globalesque

After close to eight hours in the saddle today, I'm more than a little tired, but otherwise happy. This morning was like Christmas for me - I woke up before 6am and despite my best efforts, I couldn't get back to sleep. With all that extra time, I took the fenders and rack off my bike, watched a couple hours of the Giro d'Italia, had four slices of toast with raspberry jam, two fried eggs, a banana, and a whole pot of coffee for breakfast. And even after all that, I still ended up sitting at the closed bike shop on the trail, waiting for Justin and Eric to arrive.

We kept a real solid pace all the way up the trail right up until we hit the first big hill in Woodinville. That got us warmed up for the climbs to follow and the other trails weren't too damaging. We rolled into Arlington, the halfway point, in pretty good time and stopped for lunch at Playa Bonita, the Mexican restaurant Justin and I hit last summer when we rode up.

For a while after Arlington, we were on a bike path and cruised along at an 18 mph clip. The the trail ended and suddenly we hit the hills. The killer, endless hills from hell. That went on for what seemed like days, ending in a nice descent to a corner store just outside of Mount Vernon. I had blocked out the pair of terrible hills, but my memory was revived pretty quickly after seeing the first one from the bottom.

Unlike last year, we didn't take a bunch of wrong turns through the commercial big box store strip. We followed the correct route, and for miles and miles and miles we ground through wide-open, windy fields. They went on forever, sapping energy and morale and time.

Finally we got to Chuckanut Drive and paused on the bridge to rest and recoup briefly. That was almost exactly at mile 95 for me, and at mile 100 or more for Justin and Eric, who started the ride this morning from their respective houses.

Here's where I get a bit of swagger, which I've picked up from watching bike races. Justin, and particularly Eric, started to crack. Their legs were dead, they were completely fatigued, we had been in the sun for hours and hours, and we were all probably getting mildly dehydrated. And then, I completely dropped them. I kept looking behind me, and for the first mile or so, with a dozen miles to Bellingham, I caught glimpses of them back in the distance. I took full advantage of the descents to get me back up the climbs, and looking at the last few miles, my average speed was 14 mph on the low end and 22 mph on the high end, with a median around 17 mph and a mode of about 16 mph. I stopped twice to let them catch up, but even for the final brutal climb up to Bellingham, I had more than enough steam left in me.

But with a 7:49 train departure time, we had no time to hit a restaurant, AGAIN. We stopped at a grocery store to get food and drink for the long train ride home, then went right to the station. Angela met us there, with Justin's and my backpacks. She was a bit irritated because Eric had led her to believe we would ride much more quickly and arrive much sooner than we did. She left home at 1:30, probably arriving in Bellingham around 3 or 3:30. We rolled up just after 7:00. And we called her away from the restaurant where she was going to meet us for dinner, meaning she didn't get to eat until Justin and I were on the train and on our way back south. Poor girl. I guess that's what happens when you're married.

There were all sorts of strange characters on the train home, and we couldn't avoid hearing or seeing them. There was a group of two middle-aged couples playing cards behind me and making all sorts of wise cracks. There was a Chinese guy photographing and taking video of EVERYTHING. He photographed every part of the train car, which isn't particularly exciting because it's Amtrak. He had his video camera aimed out the window for at least half of the two hour journey, shooting nothing and everything at once. And there was the LAMEST father/daughter couple imaginable.

We finally arrived in Seattle with no one to pick us up and no energy to ride our bikes all the way back home. I caught a bus which dropped me off a few blocks from home. I hopped on the bike to climb the hill to my house, which wasn't the best part of my day. But the shower! I earned the shower, and after that, I feel much much better. And you know what? I still have two more days off, then one day on, and another two days off. And my tomorrow, which is nearly here, is Halphasian's milestone birthday, giving me a blog topic.

Happy beginning of Memorial Day weekend! As is usually the case, we closed up early at work today for the holiday. I left at 3, then got in a long run with Phil (7.67 miles) through the U-District and around Greenlake. I broke in some new shoes that I found on sale last week for less than half their original price. They broke me in a bit more than I broke them in, it seems like. But finding Brooks Beasts for $60 is a feat worth mentioning.

Tomorrow, at last, we are going to get in the long ride we've been talking about for weeks. We (the full triumvirate - Justin, Eric, and I) are leaving in the morning to ride up north to Bellingham. The plan is to roll out around 8:30 or 9 and get there with enough time to get dinner and still catch the 7:49 train back to Seattle. Justin and I already bought our tickets, so it's not a choice anymore, it's a done deal.

In preparation, I cooked up a big mess of spaghetti for my dinner, using up the tomato sauce I cooked earlier in the week, and the chicken waiting in the refrigerator, and the remains of a bag of frozen peas and carrots. I cooked an entire box of noodles, so I'll be eating this for at least a couple more meals, but after today's run and yesterday's ride, I was ready for a big meal. It was awesome! I may even eat some more to have fuel stored up inside me for the hundred miles ahead.

Wish me luck! I'm excepting it to be the most perfect day of May for the ride, and this one long ride will bump my numbers up close to where I wanted them to be for the month. And the fact that we're getting the trio together for a "real" ride at last is very exciting.

Here's something I'm pondering that's not amusing, per se, but it is irritating/perplexing. Last Thanksgiving, among the things stolen from me was a headlamp. You know the sort - LED bulb, elastic band to wear it around your head. I bought that light as one of those Amazon deal of the day specials and had it for a few years. I mostly used it to read at night, inconspicuously, but it did get taken on some camping trips and other outdoor events where light was needed.

It was a replacement and upgrade for another light I'd had since college, back before super bright LED bulbs were used for everything. I still have that one, but after 15 years or so of use around the world, it lacks a certain punch.

This year, also on sale, I purchased my third Petzl light ever. Batteries came included, but last week they finally conked out. And apparently, with this model, there's not much in-between time. It was bright. It faded a bit. Then it was just completely dead. Here's the rub - it takes AAA batteries. And it doesn't take an even number - it takes THREE.

Remember the numbers divisible by three? I'll tell you, two and four aren't among them. Neither is eight. And if you go looking to buy batteries, at a grocery store for example, you certainly won't find a six-pack, and you probably won't even find a twelve pack.

The result is, I bought a four-pack of rechargeable batteries (I already have a circuit of AA rechargeables that have seen a lot of use). One battery is still in the package, because I don't think there are many things which require a single AAA battery. In this story problem of a post, is there any better solution? Taking rechargeable as a prerequisite and non-bottomless coffers as another. If I bought another four-pack, then some electric item which required an odd number of batteries, I'd be set. I know I already have a few even battery devices I could use those batteries in. Lame.

I appreciate Facebook for a number of reasons which I won't go into tonight. One thing it has done especially well is remind us of when people have birthdays. For many users, that seems to be their prime reason to even have an account. Being the crotchety, curmudgeonly old man that I am, I very frequently forget to check those reminders, or I ignore them. But without them, and without a few electronic reminders I set up in a calendar years ago that go off automatically, I wouldn't remember anyone's birthday outside of my own, my parents', and my brothers'. Those, like my childhood address and phone number, my social security number, and my college student ID number are permanently branded on my brain. It's not so easy for any other new numbers to come in and stick.

I made a deliberate choice a couple years back in regards to Facebook walls and birthday wishing. I do not wish people happy birthday on their walls. I know that might be considered faux pas, but let me explain what I do instead. I don't send cards, but to the people I would consider sending a card, I either send an email, a text message, or I call them. Here's my rationale: Facebook, like so many parts of the internet, is a very public place. If I post something there, there is the potential for anyone to see it. But more than that, I feel a sort of group mentality/peer pressure/everyone jumping off a bridge situation in the well wishing. Instead of my wishes of happiness being a conditioned response, I want them to mean something. I want the person to think I really do want them to have a happy birthday, and even though I was too lazy or too cheap of too forgetful to send a card (or a gift!), I thought more highly of them than to only send them a Facebook message.

I know all sorts of reasons why this is an improper way to look at this. I know that getting dozens of little notes on your virtual wall, one day a year, from people in so many different places is a very small kindness that is helpful in your birthday being a happy one. And I know that tiny exertion of effort is more than no exertion of effort. So in a very legitimate sense, my not wishing others a happy birthday, per my reasoning, makes me quite the asshole. I can only be bothered to wish a tiny number of people happy birthdays, apparently. And on my terms. So obviously this is all about me. Surprised?

But the initial point in this was to recognize the spike in birthdays in this one particular month. Halphasian, Goon, Shawn Mulder, Karla, Aunt Jean, Marhofer, Hitler, Ho Chi Minh, Tammy, Megan, Tory, and so many more that I forgot, don't know, or otherwise missed. Happy birthday to you all! My apologies if you didn't receive a gift, a card, a call, a text, an email, or some other wish from me. You're all great! The world is better for having you in it, and thank you for being born in the first place!

The year is 1/3 of the way through, and I've seen a paltry 6 movies in the theater, one of which was Fletch, which almost doesn't count (but it does). I have two excuses for not going to the movies more often: I'm busy and they seem overpriced. Neither of those are acceptable excuses though, because I find time and money to do lots of other things. And even if I see a movie I don't like all that much, I do enjoy the movie theater experience much more than the at home TV experience.

I have become "that moviegoer" in the past couple years - I go see the big name blockbusters that everyone else sees, but I usually go see them a couple weeks after they open. This year I've seen Hugo, The Artist, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, The Hunger Games, and tonight, The Avengers.

How do I justify this, and how do I even still consider myself someone who loves movies? One justification is movie scale relative to screen size. It always seems worthwhile to experience a big action movie on a big screen. I watched Thor on video and thought it was completely stupid. I probably would have still considered it stupid had I watched it in the theater, but at least I could have appreciated the scale. On the other hand, many documentaries (possibly most) aren't necessarily enhanced by a big screen in a dark room. They play well on a smaller screen and don't require a shared audience for maximum impact.

Additionally, despite what my actions suggest, I do like to maintain a level of pop cultural fluency, which I'm finding harder and harder to do. It's fun to be able to talk about the latest movie with friends, in the same way it's good to be able to discuss news stories or sports results or recent TV episodes. It's part of our shared culture, and as often as I willfully opt out of participating, I sometimes do like taking part.

I work at three different live venues. Every single one of them is within 2 blocks of a movie theater, and many of those theaters have late shows. I don't know why I don't choose to go see more movies these days. I didn't used to have any problems seeing them alone, but in the past year, I'm pretty sure I haven't gone alone once. That's another case of my personality shift in the same time frame, towards doing things socially, depending on people, and enjoying dogs. I need a couple more movie buddies who are willing and able to go see movies on short notice. Balance, balance, balance.

Some writers make it appear that they're saying a awful lot, by using big words and long sentences, when they are actually saying very little. Other writers mask their message in simplicity, while actually saying a great deal.

I picked up my first Vonnegut novel as a freshman in college and much of its appeal was the language. Vonnegut seems to write for a reader raised on television sitcoms. What I mean by that is what I think of as the fundamental difference between television and cinema. You can be in the kitchen, not really watching the screen, but listening, and you don't feel like you've missed out on the basic plot of the show (this probably applies more the TV shows from the 90's and earlier, before TV and movies started to reverse roles). You can also sit and surf the web, chat with your brother, and watch a show and "count" it as having been seen. That's not something you can do with a show like Lost or Boardwalk Empire or countless other serial shows, but you can still do that with 30 Rock or Parks and Rec and talk about it the next day with enough fluency to seem like you gave it your full attention.

There's clearly an art to writing sitcoms well. They need to be funny, but no so sophisticated that if you miss one week, you're lost for the rest of the season. They also need to be somewhat simple in terms of cast and storyline. Whereas an HBO scripted drama can have a dozen or more characters, who each get a full arc throughout the season, a sitcom seems to have 4-6 characters at its core, though that's of course debatable. And the characters are repeatedly introduced and continuously interact, rather than making one brief appearance in the first act, only to show up again in the final act out of necessity (wait - who was that guy again?). And sitcoms only last for 22ish minutes, so efficiency is critical.

I think that describes Vonnegut novels fairly well. They are concise and easy to follow, but they hold very basic truths about humankind. If you read several of them in a row, they start to blend together and eventually become almost indistinguishable. That also happens if you watch a full weekend of 3 different sitcoms. Some may regard that as a weakness, but I think that's what appeals to me.

The first Vonnegut novel I read was Hocus Pocus, one of his later works. I read it at the same time as I read my first Tom Robbins novel, Still Life With Woodpecker. I preferred Robbins at the time, and it was clearly poor planning to be reading both at once. That got me started, and I proceeded to read most everything by both writers. Fifteen years ago, I probably would have said Robbins was my favorite writer. Now, I might say Murakami, but I think a re-reading of Vonnegut's books stands up better than Robbins's for me.

I re-read Another Roadside Attraction a few years back while I was living in New York and didn't enjoy it nearly as much as the first time I read it. Today I started re-reading Cat's Cradle, after lending it to Angela and recently getting it back. Part of my choice to pick it up today was its thin spine; I hoped to read through it fairly quickly.

One observation I've long held is that your favorite Vonnegut novel is dependent on the order in which you read them. I read Slaughter-House Five and Breakfast of Champions before I read Cat's Cradle the first time. I think of Breakfast of Champions as one the funniest books I've ever read, and possibly my favorite, despite really only being able to remember two things about it: "wide open beavers inside" and the drawing of the asterisk that is supposed to be an anus. I consider it my favorite Vonnegut novel, but I didn't read Cat's Cradle first.

If I remember correctly, Count Blastula read Cat's Cradle first and that's his favorite. Perhaps it isn't just the order, but also your own personality. I used to think the Count and Golden Moon Bear were one of those special karasses of only two people: the duprass. I'm not so sure that's true anymore, but part of my reason for re-reading the book it to reevaluate that stance.

That's what happens when it rains on my one day weekend and I can't go out for a long bike ride. I try to remedy what I identified as a problem, and get back to reading. I brewed a full French press of coffee, switched on the classical music radio station, stitched off the TV, and hunkered down with Vonnegut. Having a grey, rainy Sunday wasn't my first choice, obviously, but it did give my legs a rest and was soothing. Oh, and then Terri came back from San Francisco, we went to the gym, I did a shoulder workout, and sweated like crazy jumping rope in the humidity. And I walked to the supermarket to get produce and salt, so things are back in balance again.

In the winter, when it's dark and rainy and cold in Seattle, I find myself riding the bus much more frequently than in the spring and summer, when I'm almost always riding my bike. The time it takes to ride the bus to work is nearly the same, if not longer, than the time it takes to bike there. I'm a firm believer in not biking with distractions, so I almost never listen to anything with earbuds while riding. The only exception to this is if I'm going out alone to ride on a trail with no automobile traffic. On the bus, I want nothing more than to be completely distracted from my surroundings, so I always have earbuds in and frequently read something at the same time.

The result of this is my reading consumption is much higher in the crappy months, when I'm not active. I can get a good hour's worth of media consumption time in on a daily bus commute, whether that's a magazine, a book, a podcast, or some combination. But riding the bus doesn't burn any calories or help my cardiovascular system be its most efficient.

I noticed this last year, when I started riding daily, that while my concentration while riding was quite focused, other areas suffered. It's the same now. I'm getting lots of strenuous exercise in all the time - riding to work, going for long runs, hitting the gym for very rigorous workouts at least weekly. But I can't sit still and read anything. I haven't finished a magazine article in the last six weeks, I don't think. I finally got through re-reading Murakami's A Wild Sheep Chase, which I began reading in March. At the end of March, I thought I was nearly finished reading, but clearly I wasn't.

I went through a stint of movie watching back in April, but it seems like even finding time to sit through a feature isn't something I'm able to do. Ditto for TV programs - those are a lot easier to squeeze in since they're shorter, and with so many shows streaming, I can watch a lot of things during breaks at work.

It seems as though the more focused I am on physical fitness, being active, and trying to improve in whatever activity I'm doing, that becomes the thing that takes all my time and energy. That's how I can account for watching several complete boxing matches in the last two weeks, after a whole life never seeing a single fight. What is it about my brain that can't seem to find a more balanced way?

Another thing I've noticed is the need to plan and strategize as a cyclist. Almost everything I do revolves around being able to ride a bike to do it, or finding another convenient-enough form of transport to not simply avoid it. I haven't been to the grocery store in a month not only because I've been busy at work, but also because they closed down the one that was a half mile away that I could easily ride home from, loaded up with food. Sometimes, maybe more frequently than I realize, the bicycle is a subliminal hinderance to many things I might otherwise do.

I ride because I like it, primarily. It's convenient and free. But there are many, many days I wish I had a car on demand. A car requires no physical effort; it only requires a ton of money to acquire, own, and keep running. There are all the problems or traffic, parking, and other drivers, but for all the things I can't do with a bike, a car is incredibly convenient. (For most of the things I use my bike for, it's relatively more useful than a car, and obviously a greater value).

So does riding a bike all the time make me stupider? Is it preventing me from keeping up with other things? Or is it honing me to eliminate the general excess of American living? Or is it just a self-awareness of my own limitations that I'm noticing? I wish, in some ways, there was a way for me to read and ride at the same time, but maybe that's called a stationary bike, and that's just lame. When I'm riding, my brain usually calms down and doesn't worry about work or money or overindulging on food. But then again, when I'm reading successfully, I can also be fully engaged. Same for a movie. I much prefer watching movies without distractions, but that harkens back to my cinema days in NYC, when I lost the ability to watch things on video at home. I guess I'm still searching for a way to be absorbed and engaged in my daily life the way I can be while riding.

I've been so in the weeds for the last few weeks, I can't even remember the last time I cooked a meal at home. The odds are good it's been two weeks or more. And now it's been a month since I last bought groceries. Terri went to Costco last night and brought me back a big package of chicken breasts, so now I have something to cook again.

The first time I remember making a tomato sauce from scratch, I used a recipe from one of the America's Test Kitchen cookbooks. Since then, I have bought spaghetti sauce only on rare occasions, and each time I eat it I think how awful it tastes. Later I started making Alton Brown's recipe, as I've mentioned before, and in general that's my go to.

Tonight, finding myself with no carrots or celery, since I haven't bought fresh produce in a month, I thought I'd go more basic and return to the ATK recipe. It's quite simple, consisting only of whole canned tomatoes, an onion, some garlic, oregano, and some wine. My addition was dried basil and capers, substituting dry vermouth for dry red wine.

It's coming up to the midnight hour and my dinner/lunch for the next few days is nearly finished. The sauce and pasta are all ready, in fact. It's just the chicken I decided to cook at the last minute which I'm waiting on. Cooking totally from scratch is as satisfying as exercising, and at the end, instead of smelling bad and having to shower, you get to eat. Here's to midnight meals!

Happy mother's day, Mom! Sorry you didn't get to spend it with any of your various sons, but based on our brief phone conversation, I assume you had a good day. Most things beat working on Mother's Day, and on Sunday, and when the weather is perfect outside. Since you didn't have to work today, I'm sure you had a nicer Mother's Day than me! Lots of love from Seattle. Hope to see you soon.