The calm before the storm

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 5 Comments
Back-deck vine, Oct. 2, 2012
No, this isn’t some class of Druidic prison … it’s the vine on the back deck going from green to red.

Today was one of those absolutely gorgeous fall days that you’d like to capture in a Mason jar, tuck away in a closet and break out sometime in February when the ceiling and floor have become indistinguishable from one another.

The sun was out, the wind was manageable and the temperature crested just short of the 80s. Herself and I celebrated with a ponderous American breakfast — eggs over easy, pan-fried Yukon Gold spuds, bacon, toast and coffee — followed by a ride to work it all off.

This won’t last, of course. The National Weather Service is predicting a repeat tomorrow, but it all goes south after that, toward a “high” of 43 with a slight chance of rain and/or snow come Saturday, when I have to be indoors working anyway. Oh, well.

Tomorrow brings The Great Debate that neither side claims to be capable of winning (keep those expectations low, fellas; the rest of us certainly are). I’m unloading all the firearms and keeping the smokepoles upstairs but moving the ammo downstairs. TVs are expensive and we don’t want to frighten the neighbors. The ceaseless, volcanic profanity and hurling of beer bottles through windows that have not been opened will be bad enough.

And be glad you’re not driving I-25 through Denver during the debate. ‘Cause you won’t be able to.

Shocktober!

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 2 Comments

How the hell did it get to be October already? Herself and I were just enjoying some adult beverages on the back deck, watching the critters gambol on the lawn, and had to beat it indoors before the sun had truly set because we were freezing our whatsises off (of course, anyone wearing shorts and sandals on Oct. 1 deserves to freeze his or her whatsis off).

We had to fortify ourselves with largish glasses of Domaine Vindemio, a powerful red from Ventoux. Then I put the last of the green chile stew on the range. The low tonight could dip into the 30s and for that one needs green chile and red wine.

Come Wednesday, of course, we will need distilled sustenance — tequila, single-malt Scotch or a solid hit of uisce beatha from the auld sod. El Prezbo and the RomneyBot v2.012 square off that evening for their first debate, in Denver, and there is no way I can possibly watch that sucker stone cold sober. (See Charles P. Pierce for a guide on how to watch a presidential debate.)

The RomneyBot is in full kernel panic, crashing and rebooting and giving off a strong whiff of ozone, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all to see him in mid-flail offer Obama a couple of billion to move out of the White House and set himself and the family up in style elsewhere.

Chilly means chile

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 12 Comments
Green-chile stew, Sept. 29, 2012
A pot of leftovers simmers on the stove.

The first pot of green chile stew is in the books for fall 2012.

I bought four bags of the green goodness — two medium, two mild — and got busy in the kitchen last night. There were plenty of leftovers, so you can imagine what we had for lunch on this cool, breezy Sunday.

And it’s a good thing I went with mild at the top end. Hot summers mean hot chile, and these “medium” New Mexico chiles were plenty hot enough, even though I altered my normal recipe to use two cups of mild to one of medium instead of a 50-50 split.

Seriously, I could feel the medium green dissolving my flesh as I peeled and chopped it. A word to the wise.

20 minutes of 24 hours

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 8 Comments
Rock out, man
Stoned again.

The 24 Hours of COS, a.k.a. USA Cycling’s 24-Hour Mountain Bike National Championship, is going on as we speak in Palmer Park, so between paying chores I popped round for a peek, as I did last year.

And just like last year, the whole thing seemed rather underwhelming, spectacle-wise. Here’s one rider; there’s another. And another. And another.

No disrespect intended. It’s a race intended for participants, not spectators, and I’m sure things get much more interesting when the sun goes down and the wildlife comes out and that rocky stretch that seemed so eminently rideable just a dozen hours ago turns into a black-hole Stonehenge express elevator leading directly to Hell.

But in the daylight it had all the excitement of a strip-mall carnival’s merry-go-round.

It’s a shame nobody was passing out prizes for abusing yourself over a 24-hour period back in the Eighties. I’d have a walk-in closet full of stars-and-stripes jerseys.

Sometimes a grate notion

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 4 Comments
The bathroom grate
What a grate way to wake up on a September morning.

A scorched, musty smell and a low rumble at 5 a.m. told me that fall was indeed here, as the furnace kicked on for the first time in months.

It was something of a shock to the system, as always. It was only a few short days ago that I was motoring in a fog of my own sweat through 105-degree heat in Bullhead City, Ariz., for the dubious privilege of chasing bike parts and Scotch around Sin City, which was only a half-dozen degrees cooler.

I’m not sorry to bid adieu to a truly awful summer, but I’d sure like to hold onto sunny-and-70 for a stretch. Autumn is my favorite time to ride a bike, and I’m not ready to pull on my big-boy pants quite yet.