Saturday, December 26, 2009

Roaming for Rings





Brian and I made an 80-mile day trip to see a prehistoric shell midden/ring in the Francis Marion National Forest the other day.  These things are host to some interesting, endemic plant species (though this is hard to appreciate in late December), and this one is, according to the interpretive panel, the most northerly of such middens on the coasts of the Southeast.  

Man, was it great to get out for a really long ride.  I've been on the trainer frequently, of late, since nobody seems to want to ride in the dark or in the near-freezing temperatures we've been having, so this was really special.  Granted, we had planned an overnight, but the strong probability of rain kept us grounded (neither one of us wanted to sit in a tent, looking at the other, while we sipped whiskey and wished we were outside combing the beach in the sun...Hunting Island was the objective).

Andréwas, as always, an angel, and I rode the next day, too (since the plan was for me to be away for a couple of days, anyway).  The second ride was about half the distance and easier, since I rode the Eclipse, and it went out with a bang as Kurt slipped on the wet road and slid into home base (it was, literally, at the turn to the shop that this happened...that's what not eating breakfast will get you).  The big ride was on my huge, 37mm Panaracers, while Brian sailed along on 25's.  It was more work for me, but the ride was as smooth as butter.  All told, the week landed me over 200 miles or so of real riding (pretty rare during the "cold" season...sorry Bob and others for use of that term).  

In the movie department, I just watched a good documentary about design called "Objectified."  I also watched the first hour of the new "Star Trek" movie (interesting, but I'll wait to make a call on this one).  "Bruno" sucked; "First Person," an Errol Morris television series, is fantastic; and "Food, Inc." is not as depressing as I was led to believe, reinforced my gardenistic tendencies, and made me admire Joel Salatin even more (of "Omnivore's Dilemma" fame).  "The Soloist" was average, while "The Lucky Ones" was much better than average (I have a hard time thinking of Tim Robbins movies I don't like). 

I'm almost finished with "The Brothers Karamazov."  I tried to get through this one years ago and got distracted.  I'm glad I came back to it.  It really is a great book with lots of honesty about our imperfect nature, though not to the exclusion of our redemptive qualities.  It's much easier to get through books of such length when one can read on a trainer in the garage (I've given up on trying to watch movies in here while the girls nap, since it just seems too loud...you can't subtitle the online movies).  I'm going to try to get through a few more "classics" before Andrée comes home for the summer break.    

Oh, and it's been about a month now with almost no nicotine (I had one weak willpower moment at a gathering last week and had about 1/2 a cigarette).  The tea tree oil and cinnamon toothpicks are keeping me going (about 2 or 3 a day is all it takes), but so is the ability to just go hop on the trainer or hit the weights when the urge does hit me (not that often, anymore).  

Delia is the river otter in the video.  She's taken to doing laps on this little slide, and I couldn't be happier.  I know they want to do more, physically, but they're still just shy of that amount of control that would have them walking/running/etc.


Finally, I kept thinking about a recent comment and how to respond, but realized I'm more confused by it than anything.  I will simply reiterate that I am a full-time stay-at-home father of two, since I'm not sure everybody understands our situation, and I'm still baffled at the mention that I wrote a "women's work comedy" (maybe you should go back and read what I wrote...I did, even though I proofread all of my entries).  Are there days when I would rather my wife be at home with the girls...absolutely (she would rather the same, I might add).  This does not make me ashamed, nor does it make me sexist.  If you presume to know me well enough to label me as the latter (by, say, telling me that I sound like somebody from the 1860's), so be it.  Pat yourself on the back for the effort and go find another soul to save...I'm sure mine will be just fine.    

Thanks for this link, Garrett, and for the kickass collard green sandwiches the other night:  
Also, this is worth your time: