It will be of great interest to no-one that I hit 2000 miles on the bike odometer this morning. That’s right, just like the Pretenders song. Or the Proclaimers song about walking 500 miles back and forth to your chick’s house, but if you played it twice. I’m not sure how big Scotland is, but I think that to do 500 miles you’d pretty much be limited to a periphery. All the way from Thurso to Dumfries is only 341 miles. Where does this chick live, anyway?
Anyway, I am glad to know that I could pedal from Portland back to my native land of Dallas in one hour a day, and that it would only take me seven months. It’s a time commitment, but I think it would be worth it.
As long as we’re talking about my bike, let me make some etiquette suggestions. If you wish to drive past a cyclist and scream something unintelligible that ends in “bitch”, you might want to check that you aren’t running into a traffic jam that will cause her to catch up with you in 15 seconds and spit gum in your passenger’s lap and ride off laughing. Not that I would ever do that. After the the cyclist who recently got clocked by the bus rider in our fair city of Roses, not only am I mostly not spitting gum at people, but I have put a bumper sticker on my bag that reads “Don’t Hit Me! I love you!”
This is a clip from an excellent show from across the pond, the Mighty Boosh. It won’t help much to explain the background, but in this episode, there’s a 70/30 man/fish named Old Gregg in love with a jazz maverick called Howard. Old Gregg happens to keep the Funk in his cave with him, which is why he sounds and looks a bit like a soggy Rick James. Anyway…enjoy.
I have survived hosting my two sisters, their British-brother-boyfriends, their boyfriends’ parents, and my mother and my brother from San Diego in my tiny house. It was. An. Adventure. Their dad wandered onto the tarmac while waiting for their flight out from Austin, and was detained for being a terrorist. He claims that no-one told him he couldn’t go walking on the airstrip. He also liked to splash himself with water in the bathroom instead of taking a shower, which has the overall effect of washing the whole bathroom, including the mirror. He is obsessed with Boddington’s pub ale and hot chocolate, but refuses to pay more than $1.50 for anything.
We had a little party after Xmas so that Laura’s friends from Portland could come visit, and this was my first family party I have ever been to that went on past 3 AM. I went to bed at two to the sound of my future father-in-law swishing soy milk around in his Egg Nog bottle to get the last dregs of whiskey and milk out, and my sister Laura singing to the detuned piano on the back porch, and my spouse singing as Tom Waits in the front room.
Laura Ryan: Oh, I was playing that piano last night, it is sounding so creepy and awesome.
Me: Yes, I heard you.
Laura: You could hear that?
Me: It’s right outside my bedroom. There’s not, you know, any kind of soundproofing out on the patio. You’re just a drunk person outside. I love family time.