Apologies for the extended hitch in the blogging gitalong.
Herself returned from Maine on Saturday with a case of The Bug, and thanks to the recent heavy rains I have been enjoying an extended allergic reaction to just about everything, including, as you have seen, bloggery.
The Boss is feeling much better now, thanks to rest, tea, posole, and television. I remember when rest, Canada Dry ginger ale, Lipton’s chicken noodle soup, and comic books did the trick for me. So it goes.
Despite a surfeit of snot I have been out and about on the Soma Pescadero, and you may expect an Adventure Cyclist-style review here in the very near future. Of the Soma, not the snot.
It’s been interesting to see how the Pescadero stacks up with the rest of the Merry Sales family — my two Soma Sagas (one rim brake, one disc); the Double Cross (my oldest Soma); and the New Albion Privateer. Marketeer Stan Pun says the Pescadero is “probably our most under-the-radar frame,” which is a pity, because it’s a smooth blend of past and present. It should be flying high.
Anyway, more on that later. Right now it’s time to ride.
Or so I hope, anyway. We have a largish fire burning at the Arizona-New Mexico border, another one freshly pissed out in an industrial district north of downtown, an air-quality alert, and a red-flag warning.
If I were smart I’d stay inside with the doors and windows shut. But if I were smart, I wouldn’t have mowed the lawn yesterday.
Mad Blog Media 
Is that photo from a fence down in the industrial area at the South end of the Paseo del Bosque path? We (you, me, herb and Khal) took pix down in that area when we rode the path together, and that fence looks familiar. I’m glad we were standing in front of it, not looking through it.
Glad Herself the Younger got back safe and sound. I’m assuming she didn’t come through Newark.
No, sir, that’s actually the fence at the aircraft viewing area at the Sunport. I always park there when I’m picking up Herself because you get to see the planes coming and going.
I shot it because I like the moon in the background. A fella never knows when he might need a pic like that.
With my apologies, Herb, capital H!
Truth be known I don’t deserve a capital. I’m licking my wounds from a $1600 dental bill this morning. No wonder the old timers “just pulled them” and went on about their business. No sir, human teeffs just weren’t made to go the distance. Especially if you are grinding them together these days while catching up on the latest news.
Looking forward to POG’s review. And yes, that fence DOES look familiar!
Hoo-lawd, that’s a real pocket-pickin’ by a tooth dentist. Them fellers give you the laughing gas and then go straight for the wallet. You ain’t laughin’ afterwards, that’s for sure.
I’m in the middle of getting an implant. Ca-ching….
Yikes! Bad things come in threes, y’know, and I have an appointment with the dentist next month. …
The dentist is like a bicycle or guitar shop for me. I just give them my wallet and tell them to take what they need.
Funny, but when I see a razor wire fence I think of the color orange with a hint of a red tie. Well kind of. I guess the tie is something they don’t want those on the correct side of the fence to have. It wouldn’t be good if those with a tie decided to use said tie on a sacrificial cabinet mem, uh, I mean lamb. Even if said tie really wasn’t made in the country that some think needs to be great again.
Dentist. Is that one of those offices where they have the really cool equipment that displays your teeth and you discover that you really could have brushed better before your visit? Oh and you remembered that the last high dollar road ebike that you saw zooming up your favorite climb was skippered by someone that looked a lot like the person behind the shiny light in the dentist office.
Here’s hoping that you and the wise one of the domicile are doing better as you read this.
Theme song for the orange bloviator.