Another Roadside Conversion

The other day... No, no, I did not meet a bear.

The other day while I was out playing bikes, I pulled off the road to send off a text message. My headset is pitted, so I can not text from the bike. Or, do anything of the other things on the bike that require two hands. A tad inconvenient.

Anyway, I was chilling roadside making plans with a friend for coffee. j... k... Ld.. Lep... Lets md... medicate... mee.. meet. Autocomplete, so silly. There I sat arduously turning gibberish into words. There must be a better way.

Along came two riders. I noticed them out of the corner of my eye, noting the beat-on mountain bikes, the backpacks, and the white shirts. Commuters, I figure. But then, they stop. Maybe they're lost, I think.

"What have you done today to bring Jesus into your life?"

I stared back blankly at them. Like, who are you and why are you in my space. And, are you for real? They looked like they'd walked out of a Halloween party.

You are trying to convert me by the side of the road, I think. This is an odd turn of affairs. Surely, text messaging must be some sort of devil's work. Certainly, lycra shorts are.

"What are you doing today to bring Jesus into your life?" More insistent, this time.

So I said the only thing that came to mind, that is, what I was doing at exactly that moment.

"I'm writing a text message, then I'm finishing my bike ride."

Nothing like putting action to words. I hopped on my bike and sped off. Sped, being a relative term, of course. It wasn't exactly difficult to out-run the missionaries.

The road is a strange place, some days.

~~~

Today's ride was thoroughly uneventful. Just windy. I like Spring, except when I don't. Flowers are nice, except when I sneeze. Wind is fun, except on the bike. And the surf is well... Don't ask. So much wind, so few waves. I'm paying rent for this?

~~~

In Between Storms

Sunset in the harbor.

That is all.

You Are Here

A prize to the first person who can find me in Slide #2. I'm the one waving at the helicopter.

I so heart me some crowds.

Strings Too Short To Tie

I went out on a bike ride on Saturday. I saw a lime-green whoopie cushion by the side of the road. I wonder if it glowed in the dark.

Happy New Year. Did I say that yet? I meant to say that. Now, it's 2009. Which feels so completely different from 2008.

There's still no surf to speak of. Who ordered up the flat spell? Me, I'm blaming Kelly Slater. Reportedly, he recently bought a house here. Clearly, it's all his fault that it's been flat for weeks and weeks and weeks. Sigh.

In other surfing-related news, we just sold one board, so we can buy another. So virtuous.

If you are of the surf-video watching persuasion, One Track Mind has some quite lovely footage shot on film (as opposed to digitalness.) Yum. Funny interviews, too.

No surf, how about food? I recently discovered a friend has a fabdabulous blog of vegetarian recipes. Nice clear instructions that even a dumbass like me can follow. And, pictures. Scrumptiously beautiful pictures. Now, where is that kitchen of mine, anyway?

I did say this post was about strings too short to tie. And, really, it's a bit short to tie, too. Somedays are like that. Especially mondays.

Happy New Year!

Words

Wisdom from the Snob:

One of my favorite things about cycling is that it can reward suffering with joy. Another thing I love about it is that it often rejects those who don't understand this. Cycling teaches you that there's such a thing as necessary suffering and such a thing as unnecessary suffering, and that sometimes a short cut is a dead end.

There's a guy who knows his way around a sentence.

Oddities

Somedays when I go out on bike rides, I see odd things. One day, it was shoes. Not pairs, just single shoes. An old athletic shoe at mile 10, a white strappy high-heel at mile 15. Another day, I saw a T-square in the road. Who carries a T-square in their car? And leaves it on the road?

Today's oddity had a Christmas theme. Fitting, since last I checked it's almost Christmas. Anyway, I was rolling along the road that runs along the beach, wishing that the beach would suddenly transmogrify itself into the North Shore, and along came a guy with a convertable. It was one of those wee little fast cars, a BMW or an Audi. He was on the other side of the street, and well, I really don't do cars. Anyway, sitting in the passenger seat next to him, was a giant, life-sized nutcracker. It was red with a white beard and a black hat. And it was sticking straight up out of the car on the right hand side. Since his wooden knees didn't bend, he sat at an odd angle, tilted backward as if the speed of the car were sweeping him backwards. Woosh.

And there he was, a nutcracker, riding along in an expensive convertible along the beach, which wasn't the North Shore.

The world is a very strange place sometimes.

Dumbass-ery of the Day

The Independent reports that Platform A has leaked 1,134 gallons of oil into the Santa Barbara Channel, as of early this morning. An oil slick 1.5 miles long and 2,000 feet wide is drifting toward Ventura County. As the Independent points out, Platform A was the site of the massive 1969 spill that galvanized the environmental movement of the time, including the first celebration of Earth Day.

Stolen

La Jolla, Cali.

I don't generally go for the sepia look, but this one worked for me. So I stole it from my big bro. I'm sure he won't mind. Erm, right?

And while I'm stealing, how about another one?

Gettin' Shacked in La Jolla. Same spot, same day.

See more here. Photos copyright Christopher See, used with permission.

Winter Wonderland

Flipper Feet

I went to the pool yesterday, and as I strolled along the pool deck contemplating the bizarre combination of tan lines I currently sport, an older gentleman walked up to me. Nice guy with a big smile.

"Size ten?"

I look at him confused.

"Your feet," he says.

And then, he looks at me more closely, and realizes that I'm not who he thought I was. He explains: There's a woman who swims here, and she kicks really fast. She said it was because she has size ten feet.

He thought I was the woman with the size ten feet who kicks really fast.

Well, I'm not The Woman. But I do have size ten feet. And sometimes, I kick pretty fast.

Silly swimmers.