"See you at 9"
At that, I rise from the kitchen table and close up the laptop; my old bones creaking and with a goofy smile on my face. It's a good thing she isn't really here [a mere 4 miles can still make a pretty good sweaty stink, especially in NJ humidity].
I pat the Possum on her head, tell her I love her and go to up my shower.
NOW, my day can begin, in earnest.
In spite of her insight and wisdom, my friend had a yard sale of her own today in Madison, mostly karmic in nature; but nonetheless, a kind I am very familiar withyard sale n. a horrendous crash that leaves all your various "wares" -- water bottles, pump, tool bag, etc. -- scattered as if on display for sale.Nothing was broken, but her spirit got pretty dinged up.Sometimes you just have a day that - in spite of all your training and prep, positive visualizations and mental practice - just goes wrong, from the beginning. It happens.I am trying very hard NOT to email her a certain song by a certain Disney product [Hannah Montana is not a peson, she's a product, people], containing the phrase "everyone has bad days" I'm not sure how long I can resist.The thing to remember, to keep in mind, to focus on, is that one year, five years, or even ten years from now or more, is that it won't be your time or finishing place that will be recalled. [although there are some I'm sure, who are probably blogging away in their hotel rooms, ahora or archiving their results for posterity (oh, and their biographer ... yeah, right)]What will be remembered is that you were there, the laughs and stories you shared with your friends [some tears, sure] ... but most certainly, the 2½ cases of beer y'all smuggled onto the plane and out to Wisconsin!!!I'll tell my grandkids THAT story with pride, even if I wasn't there - well, they won't need to know that little detail.
A bunch of my new friends have gathered in the great cheese-and-beer town of Madison, Wisconsin, for a Marathon, a 1/2 Marathon, and a Marathon relay. I just met these folks and let me tell you, they are awesome, one and all. Very welcoming and accepting of a quirky little ex-surfer, with a somewhat sordid [but highly entertaining] past. There is a beer smuggler or two or three among them, which is nice, for this reincarnated pirate.I already feel a bond with them in that, although I'm many, many miles distant, and have no chance of attempting the distances that they're tackling tomorrow, my day has gone very "traditionally pre-race": I went to 4:30 Mass, I'm making a good dinner for myself [D'Wife and D'Kid are away overnight - I got grilled chicken, grilled shrimp and roasted peppers on top of linguine with a white wine sauce, plus spinach salad with green olives and raw mushrooms (no red onions, tonight)], limiting my beerageness, and will probably retire early.I wonder if there's a 10K I can drop in on tomorrow?
It’s Yard Sale season again!!!
For some reason, May weekends are announced by signs proclaiming “Yard Sale => 8-4” in either Neon Green or Hunter Orange, with Sharpie lettering of various degrees of legibility, usually appearing magically overnight on Thursday.
I love yard sales [also known as “tag sales”, “garage sales”, or “house sales” depending on your regionality; just like hoagies, subs and heroes] not for the content, not for the shopping, but for the non-sold stuff that ends up on the curb the trash day following … especially bikes!!!
“Yeah, I won’t pay $5 for it at 3:30 on Saturday, if I can get it for nothing on Tuesday”
I just have to get there before the JYD with pickup; which is why I have a ViceGrip and a rubber mallet in Vicki – gotta get those handlebars to behave!
Stuff finds its way to the driveway / sidewalk for many reasons … but some things are requisite:
1) It’s useless
2) It takes up space
3) You’re better off without it
4) You won’t notice that it’s gone
Soemone enlightened me on a certain point. In her own way, she said, “Dude, your soul is a scary attic, or maybe a spooky basement. There’s a lot of clutter in there; cobwebs and strange; things you’re hanging onto for God knows what reason? That stuff is old, you’re not the same person now as you were when you picked it up. Souvenirs are nice, when they make you smile; but why hold onto the Playbill from a girlfriend who broke you heart?”
I took some time to pray on this and realized she was 1043% percent right. Within a week, I took out the trash in my life, cleared out the shelves, and sorted the knick-knacks. There’s a lot more room to move in there. It’s less dusty and brighter, now
I like it much better this way..
A friend of mine was inquiring about Thirsty Dog Old Leghumper Porter. Which of course made respond in a very Doggie style manner ... Particulary Flying Dog Road Dog Porter
So, I started sniffing around their website ... I had seen Garde Dog Biere de Garde and mistaken thought that it came in 4-packs like Gonzo Imperial Porter, Horn Dog Barley Wine, Double Dog Double IPA or Kerberos Tripel.
Nope, it comes in sixes, but is only available March-May ... today being May ...
Now I've been trashing Magic Hat pretty strongly lately, and frankly, I'm done with them. As Luck would have it, MH is in the same cooler as FD.
As I opened the cooler to grab the Garde Dog, a MH Variety 12-pack comes sliding off the shelf and slams into my ankle before bursting on the floor."That's okay," the clerk says, "Take another one!""I didn't even want that!" I said, as the pain began to rise from my shredded ankle."Oh," Patel says to me, "Bad luck for you then."
It's has a thin white head that certanly doesn't last long. It is absolutely clear gold, with a slight caramel+honeysuckle aroma. A little bit of fizz, not nearly as much as the other lawnmower beers [yeah, I just finished cutting the grass; desculpo mucho mis amigos y amigas mes-oesternos]. Low alcohol makes it very refreshing.
"Woof! Woof!"
