Cloud 9 (in a series)

May 24, 2014 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 8 Comments

We seem to be in something very much like a monsoon season all of a sudden, which unless you're being washed down Fountain Creek certainly beats being on fire. — We seem to be in something very much like a monsoon season all of a sudden, which unless you’re being washed down Fountain Creek certainly beats being on fire.

Why, yes, I think it might sprinkle a bit. Why do you ask?

And later, it did.

April fuel

April 19, 2014April 19, 2014 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 36 Comments

The Salsa Vaya takes five underneath a recently renovated bridge above the railroad tracks.

Y’know what they say about April showers? Well, we should be up to our keisters in May flowers if this weather keeps up. We already have a fine crop of dandelions in the front yard.

Deadlines and various chores have monopolized my attention lately. The House Back East™ has new tenants, and I celebrated by doing a bit of raking and bagging, as the back yard has looked a tad funky since our landscaper vanished mysteriously, leaving a mulching undone and his tools behind. Rumor Control hints at an extended visit with the authorities, but as you know we don’t believe the liberal media here at Chez Dog.

The garage was likewise becoming unmanageable. My half of it, anyway. It looked like the lair of a bike thief who was deeply into the art of stealing but contemptuous of the business end. And so today I tidied up a bit in there, too. Got Herself’s ‘cross bike up on a hook and everything, though there’s still an appalling pile of tires in one corner. And for God’s sake, if you’re a neat freak avert your eyes from the workbench.

In between shifts I took the Salsa Vaya out for a few gentle rides. You know, the usual — city streets, back alleys, pulverized granite paths, single-track, concrete bike path, the works. Everything but I-25, and I’ll get around to that before I’m through.

Today’s Bible lesson is “Thou shalt count the teeth on thy cassette.” That 11-30 cogset ain’t nothin’ of the kind. Big plate on that bad boy has only 28 teeth, which when paired with a 39-tooth middle ring makes me feel my years. Don’t make me use the granny without racks and bags, please, Lord. I’ll quit touching myself and everything.

Interbike 2013: Swimming to Santa Fe

September 16, 2013 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 3 Comments

The scene outside the passenger window near Wagon Mound, N.M.

SANTA FE, N.M. (MDM) — I arose this morning to partly cloudy skies and images of my old friend Jennifer Buntz on the TV, discussing some bikey issue on KOB-TV out of Albuquerque.

I chose to regard both of these developments as good omens, having left Bibleburg under threatening skies and surfed a couple of gully-washers en route to The City Different, the traditional first stop on the Road To Mandalay (Bay). It’s still raining back home, Herself confirmed this morning.

I expected more of the same in Santa Fe, but managed to sneak in a quick soak and steam under the clouds at Ten Thousand Waves, poaching the editorial kinks out of my moth-eaten carcass.

All my usual dinner haunts are closed on Sundays, so I grabbed some disgustingly healthy grub from Whole Paycheck and took a brief assay of what was on the electrical babble box. Not much. I can’t believe people pay American money to watch this shit. I likewise gave myself a day away from the Innertubes, being weary of that particular monsoon, too.

This morning it’s an overdue dose of green chile at Tia Sophia’s and then off to Flagstaff. See you along the road.

How long can you tread water?

September 12, 2013September 12, 2013 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 12 Comments

It’s been a while since I last cracked my Bible, but I seem to recall the Big Fella promising He wouldn’t destroy the Earth by water again. Got the impression it was sort of a “been there, done that” kind of deal.

Well, He may not be destroying the entire joint this time around, but He’s certainly lowering the property values hereabouts. Boulder now has a moat, and I just saw Noah go arking by the DogHaus with an AR-15 slung over one shoulder. Said he was taking two of everything except homos and Democrats, then added with a genial chuckle, “But I repeat myself.”

Herself just stepped into the deluge to walk Mister Boo, who refuses to shit indoors like everyone else around here. I declined to enable this charade, citing the potential for rust on the steel plate, cranial leakage and the shorting out of wires crucial to the composition of lame gags for fun and profit.

Then I scuttled downstairs to shit in a box. I figure that if the cats and I do it often enough, Mister Boo will eventually get the idea.

Never wash your car

August 22, 2013August 23, 2013 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 9 Comments

refugees — The Chez Dog Refugee Center, which is to say, my office.

Herself had the Subaru detailed today and the results were predictable — if there’s anything Yahweh hates, it’s a clean car. You will recall from your Bible that His people mostly walked everywhere, unless a donkey happened to be available.

Slow-moving storms briefly closed Interstate 25; Highway 24 remains closed. Hail north and east, mostly rain south and west. We hadn’t gotten much of anything at Chez Dog as of 9 p.m. Bibleburg time, though the Boo’s evening walk was more of a dog-paddle.

But those poor folks in Manitou Springs appear to be facing another beating. The flood sirens are sounding, and the Gazette says they ain’t kiddin’.

• Late note: Maybe I spoke too soon. It’s raining pretty steadily, with enough thunder to send the Boo scurrying under my drawing board. Nice night to have a new roof on the garage — if you’re a bicycle, anyway. The cars are in the driveway where they belong.