Happy winter solstice to thee and thine. Once again I will not be attending the annual illumination of the inner chamber at Newgrange — the 5,000-year-old monument is not among the locations served by Air Subaru — but I will be there in spirit.
The weather wizards say we can expect a high in the upper 40s today here in the Duke City, but it won’t be long now before this space is devoted to bitching about the intolerable heat. To everything there is a season.
The new kit has landed at El Rancho Pendejo.
As usual, I seem to be between sizes — Voler’s large club suits me fine without an undershirt, but once I (ahem) bulk up for winter I may need to go to an XL. And to think my original is a medium. Sigh.
The full zip is a big improvement over the original edition, and so is the fabric. For starters, it’s lighter, which means you can have that extra donut for breakfast. But you can’t have the shorts — not yet, anyway. Them there is original bibs from Back In the Day™ and we’ve yet to bring them back to hideous life.
Chime in as your jerseys arrive and let me know what you think.
What do I think? I think I’ll go for a ride, that’s what I think. I think.
Whew. Some folks hate Mondays, but I’m telling you, any day I don’t have some undone chore leering over my shoulder is a very good day indeed.
Those of you who have actual jobs (my condolences) with regular days off (you sonsabitches) may not appreciate how sweet it feels for a freelancer to have a 24-hour period during which absolutely nothing of financial consequence needs doing. It’s like finding a Benjamin in your jeans while doing the laundry, pulling a goathead from a tire to find it still holds air, or hearing a lawyer say, “No charge.”
In a word: Fantastic.
Oh, there are a few items that will require a smidgen of my attention:
• I should hear from Voler today about the online store through which our fondest dreams are to be realized (yours, a new Fat Guy jersey; mine, obscene, unheard of and uncountable wealth).
• The Boo remains in recovery from dental work, and the meds are disrupting his regularity (I fear for our brick floors).
• And we’re still a one-car family, so I snoop around now and again to see if there’s anything out there that’s worth the trip to a car lot for one of those conversations (“Mr. O’Grady, what will it take to get you into this fine pre-owned automobile? Just let me talk to my manager. …”).
But mostly I plan to ride the bike. Blue skies, smiling at me … nothing but blue skies do I see.
Editor’s note: Looks like “Bloom County” is coming back. Getting better all the time. …
Editor’s note the second: Himself speaks with The New York Times.
A few metric shit-tons of comedic hay have been baled from Fat Tony Scalia’s jabbering over the Supremes’ decision on gay marriage.
The bit of blithering outrage that I found most telling was: “Hubris is sometimes defined as o’erweening pride; and pride, we know, goeth before a fall.”
Ho, ho, etc. Fat Tony has heard so many people call him brilliant for so long that he’s come to believe he’s the sun at the center of our judicial galaxy around which the rest of us must revolve, like it or not.
Well, count me among the rogue planetoids chuckling as Fat Tony’s light went out on Friday. There’s something deeply satisfiying about watching a guy who thinks he should win everything just by being present and accounted for rolling in DFL.
The New Mexico Touring Society, New Mexico Bicyclist Educators and the Adventure Cycling Association are throwing a hoedown on Sunday at Balloon Fiesta Park, right here in Duke City, to celebrate the new Bicycle Route 66 with presentations and speechifying, New Mexican grub and (of course) a bit of cycling.
In honor of the ACA’s visit to my little ciudad, I have been empowered to arrange a number of free six-month trial memberships to the beautiful and talented people who follow me on Twitter, friend me on Facebook, or lurk around this blog waiting for me to pull my thumb out and get caustic, funny or both.
Members get discounts on maps, access to special organized tours, and Adventure Cyclist magazine, wherein one may discover glistening pearls of wisdom from cycling authorities who are not me. But I’m in there too.
Click the link and saddle up. See you on the road.
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