Mayhem at Marrington

For starters, I was so anxious to be back on the mountain bicycle that, while waiting for our third to catch up after the first section, I mashed on my pedal to pull a small wheelie, without realizing I had inadvertently shifted into my smallest chainring.  Well, I don't mean to overstate my strength, but I mashed with so much force that I reached the 12 o'clock position, at which point the 70 ounces of water on my back turned me into a time traveler; rocketing me to 3 o'clock.  My left ass cheek and shoulder did the most to slow down my trip into the future, leaving me looking like I was peppered by a shotgun blast with my pants down.  Luckily, Mike and Jay were both on the scene to at least hear the thud of my deadfall and the pained groans elicited.  I gave them the go ahead shortly after the incident so that the laughter could ensue, 

with a strained, "I'm o.k."

Secondly, I noticed a small clacking noise about 1/3 of the way into the ride.  I just assumed I had a worn or broken bushing in my fork or something and kept riding.  Over the teeter-totter, through the sharp ditch dives, and so forth, I kept hearing the noise.  The brake arch on the fork had split in two, and I was riding with only my axle and brake keeping everything together.  We didn't realize this until I took the wheel off to mount it atop Mike's car, but it forced a great laugh and sigh of relief.  I'll try to get it warrantied through Manitou on Monday, but, in the meantime, I'll be ordering a SID Race or Team to replace it, since I've still got due reimbursement for the $5o0 worth of paint I put into the Raleigh.  That was the only thing weighing the same as the one I had that was available in a rim brake version (to hell with disc brakes...I'll be the last convert to that wretched waste of money).  Update:  Manitou will upgrade me for very little money, but I just realized that nearly all forks are now made in either Taiwan or China (even DT Swiss, at their insane prices!).  I think Fox is still made here, so I may bust my ass to set up an account with them.  Besides, their reputation is impeccable.  I may even go with a rigid fork, if I can find a good carbon that is US made (which would mean a weight savings of nearly a pound or more...the only good reason to do this, since I've really grown to love the wrist-saving ability of suspension). 

So, little to report on the road scene, of late, since I'm still kind of side-lined by the illness that has had me for the last month, but I am considering selling the Eclipse online.  I realized, again, the other day, that I've let myself get swayed into the realm of competitive stupidity.  I don't need a road race bike!  I need a great custom-made, steel Seven for commuting and camping.  The race bike has been great fun, but what a waste of money.  For the retail price of this little scamp, I could get just the bike I want...I think I might still try.  I'll dedicate any extra money to the MTB.

As for the illness, it had turned into something that was just making me really, really tired.  A shot of B12 seemed to help out, and I probably wasn't getting enough with my dietary choices.  We'll start working a little more seafood and maybe even bird into our meals, but that'll come when the girls are just a little more self-sufficient.  The doc prescribed an anti-depressant (sp?), but I've yet to take it.  I know I'm stressed, but the side effects of these drugs are enough to stress me out even more, and I really hate the idea of having to scale back from a drug rather than just quitting if it doesn't seem to help.  I think I'm just nervous about returning to the house.  Andree has been the queen of the castle and has asked me for very little.  I've helped out where I can, but when you work and have babies, it's easy to feel like you're neglecting your family, even if you spend most of your free time with them.  Once I come home, I think the stress will be within my sphere of influence.  There's nothing I can do about it, right now.  Anyway, I still have a slight sore throat, my ears still feel a mite clogged, I've been through one course of reflux med., and I submitted a hemoccult card to the doc's office (always a blast to collect your own poops, eh?), at their request.  Here's hoping they come back with some kind of diagnosis this time.  It's getting annoying and kind of scary.

Lately, I've been thinking about spitting venom, here, regarding the bitterness of friendship, but it'll suffice to say that I truly miss my buddy Rob in L.A., Rob from Baton Rouge, Bob in Steven's Point, and Adam in Costa Rica.  As for the "friends" I've got in this town...I'd trade nearly all of 'em for just one of those that I've mentioned.  I've recently realized that I've compromised myself in Charleston to the point that I am occasionally ashamed.  I still listen to good music, ride my ass off, love my wife and girls, and would rather view the woods, work in the garden, or create some kind of art on a boring day than watch television or sit behind a monitor on a good day, but I've let myself get dragged down by the interests of others (cars, consumerism, and comparing cocks), rather than holding on to the things that have defined and interested me in the past.  It's a tough thing to maintain one's identity, and "friends" (real or not) should promote the growth and refinement of that identity and not stifle it.  More on this as it develops. 

The robber fly, Diogmites sp., was in the garage.  Unfortunately, he had no other life in his hands at the time, but I've seen these guys take down prey twice their size.  This may be my favorite group of flies, and this particular genus is listed as the "hanging thieves" by one online reference.  Apparently, they're prone to hanging from things while they consume their captors. 

The question mark, Polygonia interrigationis (great specific epithet, eh?), was on the front window sill.  You can see the namesake mark on the underside of the wing in this photo.  We've seen many more of these since moving to the new house (return migration?), and we even had a giant swallowtail, Papilio cresphontes, buzz us on the back porch, yesterday.  The former has no problem finding elms and hackberry trees in the vicinity, but I'm sort of surprised to see the swallowtail, since the native food plant for it is really confined to barrier islands, here, for the most part.  I guess a few more people than I thought have cultivated limes or other citrus in their back yards in our area.

Speaking of butterflies, the dill and parsley are coming along, and they may be ready for the black swallowtails this year.  If not, maybe they'll come up again for a good spring flush, and the girls will get to watch the life cycle on their back porch.  We'll also be sourcing some local milkweeds for next year to attract some monarchs.  Come to think of it, I think we'll just make the void where the giant pine used to stand a little butterfly garden.  That way, I don't have to maintain it very much.  I can just wall it in with some bamboo timbers and let it go.  Now, to source some cheap/free local bamboo...the eternal quest.

The sunflowers are the "teddy bear" variety we got from Clemson this year.  They flowered well, but I think they will do better next year in the ground versus the pots.

Not much else to say, right now, other than these little things I put together on the back porch with the girls not so many weeks ago.  

Ripples of bow and branch,

darkness and shine;

planet breath through photosynthetic fur.

Ringing rasps of metal birds;

the wind seeks a voice

in tree

in time

in you.

Screen can a window or a fence mean.  I abhor both.