Breaking news: It snows in winter

February 20, 2013February 20, 2013 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 26 Comments

Boo and Herself — Banzai Buddy Boo and the Islamic terrorist holding him hostage.

Check this strange beverage that falls out from the sky, as Tom Waits once growled. Snow, and in winter, too. Who knew?

Mister Boo loves the stuff. Herself took him out for a quick trip around the block and “quick” is the operative word here. The Boo took four corners a sight faster than Davis Phinney ever did, and maybe Danica Patrick, too. His Nipponese ancestors must have hailed from the top of Mount Fuji. He looked like a bug-eyed little snowplow bounding up the sidewalk.

Not so Miss Mia Sopaipilla. The little minx slipped through the open door as I was taking a picture and instantly thought better of it, hanging a 180 and jetting back inside to criticize my weather-management skills.

Being a Russian blue, Mia’s family tree may be rooted in Stalingrad, or perhaps Siberia. But just ’cause you’re from there doesn’t mean you have to like it. You don’t see me hanging around Annapolis, after all.

There’s snow in them thar hills

January 29, 2013January 29, 2013 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 23 Comments

Snow? In January? who'da thunk it? — Snow? In January? who’da thunk it?

The weekend was a tad busy, and come Monday I had a minor case of the ass.

I wanted, needed, to go for a ride — especially since I have a couple of bikes that need reviewing in fairly short order — but my usual routes had become yawn-inducing, an affliction that surfaces from time to time, like malaria or herpes.

The weather had mostly been sunny and dry, so I decided to spend a couple hours dicking around on the trails in Palmer Park, and riding a fendered MonsterCrosser® on the bone-dry single-track proved a pleasant change of pace.

Good thing I got ’er done when I did, too. Because we awakened this morning to a heavy wet blanket of snow on the deck. Thus today’s exercise consisted mainly of upper-body work, to wit, shoveling.

I’m not complaining, though. This ongoing drought is no joke — come Thursday, we’re back to another stretch of sunny, windy and 50-something — and I fear for our silver maple, which shades my office window. It takes a lot of water to keep a big tree happy, and an inch or two of snow every couple of years won’t do the trick.

The days of wine and hoses

December 27, 2012December 27, 2012 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 9 Comments

This Tavel rosé pairs well with food. It’s also pretty damn’ nice all by its lonesome.

We shipped Herself the Elder back to Tennessee this morning, or so we thought.

Her flight out of Bibleburg, slated for 10:45 a.m., didn’t go wheels up until 12:30 p.m. And her connector in Dallas was canceled, so she’s camped in the Dallas airport awaiting another. If she’s lucky she’ll be back in the loving bosom of her cats at midnight.

Meanwhile, Herself the Younger is driving home from Denver in a light snow and cursing like a sailor, because she (a) hates driving in the dark, (2) hates driving in the snow, and (iii) hates driving in the snow in the dark.

Only I am left unscathed to tell the tale, because I have the great good fortune to be unemployable and thus possessed of abundant leisure to motor hither and thither in the daylight, when it is not snowing. Thus did I hie me to the grog shop, fortified by a largish check for making things up, thence to restock the wine rack stripped bare by our Yuletide revelry.

Now I’m sipping a tart Tavel rosé and sifting mentally through the available leftovers: quite a bit of posole; the makings for a short round of tacos de papas con chorizo; some pintos in chipotle chile; the underpinnings for a second round of beef enchiladas on red chile, save the sauce.

Posole, tacos and beans it is. Even a slacker deserves a day off.

Happy solstice

December 21, 2012December 21, 2012 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 10 Comments

Psychotic interludes from the NRA aside (can you imagine how much fun “Saturday Night Live” is gonna have with Wayne LaPendejo’s dreams of transforming every grade-schooler into a grenadier?), it was a pleasant solstice here in Bibleburg.

Herself’s mom is in town for the holidays, staying at The House Back East, and while they visited a local spa for expensive and superfluous purposes of beautification I took a break from chores to squeeze in a short ride.

I’m been running more lately, so a bit of load-bearing exercise made for a nice change of pace. It was chilly, so long sleeves and leg warmers were the uniform of the day. And fenders were a must, as there is some water on the deck; also caution, thanks to a bit of ice in shady spots.

The weaponry I left at home, even though my route took me past two schools, which thanks to LaPendejo have been exposed as exemplars of the Pussification of America and thus low-hanging fruit for the zombie slaves of Hollywood who would perforate us all in a nanosecond were it not for the eternal vigilance of the NRA (bonus Internet joke: Q. How many NRA members does it take to screw in a lightbulb? A. More guns).

But I kept the rubber side down, and nobody drew down on me, so it was all good.

Now I’m enjoying a glass of wine, getting set to feed the Pigeons (har har) and thinking about how early I have to get up the next two days. Just shoot me.

I hate February

February 11, 2012February 11, 2012 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 21 Comments

What passes for snow in February — A little cranky commentary on the back deck. I thought about putting it out front but property values are already low enough around here.

Fourteen degrees with a 12-mph wind out of the south and maybe a half inch of fluffy white powder on the deck — just three of the reasons that February sucks.

Weather like this makes me want to eat grease, drink whiskey and buy things, not necessarily in that order. I just looked back through a few old training logs and the February entries are full of low mileage and foul language. The month is bad for the legs and worse for the mind.

It doesn’t help that colleagues are taunting me from Tucson, where they have spent a few days test-riding bikes under sunny skies in 70-degree temps. There’s nothing a journalist likes better than seeing an open wound and the salt shaker within easy reach. Oh, the humanity.

Me, I did an hour of cyclo-cross in a bitter north wind on Thursday and about 90 minutes of unimpressive riding in a surprisingly snowy and wet Palmer Park yesterday. Who knew that last little poot of a snowstorm would linger as it did? Not me, and now I have a bike that needs a wash and brush-up.

Today I’m trying to nudge myself into the first trainer ride of 2012, but the pep talk is not going well. Cycling indoors is right up there with daytime TV, cybersex and listening to Republicans speak.