It’s been a busy few days. I drove to Connecticut to my little sister and brother-in-law’s Tuesday (the 12th). Due to the traditional late start, I didn’t roll in until 4AM Wednesday, which meant that Wednesday was basically a recovery day.
Thursday was DaveCon. I rode the train into NYC from CT, met up with all my a.f.l. pals and had a fabulous Late Show experience. Then we shot the Tony Mendez Show (starring Tony Mendez) and off to dinner. Tony joined us at dinner and, as ballet season hasn’t started yet (he’s a huge fan), this year he stayed all evening, eating, sharing behind-the-scenes gossip and shouting “no more pictures“. A more in-depth DaveCon trip report is in the works. (DaveCon photos, here)
Friday I again rode the train in and met Traci, Helen, and the no longer yella Brady for pie. Due to some bad directions I was a bit late and missed Micah and David Yoder. Helen and Traci were headed to see the new Trek movie at the I-Max theater and Brady was bound for points unknown. I headed out to shop and sight-see by bike. Once I got going I was so totally overcome with, and enamored by, the rush of slithering through traffic that I lost sight of everything else. I weaved my way up the East side, through Harlem, into and around Central Park then down through the theater district and Times Square. Basically the only stops I made were to grab a hot dog, a pretzel, a banana, a slice of pizza, etcetera, devour it, and jump back on the bike. Finally, spent, I made my way back to Grand Central Terminal. I thought I could take my bike on any off-peak train and so I bought my ticket and boarded the 8:04 train to New Haven. Along comes the conductor and informs me that no, I have to wait for the 8:35 train, so, dejected, I get off the train and wait. Not a big deal, Grand Central is a wonderful place to pass some time, I was just tired and ready to head ‘home’.
Saturday and Sunday were spent hanging with the family and the doggies and a wonderful home-cooked meal, complete with a Vermont Mystic Apple Pie (thanks, sis, and Danny, for finding the pie).
Monday was another day of riding in NYC. Pie for breakfast then another train ride into the city. The weather was a bit cool and threatening-looking so the wind breaker put in an appearance (all day). I was a bit more successful in my shopping endeavors, and had a delightful lunch/snack in Chinatown. I had some sort of mystery cake; a dense sponge-type cake, covered in crushed nuts and filled with banana creme. This, a cup of tea and a big slab of fresh-baked bread set me back the princely sum of $2.10. (Cycling Manhattan photos, here)
I really can’t overstate how much fun I had. DaveCon was, once again, everything I could hope for (well aside from not getting the tour or photo-ops at Dave’s desk. Curse you, Kevin Spacey! And a pox upon you too, “Survivors”).
Cycling in Manhattan was, quite possibly, the most fun I’ve ever had. Weaving and slithering through traffic I felt, quite literally, like some kind of super-hero. I really do love New York.
Special thanks to all those involved for making it the trip of a lifetime (you know who you are).
Tuesday I drove back home and got to see Pennsylvania by daylight for the first time. It’s a lovely state. I’m thinking of relocating to Sugar Notch, PA.
Oh, and Kevin Spacey? You’re still on ‘the list’.
The other day while I was at work “The Andy Griffith Show” was on and Barney delivered a line so wise, so insightful, that it made me stop what I was doing and grab a pen and paper:
A slender high-spirited person needs a sugar pick-me-up late in the day.
Were truer words ever spoken?
This year it was the sweet potatoes. After baking them, mom turned the broiler on to brown the obligatory marshmallow topping. Then she got distracted with something else until she smelled smoke. She opened the oven door and the sweet potatoes were literally in flames!
Sadly, I didn’t get a photo of the conflagration (I was too busy staring stupidly and being of absolutely no assistance). I did, however, get a photo of the aftermath. Thank goodness my mother has a sense of humor about things (as evidenced by the fact that she didn’t smother me with a pillow when I was a child).
Fellow blogging cyclist (or is it cycling bloggist?) Ed W over at CycleDog has raised a great kid. This story proves it.
Bring a tissue.
Thanks Ed, thanks Jordan, I needed that.
As of Monday, September 10th at 9AM; yours truly is on vacation.
Right now it’s “Vacation Stage I“:
Cooking yummy food, riding the bike(s), and eating yummy food.
Omelettes, rice pudding, and various pasta and Mexican dishes typically dominate the menu during this stage.
Friday afternoon kicks off “Vacation Stage II“:
Old Fashioned Days.
Live music, dangerous-looking carnival rides, arts and crafts, pedalboat rides, and surprizingly good fair food — representing many different cultures. You can have your funnel cakes and corn dogs, personally I’m a sucker for the Cajun booth;
- Red Beans and Rice
- Beignets
- Jambalaya
- Shrimp & Andouille Gumbo
- Crawfish etouffee
- Who knows, I might even snack on some gator on a stick!
Ayeee! That’s some fine eating! And the whole thing takes place literally a stones throw from my luxurious domicile.
Saturday night brings the Balloon Glow which really is the highlight of the event (not to diminish the fun of watching the constant stream of illegally parked cars being towed away just below my kitchen windows.) Ahhh…. Schadenfreude!
Sunday things wind down early but the delicious smells linger into the evening.
Monday will be a big ride day. I never get to ride on Monday!
Then Tuesday kicks off Vacation Stage III - The drive to Indianapolis to shower Mom, Aunt Donna, and my step-father with their extravagant and opulent birthday gifts. Then Wednesday we’ll have the big Adkins-approved meat feast and while everyone is recovering/relaxing and enjoying their new treasures, I’ll sneak in a bike ride.
Then it’s back home for Vacation Stage IV,
bracing myself for the return to work and apologising to Caldonia for leaving her alone for 2 whole days.
So, I was grocery shopping bright and early this morning when a display of pies caught my eye. Marionberry pies.
“I don’t even know what Marionberries are”, I muttered to myself.
I burst into laughter as my mind immediately conjured the grainy FBI surveillance video of disgraced, then inexplicably re-elected Washington D.C. mayor, Marion Barry smoking crack with his mistress in a hotel room.
Yep, it’s quite a life; 5AM, shopping at Kroger, laughing at pies.
Have I mentioned that I’m easily amused?
There are several reasons that I have never eaten, and plan never to eat, a Hot Pocket. The main reason has nothing to do with the bit (see video here) that Jim Gaffigan does about them in his stand-up routine (that is one of the reasons, though).
My reason? I can’t hear the name without automatically thinking ’snot rocket’.
I know what you’re probably thinking: “Yuck! Why on earth are you writing about ’snot rockets’?”
Why? Two words… grass pollen.
Oh, and if you are an eater of Hot Pockets, good luck not thinking “snot rocket” from now on whenever you bite into one.
You’re welcome.
So, the other day I was lamenting the fact that while you can get custom printed M&M’s (which seems cool until you find out how much they cost), they won’t print anything that is “potentially offensive or inappropriate”. And believe me, they cast a wide net in defining what’s off-limits. It’s just like those uptight weasels at Nike and their personalized shoes; always ruining all my offensive and inappropriate fun.
It was suggested that perhaps I should find a way to market products to this untapped niche. Immediately, I knew exactly what I would call such a venture:
Vulgar Mofo’s!
Vulgar Mofo, creating customized profane and obscene products for the discriminating foul-mouthed bastard!
There truly is no off position on the genius switch!
So, several years ago at work, there was a large piece of Butterball turkey breast in the refrigerator which was over 3 days old and therefore destined to be thrown out. Being frugal (and hungry) I couldn’t bear to see it go to waste, so ignoring the voice of warning in my head, I commenced to eat it. After about an hour of blissful snacking, the angry rumbling from my gut announced that I had made a mistake. I spent the next 12 hours in misery, having the lesson driven home. Abdominal cramps, fever, chills, vomiting, diarrhea; the whole shebangabang. After surviving this ordeal, I vowed never to repeat my mistake.
Fast forward to the weekend before last. There I was again, at work, looking for something to eat, when I discovered a package of sliced ham (sandwich meat) in the refrigerator. According to the date, it had been opened a week earlier, but it seemed okay and I figured sandwich meat has a pretty good shelf-life.
So, I ate it. Just as before, my stomach let me know pretty quickly that I had made a mistake. Unlike previously, despite some pretty intense nausea, I didn’t puke (which was probably also a mistake, in retrospect).
No vomiting, no diarrhea (either of which would have been welcome); it was as though my system decided to tenaciously hold on to the tainted meat, the better to teach the lesson. The cramping went on for days; the sweaty, feverish, achy, hit-by-a-truck feeling came about 24 hours in and it was nearly a week before the pain and bloating subsided.
Damn, I’m stupid sometimes!
I won’t do that again (gee, that sounds familiar).
Being a big fan of spicy foods and hot sauces, I was thrilled to discover that the McIlhenny Company has an online country store. Even more exciting was the discovery that they sell their various sauces in gallon jugs!
For years I’ve enjoyed canned Chipotles in adobo sauce (my Chipotle smashed sweet potatoes are to die for!) so when Tabasco came out with a Chipotle sauce, it was love at first taste.
The only problem was; with it being more flavorful and somewhat milder than regular Tabasco, I use a lot of it, and can only find it in 5 ounce bottles, which don’t last long.
What do I put it on, you ask? Well, just to name a few; it’s fabulous in or on any kind of eggs (fried, scrambled, hard-boiled; you name it), it’s just the thing to give boring pizza a little bite, and it plays amazingly well with potato chips or Fritos. Naturally, almost anything I cook is flavored with some type of hot sauce.
Well, my days of paying $3.49 every couple of weeks for a 5 ounce bottle of this magical nectar are over!
At $45 delivered to my door, that works out to just $1.76 per 5 ounces. I’d be a fool not to take advantage of a money-saving opportunity like that!
So, after considerable research into the “Greg Evans Diet Plan“, there has been a slight revision. Instead of subsisting solely on pie for an entire week each month, the new plan calls for dedicating just one day each month to pie-eating exclusivity.
This day shall, of course, be known as Pie Day. This is not to be confused with Pi Day, which just happens to coincide with my birthday. The annual triumvirate of these occasions (Pie Day, my birthday, and Pi Day) shall cause the festivities to be expanded into Pie Week, out of honor, respect, and appreciation for pie, pi, and the esteemed founder of Pie Day, yours truly.
I am confident that Pie Day observances will meet with much greater success than my previous failed, discredited, and subsequently abandoned research into ‘Beer Day’, ‘Vodka Day’, ‘Rum Day’, and the always exciting ‘Tequila Day’.
So yesterday I took the Pista out for a spin. I was feeling pretty good, hammering up the slight hill by the park Pantani-style. Some time later I noticed an odd pain in the back of my left knee (the “good” one). Analyzing the evidence I realized that I had, apparently, hyper-extended it, going all Marco P on that hill before I’d had a chance to warm up. I thought briefly about turning around and going home, or of stopping and flipping the back wheel around to the 17 to make things a bit easier. “Nah, screw that; I’m riding!” I decided, soldiering on. As my ride progressed I realized that I might have made a mistake, as the pain in the back of my knee grew more incessant. Still, though, I made no concessions (I’m stupid that way).
By the time I got back home I knew that I had definitely hyper-extended the knee (it’s a pretty specific pain, one that you remember), and that I probably shouldn’t have ridden (especially the fixed gear) on it. I also knew it would be fine, but that it would probably keep me off of the bike today (I’m not that stupid).
I consoled myself with the thought that it might rain, and overnight it did rain a bit. There was a front pushing through, so it was very windy all day, which was some solace. Then we had some pretty intense thunder storms this evening; even a tornado warning for a bit so, in the end, I felt much better about not getting to ride.
The good news? My house didn’t blow away, and my knee is much better, hardly hurts at all. Oh, and I ate tamales all day!
