike. Technically you can do anything you want with it. I'm just asking you to try really hard not to hoist it above your waist and shotput it into a pine tree. See, technically, I will be the one fixing it when it's broke...so there's that. And I'm not that great a mechanic. Besides it's not good for the pine tree, worse for the bike, and do you really want to walk back to the car?

Heeheehee Banana. Let's RIDE.

Boarders, Carried Alive

It has finally happened. There is a cardboard box in my attic. An empty cardboard box in my storage area. Please don't tell my neighbors.

 Maybe you don't know me, but this is a huge taboo. It happens. There are tools on the table and a box in the attic. What the hell is going on?

I am not a hoarder. I am not in denial. And I still think saving empty boxes is stupid. Unless it's a bike box. Or a bike light box. Then it's completely logical. I stand by my criticism of saved teevee boxes. It's not like the new ones will last long enough to be moved. And the old tank tubes could withstand a steamroller, I don't think it really needs a box.

And then there are the action figure boxes. And the Hallmark ornaments. Really? The box retains its value? Yes, I guess you could make $5 on that ornament you've been hanging on to from 1983 so you better hold on to that box. I bought a toy truck for $500 without a box, so I'm just saying box or no box it all depends on the buyer.

However, when you have a delicate, specially delivered, cool as shit beer bike sign, go on and keep the box. You're not gonna wanna risk damaging that in a move for sure. Oh, there might be a good shoe box or two in the attic too, I'm not gonna lie. Give me a nice sturdy Keen's box or a 5.10 and I'll hang on to it for papers or trinkets. I think I've actually got plastic Easter eggs in one of them so there! Holiday items do not count as hoard.

Okay, okay, I might have some old Panasonic tape boxes at the ready too. But those are superior ace boxes. And on the endangered list, not to mention I no longer have access to swiping them. I'm not making excuses. Just what are you trying to say? Okay, so I hoard boxes. It's not exactly Reality Show material.

Clean Up on Aisle 3

I just discovered something more annoying than talking on the phone behind the wheel...talking on the phone behind the cart. OMA.

In fact, I'm heavily weighing the consequences associated with starvation in an attempt to never need to go to the Giant again. I'm not entirely sure when it happened, but today I became THAT person.

The one who knocks things down and doesn't pick them up. I didn't mean to do it and ordinarily I would have cleaned up my mess, but I'm sorry, I just couldn't. For the sake of sanity, humanity...I just kept walking. Oh, other people looked at me, I. Did. Not. Care.

 

As if the customers weren't bad enough. Let's talk about how Giant squeezed the aisles together and made less room. Let's consult exhibit A. Down at the end of the aisle you can see an employee stocking shelves. At the busiest time of the day. And there are cases of stock blocking the right 'lane'. No matter, because closer in the foreground you can see the promotional display ALSO blocking the right lane. Repeatedly. Really? Tsk. Tsk.

 

And then comes the dreaded checkout lane. Duhn Duhn Duhn. I thought I picked the shortest lane. Tricked again. Food Stamps! Here's where I struggle to suppress my closeted inner Republican. Now I've got nothing against government assistance, or at least I try to withhold judgement, but here's when it gets hard. I just need not be subjected to it...the purchases on the end of the belt, the fact that they are buying cut flowers or didn't bring their own bags...the list goes on.

 

I say let's give them their own lane. It's for everyone's own good. Take one of those 12 or Under (when did it become 12?) Items Lanes and turn it into a Government Assisted Lane...no item limitation. I'm not suggesting 'separate but equal'--okay, maybe I am, but is that so wrong?

 

I'd settle for a One Transaction Per Customer Lane if you think singling out the Food Stampers is somehow an infringement on their rights.

Love Is: A Blade of Grass Times a Yard

Oh man, do I feel like this one. We do this on occasion with each other. Today we did it on the phone, but it wasn't as much fun. We could maybe skype except I'd have to wait like an hour to see it. Some things are slower outside the city, and clearly this is a country dog.

Ripley doesn't have a care in the world. She is like a 10 year old boy, perhaps that is why we get along so famously. And I was worried. She's better than that dog in the movie I like, what was it...Wendy and Lucy...hmmm, now that's weird.

I love when she runs off with the neighbor bear, okay it's not really a bear but after a third beer I wouldn't want to be faced with it and a real bear and asked to choose. It's as big as a bear. And they are like the cutie boys in the neighborhood who do everything together.

See, that's what I'm talking about. Put More Play In Your Day. No nay sayers, I do not regret my decision. I don't make decisions that lightly. And for once (maybe twice) I am answering my heart. Lucky me, my heart and my head are on the same page.

After just one day of freedom, I can see more clearly what I sacrificed over the past two years. I am glad to have that necessary period behind me. It put me where I am today and that can easily be defined as HAPPY. See Picture Above.

No one seems to be buying my 'want to see more sunsets' answer. Too bad for them. They look at me worried and sad and I am thinking the same thing back at them. It's bad enough they commute to work in a car, but to sit in that dungeon staring at that box is just too damn much.

What about money, they worry. I'll be fine. I have what I need and I need what I have. It's good. Let me just ask you to do one thing:  Define RICH.

Kindling

Oh my, that was painful. I went to the library today to get tax forms AND look for a book. That was a mistake. You should never go to the library to look for a book; stick with Amazon.

I recently discovered Erich Fromm. This guy is ancient history now, but I saw it on CSI  (and they say TeeVee can't teach you nothin). Having and Being and commercial storage space...  It was good stuff. I am definitely a be-er not a have-er.

So I thought I'd look in the used book section to see if I could find something.  Turns out you can't find a thing. It's really rather simple you could choose from a variety of options:  you could go by subject, title, author, alphabet, freaking dewey decimal, it IS a library after all.

I was shocked to find sitting on the edge of a shelf the very author I was there to see. Wasn't the right book, but hey! this must be the right section.  But... how... does... one... find.... anything?? I cry for help. The artifact behind the counter tells me it's a classic...look in Classic. Yeah, have you smelled this joint, pretty sure they are all Classics.

Uhm, yeah, okay, I know I just met the man but I'm pretty sure he's not a Hemmingway, Faulkner, or Gustav Flaubert. This dude is a philosopher, a sociologist, a psychologist...your Freuds, Hegels, like that. You do have sections, I see it on the index cards. If you've filed him in the Classics, you've made a mistake. No offense.

She went back to her book.  I went back to Sociology and exercised the tried and true...alphabetical by section. I just wasn't exactly sure where to look for him. I mean since he had just been tossed on a shelf sort of willy nilly like. Apparently a volunteer had also asked her where to file it and she waved, "over there". It wasn't in the space between Zimmerman and Pinker. Oh, I know.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised, a book person not overly adept in the social skillz. But I did expect a greater sense of knowledge with a panache to smother me with it. If they aren't going to encourage the reading, they really ought to give up the space.  I know next time I actually want something specific I'll hit up the interweb. I just type it in the box and Viola, Erich Fromm!

Might be a reason they shove the old books in the boiler room.  Isn't that where they make fire? Two words.  Kindle. Fire.

My Ah Ha Moment

I guess I can say this here, since although it's public, my readership is low. I want to quit my job. There, it's real, it's on the internet. I can remember a day when it was on TV it was real.  Funny, now that we have Reality TV those days are gone.

I would like to pull the plug. Change the channel. Donate my television to the local dump. I'm not disgruntled, bitter, or angry; I'm just done. Problem is, what now?

I've been crunching the numbers, seems like old times.  At least this time the math makes more sense. But what I need is more cents. Here's what I came up with:  I'll be fine I just need to give up coffee, beer, gas, tv (no problem), and food. I'm bargaining away my vices for the ability to see more sunsets.  I think it's a fair trade. But then I think, but some of those things are important, like beer.

Folks keep telling me I need to make a list.  A pros cons list. Do I have to, she said in her best only child whine. I know what it's going to tell me and that's not the answer I want to hear. I asked my dad for permission to quit my job. He gave me advice about the list. The things I put on the pro side that are really important to me, put them on TWICE. It's the best advice he's ever given.

Tonight the wind was howling like it was angry about something. Then came the sleet. Beneath the street lights I found a beautiful peculiar scene. It was as if I was riding in a snow globe being assaulted by a pit bull. And I thought, I'm sick of riding in circles.



Gone Fishing

What a difference a year makes. I've had a particularly craptastic time of it...until I decided not to. Talking helps; friends help; listening helps. Dancing...helps. Attitude Adjusted. Mission Defined.

I've recently added a fresh breeze to my life. She rocks. She types in italics. Accidentally. And shows her teeth about it.  She makes me smile, and laugh out loud. She is a good friend.

I am so lucky to be surrounded by good friends. Friends that remind me about the importance of life. Friends that encourage me to dance and sing out loud, real loud. Friends that remind me to put my passion into work AND work into passion. I have refound my smile.

I've taken to midday dance downs. It's fun. I dance in the living room.  I dance in the kitchen.  I dance down the hall. Last night I almost danced in the bar, but I didn't want to be refused my next beer. It wasn't that kind of bar.

I heard today my new life motto.  Last night it was Carpe Carp, which I still like, but is really a "you had to be there" moment. Today it is I haven't seen nearly enough sunsets yet. Cue the midlife crisis; I am ready.

Sara Bareilles:
There's too many things that I haven't done yet
Too many sunsets
I haven't seen
You can't waste the day wishing it'd slow down
You would've thought by now
I'd have learned something
There's too many things i haven't done yet
Too many sunsets i haven't seen

Semantics

Careful what you wish for. I hate to keep harping on the door incident, but I bumped my head, consider it a skip in the record. Going through the door is not exactly what you meant to say I'm guessing.  And perhaps maybe rethinking this bumper sticker, also necessary.

Define girlfriend. Define dirty. How dirty IS your bike? I'm just saying you might get more than you bargained for. Trust me.

Today I went to the bank. To speak to someone about my account.  See, they have these people, who sit at desks, away from the counter, that work for the bank, I thought they were there to help.

"Did you need help with something?" See, I told you, there to help.  I stated my issue, my concern, and they said, "just dial the number on the back of your card". The one that says 'customer service' I say? Meanwhile thinking, WHAT is it THESE folks do at the bank all day?

Is this like sending an associate to an event to have them stand at a display and when people come up and ask for more information, they say....say it with me....Just Go To The Website.  I love that one.

It IS a Vehicle

A girl walks into a...body shop, thought I was gonna say BAR dincha?  Oh shoot, that's not going to work either...so a girl rides into a body shop...

I did.  I parked out back and rode the little joint around front and into the office.  Parked it right there beneath the counter.  Kickstand and all. Then, I plopped my key down on the counter and the guy just looked at me.

I looked, and sure enough, I was in the right place, says Auto Body right on the door.  "I'm dropping my car off to get repaired."  There may have been a hint of attitude. (hey, it was early)

He looked at me.  At the bike.  At me.  At the bike.  He stood to get a better look at the bike.  Then he shrugged, took the key, and said "okay".  And we all laughed.  I told him the fender needed tightened and maybe a touch up on the paint.  Then he pulled out the paint book...

...Meanwhile, they are banging the shit out of my car for a few grand.  I like the sense of humor; I guess you need it when you charge folks $100 for new logos so Honda can advertise on your trunk.  For FREE.  Okay, I'll drop it.  But that's about $13 a letter.  And the bumper stickers...?

Suxism

...well not exactly.  I would like to retract everything I said in my previous post. Except the title, I'd like to reiterate that.

Today's ride may well be one of the top 5 worst ever.  Top 3.  IF you only count the rides that sucked because of non-technical issues.  I'm not quite ready to blame the tires, but the way I felt it couldn't possibly be just ONE thing at fault.

I'm almost hoping I've contracted MS or Fibro or the Ebola Virus or something that better explains my acute case of Maximum Gluteus Couchitis.  My performance was horrendous.  I stopped THREE times on may way in.  From home.  To work. 

I was seriously regretting passing by that two year old with her arm outreached, cheerio between her fingers, offering it, to me. I thought, how cute, she is sharing her treats.  I had no idea she was trying to save my life.  Turns out I'm not even smarter than a 2 Year Old.

And so, 50 yards down the road, I BONKED.  Hard.  I debiked.  I sat down.  But I didn't take off my shoes OR helmet.  There was no picnic, but I sure did need it.  Was it the heat?  The lack of breakfast?  Was I tired?  The rhino virus?  WHY was I so tired. 

I stopped again, and refueled on cookies I remembered were in my bag. God love M&M...the couple, not the candy.  Four cookies, filled with short lived sugar bursts.  It got me 150 yards further.  Good!  The zoo.  I HAVE to walk through the zoo, it's not like I CAN'T ride.  I'm NOT ALLOWED to.  That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Prairie Dogs.  I love prairie dogs.  Maybe I'll just sit here awhile and watch them.  Ooh, the gorillas are out.  What is that, a bird?  A wild, free bird.  Squirrels, now you don't see those everyday... Moms with strollers were beating me up the hill, even while taking in the zebras, or is it zebrae?

Debunking the popular theory, every ride is a good ride.  This one sucked.  Hard.  I might be stuck at work...

My Tired Life

If you ask any shop they'll surely tell you it's about tires.  I don't totally agree, the wheels themselves deserve some cred., but for the money it truly is all about the tires.

Once I took my bike in the shop, had them overhaul it while I was off doing RAAM, and when I got back I could barely ride the thing!  You could blame RAAM, but it was all about the tires and the cassette.  I went from mountain to road (11 to 9) and beefy commuter tires.  I sucked some major asphalt.

So you may have questioned my desire to switch from 28s to 35s.  I know!  And it's not like I really needed to put snow tires on my bike, what with temperatures licking 55 degrees. My old commuter mountain bike (may she rest in peace) went from knobby fats to skinny slicks.  Now I'm converting from skinny slicks to knobby fats?  Women!

You don't understand...(I know that's the definition of woman).  I was riding a single speed with 28s.  Now I've got GEARS and a ROAD crank!  I'm cruising despite the knobby fats.  I sound a bit like a Star Wars war craft but better yet I can fly like one!

It's all about what you put into it.  Just like life.  You can sit back and coast stuck on your cycle or you pour your heart and soul into it and really get something out of it.  I mean the scenery is nice either way, but you'll feel so much better if you're not just along for the ride.

And that's all I have to say about that...

PO, PO, PO

Man, times are tight.  I can remember the days when Santa came to your house.  Sleigh, reindeer, the works.  Now apparently he has the mail carriers leave 'we missed you' slips at the door.

Really?  At. The. Door?  I finally have a working chimney and no red felted fat man is squeezing through it?  But I had it cleaned!  I'm making cookies.  There is beer.  There is always beer.

Come to think of it I don't remember ANY chimneys in the old trailer park.  How exactly did I expect Santa to get those toys under the tree every year?  Then we moved to a house with a chimney but no fire place.  WHAT, Santa is STUCK in the interior of the house?  Start chipping at the drywall! Well, who would put a fake chimney on top of a house anyway??

I was a little worried about picking up an undisclosed package at the post office.  And this, the busiest day of the year.  It was certainly not high on my WANT TO DO LIST.  But the least he could do was give me some idea of dimensions...I do ride a bike after all. 

I realize you have a big sleigh...or perhaps a UPS truck I'm thinking....but all I have is a handlebar.  "Bigger than a breadbox." "Heavier than a bowling ball."  You don't have to ruin the surprise, but can a girl get a hint?!  The slip of paper didn't play the Lexus ditty so at least I knew it wasn't a car.  Do you know anyone who has ever gotten one of those big red bowed cars??

There was a sigh of relief when the postmaster brought this.  There could have been an early Christmas at the Woodmoor Post Office.  But really Santa?  It's not like you have to worry about high gas prices!!  Bring back home delivery!

 

 



The Core of the Problem

Welcome to DC’s only CycloX race. We have no BMX tracks, no pump courses, no mountain bike trails, incomplete bike paths, and ONE CCX race. Do you really want to ask WHY we ride on the road?

Chris Core is constantly on the attack for why cyclists ride on the road, “when there is a perfectly good trail RIGHT there”. Now I’ve met Core, he’s a nice guy. We even had a nice long chat about bikes on the road. Most of what he says is reasonable.

Most. Some of what he says is ridiculous. Take his Share the Road, Share the Rules rant. He wants cyclists to behave like every other vehicle on the road. Well, I wish we could. But until EVERY vehicle on the road treats EVERY vehicle on the road equally that’s just not in my best interest.

He also believes we should wait our turn at a traffic light. Meaning, if there is a line of cars at a light we, as cyclists, should not proceed to the front of the line. Here’s the obvious issues with that…you push me all the way right on the road and then take it away at the light? Why shouldn’t I proceed in ‘my lane’ if no one else is in it? I will respect your turn signal if and when you use it.

Even if I arrive first at a light, cars don’t respect the fact that I am standing there. I have been honked at, cussed out, cut off, turned into, and even hit while waiting for the light. If we are treated equally and I am in front NO vehicle should be allowed to turn right on red IN FRONT OF ME. That would be like making a right on red from the left hand lane in front of other cars…it’s not legal. But perfectly okay, if said vehicle is a bike.

Lights are not timed for me. I cannot trip the sensor on some lights. I am not yielded the right of way at four way stop. I am afraid when I enter circles, pass by on/off ramps, travel some high volume roads.

I am cut off by buses, taxis, and drivers turning right. I am pulled out in front of. Pedestrians step out in front of me. Parkers open doors into me. Drivers park in my lane. There is debris on the shoulder. The trails are unplowed.

I am unprotected by a thick coating of metaled armor. Preyed upon on poorly designed trails. I am refused service in drive thrus. My speed is misjudged and drivers continue to make poor decisions that affect me.

Sometimes I choose to ride on the road and sometimes I have no choice but to. No matter which, I always have a right to ride on the road. And let’s be honest, we all break the law, riders and drivers alike.  But believe me, when I do it's for the sake of my safety not to spite it.

Fun Bust

The Ford Giveth and The Ford Taketh Away.

Riding the high of last night's lane discovery, I was sideswiped at the bank.  Figuratively...literally would prove the money mongrels right.

For 6 months I've been taking the trail to the bank, going through the drive thru, and making deposits.  Without incident or accident.

Today my streak struck out.  Oh, they took my money, but then refused to serve me.  Ask the guy in the pickup.  In between hitting on me he noted the rudeness of the teller.  He asked about my socks.  Oh watch this, I'm about to go Alpha Bitch all over their Benjamins.

They said something about the use of a vehicle.  I looked down at mine and said, yeah, and?  Your point is what?

No Shit,

No Car:

No Service

Liability, my sweet biking ass!  You've got three relatively unused lanes and a parking lot spilling into the trail.  Not to mention I ride in traffic.  The drive thru red tape is crap!  And if your business abuts a bike trail I think it should be a law that your establishment is bike friendly.

You can take that to the bank!  Just leave your bike at home.  Next time I'm saying it's a scooter. SunTrust.  Kemp Mill. Lamberton Drive.  Silver Spring.  Biker Beware.

Pile of Beans

We've been making the rounds in the bullying badgering blogs again.  Breaking news....the drivers still hate us.  They hate the traffic AND the solution.  They are just angry; there is no solution.

So they attack us.  Because they can.  I'm not sure if or how it helps.  But I'm learning how to ignore it.  It's rather easy when it lacks sense.

Have you heard about one in ten?  It's a term used to describe homosexuals.  You know, one in ten people...well you can figure it out.  My point is that's 10%.

Now I just read on one of these bully the biker blogs (and it's on the Internet so it must be true) that bikers only make up 1% (of what I'm not exactly sure).  And I was thinking if one in ten is gay and one in one hundred is a biker, then someone is clearly LYING.

Think about it.  1% of road users are bikers?  Just ONE PERCENT?  Are you sure?  The economy is in the toilet.  Jobs are hard to come by.  Brick and mortars are closing.  Small businesses are failing.  And there are over 15 bike shops INSIDE the beltway. 

Christ on a Kestrel...another one of those headache causing word problems.  Tell me how you get one percent?  Wouldn't some of those shops be bankrupt?  Who is spending money in a bike shop if not cyclists?  That's a whole lot of Energy Beans fueling 15 shops. Or a handful of cyclists frequenting a shit ton of shops.

I believe maybe 1% drive Arks.  Oh and LOOK, you can stash them at the Whole Foods in Georgetown, perfect!

Tally Whoa!

I don't mean to be picky, but this is getting ridiculous.  I got off the trail, tried to enter the roadway, and was pushed up on the sidewalk.  Traffic.  I found traffic in my lane.  FACING ME.  Since when did Chevy Chase become Jolly Ole England??

I was recently attacked, perhaps you saw it, on my own facebook page by a friend claiming I was 'one of those bike commuters'.  And by those, I think I mean always wrong.  Everyone else is always right, but bikers are typically always in the wrong.

So yesterday, I was almost broadsided by a hummer who failed to completely stop at the four way stop that I had just stopped at and wrongly continued through.  Last night a car at a stop light turned right into me without choosing to use a turn signal.  I wrongly assumed it was going straight.  Then I almost got hit by a silent ambulance screaming through an intersection.  I wrongly assumed green means go.  And then today I was run off the road by a black vehicle of which I was unable to obtain the plate number on because did I mention I WAS BEING RUN OFF THE ROAD.  I wrongly assumed we were sharing it.

Then, I wound up in England.  Say what?  I don't think I need to point out these cars were on the wrong side of the road.  But I stand corrected.  They were forced to use this side of the roadway thanks to one of 'those bike riders' blocking the other side.

It's true, there on the other side was a guy on a bike sitting in the middle of the road.  Just sitting there.  Blocking traffic.  The nerve of him.  And so who can blame these poor drivers trying to rush into their neighborhood and into the safety of their plushly furnished homes??  Of course they had to drive on the other side.  How would they get home?

The guy.  Still sitting there.  I counted five cars as I rode past on the sidewalk.  Five cars drove on the wrong side of the road into their neighborhood to evade the inconsiderate, arrogant biker taking up an entire lane of their street.

No one seemed to notice or mind that he wasn't moving.  Oh, I guess they probably noticed he wasn't moving his bicycle, but he himself wasn't moving.  Not his feet, not his hands, not his head, not even his eyes as far as I could tell.

The bike, it was an adult tricycle.  No one I know rides one of these because they want to; they have to.  This signals to me that maybe the man has some type of physical or mental ailment or handicap.  And there he sat on a tricycle, in the middle of the street, not moving, ALONE.  And no one bothered to question this, they just drove around instead.

Really?  A handicapped man on an adult tricycle....and no one recognized him?  In a neighborhood.  Tell me do you think he was out training for a century and just got tired?  I don't suspect he could have been far from home.  And yet no one stopped.  And I'm inconsiderate!

Someone finally did.  Someone blocked traffic for him and eventually got out of his car to investigate.  I suppose everyone else was too busy, or in a rush to get home to watch The Talk on CBS.  I can only hope someone was dialing 911 at the very least. 

Grab Some Wood There Bub

My baby rode in her very first parade today. Almost no one cared. Almost. Today I got stopped. It was the first time ever.

"Excuse me. Are you IN the parade?"

Well, let's see. The parade is on Constitution Avenue. And I am on Constitution Avenue. I'd say YES, yes I AM in the parade! Whatdya know.

I'm riding a wooden bicycle in a green shirt, what do you think? What do you need, a pot of gold and a leprechaun? Of course I'm in the parade, Bub.

'Beannachtam na Feile Padraig!'

Tis the Reason

Well who shoved a chunk of coal up your tailpipe?

Never mind Lillian Leadfoot came barrelling by a playground in a residential neighborhood. She also launched her 'cedes off the asphalt traffic mesa meant to slow Naughty Nancy to a trot.

Intersecting with me, menacing the bike trail, Gunnin' Granny grinded to a halt. There she was straddling the anti-speed butte, preCARiously teetering above Whoville, thistletoe swinging from her dashboard.

She was a dead giveaway, but she could have stuck a peppermint stick in my bike wheel...I was oblivious. I took it as goodwill. Godspeed Biker Girl.

HO, HO, HOnk!

Really? You invite me to pass then blast a horn in my ear as I go? GrannyGopherGuts! That was mean. You could put an ear out!

Then all of a sudden, piercing the bustling holiday air, there arose such a clatter...again with the horn? SCREECHING....SKIDDING....CRUNCHO!

I peered 'round my shoulder to find Kris Crinkle in the middle of a Santa Jam about a block back. Thank the blue haired biddy for spreading her holiday jeer...or a second later and I would have been a flattened hood ornament.