night riding

linda and i went out for a spontaneous bit of wine-tasting and fine dining last night. in fact, we've become quite regular in our spontaneity these days, opting to leave the uncooked ingredients of our dinner in the frig and hit one of our favorite east bay restaurants. anyhow, we had us some vino and tasty italian food. i came home and linda started blogging like a mad woman. so focused. i was happy high and decided to go for a bikey ride. i dug around for my night rider light from last fall and after cursing screws that would not screw tight i headed out into the dark just a wee bit tipsy -- nothing to incapacitate or shorten my life, just enough to forget that it was 9:00 and I'd just eaten about 5 pounds of pasta. i'm a tad afraid of being alone in the dark but the weather was so warm i just kept right on going. i rode up tunnel and the higher i rode the warmer and warmer it got. the night bugs were out chirping and cricketing and the dark shadow of a small skunk crossed my path.

the ride back down with the lights of SF in the distance was deeeelightful. i may just go again tonight.

a certain cat barfed his lunchy-wunchy all over the bed. Looked like something from the Exorcist.

Took it all down to the laudrymat. Fed in about 5,000 quarters for one of those multiload washers and shoved -- never sort -- everything in.

An old lady about 4 feet tall sits in the corner. She keeps the place neat and clean. Exchanges dimes and nickles for quarters.

After the wash, everything goes in the dryer. Two quarters: 20 mins of hot air -- tho lately the air isn't so hot.

I browse Automobile World for about five minutes. Look up to check on the clothes and they're sitting in a damp steaming lump. i go over and tell her that i didn't get my twenty minutes worth. her english isn't good. my chinese either.

she goes over to the window of the dryer. feels it with her palm.

"Hot" she says.

"Yes, hot, but not 20 minutes hot."

"Hot," she says.

"Not hot," I says.

She walks away and ignores my beef. this place is close to Telegraph -- lots of loons ranting and
raving.

"Not hot," I mutter and fish around for two more quarters.


When all is tumbled dry, and I'm folding the quilt making sure nothing touches the ground for one
milisecond, my arms stretched high above my head she gets up.

"Help?" she asks.

She takes a corner, shakes it to make sure it's nice and flat before she folds it.

i need to get a little perspective some days.

pain

We were going to do the Fremont Crit today but changed our minds. I was quite glad not to do it and thought instead Linda and I would go for a nice long ride. "I know what we'll do" she said first thing this morning. I like it when she makes such statements as I rarely have a plan and if I do I'll change it six or seven times before leaving the house. "We will do the Bears as a time-trial." Here in this little plan of Linda's was the two things she dislikes doing most on the bike: hills and TTs all wrapped up in one icky package . I was more inclined to ride to Danville and stop for coffee and a hunk of lemon pound cake. But Linda's plan seemed more wise and less fatty. The last time we did this TT it was part of the Grizzly Peak Cylists event calandar. A very low key event with numbered cloth armbands. I hadn't been doing my workouts very regularly at that point and didn't feel up to it . Plus, I just knew a certain group of, lets just say, people-I-like-to-avoid (PILTAs) would be there. A simple "How are you?" seems always to unleash from them a detailed report of their latest race results, but I digress. So this morning, Linda wants to race the Bears again. I agreed thinking, when she's outta sight, around a corner, I'll stop trying. But a wrench was thrown into our plans -- or rather right into Linda's lower back. She reached for Daisy and froze in pain. So today we napped and read magazines: ProCycling for Linda, New Yorker for me. And the cats charged through the halls and cleaned one another. Outside it's grey which makes staying indoors not so bad. Tomorrow is another day and I want very much for Linda to feel better so I can kick her ass in the TT! I kid. I kid.

say ahh...

what a face...

I wonder where Daisy is?

This is an odd game the cats play. Daisy wiggles under the carpet and hides. Minnie either sleeps on her or just watches her. She loves the game. And, it beats the heck out of riding the rollers.

road rage

i'm minding my own bidness, riding up mt diablo when this guy comes blasting past me. he's a big guy, broad shoulders kinda beefy. his bike has one of those bike deelie-doos from junior high -- the kind for strapping down your geometry book or hauling someone on the back. no hello, no flick of the hand. he looks good but soon i notice he's slowing really fast, sorta tanking. keeping my same slowish pace i come alongside him and then pass him as the road tips up slightly. i don't look back but on a bend i see he's a little way back no longer looking like he'll blast past anything. so la-la-la on i ride, back to the peace, quiet of a lovely solo ride up mt diablo. but pretty soon i get this feeling i'm not alone. there's no sound, no gear shifting but i have this inkling there's a big beefy guy sitting right smack on my wheel just dangling there for no good reason. kinda like when our little daisy has been to the cat box and well has a little extra weight hanging from her tail. anyhow i take all i can take, try to stop thinking about the little poop on my back wheel, so finally after about ten minutes or so, i glance behind and he says Hi all friendly and nice. I wave my hand and say do you want to go around? He says, Oh do you mind? And I say, Well yes I do, I sorta wanted to ride alone. And then he says Well why don't you go around which makes little sense because i'm in the front and he's the dangler. i remind him that i did in fact go around him about fifteen minutes ago. So he goes around me. He's slow now and I don't want to be stuck with him, so I announce I'm going around because at that particular point it's possible to go around since I'm behind him. What's your problem? he calls out. I don't want company I tell him (okay, i screech). Chill Out! he says. Get some manners i tell him (again screeching). Chill out he repeats in a mocking sort of way (Cheeel out) because I probably sound like some nutso crazy woman at this point. so of course i spend the next thirty minutes going way over my assigned hr level just making sure i drop the little turd for good. i probably could have handled the whole scene better. oh hell.

saw a good movie tonight -- Inconvenient Truth. And oh my god, the person sitting right behind me was making all this noise...

Daisy rides a bike...

...but she isn't so great at it.

mighty thirsty