Mother’s Day +1

May 11, 2026 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 8 Comments

We’re generally light on mothers around here come the second Sunday in May. Herself isn’t one, and neither is Miss Mia Sopaipilla.

But for this Mother’s Day we have a robin sitting on a clutch of eggs in a fine, strong nest built in the Chinese pistache outside the dining room.

We’ve had doves cobble together some half-assed homes under the front overhang that mostly turn into fly-thru eateries for the neighborhood raptors. Hummingbirds tuck their teensy little bide-a-wees into the pines out front. And a variety of little cheepers have grown up in a dead limb of the backyard maple, holed at top and bottom by a ladder-backed woodpecker. A tree dude accidentally sawed it off while pruning the maple a while back, but he reinstalled it and it’s been home to at least one more family since then, so, winning, etc.

None of these little mothers ever pays any rent, but we don’t care. We even provide free feeds at our BB&B (Bird Bed & Breakfast). From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs, as the fella says.

El Paddy-o

March 28, 2026 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 11 Comments

The backyard maple looks like it’s yearning for that *canale* to deliver a little water. Nope.

Thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes. Off we go for another hot lap around Old Sol.

For a present the Universe gave me a rotten night’s pre-birthday sleep, then followed up with gale-force winds, airborne allergens, dust, and other particulates, and a head full of boogers, so there was no 72-mile bike ride. Not even a 72-minute ride. In point of fact, there was no ride at all.

Except the one in Herself’s Honda to El Patio on Rio Grande for a largish platter of sinus-flushing green chile chicken enchiladas with papas, beans, and sopaipilla, which as always was excellent. We had to eat indoors, though. It’s a rare day indeed when we shun El Patio’s patio.

Today dawned coolish and should remain so for our No Kings rally down at Montgomery Park. I’d like to shoehorn a ride into the day’s activities at some point, but smashing the State takes priority.

If the State tries to deploy chemical weapons, well, I’ll be armed with a little gas of my own. Turnabout is fair play.

27?

March 27, 2026 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 37 Comments

After a largely sleepless night that may or may not have been age-related I awakened to the idea of flipping the script on this whole birthday deal.

“Instead of 72 I will be 27,” I decided.

But after further illumination via coffee I concluded that it would be a losing proposition in the long term.

Sure, I’d be 27 this year, 37, the next, then 47 … you get the picture.

But by 2031 I’d be tied with myself at 77 and after that the numbers go sideways at high speed.

So I guess it makes sense to be 72 today.

Beats being a freshly hatched egghead like the one pictured above, in Harundale, Md., circa 1954. What might he turn out to be if he’d gotten his start on March 27, 2026?

No, don’t ask A.I. I don’t want to think about it.

Let them eat cake

March 12, 2026 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 12 Comments

By “them” I mean Herself, and by “cake” I mean “half a cinnamon roll,” and why on earth should Herself be eating cake for breakfast?

Because it’s her birthday, that’s why.

There was but a single candle on the “cake,” because record-low snowpack, record-high temperatures, drought continues, red-flag warnings, etc., et al., and so on and so forth. I lit it up and we hopped around the kitchen like crazed bunnies to The Beatles’ “Birthday,” blaring from a JBL Clip 2 fed a YouTube video by my iPhone 13 Mini. Can’t say we Revered Elders are helpless when it comes to managing all these doggone, consarned, newfangled whizbangs, whatchamacallits, and comosellamas, even the ones whose “new” is mostly wore off leaving only the “fangled” bits.

Once breakfast is in the rear view there will be a short trail run followed by some medium-light shopping, a lunch without so much cake in it, and a delicious dinner that may or not conclude with cake, depending upon whether we can get to The Range before they run out and/or close, which happens early in these dire days, when no one can afford gasoline, much less three servings of cake per diem.

You wouldn’t believe the tariff on cake. And you can trust me, because I’m in the media.

‘What have the Romans ever done for us?’

January 1, 2026January 1, 2026 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 14 Comments

There’s a cat in here some’eres. But where?

Are we going about this whole “new year” thing wrong?

Maybe the new year should kick off with the spring equinox. New life in the offing, and better weather to keep it comfy-cozy.

We were already into the 50s here last March 20. Zach at Two Wheel Drive had found me a Deore derailleur for the as-yet-unbuilt Soma Pescadero, and I went out for a short trail run to celebrate. The next day I was burning up the Elena Gallegos trails on my old red Steelman Eurocross while TWD assembled my new whip. Talk about your bowl of cherries.

January is usually a bowl of something else altogether. The month is named for the Roman deity Janus, god of change, passages, and beginnings: “Better beef up your kit before you head out that door to start your run, Mr. Not-So-Smarticus. Add a base layer, maybe a jacket and cap, looks like rain.”

When I revisit January in old training diaries I see a lot of short runs in frosty temps. Which is fine, as far as it goes, which is not very. And I’ll probably be doing one of those directly, as we seem to be getting sloppy seconds from the ongoing deluge in California. Just because I have fenders doesn’t mean I want to use them. I like my January showers warm, with the bathroom door closed and a space heater on.

But it’s gonna be extra hard to drag my ass out that door this Jan. 1. El Rancho Pendejo smells like simmering black-eyed peas and ham hock, with baking cornbread soon to lend an aromatic hand, and it’s a good thing I have more than a few keyboards around here because I keep drooling into this one.

Happy New Year to one and all.

• Addendum: The cooking process is greatly enhanced by playing “The Allman Brothers Band: A Decade of Hits 1969-1979” throughout.