My teacher's name, BTW, was Mrs. Franks.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
One from my own vault
I recently bought a new printer/fax/scanner, and wanted to try out the scanner. So, taking a cue from Bev, I dug out my third class photo. (I'm younger older than Bev, we only had black and white back then.)
My teacher's name, BTW, was Mrs. Franks.
My teacher's name, BTW, was Mrs. Franks.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Does this make my back tire look flat?
Today, I was the Ride Starter for the Austin Cycling Association's Krause Kruze ride. This is one of my favorite ACA rides, mostly for the hills in the last 10 miles of the 43 mile loop.
About fifteen folks showed up for the ride, a good turnout, considering that the ride starts in Spicewood, about a 45-minute drive from my house. Most people had signed up for the 43 mile loop, with a couple doing the longer 63 mile loop and a couple opting for the 23 mile out and back. I forgot to group people by the route that they were riding, so we just kind of haphazardly left the parking lot. I was on the "Tank" (my steel framed Colnago), so I was just taking it easy. Eventually, there were three of us riding together, and the rest were behind.
Heading down a hill just before the turn onto Dead Man's Hole Road, I hit a rock in the road. "Ouch," I thought, "I'm glad that rock didn't blow my tire."
"Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst," went my rear tire.
We found some shade and stopped so that I could put in a spare tube. I pumped it up and, as I was putting the wheel back on the bike, I noticed that something didn't look right on the rear wheel. Either the hub was having an issue, or my freewheel (the set of gears) was trying to come off. As we were only 11.5 miles into the ride, I decided that I would turn around and go home. I got on my bike and made two pedal strokes.
"Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst," went my rear tire.
Aaargh! Taking the tire off again, and looking at the tube to see where the hole was, I was able to find that the tire itself had been torn by the rock, and the new tube had pinched itself in the tear. I employed the old bicyclists' trick of using a dollar bill to place on the inside of the tear, to act as a boot and keep the tube from finding the tear, and Steve gave me one of his two spare tubes. The other guy with us told me that he had a $20 bill that I could use, if the $1 bill wasn't enough to do the trick. We laughed, and now have an old bicyclists' joke about an old bicyclists' trick.
I re-inflated the tire, putting in less pressure than before, to try to help to prevent another blowout, and the three of us parted ways. I asked them to come looking for me if my truck was still in the parking lot when they finished.
I got about a quarter mile into my return trip when...
"Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst," went my rear tire. (Less pressure, fewer "s"s.)
Aaaaaaaaaaaargh! Oh, well, I resigned myself to walking the 11 miles back, and hoping to either catch a lift from a passing truck or wait for Steve to come looking for me. Then I decided that I didn't really care if I tore up the rear tire, since I was going to throw it away anyhows, so I got back on the bike and gingerly pedaled my way onward. I tried to keep most of my weight over the handlebars and front wheel, to preserve my back tire the best I could; I didn't want the tire to come off and ruin the rim. This meant that I was standing a lot, leaning on my arms, and they were getting tired.
Another old bicyclists' trick, when the dollar bill trick doesn't work, is to stuff the tire with grass. Because we haven't seen any rain since the Nixon Administration, all of the grass by the roadside was pretty dry, and I thought that even if I was able to stuff the tire with it, I'd worry about it catching fire. I thought about what else I could stuff the tire with, and realized that I had something that was made for stuffing into tires: two tubes! I found another shady spot, and stopped to add the two tubes to the inside of the tire. This didn't do a whole lot to increase the volume of the tire, but I hoped that it would at least help to keep the tire on the rim. My biggest fear was the tire coming off.
The ride was anything but smooth, and made me feel like I was riding one of these:
I did eventually make it back to the truck, with no further incidents, and clocked 23 miles at a whopping 13.5mph.
About fifteen folks showed up for the ride, a good turnout, considering that the ride starts in Spicewood, about a 45-minute drive from my house. Most people had signed up for the 43 mile loop, with a couple doing the longer 63 mile loop and a couple opting for the 23 mile out and back. I forgot to group people by the route that they were riding, so we just kind of haphazardly left the parking lot. I was on the "Tank" (my steel framed Colnago), so I was just taking it easy. Eventually, there were three of us riding together, and the rest were behind.
Heading down a hill just before the turn onto Dead Man's Hole Road, I hit a rock in the road. "Ouch," I thought, "I'm glad that rock didn't blow my tire."
"Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst," went my rear tire.
We found some shade and stopped so that I could put in a spare tube. I pumped it up and, as I was putting the wheel back on the bike, I noticed that something didn't look right on the rear wheel. Either the hub was having an issue, or my freewheel (the set of gears) was trying to come off. As we were only 11.5 miles into the ride, I decided that I would turn around and go home. I got on my bike and made two pedal strokes.
"Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst," went my rear tire.
Aaargh! Taking the tire off again, and looking at the tube to see where the hole was, I was able to find that the tire itself had been torn by the rock, and the new tube had pinched itself in the tear. I employed the old bicyclists' trick of using a dollar bill to place on the inside of the tear, to act as a boot and keep the tube from finding the tear, and Steve gave me one of his two spare tubes. The other guy with us told me that he had a $20 bill that I could use, if the $1 bill wasn't enough to do the trick. We laughed, and now have an old bicyclists' joke about an old bicyclists' trick.
I re-inflated the tire, putting in less pressure than before, to try to help to prevent another blowout, and the three of us parted ways. I asked them to come looking for me if my truck was still in the parking lot when they finished.
I got about a quarter mile into my return trip when...
"Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst," went my rear tire. (Less pressure, fewer "s"s.)
Aaaaaaaaaaaargh! Oh, well, I resigned myself to walking the 11 miles back, and hoping to either catch a lift from a passing truck or wait for Steve to come looking for me. Then I decided that I didn't really care if I tore up the rear tire, since I was going to throw it away anyhows, so I got back on the bike and gingerly pedaled my way onward. I tried to keep most of my weight over the handlebars and front wheel, to preserve my back tire the best I could; I didn't want the tire to come off and ruin the rim. This meant that I was standing a lot, leaning on my arms, and they were getting tired.
Another old bicyclists' trick, when the dollar bill trick doesn't work, is to stuff the tire with grass. Because we haven't seen any rain since the Nixon Administration, all of the grass by the roadside was pretty dry, and I thought that even if I was able to stuff the tire with it, I'd worry about it catching fire. I thought about what else I could stuff the tire with, and realized that I had something that was made for stuffing into tires: two tubes! I found another shady spot, and stopped to add the two tubes to the inside of the tire. This didn't do a whole lot to increase the volume of the tire, but I hoped that it would at least help to keep the tire on the rim. My biggest fear was the tire coming off.
The ride was anything but smooth, and made me feel like I was riding one of these:
I did eventually make it back to the truck, with no further incidents, and clocked 23 miles at a whopping 13.5mph.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Since y'all liked the other video so much...
Here's another one. I think they named her "Dr. Phero" just so they could make the joke "Listen to Dr. Phero moan."
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Cookies and Cake
So, the Amazing Cheastypants made an attempt to seduce me on her blog, and after playing hard-to-get for hours (or, at least, what seemed like hours), I finally relented and agreed to have lunch with her.
Well, not lunch, really, because, evidently, Steph had told Cheastypants of my affinity for a lunch of mashed potatoes, refried beans, and spaghetti with marinara sauce, and my refusal to use silverware, so we made plans to meet for coffee and cake.
Cheastypants suggested a place called Quack's, and asked that I show up with a pink carnation and a book of poetry, since she wasn't sure what I look like. I tried to send her the link to this video on my Facebook page, which I thought was apropos, given our meeting place (note the date):
but she couldn't view it (or so she said).
Since Cheastypants didn't know what I look like, I thought I would increase my odds by first sending in a Faux Frank Irwin. I found a guy outside the bakery, wearing his mom's capri's and his great aunt's muu-muu, and gave him $5 to go inside and walk around, like he was there to meet someone. I figured that once she realized that he wasn't me, she would overlook my overactive drool glands. What I hadn't thought about, though, was the possibility that she would have been disappointed when he wasn't "the one."
Luckily, that wasn't the case.
I showed up, not with a pink carnation and book of poetry, but with a purple coneflower (it's native, yo) and a book of limericks. (Cheasty, don't peek at the price!) I was going to put my own limerick in the book, but the pages were too tiny to write on, so I'll put it here:
There once was a blogger named Cheastypants,
Whose visage was well worth a second glance.
She went to Nicaragua,
But didn't drink the agua,
Else she'd be doing a hasty dance.
When I arrived, Cheasty was busily going through some of her research papers, trying to avoid eye contact with my capri-sportin' muu-muu-wearin' pal. For some reason, the air around her seemed to be sparkling, and I couldn't exactly figure out why.
Until, that is, she spoke. If you like reading her blog (and I know that you do), you'll love talking to her. And what you don't get from her blog is her laughter. (The laughter you do hear when you read her blog is your own, FYI.) Imagine, if you will, the sound of:
12 Drummers Drumming
Eleven Pipers Piping
Ten Lords a Leaping
Nine Ladies Dancing
Eight Maids a Milking
Seven Swans a Swimming
Six Geese a Laying
Five Golden Rings
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree.
No, that's not what Cheasty's laugh sounds like, that's what your true love gives to you during the Twelve Days of Christmas.
Sheesh. Focus, please!
Anyhow, she has a great laugh, and isn't afraid to use it.
We had a good time, and plan on going on a bike ride soon.
I'd write more, but Cheasty mentioned that she was going to a party tonight, to meet a guy whom she had her eye on, so I've got to go out and find that party, because I wouldn't want to disappoint her. I'll leave you with a photo that I had the barista take of us:
P.S. To whomever it was who asked about my meeting with Steph, I paid for Cheasty's coffee and cupcake, so pfffffffft!
P.P.S. You can find Cheasty's version of the festivities here.
Well, not lunch, really, because, evidently, Steph had told Cheastypants of my affinity for a lunch of mashed potatoes, refried beans, and spaghetti with marinara sauce, and my refusal to use silverware, so we made plans to meet for coffee and cake.
Cheastypants suggested a place called Quack's, and asked that I show up with a pink carnation and a book of poetry, since she wasn't sure what I look like. I tried to send her the link to this video on my Facebook page, which I thought was apropos, given our meeting place (note the date):
but she couldn't view it (or so she said).
Since Cheastypants didn't know what I look like, I thought I would increase my odds by first sending in a Faux Frank Irwin. I found a guy outside the bakery, wearing his mom's capri's and his great aunt's muu-muu, and gave him $5 to go inside and walk around, like he was there to meet someone. I figured that once she realized that he wasn't me, she would overlook my overactive drool glands. What I hadn't thought about, though, was the possibility that she would have been disappointed when he wasn't "the one."
Luckily, that wasn't the case.
I showed up, not with a pink carnation and book of poetry, but with a purple coneflower (it's native, yo) and a book of limericks. (Cheasty, don't peek at the price!) I was going to put my own limerick in the book, but the pages were too tiny to write on, so I'll put it here:
There once was a blogger named Cheastypants,
Whose visage was well worth a second glance.
She went to Nicaragua,
But didn't drink the agua,
Else she'd be doing a hasty dance.
When I arrived, Cheasty was busily going through some of her research papers, trying to avoid eye contact with my capri-sportin' muu-muu-wearin' pal. For some reason, the air around her seemed to be sparkling, and I couldn't exactly figure out why.
Until, that is, she spoke. If you like reading her blog (and I know that you do), you'll love talking to her. And what you don't get from her blog is her laughter. (The laughter you do hear when you read her blog is your own, FYI.) Imagine, if you will, the sound of:
12 Drummers Drumming
Eleven Pipers Piping
Ten Lords a Leaping
Nine Ladies Dancing
Eight Maids a Milking
Seven Swans a Swimming
Six Geese a Laying
Five Golden Rings
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree.
No, that's not what Cheasty's laugh sounds like, that's what your true love gives to you during the Twelve Days of Christmas.
Sheesh. Focus, please!
Anyhow, she has a great laugh, and isn't afraid to use it.
We had a good time, and plan on going on a bike ride soon.
I'd write more, but Cheasty mentioned that she was going to a party tonight, to meet a guy whom she had her eye on, so I've got to go out and find that party, because I wouldn't want to disappoint her. I'll leave you with a photo that I had the barista take of us:
P.S. To whomever it was who asked about my meeting with Steph, I paid for Cheasty's coffee and cupcake, so pfffffffft!
P.P.S. You can find Cheasty's version of the festivities here.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Whatcha Think?
Seven days down on my Home Inspector course, and five to go.
On the first day of class, our instructor suggested that we do something to create an image for our business. For example, he wears tri-color shirts. Going with the uniform idea, I took out the sewing machine and some pleather that I had left over from another project, and came up with this:
Whatcha think?
On the first day of class, our instructor suggested that we do something to create an image for our business. For example, he wears tri-color shirts. Going with the uniform idea, I took out the sewing machine and some pleather that I had left over from another project, and came up with this:
Whatcha think?
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