The Lull

Things have not been rolling along.  We are in a holding pattern until the girls are born, so I've not had much time to get in any long rides or other adventures.  In the meantime, I've been hitting some projects around the house and planning the garden bed for the new year.  I finished the cold frame for the pineapples, and it seems to be keeping the epiphytes warm enough and helping shed water that would otherwise be backing up into the garage.  An avocado seedling came up in the compost, so it has joined the pineapples in the box for the "cold" season.  I also got some seeds into some pots the other day (spinach, radishes, and lettuce...update; they're all sprouted), in the hopes that we'll have some leafy greens and red roots on which to snack in a couple of months.  Next is planting some garlic, building the garden bed, and making some soap for holiday gifts.  

The garden bed may wind up being concrete blocks, but that would run about $250.  I also found some recycled plastic timbers through Home Depot, which would result in a slightly smaller frame, but would come in at around $150.  Originally, I had planned to make bamboo "log" walls (with rebar through holes at the ends to secure them), but I have not been able to find any bamboo large enough (contrary to the abundance of this invasive in our area).  That would look the best, so I'll keep my eyes peeled (found some great stuff online for waaay too much money).  This material would also be the most versatile (furniture, covering any unsightly plumbing in the landscape, and supporting climbing veggies like beans, among others).  I found the masking use in a You Tube clip a friend sent.  Check out what this guy has done with his back few.  It is quite inspiring for those of you with any slope or size to your own lots.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-mIYuJePNc

I've also been thinking much of economics, lately, as they relate to individual political persuasion.  It isn't so much that the market has me so concerned, it is my work environment.  Working in a bike shop, one is constantly hearing of what one has to sell, or what one has purchased (from customers and co-workers, alike).  Sometimes, my mind reels at the capacity some have for thinking in such purely capitalist terms.  It erodes my confidence in fellow humans because even those that engage in some practices that are respectful of the planet or other inhabitants thereof, think nothing of using e-bay and ripping off others for a chunk of change that they will only be using to buy something else that will be sold within the year.  It is difficult for me to relate to this frequency of consumerism.  Though I may occasionally buy new things, it usually takes me considerable time and consideration to make such decisions.  I must know that the things I buy were at least made on this continent (if possible), are durable, are not going to seep toxic vapors, are recyclable, are being reused, and/or exhibit some other characteristic making them worthy of purchase.  More to the point, I do not buy things with the intention of selling them (aside from my house and the land upon which it is built...we bought it knowing that it was an investment on the time frame of 10-20 years).  I have a hard time understanding those that do buy so many things so that they may then sell those things.  That is all.

The girls are here!  They were delivered on 12/4/08, and I was not there to see it...the cesarean section, that is.  I WAS there, but they do not allow spouses for general anesthesia.  This led to the only real heaving cry I've had in years.  Thankfully, my mom was there to let me share this with her.  Speaking of crying, I'm currently about to lose every hair from my head listening to my screaming child that would be totally silent if only I'd give her a pacifier.  My wife and my own conscience will not let me, so she will have to run full blast for a few more minutes here, while I hope that she is not developing feelings of hate for her old man, and she settles herself down a little bit.  If only we could hook her up to some kind of generator...we could power the house with that roar!

Since the above paragraph, I think we've figured out that we just need to keep the girls up and stimulated more during the day, or they are not going to give us any peace in the wee hours.  There is so much going through my mind, right now, but each day truly does get a little easier.  I am an expert diaper changer, at this point, and I can almost sleep over the little coos and ahs that sound so frightening when siphoned through the crackling, amplified monitor.  

Thank you to everybody that has pitched in to donate food and time.  We absolutely could not be doing this on our own.  Weirdly, I find myself understanding why some women abandon their children (though not empathizing).  This is hard work, and for the first couple of days, my stomach felt like it was eating itself, and that's with help from at least 5-10 friends, so far.

Settling in...settling in.

Here's the latest rig.  Garrett, this is yours when once your veins run blue, again.  In the meantime, there could not be a better greenway bicycle (Paul hub on a Mavic 317 in the back, Nitto bar and stem, and Sugino crank on an old Japanese-made, commuter-level, lugged steel Miyata with an old Schwinn touring fork and cross tires).  As I write these words, I realize I may have already mentioned this bicycle on this blog, so here's a gander.

Hope to get more up on this thing in the near future...gaining more time each day.  Enjoy your day, everybody, and, for crying out loud, get out and ride for those of us that, currently, do not have the option.

Naked Women and Political Dissent

The most challenging thing about attending a strip bar, for me, is my inability to ignore the musical choices of the dancers.  I went to Thee Southern Belle the other night in an attempt to traditionally "honor" my good friend being wed on Sunday.  It is difficult to watch a woman gyrating to the sounds of Rage Against the Machine or Tool and not feel conflicted.  It is not as if I do not see this form of art as something that can be empowering for the women.  It is troubling that while listening to such music that I am, along with the rest of the boys and men in the joint, exhibiting some of my most consumerist tendencies.  We each paid $20 to enter, the group threw loads of cash onto the stage, and we drank beer after beer, without so much as a thought regarding anything other than observing and reacting primordially to that which sinuously slid within inches of our eyes.  I am not sorry I went, and I am glad that our soon-to-be-wed friend enjoyed himself, but I couldn't help thinking how much more fun and leftover cash we could've had if we had all been camping and riding our bicycles.  Of course, there is a consumptive element to any such endeavor, but, if we had done something akin to the latter, I am sure we could've used fewer resources, had many more productive conversations and may have even learned a few things about ourselves other than that we all get sexually excited by beautiful, dancing women.  Hell, we may have even had our musical instruments, along, and come up with some art of our own.  So be it.  Hindsight is always crystal clear. 

 

On a fairly unrelated note, I received the first response to my "Open Letter to My Elected Officials."  It was from my Republican state senator, and, while somewhat formulaic, it seemed to directly address some of what I had written.  He wrote of his work toward a comprehensive energy policy for the state and mentioned reducing dependency on foreign sources.  I worry that comprehensive is now the code language for "clean" coal, domestic drilling, and nuclear power.  While I am no fan of any of the above, I can appreciate that they may ease our transition to other sources.  However, new facilities or subsidies to make them more efficient or more affordable will only divert money from more sustainable sources.  This is not to mention that such thinking will continue to reinforce the massive-scale thinking that has mired our energy policy in this country for far too long.  Micro-scale, truly renewable energy is the way to achieve the desired ends.  Though, to avoid the "base power" conundrum, we have got to demand efficiency in our vehicles and appliances and be more realistic about our personal grid-energy consumption and the number and necessity of trips we make (other than those by foot or bicycle).  Obviously, when we can afford solar arrays and micro-wind (among others) for each of our homes, this will be easier, but something must fill the gap, and voter pressure on elected officials will help us, tremendously.  Write something.

  

As for immigration, Senator McConnell took the initiative to form a study committee to develop new legislation for our state.  I cannot informatively comment on what that legislation means, at this point, but I appreciate that something is being done about this problem.  I do think illegal immigration is a problem, but I also grow weary of those that would turn this human rights issue into a purely economic one.  The age of scaring voters into action is better left to the 19th century, if you ask me, and we need to figure out how to solve this problem in a way that does not criminalize the effort to earn a living.  It seems ironic that we do so, while there are legal citizens of this country allowed to effectively "rob" others by offering them exceedingly dangerous loans, contrary to the borrowers' obvious inability to pay.  

The Senator remarks on how he was instrumental in property tax relief.  I cannot complain if my property taxes are reduced unless it means that our schools and other public services suffer...which they do...so I will.  I have a friend that was forced to move from his home of nearly thirty or more years because of property taxes, and I am sure there are plenty of stories like his.  However, if his burden had been shifted to those that build in unstable environments (read:  on barrier islands and next to salt marshes) or those that move business locations into our town, only to leave within a decade without penalty, he may have been able to stay put.  In other words, if there were a little personal responsibility built into our policy, things would be different, and many are not capable of regulating themselves.  I do not know enough about such matters to suggest how it could be fixed, but I seriously doubt that equitable tax burden exists in our county or state.  I also know that it is fairly easy for businesses to portray themselves in a positive light to politicians that made their careers in such fields as real estate and development and to manipulate local law to suit their financial ends.

He mentions that school funding is not being distributed equitably, which I appreciate.  It is unclear whether he means that more of that funding should be distributed to private schools, but I fear that is the route that most of his party is following.  I thoroughly support more accountability in education, but I also know that education has never been adequately funded in this nation, and I know that unions are a necessary component of our social structure.  I cringe at the thought of what unbridled competition among schools would look like.  I consider the end result of competition in media, shoes, computers, and the awful repercussions this competition has wrought.  So, one school out-competes all the others and, in turn, becomes a sort of Wal-Mart of education?  I just don't see how this could be a good thing, since the benefits of educating most in a less-than-stellar manner will always be better than wonderfully educating a handful of our citizens (the rest in prison and the military?).  There is a better way, and we merely need convince those that make decisions in our name that nothing else is more critical than this issue.  It is the one around which all others revolve.  

I must commend Senator McConnell for his response.  Nobody else has taken the time to send anything, yet, and his letter seemed much more thoughtful than those that I have received from other elected officials in the past.  Perhaps I'll publish my letter in my next entry, since this ain't the most mellifluous missive, and I don't expect those with seats up for grabs this November to be writing me anytime soon.  

Check out this link sent from L.A. Rob, hopefully soon to be the "new bastard."  Just cut and paste it into your search interface if it doesn't manifest click-ably.  I don't have the time or patience to make this instantly accessible.  Can you believe we once used dial-up internet connections?  Also, watch Manufacturing Consent, listen to Lungfish, already, and go ride your bicycle.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uuGaqLT-gO4

Gettin' High at Edisto

I just finished up a ride of nearly 100 miles, and I feel a little tenderized.  I had not been out to Edisto Island since I worked for the County, many years ago, and it was just the right day for it. There were at least 4 road-killed raccoons, 1 bloated, buck white-tailed deer in a ditch, 3 or 4 heaps o' opossum, and a few smashed snakes along the way, but I was lucky enough to return in one piece (thanks, again, to my reflective vest and reflective triangle with which I always travel).   

I wish I could give more of the credit to the motorists I encountered, but most gas addicts are still moving around as if the fluid was being sold for $1 per gallon (lots of peeling out, revving-up, unnecessary trips, and related my-driving-style-represents-my-stunted-emotional-development antics), which leads me to my current consternation.  Why is domestic oil suddenly so acceptable to so many elected officials and others?  When it comes to domestic employment, they shove their heads into the very holes in our planet for which they are rallying.   It is dishonest for them to brandish the flag of energy independence in an attempt to seem patriotic at the same time they are making it easier for companies to eliminate or relocate jobs.  If you had the choice, would you vote for one more good job in your community that would support a family for a lifetime or cheaper gasoline for a few more years?

Meanwhile, I carted the kayak to a local landing the other day on the X-tra Cycle.  I used a couple of bricks for ballast on the opposite side, and it worked quite well.  The only couple of rubs were that there was no good place to lock the bicycle and I was paddling a whitewater boat in flat, tidal areas.  Such a boat has nearly no tracking ability, so I was only out for about an hour before I tired of the constant corrections required to move in a straight line.  It has me considering the purchase of a sit-on-top, which would not only provide a good track, but which is designed for bringing along fishing gear.  I've grown more and more convinced that I need to make the occasional fish a part of my diet, in order to replace some of the carbon excess associated with soy being my staple source of complete protein.  Besides, once the girls are here and onto solid foods, I want them to have some choice in the way their diets develop.  If they are going to eat animals, I want them to be aware of how food gets to their plates.  Hell, we may even do some hunting, though I'm still a little undecided on what species I/we may pursue.  I'm leaning toward Canada goose or some such other pestiferous species that is less likely to possess the sentient capacity of large mammals like deer that are so often targeted, but we've got some time to make this decision.

It feels a little weird to be writing of killing animals for food, but I've grown less and less convinced that an entirely plant-based diet is efficient and ecologically sound unless a large part of it is raised by the consumer.  Recent, light gardening efforts have helped me realize just how difficult it is to produce an appreciable amount of food without hornworms, aphids, or others tearing apart a harvest.  It makes organic food prices much more understandable, and it makes one wonder what sort of monitoring and maintenance (fossil fueled?) must be required when pesticides and herbicides are not employed.  Anyway, we'll still plant, and I hope to get at least 4 or 5 good crops in this year (some leafy greens, some peppers and tomatoes, some garlic, and others), but we may be using those crops to adorn a few fast-twitchers of the piscine variety, here and there.

Dave and I got in the ride that I was hopeful would happen last weekend.  We arrived just before hunting closed for the day and may have ruined somebody's shot, as we pedaled around a bend and noticed 4 or 5 deer milling about in the center of the road (a no-shoot zone, if I'm not mistaken), about 1/2 mile distant.  Perhaps they knew where to hang out to avoid their demise? 

It was a great ride, save for the many huge, fresh piles of horse dung we had to bob and weave to avoid.  Dave was on a new single-speed 29'er and, as usual, had no problem steaming up my tail, regardless of my use of 3 or 4 gears, but it wasn't a high stress ride.  We got in about a lap and a half, pushed a medium pace, for the most part, and finished up just in time for me to get back to work on time.  I signaled my satisfaction with the ride by smoothly rolling up to the car, failing to unclip my foot successfully, and falling squarely onto the wound on my shin that was barely starting to heal from a few days previous (regardless of having been riding clipless pedals for a few years, now).  Dave calmly inquired, "Are you done?"  I could only laugh.    

Redneck Rain Barrel

Well, I've entered the realm of the rain harvester for real, this time.  At the old house, I merely had a trash can placed under a diverter on the roof, but I've elevated my enterprise to include an honest-to-goodness gutter and mosquito-proofed my trash can.  The gutter wasn't a perfect installation, since it held about 1/4" after the fact, but I simply drilled a hole, mid-way, to eliminate the excess, in a spot that will later accommodate another downspout.  The one on the end, meanwhile, is filling up within minutes in heavy rain.  I tried a meager garden hose for overflow, only to discover in the "test rain" (a.k.a. Tropical Storm/Hurricane Hannah) that a 3" wide downspout will do very well at backing up a 1/2" wide garden hose outlet.  So, one bout of rain in the garage later I am left with the assembly you see represented here.  While I may go with a more aesthetically pleasing barrel in the future, it is hard to argue against the total expense, so far, that has left me far shy of the cost of some of the commercially-available barrels ($60-200), alone (and that's including my garden hose misjudgment...what a band name, huh?).

The day leading up to this screened-top and large hose attachment was largely filled with nearly 4 hours spent registering at Babies 'R Us.  We were not prepared.  I should have known as much when I saw the brochure the helpful staff member pushed our way that creepily issued "Thanks for becoming one of Us," while informing us that we would need to scan 150 items.  I'm not sure if 150 is a requirement, but we had a tough time getting there.  I'm sure the intention is to make money, regardless of the more than friendly service we received, but we were double scanning things we felt most important, just so we didn't put anything extraneous on the list (though our printout was certain to remind us that we had forgotten some "essentials").  Besides, through the generosity of friends and family, we've already got some necessities (cribs, some clothes, and a few other items).  It was not a terrible experience, but by the time it was 1:30pm, we realized we had arrived at 9:30am, and the dregs of society literally started filling the store, we were getting impatient.  Yet another comment was made (this time by staff members of a baby supply store; read more sensitive) on how "small" the wife looks.  Luckily, her doctor has advised her to pay no mind and that the babies are just right.  Just imagine that you are a pregnant woman that has a family history of premature or abnormally small babies that puts her or the baby/ies at risk, and you are the one that sends her home in a shower of tears.  Not pleasant.

As we speak, the financial crisis that is being framed as trivial by our overlords is making its way into the understanding of the many...yours truly, included.  After listening to Dean Baker, Robert Scheer, and Bernie Sanders on Democracy Now!, I'm fuming about it, but at least I now know that advisors to the current "candidates" (read American Idols) had their hands in deregulating financial markets back in 1999 and are, therefore, largely responsible for getting us into this mess.  Perhaps the most upsetting thing is that all those times we, the people, have clamored for decent wages, health care, good jobs, equitable education, social security, and others have been met with the same old song of "Well, it sounds good, but there just ain't enough money to do it."  

So, basically, the argument goes something like this:  We need tax breaks and deregulation for the wealthy so that they can invest money to "grow" our economy (what a euphemism for the root of all evil, no?).  The jobs they create will lack benefits, barely pay beyond the minimum wage, and consist of menial tasks that are planned with obsolescence in mind (eventually to be taken care of by computer systems or shipped to other countries).  Meanwhile, our tax burden remains the same or goes down slightly, our social security is invested in the same markets that are collapsing before our eyes, our children are only educated if we are lucky enough to have the money to send them to private schools, and public services continue to dwindle to the point that fire, police, and road maintenance are the only things left.  I want to believe that capitalism can succeed, and I, by no means, have a full understanding of how this all works, but I can't help feeling like some of this is so obvious.  When we don't assist in educating, insuring, housing, and employing each other, we should not be surprised when many of our citizens turn to crime, especially when the role model that is being cast from more elevated tiers reflects that it pays to do so.  This realm is a little beyond my level, and I don't wish to get too frustrated about it, so I'll move on to brighter things.

I got in two laps at Marington Plantation the other day.  The toughest part was convincing myself that it was alright to get in the car and drive somewhere by myself.  It had been nearly two months since I had done this.  I've increasingly grown to detest the practice, and constantly hearing about all the traveling of others in my peer group, I am left wondering if my generation really grasps the seriousness of our energy situation.  There are all kinds of beneficial things being done to soften our impact, but traveling seems to always fall towards the bottom of lists.  I know people need to travel, I just think the definition of need is blurry.  As for me, I could certainly try riding out to Marington for a lap every now and then, instead of driving, but just the road distance winds up being at least 30 miles (not the most pleasant knobby-tired, MTB ride), with the trail adding another 12, at least.  Maybe I'll try catching the bus as far as it will go.  The trail, by the way, is as fast as ever, excepting the Foster Creek loop.  However, that loop provides a nice, kind-of-tricky creek crossing with lots of large stones, so I did it twice just to make it a little more challenging.  Success, though, also, a sore ass, was mine.  I cannot say enough good things about this trail and Don Watts, the stalwart manager of the property.  What an oasis we have in this system.

I got in a great 30+ mile ride last night.  Though I started with the crew from the shop, I quickly realized that I wasn't up for another twitchy ride consisting of short sprints, then easy riding, short sprints, then easy riding, ad nausea.  I want more distance and more consistency.  I don't ride a bicycle so that I can do better in my next race.  I want to see things other than the ass in front of me while I'm riding, you know?

I'm hoping Dave and I will get in a ride at Manchester this weekend, too (one of the best trails in the state, as far as I'm concerned, regardless of the fairly unfriendly monitors of the property...see one of my first posts for details).

This thing is getting way too long, so I'll hang it up, for now.  Look for something further next weekend and have a great ride, walk, conversation, meal, etc., etc.

 

 

Rain 'Kep a Rollin'

Like a stowaway serpent aboard a raft of vegetative flotsam, I spun and writhed around the bottom bracket of the newly painted steel rig.  After having just finished Culley's book about being a Chicago messenger and painting petroleum jelly on his face to keep his skin from freezing in the winter, I committed to hitting the almost certainly rainy passage to the part-time gig this morning.  After all, it wasn't salted roads and solidified mucous ahead of me.  It was just rain, right?  Yes, well, I'll have to do a little extra maintenance, but it was one of the best rides I've had in months.  The reflective vest tied to the pannier, the reflective triangle under my ass, and the small, red blinking light were just enough to keep me from getting clobbered by a wall of water, and I don't even remember a single car horn.  Sometimes you've just got to eat it...or drink it, as it was...it nourishes/hydrates the soul.

The Raleigh is riding like a champ, despite the "enormous" heft of 24 or so pounds (probably 3 of which could be blamed on my candybar bag full of roadside essentials that exceeds what most would bring).  I don't even notice the weight, but the limited gearing (12 speeds...total) has made me push a little harder.  Simply knowing that the bicycle is nearly my age (nearly 40) assuages any slight dissatisfaction with something so banal as weight, and I feel as if I'm riding atop a work of art.  The "sunbeam" (safety-yellow touring bicycle made by a company that shall forever hence remain nameless; even negative publicity is publicity), while a proven workhorse, only looks artful due to my adornment (Berthoud fenders, etc.).  The Raleigh looks like something that was intended to not only be ridden, but gazed upon at length.  Once the leather bar tape and the honey B-17 saddle are installed, I'll throw an image up here.  

I missed the tour around Lake Michigan with my brother from college.  I'm looking forward to an ebb in our very wet weather, so that I can get in another bicycle camping trip before the twins arrive in November/December.  Bob, I hope you all had a blast, and I was with you in spirit, you must trust.

As for the twins, they will be beauties and not beasts.  She will be with them for the first few months or so, at which point I will take over and begin the indoctrination.  I'm looking forward to the break from work, and I'm sure they will keep me busy.  I'm hoping to make some long-needed headway on the creative fronts with them, and I can't wait until their metamorphoses into garden bugs.  I am anxious to share their inevitable wonder and questions about the natural world, and what I hope will be their inevitable continued questions about this world.  It is exciting to think of how they may or may not share my perspectives and of the conversations about such similarities and differences.  We could all stand a little more humility.  I love my little babies, already.

I do not, however, love the job at this point in my bicycle repair career.  I am not too bent out of shape about it, since I'll be breaking from it in less than 10 months, but retail can really chew you up and spit you out, sometimes.  It is difficult to contain the anger at being treated as less than human, especially when one is cognizant of the even worse treatment suffered by those not quite as white (or male, or middle-aged, or fill-in-the-blank).  That sort of knowledge invalidates any hurt feelings, I believe, and, while I should be uplifted by my relative rapport and consequent comfort, most often, I am not.  I find this acceptable, if frequently upsetting, because I become better at avoiding such interactions with every exchange of stern looks and harsh words.  I like to dream of a future that finds me answering only to myself, in which I am able to operate my mind fully for the purposes of communication.  I do not work for an ass (far from it), but I still feel like I work "for" another individual more commonly than I would like.  This is not an insurmountable problem, but working for an institution, an agency, or the public seems so much easier, sometimes.  At least when a flaming hoop must be traversed within a corporation, a government or other institution, there is a constituency to absorb the corresponding negative reaction.  When the target for such negativity is a "boss" and a good friend, it makes things more delicate.  The hoops to which I refer are relatively few.  In fact, there is really only one, and that is having to "play nice" to a sometimes supremely undeserving audience.  It is not as if I feel I would ever be fired for being "short" with a customer.  Rather, it is the hard time I have capping my temper with those that denigrate the tremendously honorable profession of which I am a small part.  They display their ignorance of economics and the symbiosis of this discipline with ecology and human rights when they do not accept that prices in the market barely provide a decent living for some of us.  I am one of the luckier ones, but I still don't have my own health insurance that would make taking care of the wee ones less expensive, and I work "unpaid" overtime nearly every week.  I say "unpaid" because I may get a few "free" things from the shop here and there, but there is no such thing as an overtime check in my life.  I say "free" because I also donate things to the shop on a regular basis that zeros out the whole game, in effect.

Again, I am one of the lucky ones, and, while I am complaining, I am happy.  I get to work with some of the most dependable, intelligent, and interesting people with which I have ever associated, and we all share the mild frustrations, making their severity seem less pointed.  

Potatoes are going like mad in their pots, the four pineapple plants look as spiny palms of foliage, opening their hands to grope at sky and sun, and the basil and chives, since transplant from their old pots, are breathing easily and plumping.  We're looking forward to the spinach and lettuce season, and are planning a cinder block garden to cradle such edibles.  I also spoke with the local blueberry farm about getting some seedlings to plant in the early part of next year.  We're hoping to land 8-10 or so, enabling us to harvest enough for a pie or two a year that will bring smiles to the girls' faces.  

Speaking of the girls, by the way, the going names for the girls are decided, but I'll hold off on getting them involved, here, since they've not yet signed their release forms (though I do expect them to do well on their morse code examination on me lady's belly next week).  Rest assured, they are good old southern gentlelady names that will connect them to their roots on both sides of the tree.

I just finished "Into the Wild," finally.  I don't know why I put it off for so long, but it reminded me of "Grizzly Man."  I know the author conveys that the protagonist was not so careless, but it seemed like another misdirected effort at becoming closer to the planet.  It was really nice, then, to read "The Immortal Class" right afterwards.  Travis Culley pulls the reader up and down his roller coaster, but he not only doesn't come off the track, he keeps his hands up.  I really liked that two of the most depressing AND inspiring things in the book are explored in the last few pages.  Some of what he writes reminds me acutely of that article I linked within this blog about cities as ecosystems or organisms.  It makes me feel better with our decision not to move from the city, however smaller than his Chicago, of Charleston.  I'm hopeful that school quality and other "familial" concerns will not drive us away from this creature but towards improving it.  It is time to get back on the political treadmill.  I'll write once I've got something (maybe after the maintenance course for the City of North Charleston bicycle force next week...a possibly interesting engagement).  

Oh, and the bombyliid fly, Xenox tigrinus (?), was on the screen in the garage the other day.  BugGuide.net lists it as a larval parasite of carpenter bees, which would explain the pile of sawdust and fecal matter I found a few days later under a small table in the garage.  Hanging next to the massive hole in the table (made by a carpenter bee), was an exoskeleton that reminded me of a tachinid fly.  Only a few weeks earlier, the wife had trapped a small "cricket-fly," as she called it.  It turned out to be a parasitic wasp of some sort.  I suspect it feeds upon cockroaches, based on the number that have turned up, lately, and I seem to remember identifying one like this years ago.  If I see another, I'll try to catch a good image, in the hopes of preventing some of them from being smashed by my more "nervous" readers (no, they do not pose a stinging hazard).  It is nice how little worlds work themselves out all around us, whether we are paying attention or not, huh?  

From the world of the six-legged (two wheels, four limbs),

Brad   

  

Season of Spend

This is the first entry since the old computer crashed.  We got an iMac for two reasons.  The first is that it is made with real metal and real glass (regardless of Apple's not-so-hot rating with those that rate such things as environmental sensitivity, the absence of that much more plastic can only be a good thing) and the second is that it is more functional for what we do most of the time (e-mail, online news, music recording, digital photography, blog entries, etc.).  I could get into more about this subject, but such a debate is better left to people with much less to do than I.  

Our good friend from Missoula way stopped in, recently, so we took the opportunity to finally visit the blueberry farm I used to pass on the way to work every day.  We walked out of there with nearly 2 gallons of the finest ericaceous edibles known to man and only paid $15.  Man, if ever there was a way to be sustainable, this would qualify.  All we need is a few such farms (they need not be the 10 or so acres that this one was) in strategic locations (recently acquired county greenspace property?), and we've got the start of a community garden network.  Charlotte was an inspiration in this respect, as we passed one of their gardens a few times during the course of the certification class, and it was at least a few acres in size and full of people and plants.  They were obviously doing something right (perhaps the fence around the garden was locked to keep out those that would ruin such a good thing by stealing food others had grown?).

I suspect the existing greenway in our area would be perfect for this, but I also suspect that there are a few jerks that would ride their motorcycles through the plants, let their dogs crap on the garden, or otherwise ruin it for others.  I don't like to be pessimistic about it, I just know that humans are not the most respectful animals on the planet.  

I think most of our effort will be in the new back yard, especially since I'd like the little ones to have an established garden once their able to help out.

Speaking of the little ones, tomorrow is the expected appointment at which we'll be learning whether it'll be two bruisers or two beauties.  I'd be happy with any permutation, but I'm still expecting the former.    

As for media to consume, I've not been able to peruse much, lately, but I did just read the newest book about turn-of-the-century bicycle racer Major Taylor, and I did just see a great documentary about an inner-city school called "I Am a Promise."  Both worth a look.

Finally, the bicycles I sent for painting are done.  Turns out the Surly probably had rust before the first paint job was applied, which is why I got problems with rust within two and a half years, while the Raleigh I also sent was only having significant problems after 30.  Looking forward to this last big bicycle build-up before the babies come a' bouncin'.  Hopefully, I'll be able to recover some of the expense by selling a few bicycles I've had laying around for some time.  I hate to part with them, but I'm just not using them much anymore, and I'd like to get down to 3 bikes (1 MTB, 1 tourer-commuter, and 1 road race model). 

Hope you all are well, and send me a comment or e-mail when you can (especially you, Costa Rican...I accidentally deleted your e-mail address).  

  

Tobacco and Queen Anne's Lace

I've lots to unload, so I'll start with the most important news. It is official. We have two little peanuts in the making. Baby 1 looks like a snuggler, while Baby 2 looks like a thinker. We were not planning the pregnancy, but we are, nonetheless, very happy at the prospect and only a little nervous.

There was a time when I was not so thrilled at the idea of procreating. I preferred to think that it was something I was not up to due to selfishness, or that other people only did because they were convinced that it was what was expected of them.

I cannot point to any one thing that changed our situation, I can only say that we are two people that very much enjoy teaching and communicating with children and that have high hopes for the future of our planet. There is no delusion that we are raising the next Ghandi, Mother Jones, Woody Guthrie, or Dennis Kucinich, but we are happy to think that they may live in a world with just such personalities and to share with them the ones by which we have been influenced. As I write this, I am struck by the fact that there is really no supreme argument when it comes to having or not having children. Being trained and educated in the biological sciences, I tend to lean towards the genetic imperative, however subtle its hand (it's not as if we were thinking of the fate of the world or our own fate when we were conceiving). It could just be that we love each other so much and are content with our finances and general health and comfort, at this point in our lives, that we were able to cease thinking of sex as something that need be regulated or altered by birth control. The certain thing is that the motivation no longer matters. We are pleased with the result, and we look forward to sharing our happiness with our family and friends.

We will be doing this from a new vantage point if all goes well. We have a ratified contract on a new, old home down the road. It is a cedar-framed, brick beauty that has a large yard and plenty of space for two new sets of paws. The only hurdle left is getting our current place past inspection and fixing some of what they request without breaking our bank doing it (they already nickel and dimed us on the offer and the closing costs). I'm sure there are a few little things that could use attention, but we've taken care of all the big items and the place is, obviously, totally inhabitable. It just depends on whether they are picky jerks or realistic, good people (we only asked for the owners of the place we're buying to throw in around $200 worth of repairs, for what it's worth). We're looking forward to getting out of this vinyl village more than most of you know. It's all fine and dandy to visit us, here, and note what a swell place this is (thanks to the old lady's decorative penchant), but living here is a different story when you consider our feelings regarding sustainable accommodations.

I just got back from Charlotte, where I obtained my League Certified Instructor status from the League of American Bicyclists. It was nearly two full days of instruction and presentation that, while somewhat redundant for those that have extensive time in the saddle, was incredibly valuable for the future. I do intend to teach this stuff in schools, and I will post progress on that front.

I also got the rare chance to hang with my older sister and her two girls on the last day of the trip. I passed what appeared to be the world HQ for Philip Morris on the way. Interesting that most of the front of the property was pastoral with lots of what looked like prairie restoration or natural succession areas (former tobacco plots?), while the entrances echoed the fortress-chic that one would expect at military bases (who are you, what is your business, and where are your papers?). There was tons of Queen Anne's Lace in bloom.

Do not stand up in the waters of Lake Tillery in North Carolina. There are thousands and thousands of leeches under those waters. I suspect it has something to do with the solid floor of dead and dying introduced Corbicula sp. clams. Check your feet!

Oh, the moth at the header is a pterophorid (Geina sp., I believe) that may or may not feast upon your grape vines. He/she showed up on the back porch a few weeks ago. Also, cool commercial sent by mi hermano:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2mTLO2F_ERY

The Little Prince

The doorbell rang on Saturday at around 3pm. I expected a teenager requesting that I buy magazine subscriptions that I don't need but that would, nonetheless, hurtle him towards success or somebody else on a mission from God looking to hurtle me towards the same.

It was not. It was Roq (or Rock...I'm not sure).

The new boy next door stood there with a popsicle in one hand and kicking at the ground to assuage his slight fear. He asked me if I had any kids and explained that he was new to this area and didn't really have any friends. I asked him his name, told him mine, and shook his hand and told him that although we did not have children, we may be expecting some within the year. His eyes flared and his popsicle dripped as he considered the prospect. He then innocently requested, "When they turn ten, let me know."

One day later, I'm at work, and I overhear a conversation among a frustrated new bicycle owner and two of my co-workers. The rear wheel was not being engaged by the turn of the cranks. It simply made a pathetic clunking noise, as if a piece inside the hub was just broken in half or something. After the other two made a case for responding to the situation, his anger remained. He continued, for a few more minutes, to vent fumes that suggested we had intentionally screwed him. It turns out, he had been told to bring it in and that we would take care of it. Unfortunately, the person with which he had spoken, even had he been around today, underestimated the situation and led him to believe it was a "turn of the wrench" kind-of-thing. It was not, and we aren't going to waste the time trying to fix what should be warrantied, besides.

Although such passing of the buck happens more than one would like in life, it is rare that one later gets a phone call from the irate person apologizing for tearing ass while in the shop. He explained that we were inappropriate targets for his griping and that the individual that had led him to believe things were ship-shape had done us wrong.

There is hope, friends. There is hope.

The pictures are from Caw Caw, but I will add more, soon, as I've just been hired to do some contract work rewriting a marsh program for Drayton Hall Plantation. I'll be taking the camera with me, out there, looking to get some shots that I can incorporate in the program materials or in other literature they produce in the future. Visiting there the other day was yet another reminder of how much I miss educating.

Why I Love and Hate South Carolina

The image sums it all up. If the sofa had been a glass bottle or a cardboard box or any number of other things that would have a negligible impact on the water, air, and soil health of the forest and might even benefit the local organisms in some way, then I would not have even taken the picture. As I saw it, however, there sat the flame-retardant-impregnated, carcinogenic bomb amidst pale angels of the hydrostatic layer. It lay in such a place that suggested its former owners were intent on making a statement that trumpeted their opposition to all-things-considerate. While their ancestors and neighbors would have at least found a hidden stretch of road or dead end, these brazen folk proclaimed their indifference and ignorance with pride. Which leads me to yet another recent, annoying article from our local paper, The Post and Courier.

It was an Earth Day soap box piece about litter, for the most part. The implication was that litter is hurting our planet. Is it? Does it really matter whether trash is gathered in a container or strewn about the landscape? I think the answer is...maybe. At least in a landfill, there is a liner, however impermanent, that prevents leaching of toxins to some degree. It also confines (concentrates?) any leaching that does take place to a particular locale. Of course, if groundwater IS contaminated near a landfill, there is a much greater chance that the infiltration will be at such levels as to make it a human health hazard, especially considering population density near landfills. There are too many issues and arguments to settle such a question in such a forum. One thing, however, is certain...there should be fewer things to throw away.

The article totally missed the opportunity to remark on just how much stuff we "consume." The need for landfills would be nearly eliminated if we simply used less and used that which is durable or reasonably biodegradable. It is ironic that the term "consume" is used beyond the market of food, now, since very few of us actually consume anything we buy (if anything, most of what we buy consumes us by competing with our quality of life for limited resources).

It has been said that "recycling rewards consumption." I believe it was William McDonough, and I believe he is absolutely correct (please read his incredible book, "Cradle to Cradle"). We all feel better about ourselves when we are led to believe that recycling will fix our planetary problems, and it keeps us from thinking twice about buying more and more stuff. Reuse trumps recycle every time. Buy durable things and we spend less in the long run, besides.

http://www.storyofstuff.com/

As for the image at the header, I rode the 100 or so miles to the parents' place the other day, which takes me through the Francis Marion National Forest on Hwy. 17. The image was taken near the South Santee River. It was a terrific trip with a mild tailwind and perfect weather. The rest of the images were taken at Lewis Ocean Bay near Myrtle Beach. Sundew, frog's breeches pitcher plant, and yellow trumpet pitcher plant were all in bloom, though no luck on Venus' fly trap. The other two images are from the huge bicycle lane on the huge Cooper River Bridge on the way out of town. I plan on doing more long Friday rides this season and putting the new tent through the paces of a Charleston summer, so more images are definitely to come.

The Race that Got Away

The Baker's Dozen race has come and gone, and we did not go. The first date was rained out, but the second was ambushed by pollen. Last Thursday, the stars aligned and the oak trees and their autotrophic associates threw the biggest punch I've experienced in recent years. Unfortunately, it downed me just enough to catch some sort of 24-hour illness that made me feel bad enough to lose our entry fees AND one night's worth of cabin reservation. Money was just not enough of a motivating factor to overcome the pounding my head was taking. Besides, they were sort of like taxed contributions to good causes. The trails could stand the maintenance, and the state employees could stand the extra funds.

On that note, I continue to note that any story in the local paper that has anything to do with tax expenditures produces more comments than almost any other kind of story. The only others that receive more are those that highlight crime as it pertains to race. I'm beginning to think that our paper is selecting what stories to publish based on how many comments they predict will result. In one way, this seems a good thing. In another, it seems like a really bad thing. It does lend a democratic element to what is published by reacting to public input. On the other hand, that input is commonly tinged with racism and lack of understanding as regards those social investments also known as taxes. This type of input, while approximating honest portrayal of our local citizenry, is, ultimately, counterproductive. Ninety-nine percent of the time, those making comments offer no practical solutions, even though they prefer to boil down nearly every issue into so few words that a reader may be led to believe that issue is really very simple. If those same comment generators were to take the time to send responses to elected officials every time they felt motivated enough to write, what actual change may occur? Do these desktop quarterbacks REALLY want actual change?

I do, which is why I will, shortly, be sending a one-page summary of my general political opinions to every elected official that is supposedly out there "representing" me. I will post any real responses I receive, though I will not be publishing any platform papers for anybody. If the response looks like cookie cutter, it will not be receiving mention. I may or may not publish my own letter. I am tempted to wait and see what kind of feedback I get from the recipients, first.

The photograph is of a blue jay nest in the back yard. In more than seven years of teaching natural history, I saw hundreds of active bird nests, but never one with blue jays. Weird.

Here's to the Teachers

It has recently occurred to me that to formally teach elementary education well is the most honorable profession in which one can engage. I've been throwing applications and resumes around for a year and a half, and I'm daunted by the diminished, real effect of managing natural resources, working in a laboratory, or teaching those that have already secured careers or that are only along for the ride. Teaching that requires more entertainment than real thought engagement is a dead end. I believe that most of those participating in informal education, such as that I exacted through my former employment as a Natural History Interpretive Specialist, are lost. They may develop their appreciation or heighten their awareness, slightly, but they are not likely to fundamentally change the way they live until they motivate themselves to do so. My own experience is a case in point. It has literally taken me my entire life to get to where I am today, but there are still many ways in which my existence can, and will, become more sustainable. I still own a car, though I only drive it once a week to keep it operational; I still eat too much processed and non-local food; I still buy too many new things that I could probably make or fix; and I still live in a home that is covered in vinyl and very inefficient (among other imperfections). Of course, while I try to change most such things on a daily basis, others take more determination than I am, currently, willing or able to display. This is not to say that I consider perfection attainable or even desirable (there is a fine line between reducing one's impact on the planet and the potential fascism of mandating others to do the same). It is to reiterate that, no matter how sensitive we consider our lives, there is always a better way. There is always more to learn. If we do not become excited about this prospect during our more "formative" years, we will continue circling the social carcass. Yes, home schooling and informal educational avenues have merit and can elevate the value of more traditional ones, but it is the latter that will save us. If public schools are lost, so will be our ability to live sustainably within the great population densities that we have created. We need to socialize with those of other income levels, races, cultures, learning abilities, and ages. We need to gain the understanding that there is progress to be had in respecting some authority. Most importantly, however, in a nation where most parents will interrupt their child's response to a question they, themselves, asked to answer their cell phones, we need the teachers. These people put their entire lives on the line to make up for the failures of the many parents that rest easily when their engagement with their children is minimized. They put in, at least, 50-60 hours a week to prevent children from putting in the same in weekly hours of television watched. They are, unlike most, invested in their jobs to a degree that some might even label pathological. Let us invest in them. Shut up about your property and income taxes, already, and accept that a well-educated populace is a populace that will benefit YOU (if that is the way you must look at things). By funding schools, properly, we will avoid crime spikes and create respectful human beings. We will create arts that will inspire and impress. We will create minds that can deal with our looming energy and health care crises, among other problems. We will enable those with the minimum to become those with enough. We will fix our nation.

Slowin' It Down

I got passed over for the Cheraw job, which is fine. If this opportunity would've come up 5 or 6 years ago, I would have put forth more effort, but the wife and I are looking to go ahead and put down roots that will not be severed, this time. I've lived in at least 15 apartments and houses in my life, so far, and I'm ready to really commit to a place. It may have something to do with a letter from a good friend the other day about wanting the growing season, friends, and other aspects of the town in which he grew up. On the other hand, I'm also ready to feel obligated to get more involved in my community; beyond the ephemeral efforts of my past.
I'm convinced that we have a hard time knowing when we are "home," anymore, in part, because everything has come to look so damned similar, and every nook and cranny (aka the alcoves...go see the movie "In Bruges") has become a feasible place to live. Just look at the book (or lesser PBS series) "Cadillac Desert," and tell me if you know what I mean. Just look at how many exits have the same suite of shopping opportunities that the last one had. The planet cannot handle a human footprint on every square inch, and we deserve the crises we are begging by living on barrier islands, in deserts, and on the tops of mountains if we do not change our rates and methods of resource use. Which is why, I think, my friend mentioned the Charleston growing season being an attraction. He is currently in one of the coolest possible places of which I've heard tell in these here Estados Unidos...Missoula, MT. However, he's also probably got a mere one-hundred or so days of real growing season with which to work. This is not a sustainable existence.
I can have that in Charleston. We live on a greenway that gives us traffic-free access to just about everything we need, and we can grow a good proportion of the food we eat on a small lot. If we need services beyond the greenway, things are really close, and there is always the bus for anything fairly distant. The beach is not that far, if we feel the need for surf, and there are plenty of salt marshes and rivers around for the occasional fishing expedition, though we've not yet overcome our justifiable fear of contaminated fish flesh (there are fish consumption advisories on nearly every river of our state). Yes, aside from the somewhat stunted political currents and the exorbitant real estate market (don't even open your mouth if you are a transplant and disagree...it's still expensive for regular folks), this place is seeming more and more like THE place.
Wow, that kind of sounded like a promotional video...sorry about that. I'll get some images up within a day or two that might help redirect my focus. Oh, and the lesson for the Master Naturalists went really well. I prepared way too little compared to how I used to get set, but things went off without a hitch. I really miss that job, sometimes. I really miss the life. Today's advice to self: go for a walk (not a ride) in the woods; take the camera and take your freakin' time.

Mountain Music

Built to Spill is one of the greatest bands ever to grace a stage, even if they do seem a little masturbatory at times (though not at this most recent show). I mention this, partially, because I am feeling older and older with each show that is listed as starting at 8pm, but winds up lasting until 1:30am or longer. Of course, I got on the road early that morning for an interview at Cheraw State Park, and driving long distances has always taken its toll on my sap budget. However, I think the overt commercialism of such shows has begun to put crinkles in my fries and sort of makes me feel like just getting out of there and away from the obviously well-funded and well-hydrated Orange Peel venue and back to the old skate park, no-stage shows of the past. Something of the love and patience of bands like Built to Spill is lost in a place like the Orange Peel, and I was ready to leave the second the last song was over. Never mind, I tried out the new camera on the auto settings and learned that I need to read up on ISO, so that I don't get such blurry things from future engagements. Oh, and we got patted down at the show entrance...you know those trigger-happy Built to Spill fans...I hear gun rights used to be really big in Idaho.

As for the interview, it sounded like the perfect job (lots of natural resource management and biological inventory work), but the site is pretty remote. There ain't a thing around for miles, aside from the beautiful town-proper of Cheraw (whole town is on the Historic Register!). On the other hand, it was one of those interviews involving multiple paragraphs of set-up before the actual question, so I responded organically, thinking my spontaneity might be impressive. We'll see if they were looking for something else. I'm sure I've got the experience and education, but there's bound to have been a recent graduate in the mix that can point to much more recent examples of having crunched data for analysis, etc.

Surly refused to warranty my frame, regardless of mentioning that they had not seen a rust issue like the one I was having. DO NOT BUY SURLY PRODUCTS! This company may have been something remarkable in the past, and they may still produce some really useful rigs, but this is bullshit. The best I was offered was a 15% discount on a new frame. This would mean much more if I could not get the thing repainted for less, but my biggest problem with such an offer is that it is not sustainable. Would you buy a steel bicycle if you knew you'd have to repaint it every three years (which, by the way, is the proclaimed length of their warranty period for paint finishes...I bought the damned thing in April of 2005!!!!).

We've got an open house tomorrow, so not much more for the moment. I'll be teaching a brief lesson on dichotomous keys for the Master Naturalist course at my former place of employment on Tuesday. Let's hope the students don't act too servile.

In the Dark (remember Billy Squire?)

I went out to my former place of employment to do a night hike last night. It was for a group of high schoolers from the Charlotte area that has been coming to Charleston for 4 or 5 years to do mark-recapture studies on Littorina sp. snails in the salt marsh at one of the other county parks. My replacement was off this weekend, and the instructor apparently enjoyed my past performance and requested that I do the program, though I'm sure my former colleagues are more than capable. It was incredibly cold and windy, but we did, at least, get to hear a barred owl and see some bioluminescent earthworms (Diplocardia longa, I think). These critters are noted to be fairly obvious after rain events, and, from further reading, I'm now wondering if this might have something to do with ozone-derived hydrogen peroxide, which is reported to be the catalyst for the luciferase-luciferin reaction. In fact, I'm wondering if the whole thing has any remaining benefit to the worms, or if it is simply a vestigial thing from their marine ancestors.
I did get to use the new camera, finally, but I've yet to get a USB cable or drive to get the photographs into the computer. I only took a couple of shots of a southern slimy salamander that I found under a log, but on the LCD panel of the camera, they look to have come out fairly well. I'll fix the situation, soon, since Spring is just around the corner, which, hopefully, means lots of blooms and bugs for the blog.

I'm heading to Cheraw, birthplace of Dizzy G., for an interview with the state park, there, on Tuesday. The job sounds much more interesting than the ranger positions that I've flirted with over the past year or so. It is centered on biological inventories of the site, and the site is nearly 8000 acres and in the sandhills! Man, if Cheraw was any less in the middle of nowhere, I'd be all over this, but we'll have to see if the job could compensate for the lack of amenities/culture that Charleston has to offer...the best record store in the state, 52.5, organic food groceries, Whole Foods and Earth Fare, great independent booksellers, Ravenous Reader, and so forth. Besides, I'm feeling a little differently about living out in the country after reading a recent article in "Conservation" magazine.
http://www.conbio.org/CIP/article10811.cfm
After the interview, I'm headed to Asheville to visit a good friend and take in Built to Spill with the Meat Puppets at the Orange Peel. What a nice way to blow off the steam from an interview.

Nader? Yes, Nader.

The 74 year old consumer advocate has thrown his cardigan into the ring once again, and I couldn't be happier. It's not so much that I believe he is faultless, or that he did not have an impact on the results of elections past, or even that he is the best candidate for 2008. His participation, however, is a reminder that we are not such a simple species that we can be defined by the perspectives of a few wealthy individuals from a mere two political parties that have become more and more concerned about manufacturing the best personalities, rather than exalting the ones that already exist. Instead, the existing ones are excluded from debates by media bedfellows and spoken of as "not viable," until that repeated lie is made reality. We are all a little bit democrat, a little bit republican, a little bit libertarian, a little bit green, etc. If you do not consider yourself such, then I pity your existence. It is thinking in such absolute terms that will be (has spelled?) the death of democracy. Being scared into not voting for somebody that best represents you by the same "people" that have brought you the latest round of "politics as reality-TV" and care more about ratings and shareholder profits than the best interests of the majority of the country does not make sense. You don't also buy the things they tell you to buy during the commercial breaks, do you?

What is Endurance?

Well, I rode the 6 hour solo option in Florida, instead of endangering the lives of hundreds of other riders, and I am content. I'm sure I could have done the 12 hours, but the course was a little more technical than one would have thought. This being my first race and only my second nocturnal off-road experience, I thought it best not to flirt with the cliff-hanging, knee-bashing stuff the Santos course offered at the beginning and end of each lap. Part of it looks to have been an old limestone quarry, which lended to some pretty difficult passages. Dave overcame massive mechanical miasmas and placed fourth out of 50 12-hour soloists. I did better than half of the 75 6-hour riders, but not quite as well as the top 29.
For images, check out: http://www.eventpictures.com/app/event/viewEvent?eventInstanceId=13629&cobrandDomain=floridaactionsports
Dave was #9 and I was #418.

The event was truly a sensory smorgasbord, and I am left with the following observations, among others.

-Too many Americans own dogs. Very few of them know what dogs need to thrive and be happy (it ain't that difficult, people...run, eat, play, sleep...kind of like what you need to thrive and be happy). The event in Florida was attended by some 200-300 people, I think, and there seemed to be dogs in every direction. A good example of how stressful the event was, from a canine perspective, was the poor fellow a few tents up from ours that barked (no lie) from around 10am, when the race started, until 10pm when the race was over. Needless to say, he was scolded quite violently by his owner, who probably never has the time to run his dog because he is so busy running himself.
-Florida is just as kooky as I remember it. From the jacked-up, 4x4 bus in the mud pit off of 301 to the gigantic skate park in the middle of nowhere to the fire and brimstone AM radio over the speakers in the restaurant on Sunday morning to the accents from everywhere other than Florida; this state is truly a gem among our great southern states (see: Vernon, Florida by Errol Morris).
-Sporting events are one of our only remaining collective consumptive catharses. It is here that we throw recyclable materials in with the garbage. It is here that we toss used tubes, empty, metal gel packages, and other refuse onto the side of the trail, in spite of requests for the contrary from the race promoter. It is here that our dogs' feces fall where they may and remain to contaminate surface waters for the local wildlife. And, it is here that we run generators and vehicles through the night, polluting the local air with fumes and noise. This list could be extended or contracted, depending on the sport/event, but I think the point is made. This will improve, however, as some promoters are putting up recycling stations, and there are ways to reuse nearly everything. I would think if any group were capable of generating some good reuse ideas, it would be one containing a bunch of bicycle mechanics. There are already some cool operations out there doing candle-holders, lamps, bottle openers, and tons of other stuff with old bicycle "waste." Come up with some of your own.
-What is endurance? I do not wish to denigrate those that win such events as the one in which I just participated, but to praise those that do such things with a minimum of investment in technology, be it nutritional or otherwise, and the employment of skill and mechanical ability under duress. A great example is the vegan guy, Rob, who was set up in the tent next to ours, who relied on real food to get him through and into the top three. Another example was the guy that had regular, old, non-LED flashlights fastened to his handlebar with bungee cords, while others had lights that blinded all wildlife within a half-mile radius. Finally, there was Dave, who had a tire blow off his wheel in the first lap, but managed to come out near the top of the heap, regardless of replacing that wheel with a spare that didn't line up with his brake calipers (leading him to adjust the calipers, only to discover that his rotor was bent on that wheel, which meant going back to the other wheel after a couple more laps and readjusting the calipers). Winning is nice, but if it only happens because you had tons of money to buy the best of the best equipment, or because of drugs you took that suppressed the pain, or because you ate things that were engineered to jack up your system, or because you had the benefit of a dedicated mechanic and several replacement bicycles, then I imagine it doesn't mean as much as it could.
Thanks, Dave, for the motivation and inspiration.

The Long Haul

The old X-Cargo garden is coming along nicely, although the aphids are already doing their thing down here, as evidenced by the poor soul in the bottom right of the image. These lettuce and spinach seeds are heirloom organics from Clemson University, and they grew into some beautiful specimens that have been mighty tasty. They were preceded by radishes that were huge, snappy, and spicy...just the right mix with a bottle of hoppy ale.

As for the race this weekend, I'm in for 12 hours alone. My entire team is out (pneumonia, broken bone, and funeral), so I'll be doing Florida solo, and I'm pretty excited about it. The fellow from Gone Riding was a stand up fellow, and said I could get the difference refunded (I paid $140 for the team, but the solo fee is only $60).

I bought a few accoutrements to ease the endeavor, yesterday, including my first official carbon bicycle part...a handlebar. There's no better time than the present to investigate the durability of this material I have for so long forsaken. I also put on a stem with more rise to try and avoid the inevitable axe-in-the-spine feel that usually accompanies longer treks in the woods. Thirdly, I was able to acquire a Cane Creek Thudbuster seatpost to prevent the destruction of my backside.

I'll call back Rachel Van Slyke, today.http://www.rachelvanslyke.com

She's doing a music tour on her bicycle, and she's trying to get donations for recycle-a-bicycle-type programs in each of the cities she's visiting. Very ambitious and very cool idea. Hopefully, I or the shop will be able to help her out with this in a town that so desparately needs such a program.

"See" you all after the race!

Pursuing Ponce

It's official; I'm headed to that great land of filled in wetlands and cyress knee lamps for the first bicycle race of my life. It's MTB, it runs for 12 hours, and it's near Ocala, Florida. I'll be sharing those 12 hours with two teammates, so it won't be as grueling as my other two friends are likely to find it, since they're taking it on solo. I'm pretty excited, and I'm finding it really easy to get in more riding, running, and working out than usual with this thing hanging over my head. I look forward to bringing back a few photos for this page, as well, since there is always good scenery in Florida (human and otherwise...see: Vernon, Florida by Errol Morris).

As for the time being, the wife and I are going to take a page from those Earthcrafter folks and do a home-based, no-power campout in the backyard this weekend.


Wish I could offer something on the political scene, but even the round table discussion on Democracy Now! yesterday was pretty uninspiring, so I haven't done much reading. I miss Dennis.

Scouts and "footballers"

I went to a local elementary school to assist in a LAB (League of American Bicyclists) course on bicycle safety. There were around 12-16 kids and at least a parent for each one. We got across some good stuff, and the kids had a good time...only one wipeout, and it was on the grass, so the tears were limited.
Otherwise, a pretty uneventful, supposedly super Sunday. Football, American-TV-style, is crap. It is yet another game that is nearly always fun to play, but has become progressively more boring to watch as the whole thing has been turned into just another product on the spectator shelf. Too much money, too many drugs (alcohol not excepted), too many commercials, and too much violence have rendered the whole thing pointless. Our games are supposed to assist us in mate selection, not detergent selection, and talking about the sport has become our substitute for physical engagement; predictive abilities about upcoming games is the new proving ground...what a joke. Anyway, one team beat another team, and I'm sure it had much to do with hard work and dedication...I'm just tired of hearing about who threw the most yards and who went to what team. Your conversation is a waste of our time. Anybody is liable to accomplish anything, and statistics is probability, not certainty. Have a great Monday!

The Birth of Brad Blog

I thought this might be a good way to stay in touch with family and friends with which I have not remained in such close touch...so I did it. As well, I'm constantly finding things within the realm of popular culture that beg comment beyond that which I find in the mass media or my everyday conversations among the general populace.

As a perfect example, my buddy Dave and I recently went for a tremendous ride at Manchester State Forest, here in our great state of SC. We popped in on the infamous Exit 98 Smith's Chevron for some boiled peanuts (the best to be found on I-95, if not in the entire region...I'm somewhat of a boiled peanut expert) and, by the time we exited the car, the rain yielded to a wash of solar pleasantry. We rode every marked trail, including the ones that had fallen to the motorized version of two-wheeled transport (like riding through mortar, it was), and finished up by dropping a check in the iron ranger for the required permits. The next day, I got a call from a non-iron ranger at the adjacent Poinsett State Park (where we had made the drop). He proceeded to speak to me as if I were a disobedient child and tell me how I could, "...get in a lot of trouble if they caught you riding out there without a permit." Nevermind that we checked the office for staff at 12:12pm and found nobody. Nevermind that the park only has office hours from 11am-12pm. Nevermind that he could have just forwarded the check to the Forestry Commission and had a pass generated and sent to me, as per my request on the accompanying note. Nevermind that the only park vehicle we saw went sailing by at about 40mph, preventing me from hailing him on such a winding road. And, nevermind that I was trying to do the right, legal thing, as I'm well aware of the dire condition of state budgets. He was more interested in flexing a little misguided muscle, I suppose. I told him I was well aware of the consequences, which was why we made the effort to indicate who we were and what we were doing there.

Anyway, the ride was dead on, regardless of the consequent interference. The trails there are loads of fun...just avoid the "Hardcore" section, as it has been rutted up nicely by motorcycles and contains enough sand to make the ride feel like a spinning class...pedaling like hell, but going nowhere.

I found a frame painter in GA, today. I'm considering sending my Surly touring frame for some refinishing, since the estimate on average jobs runs from $200-$400 or so, and I've got loads of rust pebbling the frame, already...it can't be more than 3 years old. I might go with another color, so here's a photo of the "The Army Brat," before her makeover (if image didn't make it to this post, I'll figure it out and get it up on the next one).