Weekend - Political Links and Whatnot

I'm trying to ignore the fact that we had to take my dog to the vet yesterday for bloodwork and x-rays because her back leg quit working and she can't walk - dire signs for a 13-year old pet. And I'm trying to ignore that I'll be spending the next two days of the long weekend flipping rental property. So, this is what I've been reading this morning over coffee:

• VPILF.com - "Just a heartbeat away from being PILF!" (via Fimoculous)
• Schiek's (local strip club) gets ready for the RNC convention (via MNSpeak)
• The RNC raids have begun (via Majikthise)
• Speculation about Palin's daughter...granddaughter? (via Taylor)
• Hell's Kitchen (in Minneapolis) is moving underground to where Rossi's was (via Taylor)
• Some consideration of what the selection of Palin says about McCain by Jim VandeHei and John F. Harris

Sightings

Last night I saw Santa Claus. He was on Arcade in St. Paul, wearing biker leathers in front of the lingere shop. He probably has to butter up Mrs. Claus with something nice before he's at the office too much during toy production season.

And as I was leaving work yesterday, a car stopped to let a woman walk across the cross walk from the central front area to the first parking lot. I'm very generous with waiting for people to reach the cross walk, but this guy seemed to be overly generous, stopping a good 50-60 feet before she got to the crossing. As she crossed I realized he wasn't being nice, he just wanted a nice, long, lingering look at her butt.

Elroy Sparta 2008

This year Ming, Kyle and I once again hit the trail system in Wisconsin, intending to bike from very close to Winona (MN) to Reedsburg - about 100 miles. Last year Kyle sagged the whole way. This year we all took turns and extended the ride to two days - out and back. I checked the trail conditions too late however, and didn't realize until after we had hotel rooms that the last 17 miles had been rendered inoperable by flooding from the Baraboo River. In the end, it didn't matter, because 83 miles a day was probably beyond any of us. We ended up averaging closer to 90-100 miles between the two days. A pretty good ride, nonetheless, given the trails are gravel and the area between Sparta and Elroy has a lot of slope (six miles of up at one point - none of it above 3 degrees slope, but it adds up).

I have a few select pictures below with commentary, but if you like just perusing a set, I have them up at Flickr.

The tunnels are the major attraction. There are three of them, the longest over 3600 feet, almost pitch black inside, and dripping a constant stream of water. In one place you can see water shooting out of solid rock like there was a hose pressed on the other side of it. While Ming and I were doing the ride back and he was avoiding the drips I kept flicking my water bottle at his back so he'd think he'd found a particularly bad spot to walk. He'd look at the ceiling and move over a little bit and complain about how cold that one was. Took him a while to figure out I was being a tool.


I like this one. When Kyle and I were biking out it started to get late, so it looks just a little creepy.


Even better. Ming is king of the bicycling world!


And Kyle outside a tunnel. Near the beginning of the Sparta leg he wondered when the trail would start to climb. I think he was very disappointed to discover that Ming and I hadn't been exaggerating about the length of the climb last year.


Ming checking out what the water, and the parasites, taste like in a cave. Kyle said this wasn't the weird part - the weird part was when he tasted some limestone.

Speaking of Ming, he was in charge of the GPS the morning of the second day, when we intended to start bicycling at 7:00 a.m. In order to get from Reedsburg, to the starting point, a mere 17 miles away, we drove about 7 miles toward our destination, and then Ming guided us so far south that it took us 90 minutes to get to where we were going to start. I know we have to take some of the blame - after all, I drove 45 minutes south in the first place - but Ming is now the butt of many direction/gps-related jokes.


Unfortunately for bicyclists, they hunt in packs.


Sparta has a pretty cool water tower. We had lunch at Ginny's Cupboard one day. They make a very good soup and sandwich. And Kyle and Ming had layovers in Sparta on Saturday and toured the museum. I believe they told me it includes a bicycling museum, a museum dedicated to astronaut Deke Slayton, and a freemason outfit exhibit. The local guy who was in charge of the freemason area also helped Ming get the stickshift into reverse as Ming hadn't driven one in 17 years. The next day, when we saw the guy at the Sparta Depot he called Ming "Mr. Mechanic." Ming should just embrace "Mr. Nickname" so he doesn't pick up any more.


Some interesting rocks near Sparta. This is very close to where Ming tried to run over me while I was looking at a big snake last year.


Downtown Sparta is undergoing a bit of rennovation. I'm not sure why a town would agree to completely shut down their main street for an extended period of time, but it doesn't seem to be doing those businesses much good. On the other hand, there's plenty of room to stretch out after a long ride.


I almost forgot! I have movies! Approaching the tunnel...


In the tunnel...


But my bed faces North-South!

State Fair 2008

Ah...the smell of grease, meat, trash and Suave shampoo-washed swine. It must be the Minnesota State Fair. Second in size only to the state fair of Texas, which would presumably stage something smaller if it weren't for us encroaching on their claims to be the biggest in everything. I noticed this year that we took exceptionally fewer pictures of Eryn a.) just wandering around (and there was a record amount of complaint-free walking this year), b.) on rides (not even one of her on the giant slide, despite three rides), c.) eating things (and it was her first cheese curd). The honeymoon is over. At five, she's ceased to be attached to the end of our camera lens.

So I should start by refuting any idea that we didn't take any pictures of her. Here's the traditional photo, now in year six, same sign. Eryn's making a strong showing toward a decade at the fair.


I don't know what a soy boy is, but it sounds like something in a creepy farmer-themed horror movie. I had an epic fail near this photo. I was in the line for the Little Farm Hands, wandering from station to station with Eryn, and near the pedal tractors a very attractive mother in tight jean shorts was trying to push and take a picture of her child at the same time, going into all sorts of bent over contortions. I realized that this was perhaps the best reason any father (and maybe some mothers) could have for going through the little farm hands line. I know I should be happy to do it just for Eryn, and I am, but it was exceedingly slow and hot, and this seemed like added compensation. So I got out my camera and actually snapped a picture - unobtrusively, mind you. And it didn't click! So I took a picture at the perfect moment, and my camera failed me. Phallic metaphor? Or perhaps my camera simply has a more evolved conscience than I do. Either way, you get a picture of a soy boy poster instead of a bent over blonde.


Here's a picture of Eryn on the pedal tractors. Perhaps it will help you imagine a blonde in jean shorts nearby.


This post is unique not because I touch a statue of Homer Simpson inappropriately, although I do.


Rather, it's unique because Homer tries to touch me inappropriately. He's sort of a skeevy perv, or else he's convinced there's a moon waffle in my pants. Later, we were making bacon on the beach - covered in chocolate, like they do at the state fair.


Pooteewheet wears a paper hat from the Newspaper Museum. She's not the first to be on Flickr in a newspaper hat, but she may be the only adult. Eryn kept trying to snatch it and crush it. It offended her almost as much as the bookmark with Chloepin, the clothes pin doll, on it.


I got first place in the pet cow competition, but only because I cut off the head of my competition.


We went in the Midwest Showmen's Association's display back in heritage village. It's a strange little corner of the fair with no one else in it, and there are many pictures of people from the 90s who have hair from the 60s. But the creepiest bit was that they didn't have duplicate pictures of some past presidents, so they'd cut out the water damaged portions and framed just the face, like some sort of weird, photoshop experience. Here's an example in Sheldon Shorter. I'm not entirely sure you weren't supposed to slide his almost 3-D photo under the broken five-cent peepshow stereoscope that was sitting there (not to be confused with a mutoscope).


For my sister who always says, "I'm not a carpet." But it's not necessarily the woman who's Oriental, only the torture cabinet. Kyle accused me of checking out her breasts. The sad thing is, I was. The railing was sort of in the way and I thought, "She seems to have very large breasts." So I looked behind the railing just to confirm my suspicion. I don't think she minded.


Eryn playing the bean bag game at Jack FM 104.1. She makes me listen to Jack in the car on the way home from school every weekday. It's her favorite. Their stand is in the furthest corner of the fairgrounds, coincidentally right next to the sign we always take her photo in front of. I'm not sure if it's fate, or subliminal advertising.

Not Quite What I Meant

I just did a google search for "live music Reedsburg Wisconsin" and got back a link for a live music map. That seemed promising, until clicking on it revealed the only upcoming event is Gary's Polka Service at the Lutheran Church on August 31. The important thing is that if I miss him, there's a mashup that allows me to follow him from town to town like a groupie (pst...Sunday he'll be at the Crystal Ballroom in Chatfield, Minnesota, followed by a wedding dance at the Legion in Coon Valley, Wisconsin).

Apparently, if I'd have just been biking a month earlier, I could have caught the live music at the Butter Festival by IX Lives or Rabid Aardvarks. The Aardvarks do a wicked cover of Shania Twain's "I Feel Like a Woman" and Big and Rich's "Ride a Horse, Save a Cowboy". Which would seem to be enough for anyone, until they do their version of Sammy Hagar's "I Can't Drive 55." I'm conflicted about whether my timing is bad or really, really good.

Excellent Tech Graph

I think this graph from Gartner via ReadWriteWeb is fascinating. I work in a technology environment, and as a former developer I always found myself wondering why companies didn't adopt certain tech faster. Well, according to Gartner, if your company is implementing SOA in the next 2-5 years they're on the appropriate slope of enlightenment - i.e. they're not on the bleeding edge, they're right about where they should be if they're waiting for a technology to prove itself before adopting. Ditto for wikis, which are still in the trough of disillusionment. So if, like me, you thought wikis were a cool idea several years ago and you're wondering why they aren't a.) more stable in internal environments, b.) more stable in a corporate external environment, c.) more standardized instead of different strokes for different folks, sometimes across cube walls if they're in different departments, d.) why everyone likes Sharepoint, which isn't a wiki, and seems to have some serious issues (among them, it's wikiability, which may be resolved now that they're going to incorporate Confluence, a very nice wiki), and e.) why search, particularly within specified categories/boundaries is so painful compared to other web tools (and I include Sharepoint in that analysis) - well, welcome to the trough. You have a few more years until the slope of enlightenment is achieved. I won't even disagree with Web 2.0 being in that same vicinity, just with more forward velocity. You can almost smell how it's not necessarily living up to all the expectations that had been heaped at its feet. Here and there you can see how people are stripping off some of the hype and pulling out the kernel that has true business value.

Marshmallow Shooter

I was asked about the marshmallow shooter, so if you're dying to make your own, these are the instructions.

2 caps for 1/2" PVC
2 t joints for 1/2" PVC
2 - 90 degree joints for 1/2" PVC

1/2" (internal) pvc cut into (10' pole makes 4 marshmallow shooters)

• 5 three inch sections
• 1 one inch section (you can make it longer and just do three six inch sections if you like)
  
• 1 seven-to-whatever inch section

In the following schematic -the marshmallow goes in the top 3" section (not in the end of the barrel)

LIPS & MM GO HERE >	3 Inch	90 Degree
		1 Inch
90 Degree	3 Inch	T Joint	3 Inch	T Joint	7 inch or longer section
3 Inch				3 Inch
cap				cap

Don't glue anything. You want to be able to remove licked marshmallows that get stuck, or jammed marshmallows resulting from five year olds overloading the shooter. Use spraypaint or tape as necessary to decorate. Mini marshmallows may be white, multicolored or chocolate. Eye protection is recommended.

Lake Phalen Triathlon

Nope. Didn't run one. Didn't even try. As I've said before, I have the perfect excuse. The doctor has told me I have no cartilages in my big toe, which means unless I get an operation, running, basketball and tennis will cause all sorts of pain radiating up from my toe and foot into my ankle and shin. There was a second option, which was to give up tennis, at least the sort involving movement below the waist, to give up basketball, at least the sort where you're not spelling P-I-G, and to give up running unless chased by a bear or chasing some promise of nudity. But that's why I have a bike. No stop and start toe friction in bicycling, and you can still chase nudity, albeit not as efficiently inside the house.

Instead, I woke Eryn up around 6:30 a.m., and she and I trundled off to Lake Phalen to watch Sarah run a marathon with what seemed like about 1000 other people. Here is one batch of contestants preparing to swim. Your swim cap differentiated you from other waves of swimmers, or allowed the safety patrols to get a good look at you if the other swimmers had pressed you underwater, which was possible on the entry, during the swim, and as the international swimmers lapped you. Some of these things happened to Sarah who was, as Pete described it, "beaned in the head." Eryn liked it that we could walk right up to the edge of the water, almost in the middle of the starting swimmers so she could see if boys or girls were taking off. I like the little kids on the edge of the water - I smiled an evil smile as I imagined a hundred green-capped swimmers bounding over and onto them.


This guy looks incredibly tired. The guy that was about a minute ahead of him, who was speeding along right behind a tight-bodied woman in a very revealing bikini, didn't look tired at all. It's just a state of mind.


I thought tear down offered some prettier pictures than the race, and the race was bumming me out because of the twelve year olds doing the whole thing who were in much better shape than I'll ever be again. I compensated by getting some geocaching exercise with Eryn, who insisted that we could find a "mystery cache" by just looking in trees at random. I told her it would take all day, and she replied that we could drive the car and stop at every tree. "No way, I'm not stopping at all those trees," I informed her. To which she replied, "You'll only stop at the ones I tell you to stop at." Ok, Mom.


We dropped by Sarah and Pete's to see how she was doing. She wasn't dead, which really means you're a winner in a triathlon as far as I'm concerned. Eryn found their bowl of candy and a muffin. I asked her why there was fur flying around her face as she ate, and she reached under her butt and pulled out a huge pile of the stuff from the cat cushion she was sitting on. I thought we'd taught her well enough not to sit on piles of unfamiliar cat fur, but then again, that's not in the big book of rules we keep in her room, so maybe we skipped that day.

Now Then Threshing Show 2008

I never really gave any thought to the fact that there are various strains of sweet corn. Until yesterday, when on the way back from NowThen, we stopped on the roadside to buy a dozen ears from a farmer and a regular noted, "Is this Peaches and Cream? That is so good." Today I did a vague culinary faux paux and cooked an ear in the microwave as a snack (just wrapped it in some wet paper towels). Oh man...if that's what it tastes like cooked wrong, it must sing when it's properly boiled. Why does Cub sell me that other crap? We're expanding our garden next year, so I think this is going to be something we plant.

I'm not sure where to start with the NowThen Threshing Show. We had breakfast at Kyle's and gave him his birthday present (Descent - a board game. We play tested it over pizza afterward and he killed Eryn and me, which made Eryn hide her resurrected character behind the door). It was beautiful out. Much nicer than last year when it rained on us. So we got to experience the whole Parade of Power and 364 tractors, the small, rideable train, and the full outdoor garage sale, where Kyle pointed out two rabbit candleholders for Sarah that I bought and took to her this morning. They match her other rabbit teacandle holder, so they were a bargain, even though twice as expensive as originally thought (the farmer priced them individually). I thought about buying a horribly racist Native American container that indicated it was for firewater. It was only $1. But I just couldn't imagine where I could white elephant gift it other than to Dan'l and Kyle, and that's a pretty short passing-around list. I also tried to buy Dan'l some cologne in a Coleman Lantern container. My Dad had that cologne when I was 8, so it may actually be 31 years old. But the guy wanted $12, though he yelled at me, "$10 if you really like it!" You've had it for 31 years...how much can it be worth to you? You obviously don't want to wear it, and (cheap) cologne doesn't age well. Fifty cents is reasonable you bastard. $2 might have had me at least thinking about it. Eryn walked away with a little plaster sign for the garden for $1 that said something about how wishes happen in the garden. She was torn over whether to get it, or the sign that said "Mom's Garden", and she actually looked like she felt guilty for getting the one she got.

I could NOT find my sister a "Milking Coach" t-shirt like I saw on a kid at the Threshing Show. And I am horrified that I can't even find one on the web. That's wrong. Everything should be on the web, particularly milking shirts that would be hilarious if owned by a lactation consultant.

But, I did find some directions for making the $5-$6 marshmallow guns on line, which can be mass produced with a bit of PVC for about $2 each. I've made four. Two for the nephews, one for Eryn and one for me. I'm going to make Ame one as well, although I suspect my sister may conveniently lose it. But she should think twice. Many of the instructions I found on line were from church groups who were making them as church projects. Which is creepy. They really shoot a marshmallow with some velocity. That long one is very accurate. I managed to shoot Pooteewheet in the nipple. I didn't make it extra long just so I'd look cooler than the kids, I just had that much PVC left over off my 10' pole.


I'm not going to subject you to all the pictures from the show. Suffice it to say that you can enjoy it by following this link to the set and letting your eyes gloss over with all the pictures of tractors. You can see Eryn's wooden yo yo getting branded with an N for NowThen, old tractors, new tractors, middling tractors, law tractors, modified tractors, and even a John Deere motorcycle. And further below are three videos from the threshing show, which may give you just enough virtual tractor show to satiate your every desire.

But I will post this picture of Eryn standing next to the raffle tractor we're going to win. It has a sign on it that threatens anyone who might want to touch it. The big guy is the enforcer - at least that's what Kyle told Eryn. And he raised his eyebrows and asked if she'd touched it. No way.


Noisy, heavily vibrating, John Deere


Minneapolis Thresher


Case Thresher

Brandy Slush

I was sick yesterday. For the second time in just over two weeks. I'm pretty sure I'm sick of being sick. I feel a thousand times better today, even though I had sweating episodes throughout the day. At least I didn't feel like I was going to fall asleep every time I opened my eyes, or that someone had ripped all the muscles out of my back, neck and head, twisted them, scrubbed them on a washboard, then put them back. That was yesterday. Today I was cheerfully taking Eryn out to look for a skull geocache in the woods. By the time we got home, Pooteewheet was sick with whatever I had. I wish her a pleasant night of sweating, groaning, and drooling on the covers - and not in the usual way.

And I'm making Brandy Slush mix. I've messed around with the recipe quite a bit, although mostly on the tea side, not the alcohol side. But I've noticed that 2 cups of brandy tends to make what comes out of the ice cream bucket more solid than slushy, so that's no good. This time I went with 2.5 cups. I figure I can just keep increasing it until I get the appropriate slushy consistency. And you can use a pretty cheap brandy, that just adds to the taste.

Ginger tea is good, as opposed to just green tea. And I've been mixing a bit of ginger tea, lemon tea and green tea, and I suspect that will work best. And six bags instead of four to bring out the flavor. I have an urge to try lemongrass and ginger using fresh ingredients. I think that's my next experiment.

• 7 cups water - boil with 2 cups white sugar
• 2 cups of boiled water with 4-6 teabags (green tea, lemon tea, ginger tea - as you wish, Buttercup)
• 2-3 cups unflavored brandy OR 2-3 cups whiskey OR 2-3 cups apricot brandy Or 2-3 cups rum (flavored or otherwise) OR 1-1.5 cups brandy and 1-1.5 cups vodka.
• 1 - 12oz. can frozen orange juice concentrate (don't add extra water)
• 1 - 12oz. can frozen lemonade concentrate (don't add extra water). Some recipes call for 1/2 this much, but that seems wasteful unless you're drinking a lot of slush (2 gallons) or making some lemonade at the same time.
• Sprite or Mountain Dew or anything 7-upyish.

Add 2 cups of white sugar to the 7 cups of water and bring to a boil. Set aside and let cool (room temperature, or at least sort of luke warm). Put the teabags in the other 2 cups of boiling water. Let them cool as well. In an ice cream bucket - one of those gallon ones you can get full of mint chip or neopolitan at the store (I favor the former) - mix the 7 cups of cooled sugar water, the 2 cups of cooled tea (sans tea bags), the 2-3 cups of alcohol of choice, the 12 oz. of orange juice concentrate, and the 12 oz. of lemonade concentrate. Mix thoroughly (no chunks of lemonade or orange juice clumping up) and put in a freezer in a place where you won't tip it over. Don't tip it over. Just don't. A gallon of sugar water poured into your freezer is going to mess up your day. Give it 24 hours or so until thoroughly frozen, or appropriately slushy (depending on the alcohol content). Scoop some of it out into a cup. Add 7up/Sprite/Diet Sprite/Mountain Dew/Bargain Basement lemon lime soda. Your precise ratio may depend on your peference for slush or lemon lime soda. Give it a stir so everything mixes nicely.

I've found that if your mixture freezes a bit too solidly, warm soda can work best.

Outdoors

Unrelated, but did you know there's a whole pool dedicated to Maman and the spider sculptures. Probably could have guessed that, I just never thought about it.

We've been getting outside a bit lately. Seems like that would be obvious. It's summer. It's nice. But a lot of my time has been working on rental property which, although it's outside, in no way feels like enjoying the outdoors. But despite putting up siding and fence posts, we had Dan'l, Cookie Queen and Conner over so the kids could play in the blow up pool and strangely sexual looking sprinkler ring Dan'l bought, and I've managed to go biking on the Sunrise Trail with Ming, and do some geocaching with Eryn - our first time out in months.

Ming and I went 54 miles or so, after we'd driven around a while until we found two old guys in North Branch who could tell us how to find a hot breakfast. Someday, that'll be us walking along the path as two handsome, athletic young turks bike up to ask directions. We kept up a pretty good pace, around 15 mph, and Ming's legs were tired by the time we were pulling those last 4-5 miles. Mine were tired too, but I wasn't willing to admit it.

These two women were having a great time on the trail, whooping it up and sprinting in leap frog fashion.


Meanwhile, I was standing on the side of the road taking a picture of something that seemed obvious - why wouldn't you watch for children next to the Kinder Korner Child Care?


But what amused me is the little kid on the sign with his hands over his head. I assume he's supposed to be doing some sort of "sooooo big", but it looks more like he's being held up by someone with a big stick or a gun. And I swear it looks like he has pockets under his armpits, which would indeed make him someone special.


Eryn and I geocached close to home today before it rained, and she was the one to spot the cache in the tree.


The most exciting part was seeing some familiar names on the geolog. No - not Paklid - despite having done a number of his annoying puzzle caches, but a few cousins, once removed.

Parking Lot Rendezvous

First of all - congratulations to She Says on getting married on 8/8/8. A fortuitous day that will hopefully stave off any future ceiling collapses. I'm glad to hear the Fat Tire and the wedding were both a success.

But this post isn't meant to imply she met her current husband in a parking lot. Rather, I've been following Eryn's two geobugs (the geoteeth, #1 and #2) on Google Earth and I noticed this at the end of the most recent geobug drop. I'm not sure what that thing is near the stops - maybe a cemetery, an abandoned building, an old building with a water stain on top, or a small lake inside a fence. All I do know is that it's near Redondo Beach and an Orange Julius. Regardless, the geocaching pattern is very strange. It looks like two bloggers met in the parking lot on stop 8, there was a handoff, almost like a drug or weapons deal, the result of which was that one of them snuck to the other side of the fence or building, and hid the cache a mere 20 feet away. I hope this doesn't represent a dead geocacher in a parking lot, who was mugged, the cache picked off his dead body, hidden before the cops arrived, and then recorded by the mugger/murderer. Consider stop #7 was within a short jaunt of Navy Yard City where there are many big ships, including an aircraft carrier, maybe the bug has been coopted by spies. We all know how they like to hide things in teeth. Most peculiar, Momma.

Bike Meme

First off, unrelated. Kyle, I had your birthday present sent to my house, so you didn't accidentally return it. I don't think it'll be here by our ride on Sunday, but maybe by next week.

So, Eclectchick didn't tag me, but I like her bicycle meme, so I'm going to steal it. Sort of like sticking a Bic pen in her Kryptonite Evolution.

If you could have any one — and only one — bike in the world, what would it be?
This is incredibly difficult, because I've never found the perfect bike. I have several bikes at the moment. My mountain bike - a Trek with semi nobbies - which I just rode on the C&O. My hybrid, that I rode on RAGBRAI. My Bianchi Brava with a bent frame that's now permanently strapped to my Cyclosimulator. My Brike that I bought for $50 and only Dan'l has ever ridden. And my Specialized Allez A1 which I seldom ride, but have ridden enough to chew through a set of tires, which is more than most people can say. I love my Allez, and I think if it weren't for me riding it, it would be worth more than when I bought it, given the snazzy components that changed to a lower grade the next summer. I only wish I could ride it more, because the Minnesota roads and my weight are hell on the poor thing. That said, I do have bike lust and often drool over what other cyclists are riding around the lakes. But if I had to pick, I think I'd say I really want a bamboo road bike with rosewood water bottle cages. I have no doubt it would be exceedingly comfortable, and I'd never lack for a conversation starter on a ride.

Do you already have that coveted dream bike? If so, is it everything you hoped it would be? If not, are you working toward getting it? If you’re not working toward getting it, why not?
I do not have a bamboo bike. Calfees are almost $2000 just for the frame and that's always seemed outside my bike range. After all, I generally enforce a $10,000 limit on our cars. Maybe I should be saving my gift certificates from work, friends and family until I'm close.

If you had to choose one — and only one — bike route to do every day for the rest of your life, what would it be, and why? This is an evil question, because part of my midlife crisis was to start doing some longer rides every year. I know it's weak as a midlife crisis, but I'm just not cut out for the whole sports car and mistress thing. RAGBRAI and the C&O are my substitutes. So until I get some bigger rides under my belt, it's hard to say. But if I was forced to choose right now, my favorite ride is up to Minnehaha, around the lakes, across the Greenway, down the river, and back to Eagan. If it was every day for the rest of my life, I'd probably argue that once I dumped out of the Greenway onto the river, I should get to cross into St. Paul and come up the far side of the river. I do that ride a lot. Of course, I could also claim I'd do the St. Paul Bike Classic every day for the rest of my life, at least if it involved forcing my friends to ride the same ride and share breakfast every day. They really make that ride a highlight of my year.

What kind of sick person would force another person to ride one and only one bike ride for the rest of her / his life? That's a good question. Bicycling is about freedom to go wherever you want. I suspect it's a crit rider. I never understood why anyone would want to do a damn loop more than once.

Do you ride both road and mountain bikes? If both, which do you prefer and why? If only one or the other, why are you so narrowminded? I ride both. I prefer the mountain bike, because Minnesota roads don't immediately force me into truing the tires. But if the roads were as smooth as my bottom, I'd pick the road bike every time. Just sitting on that thing makes me smile.

Have you ever ridden a recumbent? If so, why? If not, describe the circumstances under which you would ride a recumbent? No. Thought about it, and then decided it wasn't really bicycling. I would ride a recumbent if my bike fell apart at the welds and I had to tie it together with bungie cords in a recumbent configuration in order to get to the next town 60 miles down the trail.

Have you ever raced a triathlon? If so, have you also ever tried strangling yourself with dental floss? No. But, I was training for a triathlon (really, there's only one 'a'?) when I noticed I had foot pain and the doc told me I'd lost all the cartilage in my big toe and shouldn't run, ever. This was proof that bicycling was good. Running was bad. Swimming, was purgatory.

Suppose you were forced to either give up ice cream or bicycles for the rest of your life. Which would you give up, and why? Ice cream. In a second. Wow is that a non question.

What is a question you think this questionnaire should have asked, but has not? Also, answer it. At what point do bike shorts become too worn, and have you ever worn a pair past this "due date"? I have been behind too many people who wear their bike shorts well past the expiration date, when there's this sort of diaphanous window into their crackosity. It always detracts from my riding experience, because it's unignorable, much like the woman on the Bike Classic with a thong. Stupidest thing you ever did on a ride is a close second question. Mine was riding the C&O with only a Cliff Bar when the first town was 60 miles away, followed closely by taking the wrong tube to the C&O so I couldn't ride the second day. Grrrrr.....

You’re riding your bike in the wilderness (if you’re a roadie, you’re on a road, but otherwise the surroundings are quite wilderness-like) and you see a bear. The bear sees you. What do you do? Bear schmear. Bears don't eat bicycles. I'd just keep riding as long as it didn't take me closer to the bear. I do know that, according to the guy who invented the bear wrestling suit, that two knives are necessary in any bear situation, and I generally only carry a single razor knife, but I'm wicked with an allen wrench and CO2 pump if it all goes hairy.

I tag 1.) Kyle and Ming, in the comments, 2.) Pete Ryan, and 3.) any friend who bikes.

End of the Virtual Vacation

We took three days driving home, compared to the two driving out. But our last drive was basically from the Dells, and pretty relaxing and uneventful, focusing on hanging out in the hotel pool. The whole goal was a slow drive home, stopping whenever we wanted so it wasn't stressful.

Except for Gettysburg. That was sort of stressful. You'll notice I post no photos of the place. That's because unless you're willing to stop for 5 hours or so and get a tour with a guide, I just don't see the point. The place was packed, and the lady at the new visitor center assured Pooteewheet that it was nothing compared to the week before when 3000 reenactors had been there along with thousands of extra sightseers who wanted to see the reenactment. That sounds dreadful. You can't be certain they washed. Imagine that in an enclosed visitor center. As it was, our primary stop over was the gift store where I bought a copy of Confederates in the Attic, a lucky find considering the 25,000 other books on display, an anti-liberal gift shop in downtown where Eryn bought a replica civil war cannon for her diapered dinosaurs to play with, and the Blue Parrot cafe, which had a woeful lack of lunch options, including no fries. We attempted a bit of the driving tour, but the place was bumper to bumper traffic in many places, and the sights didn't seem as nice as what we had seen at Antietam (or Vicksburg many years earlier).

We hurried out of Gettysburg, and drove to where we knew Eryn wanted to go. Hershey, Pennsylvania. Land of chocolate, though surprisingly, none of it much cheaper than you'd find in a store. We also had the good fortune to be there on the day the Jonas Brothers were going to be playing a concert. There were tens of thousands of teenage girls wandering around, all with "Mrs. Jonas" on their shorts and skirts, avoiding the porta potties for the concert in favor of the indoor bathrooms. We avoided them for many hours by taking a rather silly sing-a-long tour on a bus/trolley, where I learned that Hershey used to give every VP a home for a dollar. Quite the incentive.

Here's the factory. They told us it wasn't air conditioned because that might affect the chocolate. Sounds like something a manager would tell you. Um...oh yeah. Damn it. Hey. Did you know that air conditioning contributes to slower fingers for developers and cold eyeballs for content employees?


Eryn in front of the black and red twizzler fences. I thought about buying my niece the 3# bag of Twizzlers, which looked to be about 3 feet long, but I was pretty sure it would be wasted money, LissyJo tossing it before A. ever got her mitts on it. Then I had the dark chocolate milk shake and became very ill and wanted nothing at all to do with candy. The Hershey's Kisses Eryn took in the car kept setting off my stomach for days.


Eryn at the factory worker area loading her plastic gear full of Hershey Kisses. In order to properly process your Kisses, you have to dance with them. I feel that's an area in need of process improvement, although I suspect it's good for morale.


Taking my turn as a factory worker. I wore the hat, though I did not dance.


The downtown streetlights are designed to look like Hershey Kisses, alternating wrapper on and wrapper off. This is what convinced us not to go to Intercourse, PA. We were afraid of what might be alternating on the lampposts there.


Second to the last day. We stopped in Youngstown, Ohio, and found Mill Creek Park. They didn't have a pool, but they did have a small cement area with four sprinklers. Eryn was ecstatic that we let her loose to spend several hours dancing in the water. The park itself was beautiful, although seemingly underutilized for a weekend.


On the way out of Mill Creek Park, we saw this very strange UHaul building. Turns out it's sort of famous as the site of an Isaly Dairy, Isaly being the inventors of the Klondike Bar.


Rounding the lakes, we stopped at Michigan City, Indiana, to check out the dunes. It was almost tropical, dotted with multi-million dollar houses and a number of beaches. It was also scorching, and everyone was out on the water, which was perfectly temperate, not at all like that frigid thing that embraces Duluth. But it wasn't too hot to wear your bonnet (and sunglasses).


And the power plant was a strange addendum to the million dollar houses, big boats, and white beach.


Eryn and I in the surf. It is good. Not sure why I've never heard my sister in law mention the beach.


It really looks more like we're in Florida or California than in Indiana slash almost Michigan.


A great lakes lighthouse. Squint if you want to see bikinis. Here, I'll help. But I'm secretly wishing you have a 28.8 connection.


Eryn and me cuting it up at the end of vacation

D.C. and She Says

I am almost at a loss as to where to start. Even the pruned list of pictures from the actual visit to DC is daunting. And there are things missing. Like a picture of the six 12-packs of Fat Tire in the back of my car, particularly after the cardboard started to rot when Pooteewheet got the cases wet. That really deserves a scratch and sniff, with the funk of cheese its and three days of sweat thrown in for good measure. The good news is Fat Tire comes to DC next year according to the liquor store owner I talked to (a wonderful man who gave me the bottle opener off his key chain, literally), and no one will have to ever haul it cross country again. Except truckers. And there's a separation of driving space and rotting cardboard cases in that situation, unless Fat Tire intends to move beer around the country in a fleet of Ford Focii. There's no picture of me dressed as Burt Reynolds and Pooteewheet dressed as Sally Field, aka Frog. I think we could have pulled off a good camera trick to that end had we gone to Tussuad's.

Instead, I bring you...A GRATE! That's really for Kyle. To remind him of the night he, Ben and myself were locked out of car and slept on the steps of the Capitol, in the Jefferson Monument, and on one of these grates without a permit. That's right, although semi-homeless, we flaunted national law and slept on the warm grate without a permit. I'm not sure if they still won't deliver pizza there, but I didn't see any trucks in evidence.


The next two are my favorites. Eryn on our second day, checking out the Washington Monument. Our first day in DC, it was hot and humid and overcast. Our second day, it was beautiful. Absolutely spectacular with fluffy clouds floating behind everything.


Eryn sitting with her toes in the water at the National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden, where the fountains increase in strength until there's a little tornado of water in the center, and then back off again, only to repeat. The cafe next to the garden will let you bring your beer, or a chilled glass of wine down to the marble seats, so you can hang out with a beverage. You can't see me, but I'm doing exactly that. Serenity.


As the first day was so hot and humid, we spent a lot of time indoors, checking out the enticements of the Smithsonian, the Air and Space Museum and National History Museum. Do you know what this is? Hmmm?


It's a space toilet! Here's the other one. The trick is now whether you can guess which one is for space boys and which one is for space girls? I know! It's confusing. The both have places that look appropriate for Mr. Pickle. Where the heck are you supposed to put your neeners? (that's Eryn's new word for girly bits, most appropriately used when someone like Kyle complains about something, at which point you can say "I never realized Kyle has neeners.")


Run Forrest! Run! Eryn enacting a mash up of famous Forrest Gump scenes. You can't see it in the picture, but she's screaming "Life is like a box of chocolates" at the top of her lungs, which is why the pigeons are staying so far away. Very 2.0 of her - I didn't even know she knew what mashup meant.


Eryn flying at the Air and Space. This photo in no way captures the incredible tiredness and associated crabbiness that was building up in the hot, hungry, five year old. So turn your head until your ear is touching your left shoulder (either ear) and it looks like she's crash diving in the middle of the hands on area of the museum. That's more appropriate of the spirit.


You may touch and squeeze any part of the space suit, but do NOT touch the golden helmet. Touching the golden helmet makes you go blind. And makes the space man who's been in it since 1968 very mad. Squeeze the suit crotch all you want. He enjoys that.


Eryn loved the Natural History Museum, especially after watching Night in the Museum. I appreciated that Ben Stiller was no where to be found. I explained it wasn't the same museum, despite the T Rex and Easter Island Statue, but she still thought it might be, which implied Ben Stiller could be lurking about, even if I couldn't see him. So I told her if she said it one more time, it would come true while I held her hand in the T Rex's mouth. She shrugged it off and noted that there was a skeleton of a giraffe and wanted to know if they had killed it. I replied "No, but they probably ate it." Which wasn't the correct response given her expression, so I actually had to correct myself and be a good Dad, noting that it had probably been dead when they found it.


Eryn with her dinosaur souvenirs. The economics of dinosaur acquisition are as follows. One $60 dinosaur that doesn't fit in the car. Best. But Dad is disapproving. One $30 dinosaur of midling size, a pouty second. One little $10 dinosaur. Pretty disappointing. Dad's happiest. But TWO little $10 dinosaurs so that they can be friends, that's the neeners. What? Inappropriate use? Fine...it's the cat's meow. That's more disgusting if you think about it long enough. Anyway, everyone was happy. And later, when they put on diapers and picked up a cannon from Gettysburg, it was a serious party in the back seat. I'm not making that s*it up.


And now, a brief game of "What's that in my hand?" Nope. Not a bug she found a flower in the gardens behind the Smithsonian. You might think it is, but it's snot. Oh...ho...ho... ah. That's the stuff.


Eryn rests under a tree dedicated to Hilary Clinton. Proves that Bill's not the only one with wood. Primarily for my father in law who probably has many plants in his garden devoted to Hilary. This was the second day when Pooteewheet had left us to check out the National Holocaust Museum, where she suspects the guy in the big, wall-sized picture in a tank is her grandfather. Eryn and I spent the time wandering to a few of the other memorials and checking out the Muppets exhibit (not so exciting) and the Freer's Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Muslim and etc. art exhibits, which were beautiful. I'm partial to John Singer Sargent's Breakfast in the Loggia and Hokusai's Thunder God.


Pooteewheet couldn't take pictures in the Holocaust Museum. So this is as much of it as Eryn and I ever get to see. Except we can see a lot of it online. They have a great photo archive.


Right here I considered putting in a lot of pictures of statutes. Nurses statue. Korean War Memorial. Eviscerated ball. Vietnam Vets. African American Civil War. US Navy Memorial. Big Spider like in London. But I trust you to go look at those yourself if you like. Instead, let this serve as a summation of the many many statues I'm choosing not to show.


Or this one, which I'm touching inappropriately in front of the Federal Trade Commission to protest, that thing, you know, that they're doing, which I shouldn't like. Oh *%%$#. I bet I meant to protest censorship in front of the FCC.


Or this one, which is a nice picture of Eryn and I next to a statue of one of those guys who spray paints themselves and stands still for money in New Orleans or along the Thames in London.


Eryn thinks he's a bit too bright. Or that he might charge her $20 for being able to spell "her name" backwards.


What's this! A wish for Kyle (big) that he find a (hot) girlfriend in Minnesota!


And it's on Yoko Ono's wish tree. That's mighty powerful mojo. Before you decide I wrecked the sacred wish tree, I was vastly out numbered by tags with MySpace addresses on them, and Eryn wished for a trampoline. At least I was being altruistic and giving my wish to a friend. Kyle, if the powers of Yoko Ono are enough to rip apart The Beatles, then they're powerful enough to bring you true love or at least meaningless Mr. Pickle on neeners action.


Pooteewheet and Eryn at the sculpture garden pool and fountain.


Eryn and I admiring the statue to Flocklee, the World War II messenger duck who bravely sacrificed himself by flying into the engines of Dr. Fritz Todt's Junkers 52 in Rastenberg, Germany, killing both Flocklee and Todt, inventor of the autobahn and minister of armaments and munitions, before the German could go on to create other transportation improvements for the Reich. It's generally acknowledged that had he lived, Todt might have invented a more fuel efficient tank and a better road surface to drive it on, avoiding the entire Battle of the Bulge problem and turning the tide of the war. Flocklee is an unsung hero who's sizable monument bears a simple inscription, Todt's last words, "Fuck, a duck."


Stars at the World War II Memorial.


We interrupt this post for a brief intermission and snack break.


Bear with me - we're close to the end. While Pooteewheet was at the Holocaust Memorial, Eryn and I went over to Lincoln Memorial. She claims seeing the giant Lincoln was her favorite part of the trip, although my Planet of the Apes references were completely lost on her. For now. I was happy to go as well, but because it dovetailed in nicely with Antietam, some Civil War memorials in D.C., and then Gettysburg later. I picked up a copy of Confederates in the Attic in Gettysburg, so I sort of got to feel like I'd lived a little bit of the book.


Eryn hanging out in front of the big man himself.


Eryn at the U.S. Navy Memorial, hiding in the duffel. This is where we met She Says before dinner. I won't post any pictures of her because I have a few rules about who I post pictures of without asking. But she and her husband-to-be took us out to eat at Ben's Chili Bowl (wiki), an establishment that made it through the riots, is a favorite of Bill Cosby and Chris Tucker, and serves a delicious chili cheese dog with cheese fries. It was a fantastic choice given we were dressed down and towing a five year old around. Eryn liked that she could write on the walls in the bathroom, just like you could on the walls in the duplex where we used to live, where she never lived, but where she was conceived (search on "table meme"). It was wonderful to meet She Says and SM - I was just wishing we had time for a beer and a board game. Any time you're in town, the red room is yours (it's like a free hotel), and there's no avoiding the board games in there.


The whole family in front of Ben's.