Time Outside

The job at Caw Caw has turned out well. I'm regaining my trail eyes and general awareness. It was kind of alarming to realize how far one can drift and how much can escape notice after long stints of urban-only exposure. The girls and I spend a good deal of time on the greenway, at the beach, and so forth, but it just isn't the same as really getting away from the distractions of urban existence. Of course, being away from the girls is nice, too. I love being around them most of the time, but having a day by myself is a great gift (especially at this stage in the game...they're exhibiting a more advanced independence, lately, that requires much less of my help, but much more of my attention).

I've picked up on 2 new species for the plant list at Caw Caw, seen some really cool birds (including a masked lovebird that escaped the clutches of its cager), and tons of dragonflies and other insects (most notably a female Carolina mantis devouring her recent mate's head...a challenging interpretive feat for the younger audience that was present).

Speaking of things being devoured, check out this photo. It'll make you wonder why things without backbones have such a weak reputation.

http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/enlarge/anemone-crab-grall_pod_image.html

Rides are way down, lately. Nobody has any integrity, motivation, or time, so I've been going solo for most. We've switched our route for the darker season, but I might have to switch it, again. The shared use path over the Cooper River used to be a good option as part of this route, but there are so many pedestrians, these days, that it gets downright dangerous up there. Most bipeds have really weak powers of perception or totally shut them down by donning headphones to supply them with a soundtrack of music that belongs in the sewer.

Have you listened to what most are listening to these days? Does the world really have room for another well-t0-do, piano-based, quirky female singer/songwriter whining about relationships or another trust fund "folky" fellow pining about how beautiful is the natural world while he tours the country in his jet? If it isn't one of these, it's another rung for the ladder of strained Caucasian "soul" music that has been leaning against the house that built it for way too long. Of course, there are gems among the garbage, but it seems that every time a style gets recycled, lately, a million others follow (as if it's not bad enough that somebody brought back that vomit-inducing Elton John sound in the first place). We've lost some creativity, and I can see why people migrate to stuff like Arab on Radar, Zach Hill, U.S. Maple, etc.

On the other hand, there's this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_-agl0pOQfs

And the resulting and nearly equally-entertaining mockery:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGbdomlBnJM

Don't ask me how I wound up with this. It was one of those things where I was searching for something completely unrelated and I stumbled upon these diamonds in the rough.

We went out for a night ride in the woods last Thursday. I'm kind of hoping it'll become a fixture for the winter, since we had 5 instead of the 2 that we've had for the road ride for the last 4 or 5 weeks. I only feel a little guilty about disturbing the horned owls and others that depend on the absence of our lights and loud mouths for sexual success during this season.

Speaking of the critter world, my co-worker pointed out a weird little fly the other day that I had never seen. It looked like a small wasp (thread waist and long abdomen), but it had the characteristic halteres and antennae of a fly. I think I finally found an identification. It is a Psilonyx spp., but it looks like there's some discrepancy over whether they are robber flies or in their own family (I found one reference to a Grass Fly family...Leptogastridae, I believe). The crazy thing is that this thing was only 5 or 6mm. I'm surprised we even noticed it. I'd love to see what kind of prey it takes, being so small.

http://bugguide.net/node/view/81915

So, lately, I've been a little down. It has to do with communicating less than I should with my handful of really good friends. I think it jealousy. I avoid some communication because it will inevitably remind me of just how condemned is a man that stays home with his twins. I know that sounds drastic, but, the fact is, it is drastic. I hear things about my friends' lives about which I should be happy, but I frequently (and unfortunately) force such news through my selfish filter that just leaves me thinking, "Wow, I wish I had the time/money/friends/etc. to do that." Nothing can be done about this, but I needed to say it...in case you are one of those friends. I love you guys, but I can be a petty twit on occasion...and I'm gonna' allow it. We all deserve a little wallowing in the pit.

However, I'd hate for there to be any misunderstanding, so here are a couple of recent images of the angels that walk among us. Even if there are some lows, I wouldn't have it any other way.

I'm more than likely going to drop this blog thing. It's just become too much of an albatross around my neck. I feel like I don't have the time to get in depth, and I'd rather spend the time doing other things, frankly. If I do drop it, you can always get in touch through more conventional means (most of my information is the same it has always been since you've known me, but if you need an update, let me know).

Vanishing of the Vinyl Veil

As I write, I am recording my old Harriet the Spy LP and 10" from vinyl to my computer. It took a kid to explain this to me (via YouTube) after years of hanging around "adult" co-workers that couldn't shut up about how great Apple is/was for audio/video but had no idea how to transfer "real" music to a computer.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CU-4OCLtSU

I write "real" because I don't care what anybody says, a vinyl copy of any album will always sound better than a CD or downloaded version. Yes, I know one can screw around with mixing and make things better, but I'm not going spend a year of my time learning to efficiently use a mixing software just to make my vinyl recordings sound more like CD's or vice versa. In fact, I didn't even break out the old component equalizer, as I am after the original form of the music, hisses and pops included. I guess I'll have to get around to it, eventually, once I start recording my own music, again, but I've not picked up the guitar in nearly a year. I miss it. Maybe I'll get something recorded and get it on here in a month or so.

So, the caveat with the above video, that he doesn't mention, is that recording straight from your turntable is not enough if it doesn't have a built-in pre-amplifier. So, having been fortunate enough to inherit a second component stereo system, I simply hooked up the record player to a stereo receiver (which also lets you ground the player...a good noise reduction technique) and connected the y-adapter to a stereo cable that runs to the "Tape Rec Out" on the back of the receiver. As well, I'm just recording sides at a time (though, with GarageBand, I don't think it is any big deal to split up the track into songs...I just don't need that level of compartmentalization or order).

The spare stereo stuff is Japanese Technics and Panasonic stuff that a co-worker was tossing so that he could simplify his life. Again, though, I'm left thinking that those with this tendency would rather unload brain baggage but take the easy way out by dumping the dollar-based. As evidence of this argument, just think of how many people you see in a day with their faces buried in palm sand. Those that I know with "everything devices" seem to never be done learning how to use the things and to never reach the point where their second brains make their lives any easier.

Oh well, I've got two beastly component stereo systems, now, and it's made recording this stuff so much easier. Now if only I could keep the girls' grubby mitts off the setup.

I originally thought this entry might be filled with griping about work (although I "work" very little), but I think it will suffice to say that doing the right thing with a business and making money are not mutually exclusive, but they seem to have become so where I work. It is grueling to work for people that mistake large-scale economic booms and busts with immediate acumen and bad decisions and that are convinced that the occasional big-dollar bike sale is better than regular income from moderately-priced bikes and parts and accessories that people will always buy, economic trends be damned. I still like the job, but when days are declared good only when an unrealistic income threshold is reached, it begins to feel like I'm wearing those good old corporate concrete shoes (incidentally, the shop is now an actual corporation).

I'm going to start doing Sundays at Caw Caw Interpretive Center, again, where I was once the full-time Natural History Specialist. I cannot wait, since it is a roving interpretive position facilitating self-guided canoe trips...seemingly the perfect gig. I've also still got my tie-in with Drayton Hall Plantation, where I am paid well for the very rare days when they require my assistance. I will probably try to combine these two into something more substantial in the future, since I'm about ready to get the bike shop back down to one day a week.

On the literary front, I just finished the Bike Snob book and, I must say, it was quite a bore. I suppose if riding is not your thing, and you just want something to help you peek in on the rest of us, it is mildly amusing and somewhat informative, but, having just read the Cyclists' Manifesto (an even bigger bore), this book is something I would recommend you just leave on the shelf. Pick up something better, like Island, by Huxley, which I just finished and by which I was amazed. It was one of those books that I finished hoping somebody capable had adapted to the screen. It was a very visually-stimulating read, and it is a terrific primer on anarchist principles and effective, egalitarian existence. It's got me so interested that I've put a hold on "Doors of Perception," which I just never gave a chance (partially, I must admit, because of the absolute garbage band that claims to have named themselves after it).

I did just get another bicycling book from Garrett that looks a little more engaging (there's even a mention of RAMBO in it...the band, not Sylvester's alter-ego), but I felt drawn to another style for a break, so I started Muir's "First Summer in the Sierra." I think it'll help me get back into the interpretive frame of mind.

Here are a few recent photographs. The hornworm devastated my pepper plants, though they weren't producing that much this year, again. The cactus photograph is from our trip to a friend's condominium in Brevard, NC (as if Opuntia needs any help getting new places). The girls are enjoying the recent shift from the "feels like 115 degrees" realm to the "feels like 100 degrees."

Also, here is something that made me laugh my ass off. Please forgive the offensive nature (don't watch it if you are easily annoyed by foul language and sexual content), but for those of you that enjoy this kind of thing, you will not be disappointed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NisCkxU544c

Best album I've transferred from vinyl, so far (I'm at Dinosaur Jr., though I cheated on a few favorites, like the Harriet the Spy)...Dead and Gone "God Loves Everyone But You." Go listen to that one, again.

Hydrocodone Stone

I'm currently under the influence of an opiate, and I couldn't be happier.  I've got two lines of stitches in the roof of my mouth where tissue was removed, in order to supplement the receding gums on three of my bottom choppers, while some kind of dental plaster is lumped all over said mandible in an attempt to hold fast the transplanted material.  It feels just like being punched in the jaw, but the pills wash most of that away.  The only constant is the feeling that two bristly caterpillars have parked on my palate and my tongue is no match for their tenacious prolegs.  Here's a look.

I just got back from my first actual mountain bike ride, ever.  It was an event sponsored by Independent Fabrication, it was at Lake Powhatan in NC, and it was, by far, the best ride I've ever encountered.  We did lots of climbing and ended with a white knuckle descent.  Here's a view of the speedy stuff (though the last big climb was as beautiful, or more so, in its brutality).  It was much, much greener when we rode it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yORN4uCkc_M

The IF guys were great, and the fact that they brought along a bean bag toss sealed the deal.  There was lots of food, lots of beer, and we were the only dealers there, so things, thankfully, didn't wander off down Propaganda Path or Ego Avenue.  There was one annoying owner in attendance, but that's mostly because he brought his incredible rig into which IF put their time, sweat, and souls, but which he obviously rides very little...if at all.  It's just a shame to see something designed for such abuse serving as wall candy.

I just registered on eBay.  I'm doing this so that I no longer have to ask friends to sell stuff for me and so that I no longer have to pay them $5o or so each time I decide to hock (though, I've only sold two sets of wheels through a friend in the past...it isn't even close to being a habit).  This is really just about selling the Eclipse for enough money to get a leg up on the IF to which I'm committed.  Club Racer here I come.

So I had this dream about Daniel Tosh.  I've caught a good bit of his show on Comedy Central, and laughed my ass off a few times.  On the other hand, the dream put me in the role of the butt of his jokes, and I was left feeling like I just wanted to kill him or myself or both.  I don't blame him, alone, for these mental meanderings, though, since so much humor has become so caustic and degrading that I'm amazed I find anything funny anymore.  So many things, even the most sacred (I'm thinking Kids in the Hall), have led us in this direction, and I'm not sure it can be turned around.  Let me know what is funny to you, these days.  Maybe I'm getting sensitive because of the girls, but I also think it stems from the abundance of denigration, or destruction, humor out there (I love It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Arrested Development, The Office, and such things, but they precisely define what I'm talking about).  It's nice to think that those that act selfishly and rudely get what's coming to them, but the truth is that they rarely do, and even if it does happen, they don't deserve the kind of soul-splitting retribution that is so common in these shows.  Yeah, yeah...I know...just stop watching television. 

So, my nose finds itself in "Will the Circle Be Unbroken?" by Studs Terkel, and "The Island" by Aldous Huxley.  The first is because I've loved everything he's ever gathered for books, and the second is a reference from "The Power of Now."  The first is about death, and it has me thinking a tad about the dignity deserved by all, as if the previous paragraph was not a hint in this vein.  I'm hoping the second will be a more understandable version of what Tolle was trying to say, even though presented in metaphor (is it feasible that we need the "story" version of the story to really get it?).

A Lungfish tune just came on my random generator.  It was "Instrument," and I stopped typing for the duration.  For the sake of all that is holy, would you just go out and buy some of their stuff, already?  On the music tip, I just downloaded some Gil Scott Heron, Brother Ali, and P.O.S., though I think some old Subhumans is on the way in the near future (Worlds Apart and 29:29 are true gems), as might be some of that really early Government Issue and Youth Brigade.  

We picked the hell out of some blueberries with the girls this year (two trips=4 gallons=berries for breakfast cereal and oatmeal for over a year!).  They had a blast, and went, without me, to pick blackberries, too, though not as many of those came home.  Hopefully, our actual friends will invite us to the only organic strawberry farm in the region next year, so that the girls can gather all their berries on their own and get used to the seasonality of such sweetness.  Our non-friends went, they just forgot or neglected to extend the invite...as if anybody on the planet would turn down an offer for strawberries.  I mean, really, who do you know that doesn't like strawberries?  Is there even one person on the planet?  I am, however, talking to a friend who has some ballasts that I will equip with full-spectrum lamps for just this purpose if he ever gets them to me.  I'll make the room in the garage if it means fresh strawberries...damn the piano that Andrée wheeled in there from the neighbor's curb the other day!  Of which, though, I must say, the girls are already insanely fond.  Besides, how's that for a dumpster find?

On that note, I came across 8 huge cypress boards (around 3" thick and 10" wide) and around 200 bricks within the last week.  I just cannot believe people put such things upon curbs.  We are truly demented in our quest for physical space simplicity and I think it might reflect how much we would like to simplify our mental load...if only we could.

Go search the curbs on your bicycle and find something that you can use.  I promise it won't clutter your mind.  It will, however, facilitate some creative thoughts.  Trust me, you have the space.

Oh, and here's a really cool use for six-pack rings if you, like I, have a penchant for Organic Blue Sky sodas.

http://www.notcot.com/archives/2007/08/remind-me-chair.php

Here is the most recent shirt creation.  Send me a shirt if you want me to screen one for you.  1628 Sanford Road, Charleston, SC  29407.

 

 

Framed by First Years

My life, that is.  It has become defined by what is going on in the girls' lives.  I don't say this because it is inherently a good or bad thing, it just is.  As I sit to type this, all I can think of is how Delia has had a fever for a few days and how that really is all that truly matters to me in the world right now.  I suddenly give two poops about how much oil is leaking out in the Gulf...it is oil, after all, and not one of the many more toxic things we have been known to "lose track of" in our oceans (like all that radioactive crap dumped by our armed forces off the California coast or the ubiquitous plastic masses swirling in pelagic gyres the size of states that execute, for example).  Besides, this kind of concentrated attention tends to aggravate the fatigue about the real ecological crises that are not so ephemeral, like hormones in our water supply causing sex changes in vertebrates or the resulting air pollution from all that oil if it IS captured and refined and burned in motor vehicles (some of which are efficient, most of which are not).  

Still, as a former resident of the Gulf region and an ecologist by training and choice, I obviously am not entirely unaffected.  I struggle for something to say about that poor state (literally and metaphorically) anymore, other than that this kind of thing SHOULD be the perfect catalyst for establishing some real incentives for clean energy industry in the region.  I mean, if they're going to, as some have suggested, let developers go in there and repaint the canvas without color or texture, they could, at least, charge them with helping fund tax breaks and job training that would move the state in the smart direction that would help prevent such avoidable tragedy from striking again.

So it turns out that mononucleosis is the final word, for now, on what has kept me under the weather for nearly a year.  This is kind of a relief, since I was so far down that I was thinking cancer, MS (my sister and aunt has/had the misfortune of dealing with this one), Lyme disease, and other such things.  On the other hand, knowing this means that there is nothing to be done.  I simply must try to stay as healthy as possible if I don't want to experience the symptoms.  I've knocked out smoking.  It's been around 7 months, now, and I only occasionally have the urge.  I've been less successful with cutting out my alcohol consumption, but I'm less concerned with that, since I don't drink excessively.  The toughest parts are a) taking it easy on the physical exertion and b) keeping the stress at a manageable level.  The latter has gotten me in such a fix that I gave "The Power of Now" a try, at the advice of a friend.  I don't have much patience for this kind of book, but I can see how some might find it valuable.  I guess I'm resisting the non-resistance that the author advocates.  It's the kind of thing that makes most sense if you, as mentioned in the book, have been through some substantial tragedy or experienced significant suffering.  I don't think just reading about living in the present can shift one that way.  It does help to read some of the analogies and advice on how to better observe oneself, but I think one needs time for this transition, more than anything, and that is one of those things he mentions forgetting about in the book.  Unfortunately, I'm convinced one first must plan and live in the future enough to present the situation where time matters so little that one can forget about it and stop living "in the mind."  

On a related note, how about we all agree to stop telling people that are stressed out that they need to relax?  Speaking as one that is subject to an appreciable amount of stress, we all know that we need to relax, and being told that we should only reminds us that we need to but can't, which makes things worse.  Trust me, we think about it all the time, but if our schedule does not allow "down time," it just doesn't.  It isn't that we haven't looked into ways to create more "time for ourselves."  It is, simply, that life doesn't allow for it, sometimes.  This is sort of why I take issue with the book.  I appreciate that it is probably easier to just identify oneself with negativity than to change things and facilitate positivity and joy, but the latter is not attainable at any given moment for everybody.

Lately, I've found it closer and closer.  Summer is almost here, and that means I'm back in the shop.  It means prettyin' up the newest rig in the arsenal, too.  It cost me $60, and it is a 1987 Schwinn Circuit with Columbus tubing, an all-original drive train of Suntour Sprint stuff, and some other beautiful attributes (everything on it is original equipment, I think).  My only upgrades will be bar end shifters (down tubes just don't work efficiently enough on the group rides I do), Cinelli leather tape, a Nitto stem (only because the Cinelli was so frozen in the steerer tube that I nearly destroyed the threads in the quill bolt and wedge/cone getting it out), and some handsome old (but brand new) Campagnolo brake levers some idiot sold me for $5 long ago.  I'll probably also replace the saddle and seat post down the road and even get the frame and fork painted, since I'm seriously considering making this my regular road race rig and selling my Jamis Eclipse to start a fund for the purchase of an Independent Fabrication (we just picked them up at the shop) or a Seven.  I'm thinking I'll shoot for something like the Club Racer that IF does (a good all-around setup that would allow trailer pulling).  Whatever I wind up with isn't that important.  I'm really happy with what I've got in the garage, currently.

http://www.ifbikes.com/OurBikes/Road/Steel_Club_Racer_/

Update:  The Circuit is ready to go, and I broke it in on a 40-miler with John G. and Greg S. before work this past Saturday.  I now only need replace the seat post and saddle and it'll be right where I want it.  Here's a gander:

We were going to go see Modest Mouse, but the tickets were $35 each.  I only once paid that much to see music in my life and that was the first Lollapalooza, so I dicked off and the show wound up selling out.  Great for them, too bad for the audience.  The Music Farm in Charleston is one of the worst venues on this planet.  Over the years, we've seen Dalek, They Might Be Giants, and Iron and Wine there, none of which sounded good.  It wasn't that they played poorly, but thanks to the retched acoustics of that dive, everything in there sounds like it's being funneled through a thin, aluminum tube.  Maybe they've improved by now.  It's been a long time since I've been to a show.  I might go see Eyehategod in Spartanburg next week, though, which would be a great way to get back into it.  Speaking of music, thanks for the tunes, Bob.  The Zydepunks reminds me of Flogging Molly, but more interesting.  The Cross Stitched Eyes and other punk stuff was great, too.  It reminded me of all that great dual-vocal stuff we used to wear out (Antischism, Nausea, Paxton Quigley...there's an old one for you, Bob!...was that the cookie monster band?).  The other disc didn't stick to me as much.  I guess I've just lost some of my taste for that new "old" sound, since everybody and their brother is doing something folky, now.

I'm officially an iTunes idiot, now, but only on occasion.  My hand was forced when I saw the price of the new Dan Le Sac/Scroobius Pip ($28) versus the download ($10).  It does also get me access to some out of print stuff from Lungfish and others, too, so it ain't all bad.  The problem is that now I'm thinking about getting a 160GB iPod and a USB-equipped turntable so I can download all that vinyl.  Man, these things always snowball into way too much (exactly as intended by the tech pushers, I'm sure...contrary to all the "convenience" references in their propaganda).

Speaking of convenience, we had a car-free event on one of our major downtown business district streets the other day.  It sounds like it was a big success, but it aggravates me for one simple reason.  It reinforces the division between those in motor vehicles and everybody else.  It suggests that the only safe way for pedestrians and bicyclists to use our busiest downtown streets is to wait until all motor vehicle traffic is prohibited.  It reminds me of the "rumble shoulders" that have been plopped down on many of our local rural routes.  These allow drivers to be less attentive, but it also literally divides the two user groups.  

Thanks to Adam for this bit of potentially really bad news.  Read the comments that people posted.  I was especially weirded out by the use of the word "segregate," but I guess maybe that word might not have the same weight across the pond as it does here.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/environment/article7140213.ece

The girls are napping and have been down for nearly 3 hours, now!  Today is an experiment in pushing them into 1 nap instead of 2.  If they can get on this schedule, it will finally give us the time we need to get to the beach, the aquarium, and any number of other places that have just been too far on our old schedule.  It has been nice, though, recently, since they've been staying up kind of late, and I've been able to see them and help Andree after the Tuesday and Thursday night rides.

Update:  Today was our first trip to the SC Aquarium with the girls and they seemed to really like it.  We got a pass, too, so my hope is that they absolutely fall in love with it.  I, of course, could spend day after day walking around that place and never get bored.  Even if they don't totally dig it or get tired of it, a trip there means a short walk to the main branch of our incredible library, so I'm pretty happy about it all.

I joined a mess of folks for a ride at Manchester State Forest on Sunday.  The ride was nice, though I never really felt like I got my trail legs or reaction time down.  There were some decent crashes, as a result, for a change (one coming down a slippery bridge ramp and another into one of the many sandy turns that make this place so much fun).  We nearly got stranded when the van didn't start, but our fearless leader hailed a truck full of lounge chairs, beer drinkers, and many, many cigarettes.  Jumping a motor vehicle with a few city folk and a heap of rural characters is always a good time, so I took a seat and let the entertainment commence.  It was the perfect end to a good ride.

Speaking of perfect ends to good rides, USA is a Monster is the best band to which you never listened.  Watch this and cry for the next force as meaningful.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPGFgM6mSVE

Bike or Body?

"Bike or body?," I yelled back at Kurt on the trail the other day, as he was moving way slower than normal.  I wanted to know if he needed help in the form of Toast-Chee or allen key.  

However, which is at the top of your list?  We were rolling into West Ashley after a really hard ride on John's Island last Thursday, and one of our group nailed a huge concrete bowel movement that had wiggled from the rear end of a truck and become fossilized on the right side of the lane (a fecolith, one might say).  He went over the bars and landed on his back in a busy intersection.  Some of us immediately formed a phalanx and got him out of the road, as he was dazed and focused on determining the damage to his bicycle rather than recognizing that he was standing in significant traffic.  The next time it happens to you, just remember that your body flushes with chemicals designed to convince you that nothing is wrong in such circumstances.  In other words, take a few moments to thoroughly assess yourself...not just your rig.  I say it as much for myself as for others.  I'm just one of those unlucky bastards when it comes to traffic...reflective vest and associated obviousness be damned.

So what is it they say about bad things happening in trios?  Well, let us begin the catalog and see if the number theory holds any water.

Firstly, I am still sick after nearly 10 months, and I have become nearly convinced that it is "simply" stress and my excessive physical exertion colluding and making me feel trapped in this fog.  I've finally scheduled an appointment at a "real" doctor's office and am leaving the clinic that was my go-to for many, many years.  I no longer feel like what is happening to me is within their purview, and they've always been so quick to throw prescriptions of amoxicillin at me and be done with it.  At least the warmer months are upon us and, with them, a break for me from my regular role as full-time babysitter, so the stress levels should ebb a little.  It's not so much that this Spring Break hasn't helped, but it takes me a while to allow myself to not feel guilty for being away from the girls.  It's really gut-wrenchingly hard to just drop a role of complete supervision and ignore (at least temporarily or in part) what is going on at the house, but that is what, more and more, I'm feeling one must do if sanity is a desired state. 

Tillie broke her ankle.  She stepped off the folded gym mat in the living room one day and began crying way louder and longer than one would have expected for something so run-of-the-mill.  I guess she stepped on it crooked, and they told us it looked like a buckle fracture, so on goes the cast.  The cast got wet, so on goes the second cast.  The cast got wet, again, so no more tub baths for babies!  We're back in the living room for what I like to call bucket baths.  One bucket for clean water, one for dirty...you can imagine the rest.  The only real problem with this is that it means no night rides for me for a week or so, until she gets that damned thing off of her leg, since this style of bath does not work unless one of the babies is either locked in a chair or held or engaged by a second parent (we prefer to minimize the restraining they have to endure).

The no-ride schedule is fine, since I seem to have picked up some kind of strep throat thing (already waning), which I thought I might have gotten from Delia.  She's had this horrible nocturnal cough, lately.  We took her to the doctor, today, though, and it looks like she's just got, like her father, allergic distress from all the pollen on the oaks and others right now.  Man, I swear pollen season is getting more and more concentrated (I wonder if anybody has done any work on that as it relates to climate change).

So, we've got two sick kids and one sick dad.  That's three bad things.  The only problem is that these three were preceded by three more.

First, let's get something straight.  If a smoke alarm is going to go bad on you, it will happen at exactly the most inconvenient moment possible.  How is, say, 3am?  Did it simply start beeping because the battery was bad?  No.  It erupted full-blast for the few seconds it took me to leap from the bed, run 6 or 7 steps and push the silence button.  Then what?  "Do you smell smoke?" "I can't really smell anything."  "I'll climb into the attic and just check everything up there."  Take out the batteries, of course, since maybe one of them is bad, but they're wired together, and you don't know which is which.  Oh, hell, better just go ahead and flip the breaker, too, so they don't get any ideas and get rowdy later on.  Well, after the fact, I learned that one must "discharge the circuit" when cutting all power.  This means pressing a button to get rid of electricity that is, I guess, stored in internal batteries in the alarms.  It's good to know these things are so fail-safe, but without knowing about said discharge, one will be roused once more before sleep is again possible (they will discharge themselves, eventually, so the alarm went off a second time).  So, the moral of the story...get new alarms if the ones you have are 10 years old and you have replaced all the batteries and still get a warning beep.  They're relatively cheap, I only had to rewire one (it was a different model than the others), and we haven't had any problems with them since.

Secondly, the water filter in the refrigerator started leaking when I installed the new one.  It turned out that I needed a new adapter for the filter.  The price was only $7 or so, but nobody had it, locally, so for nearly another $7 I got it shipped.  No problems since, and I've got 5 decent rubber o-rings off the old one that I'm sure will come in handy around the house or bike shop.

Finally, the microwave started igniting things.  Turns out the warranty on this item is up this year, too.  Incredible how accurately the mechanism corresponds to the warranty, eh?  Planned obsolescence at its best.  So, here we go with the stupid and downright angry looks I get asking for North American appliances on the local circuit.  Turns out we're just going to have to pass on US-made this time (the quote I got the other day was $1019...no shit...the most expensive models I've seen from every other brand were nearly half that).  

So, lots of downs, lately.  Some ups, too, though.  Spring Break is upon us, so I'll be getting in some extra rides and finally getting around to building the second cold frame.  I just stumbled onto another huge batch of windows on the side of the road, today, though, so this may put me in the realm of having what I need for an entire greenhouse shed.  The fruit trees flowered a little and are leafed out, and I think they might actually withstand the squirrels into a second year.  A friend has asked me to work on the city's Bicycle Friendly Community application, which means an opportunity to emphasize how little we need separate facilities and additional impervious surface and how tremendously we need more education, enforcement, and encouragement.

I recently watched District 9, The Gleaners and I, Choke, Capitalism:  A Love Story, and Harlan County, USA.  None of these changed my life, though they were good, so I'll just rate them quickly with a 1-5 (3, 3, 4, 3, 4).  The original Inglorious Bastards is next.  It looks like a cheesy one, so, of course, I can't wait.  I'll get around to Tarantino's one day.  The original looks so much more inviting...for the same reasons this did.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JktcQ2A32cU

Rolling the Roots

Ah, the K-3 loop at Manchester State Forest...what a trail.  Kurt and I went for a day at Harbison SF, followed by an overnight at Manchester.  Harbison was much wetter than expected (to the point that they probably should have just closed the whole thing down).  Indeed, part of the motivation for the trip was the fact that our only local trail has been saturated and, hence, closed for what has seemed like months.  The two state forests are up around the fall line (where the ocean used to reach, millions of years ago), so the soils are, generally, much quicker to drain.  The problem, if one can call it such, is that we've been having record rainfall and even more than one inch of snow!  

We rolled one loop around the major trails, then hit the road, but not before I had time to go down hard on my head on a turn full of pine needles, fall off the side of the rock garden on the Spider Woman Trail, then go over the handlebars in the same section, smashing my left knee to a pulp.  

The overnight was preceded by an omen in the form of what looked to be one-hundred or so "hibernating" ladybird beetles in the ranger's office at Poinsett State Park.  They fluttered about the window in the corner of the office, popping and clicking, filling in the dead space of our conversation with their frantic flight.  They begged comment, which I supplied, though no response was offered.  I speculated, later, that perhaps they are no longer a source of amusement and wonder to the ranger.  Perhaps, they haunt his sleep on bad nights, the clicking of tree branches against his window waking him in cold sweats on the worst.  More likely, he just considers them a nuisance and is tired of visitors making light of the situation.  "It just ain't funny anymore is all I'm sayin'."

Our ride after getting set up and our neighbors might be considered one manifestation of the beetle boding.  We hit the Campbell Pond loop for a ride before dinner, but we rode the same 100m section three times before we located a sharp bend that was, like the rest of the trail, hidden in loads of leaf litter.  This one was a wash.

I had a great hot shower and got dinner in me before night fell, which meant I had plenty of time for warming up to our newly-arrived neighbors a few sites down.  Now, I'm not one to size anybody up by the cars they drive, the tents in which they sleep, or the bicycles they have in tow (are you seriously going to try riding that on these trails?).  At least they're out here riding, right?  Wrong.  

They stay up late, barking like brainless bumpkins (though they also brought dogs to fill in any potential silence) and splitting wood into the wee hours.  I kept waiting to hear the inevitable shriek that goes along with so many marriages of the mildly-educated with cases of crummy beer, heavy, sharp tools, and limited light.  It never came, but it may as well have been every hour or so between the din of this mob and my freezing ass.  Even with two extra blankets, my mesh tent with fly and 30 degree bag did very little against the slightly below-freezing temperature of the evening (though, it's hard to regret the decision when August rolls around).  On the lighter side, at least I was awake to hear a couple of great horned owls talking to one another for a spell.  

As for the other side of the office omen, the K-3 loop was everything I remembered, which is to say this trail is nearly perfect, and once my knee warmed up, I felt strong like bull.  I say "nearly perfect" because there is a putrid side to this trail system that few favor discussing.  There is a side that upsets and hurts.  I refer, of course, to the continued discrimination against those of the equine persuasion that choose to ride fast bicycles.  One day this, too, shall pass.

I just finished "Tortilla Flat," "Nickel and Dimed," and "Enrique's Journey," and I just started "The Road."  I don't recall the last time I read so many closely related books in a short period of time, but they are all great reads, and they all have me tied up in knots, since they sort of represent an actual order of things.  I'm not saying I expect the destruction and desolation of the last is right around the corner, but after reading the other three, it reminds one of what can lead to such a state of affairs.  I hope some of you pick up "Enrique's Journey."  This is the kind of book that should be required reading for any elected official involved in immigration issues.  It doesn't offer solutions to the massive problem of our hugely unfair hemispheric economy, but it does help make the issue more human and less Vulcan.  

Fast Food Nation had me feeling the same thing.  Luckily, I saw no previews for this, so, from the name, I was expecting something different than what I saw, which was an incredible film, not just a piece of visual journalism.  I also watched another "First Person," by Errol Morris.  Again, great interviews.  We watched "9," which was good, but I think the best part of it was the concept of a human imparting his soul to little robots.  The animation is good and all, it just didn't grab me, for whatever reason.  It might be the way these movies seem, more and more, to be edited like some of the newer action movies (that just seem to get worse and worse as the years pass).

Lastly, I wanted to mention that I just sent money to a political candidate.  I mention this because he is not running in my state.  I will also be sending letters to those seeking office this year in South Carolina to let them know of my actions.  I feel better represented, in general, by somebody from another state than I do by the menu of local loaves, and I think they should know this.  It doesn't take much to earn a contribution, one only need do what is best for most, most of the time.  Just something to consider if you're starting to melt from all the hot air.

Oh, and, by the way, it's time to give hip-hop another chance.  Check out Dalek, P.O.S., Illogic, Aesop Rock, or Eligh, among others.  There is so much good stuff out there, and I probably would've never known had it not been for Fred in Lincoln.  Take my word for it.  It is worth your time to stop in on some of this.

Here's the video stuff:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WOU563OvpUY

This one is pretty damned cool, though, it'd be nice to think we'll get a standard established at some point, so motorists don't have to keep re-learning what a bicyclist looks like at night.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKaTT42o4HY&feature=related

More of the animated cyclist stuff.