My new favorite munchie—Trader Joe's Pretzel Slims.
They're more like crackers than pretzels; imagine pretzel dough squashed and baked so thin that it's all skin—just salty, crunchy goodness. I know it comes in a couple of varieties but I've only tried the garlic-crusted Everything flavor.
I've been going through three bags a week. And I haven't even been riding.
·
Signs of the times: I just purchased a 4 gigabyte memory card for 24 bucks. The last time I bought one, a 256 MB card cost me $120.
·
It poured so hard so suddenly, all we could do was watch as the rain came down through the car windows and soaked up the interior. No way were we braving that downpour, even though the car was just two spots away. We were stuck at the coffeeshop.
"I told you to shut the windows," Tammie said, telling me so.
But I was worried about the dog. And I only cracked it an inch. And we weren't going to be gone that long. Who knew it would rain so hard so suddenly?
Needless to say, we skipped the dog-park. It was still pouring when we slowly drove home. The creek by Cresheim Valley had overflowed; all we could see was brown flood, if we could see anything at all.
We sat and watched the rain after parking in front of our building. I think we went through a few songs before it finally let up. We made a go for the front door, that is until we realized we had parked in the middle of a moat. Just great.
·
Pastorius Park—while the dog ran amok, I helped the Tamster work on her cyclo-cross dismount.
Helped is italicized because I've never actually attempted a rolling dismount in my life; I was there for moral support. But when she couldn't warm up to it, I found myself attempting one of my own just to show her how easy it really is.
I nailed it. It may have been a 1 mph dismount, but I nailed it. And soon enough she was nailing it too.
"It's actually really easy!" the Tamster cried.
Yeah, I know. That's what I've been trying to tell her for an hour.
Next session—remounts. Just to let you know now; I have no desire to dive crotch-first onto a saddle. That's the very reason I don't do cross.
·
I'm eager to see tonight's debate, much like I was with The Olympics. That is... until I remember that it won't be Palin going against Obama. It's easy to forget she's not actually running for President.
Oh well, I might catch McCain attempt to gesture with his arms. That's always entertaining.
·
Photokina—probably the biggest news of the tradeshow, the introduction of Canon's 5D Mark II. Featuring a 21 megapixel full-frame sensor, environmentally-sealed body, and HD video to boot; it's a measurebator's wet dream come true.
And mine, too. Because it will bring massive price drops on its predecessor. Pretty soon, technophiles will start to unload their barely used 5Ds on The Bay to save up for their next object of obsession. And when they do, I'll be watching.
·
Two dreams—well, actually just one but with two very distinct elements: I had my dog shaved and dyed blue and white. Regretting having that done, I tried to scrub the dye off.
Then I found myself at a copy shop on a vandal's mission; I was trimming down letter-sized sheets of paper by the ream, so that they would print off-center.
·
What is it with ice cubes lately? For the past couple of mornings, they've been blowing up my latte all over the counter. Perhaps it's due to the cooling fall climate, like nature's way of saying it's time to switch to hot drinks.
·
My ring came in the mail yesterday. I have had it on for over twenty-four hours now and am quite happy with it. It fits snugly—not the uncomfortable kind of snug, but rather the reassuring kind. So much that I refuse to take it off.
Of all the materials I considered, I picked steel—316L surgical-grade stainless steel to be specific. It's just as white as platinum, but is stronger than titanium and about as heavy as 14k gold. Heavily-weighted in this choice is the fact that this ring has enough material to provide a lifetime of obsessive Dremel-buffing pleasure. Nothing can beat that.
I would have gladly paid the precious metal premium for a good steel ring; but as it turned out, the only one I could find—in 5mm width, comfort width, and my size—cost $7, $12 shipped.
Now on to the Tamster's ring.
·
Vino Velo: I pulled and pulled and then managed to dropped myself.
It was my first time wearing blue.
····
"Hi there," the voice on the other end sounded a bit sheepish. "Is this Maxine's owner?"
"Yes this is," I replied, a bit alarmed.
We were sitting at our regular bench at Pastorius when I got the call. While we thought our dog was just in the woods across the pond, she had in fact left the park and entered the caller's yard to play with his dogs.
This was disturbing. It's the first time in the two years we've been coming here that she's wandered off like this.
The caller walked Maxine back to the park. He was friendly, good-natured, and wasn't at all angry about this. Though I sort of wish he was—since I can't think of any other way to show our stoopid dog that leaving the park was a bad thing to do. Bad!
·
Hysterical laughter was coming from the living room as the Tamster watched cyclocross tutorials and videos on YouTube. She thinks crashes are just hilarious. She, who is about to go on her first cyclocross race without doing a single clinic.
This is going to be good.
·
Two observations as I try to fall asleep:
First, this fleece blanket sure is warm for such a thin material.
And then, this fleece blanket smells like wet dog.
·
Picking my wedding band is much like spec'ing bike components. I find myself comparing the physical and aesthetic properties of materials like stainless steel, titanium, ceramic, and tungsten carbide. I know, geek.
·
The Drives—I didn't quite make it down to Falls Bridge. I had meant to; and the way I was mashing down Henry Avenue, I should have.
But I turned around after receiving a call from the Tamster. Between the wind, the traffic, and the Ziploc bag between the phone and my ear, all I could make out was that she didn't have her keys. I missed the part where she said she would use our secret key stash. I didn't need to turn around at all.
Slowing down, I inspected a skip in my chain which I've been ignoring in my mad dash to the ride. To my surprise, a pin had worked itself free from one of the plates and was hanging on for dear life. I was a good effort away from breaking the chain completely.
Had that happened on my way down there, I might've hurt myself. Worse, during the ride it would have been sure disaster. Tammie leaving her keys and the confusion that followed, sheep in wolf clothing for sure.
·
The Tamster finally got to ride the cyclocross bike that I had built for her two months ago. With little time to spare—I'd like to point out—as her first cross race is coming up in less than three weeks.
Before heading out I had her ride up and down the street to make sure the brakes actually work. I had little confidence in the stopping performance of that set-up: Avid Shorty 4s on a well-worn Bonty braking surface. She said it worked fine.
Fine on the road, so it should do well on the course.
Her verdict after the short ride, "I like it."
·
Impulse purchase: a thirteen year old, dwarfed Fukien Tea Tree for sixty bucks.
That's right: a Fukien Tea Tree. Now say that three times fast.
·
"That's way it's closer to your heart," the lady explained.
"Ah," we both nodded our heads.
We were at the mall looking at wedding rings. Up until today, I planned on getting the Tamster a proper fitting band that would anchor her engagement ring. As it is, the ring is a quarter size too large and runs amok on the length of her finger; twisting, turning, sliding up and down.
Unfortunately, that lady explained that the wedding ring would rest on the side where it wouldn't do a bit of good. Well... at least not for this auxiliary purpose.
The next plan is a shim involving one of the three materials: 8 mil clear vinyl, 12 mil clear vinyl, or Park Tool tire boot.
····
My sore ruptured on today's humid ride. I'll save you from the gory details.
·
Imagine a kidney bean between muscle and skin. Now imagine sitting on it.
Since the past spring I've had a recurring saddle sore about that size and girth. It shows up when I ride for more than three days without a break; and disappears when I take a few days off.
It doesn't matter how obsessive I've become with sanitary habits—baby wipes, a shower and a good scrub, zinc oxide, antibiotic ointments, loose fitting boxers—the sore will show up when it wants to.
It may be a sebaceous cyst. I've gotten one from cycling in the past. When infected, it swelled so much I couldn't sit straight. The surgeon who removed it told me he expected a pearl but found a golf ball instead. No wonder the procedure hurt—he kept digging farther and farther around the cyst, past the range of the local anaesthetic.
To this day, there in impressive hole in my ass. I'm not kidding.
If I can't get rid of this through excessive hygiene, I'll have to get it removed. I'm thinking early December. I don't plan to get much riding in around the holidays anyway.
·
Anyone else worried about the Large Hadron Collider? I wonder how long it'll take for our entire world to be sucked into a man-made black hole. I guess we'll find out after tomorrow's launch.
·
Terminator, the Sarah Connor Chronicles—just like last season, not enough happens in one episode. It's like they have to make do with a limited amount of plot for the season, so they fill it with cheesy montages and not-so-great action. Perhaps I just got used to shows like Lost and 24, where every minute is crammed with stuff.
Anemic episodes aside, I'm genuinely interested in the storyline. It's a perpetuation of two of the more memorable films from my childhood. I want to know how it ends, so hurry up already.
·
Cheyney Road Race—we had just two turns on the route from the suburbs back to the city and we still managed to get lost. Perhaps we really could make use of a dedicated GPS unit.
As for the actual race; you wouldn't think a 1.5 kilometer, 2-7% grade climb on a 6 mile course wouldn't be too bad... but it was. At least the season is officially over.
·
Hurricane Hannah—after being cooped up all morning, we decided to make a run for Center City to try on wedding bands and perhaps a wedding dress. We were bored and antsy. Besides, as wet as it was outside it was a far cry from a proper storm.
Of course, as soon as we departed Hannah laid it on thick. How thick? Thick enough for us to take the closest exit ramp and make our way back slowly. It was kinda scary.
Hannah is a palindrome. Other examples of palindromes are poop, poohoop, and lol.
····
We eventually did make it out of the apartment. We went to Hokka Hokka for neighborhood sushi.
As our drinks came, the hostess sat a large party nearby. A glimpse of the back of one of the patrons' heads caught my attention. I recognized him from behind. The back of his head was distinct enough for me to be sure he's been on TV or the movies. He looked our way and we were 100%.
We obsessed over this for the rest of the evening. He's played a morally-conflicted officer-type in one role, an understanding patriarch in another; we agreed on that much.
I knew that I didn't know his name, but it drove me mad that I couldn't recall which movies. I should know them. I considered asking for his autograph just to find out.
"How are you even gonna search for that?" Tammie asked as we entered the apartment and rushed to go online.
"Netflix history," I replied.
I went through my rentals one title at a time, carefully reviving each plot and each character. This exercise required focus—the Tamster got bored about ten minutes through—but I was a man on a mission.
"He was the bad guy in Disturbia!" I yelled to a dozing girlfriend 156 titles later.
David Morse—he's played some sort of officer in Dancer in the Dark, The Green Mile, and The Negotiator; he was the dad in Contact, and most recently "He was the cop in House!"
I thought Tammie would be excited about that last one but I think she was just sleepy.
·
Be Kind Rewind—it had its share of Gondry moments, but ultimately the film barely crawled through 102 minutes of footage. Unlike Eternal Sunshine it failed to impress tension and urgency; unlike The Science of Sleep I failed to relate to its characters. Perhaps too much Jack Black, not enough Mos Def.
·
I bought two cockroach traps—the cardboard box kind with bait and glue on the inside.
Coming home from Nebraska, I feared that we had an infestation; thrice I caught a little roach scurrying around in the utensil drawer. The odd thing is, while the traps failed to nab any bugs, the sightings have ceased.
Perhaps it was the same cockroach that I've been seeing and it finally made its way out of the building. Or died.
·
"Honey, you dropped a contact in the bathroom!" Tammie yelled from upstairs.
"Nu-uh," I yelled back. "That's a hole from the shower curtain."
I thought this might happen. I just replaced the shower curtain and clear vinyl holes scattered all over when I ripped open the packaging.
But just to be sure, I closed one eye and then the other. Vision was normal, Dr. Brennan looked fine with either eye.
·
I just realized that I've been making smoothies with goat milk yogurt for the past two weeks. Yes, goat milk yogurt.
I guess that isn't much of a surprise considering the kinds of places in which we shop.
·
The dog isn't having a good day.
She had a crusty on her back that I first mistook for a tick, and then a scab, and then finally—after forcing her still for a good while—decided that it was a piece of dried fruit or food.
Later she sneezed a bloody sneeze right into my shorts—my Old Navy shorts. For a moment I thought she had a cut her nose, but it turned out to be a piece of bloody snot. I had to pin her down to wipe her off lest she spreads the stuff on the rest of our clothing, the couch, and the throw pillows.
To trump it all, she peed herself while sitting on the blue sofa for no reason at all. I did the best I could with the upholstery cleaner, but damn—it was a full bladder's worth.
·
