Earlier this summer Gert was decrying the fact that she had to go off and do things other than stay with me. Meaning, why did she have to go to a sitter when I get to sit at home all day watching TV and eating Bon Bons? Or, worse, why does she have to go out when Matilda gets to stay here? That Matilda is 12 and Gert is 5 means little.
So, we planned a Gert and Daddy bike ride day. The plan was I would get up and do my usual early morning training ride. I only did 22 miles instead of 30, like I have been every day. Then we went to the bank to drop off an obscene deposit for my company, to VJ for coffee and then off to ride the trail for a bit and then lunch at the lakeside cafe. When we were done, we would meet mom at home to go pick up our new vehicle, a marine blue Jeep Patriot Limited with Boston Acoustics sound system (because, let's face it, every thing for me has to revolve around how good my music sounds--tested the system with Joe Henry's Tiny Voices and it sounded great).
Note to Deborah: Finnegan fit perfectly in the back. We put down his fluffy bed and had a great time on a family ride. Samson would sit nicely in the center in the back seat and there are some of those clippy things for car seats behind the seats. If you're worried about the dogs popping their heads over and drooling on the soon-to-arrive tyke, no biggie. You can get a net that will keep them from crossing over the seat line. Plus, it's safer for them in case you have to stop suddenly.
Anyway, Gert rode 4.1 miles and did not complain one bit, though the butterfly breaks and Clifbar Z-bars probably helped. At one point a train passed and Gert was thrilled when the engineer blew the horn and waved to her.
She flew up a pretty serious hill, though she might have gotten a pull at the end (which resulted in a giggle because I was able to get her up at a pretty good clip). After we crossed a bridge, and watched the traffic on a highway behind us and a road below us, we rode down to a pond and sat on bench watching the dragonflies and people with their stupid aerobars who ride 12 mph. Don't get that.
After our epic ride, we stopped at the lakeside cafe where she recharged with a nice man-sized burger. I had a boring turkey sandwhich. Gert chowed. I think she discovered what happens when you exercise more than you usually do. We grabbed some ice cream on the way out and headed home.
"Dad," she said, "can you play that song that reminds you of me?"
"This one," I asked?
"Yeah."
"You know what he's saying, right? He's telling his daughter that if she's scared, he'll always watch her and protect her. And that he doesn't think there's a father who has ever loved a daughter as much as he loves her. Do you think that's true? Do you think there's a father who loves his daughter as much as I love you?"
"Well," she said, "you love me pretty much."
She was quiet for a bit.
"Dad? I have tears in my eyes."
"Why?"
"They're not bad tears. The song is making them. And because I had a good day. And it was a good ride."
Nope. I really don't think there ever has been a father who loved his daughter as much as I love her. I really don't think it's remotely possible.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Thursday, July 19, 2007
America's Family Fun Blog (And Family Truckster)
Announcement:
Busy. So many stories. No time to tell because I got two more projects over the summer. Plus, I've been busy doing this. Got the Limited. It's nice. And blue. We pick it up tomorrow. Now I want a popup camper like when I was a kid.
Also, with respect to the Tour and what not, I saw that just like last year and Floyd Landis' situation another French Lab has messed with the race:
Rimshot.
Busy. So many stories. No time to tell because I got two more projects over the summer. Plus, I've been busy doing this. Got the Limited. It's nice. And blue. We pick it up tomorrow. Now I want a popup camper like when I was a kid.
Also, with respect to the Tour and what not, I saw that just like last year and Floyd Landis' situation another French Lab has messed with the race:
Rimshot.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Riding Dirty
Let's see . . .
Floyd Landis may know his fate today--or not. I still sincerely hope it turns out differently than it probably will.
Bjarne Riis will not be going to the tour.
Petacchi cannot race in this year's Tour due to doping allegations.
Valverde, somehow, will probably ride the Tour. Huh. Interesting.
Jorge Jaksche essentially dropped the hammer on the entire peloton. And not in a good way.
The UCI, rather than encouraging people to come clean, have managed to make doping look like the better option than honesty.
There's a new book out that alleges that Lance Armstrong killed kittens and snorted their corpses for power. Or whatever the latest allegation is. (Actually, it's the same damn allegation with a new cover. True or not, it's boring now. The kitten thing would at least be interesting.)
The whole Fuentes situation that nearly derailed last year's Tour is still in about the same situation.
Did I miss anything?
What's a boy to do? Why ride. That's what I did this yesterday. It was raining when I woke up and had it had dumped about an inch of rain on us in a short period of time. But after I ate, the sun was out. Why mess with my schedule?
I slapped on my kit, hopped on and was hit by a wall of humidity. The pavement was slick and puddles were everywhere. At one point, showing how deeply I've devolved, I moved to the left to avoid a puddle and announced, to the puddle mind you, that I was on its left.
I rode through two inches of standing, muddy water so that I wouldn't miss the climbing portion of my ride and, conversely, rode back through it to get home. On the way out I rode through it slowly. On the way back? I blew through it. My butt was soaked. On my way back up one of my favorite hills I came across a roadie in the ditch changing a tube.
"Everything okay," I asked.
"Yeah," he said. "But Kenda tubes are shit!" He's not the first guy to tell me that.
The results of my ride? See the photo set below.
It was an awesome ride. The heat and humidity was punishing. The muddy water in my shorts was unpleasant. And I wished I could have kept going all day long.
Will I watch the Tour? Of course. I'm in it for the stories that come about each day. I love the narrative aspect of a bicycle race.
Dopers? Screw 'em. This is riding dirty.
Floyd Landis may know his fate today--or not. I still sincerely hope it turns out differently than it probably will.
Bjarne Riis will not be going to the tour.
Petacchi cannot race in this year's Tour due to doping allegations.
Valverde, somehow, will probably ride the Tour. Huh. Interesting.
Jorge Jaksche essentially dropped the hammer on the entire peloton. And not in a good way.
The UCI, rather than encouraging people to come clean, have managed to make doping look like the better option than honesty.
There's a new book out that alleges that Lance Armstrong killed kittens and snorted their corpses for power. Or whatever the latest allegation is. (Actually, it's the same damn allegation with a new cover. True or not, it's boring now. The kitten thing would at least be interesting.)
The whole Fuentes situation that nearly derailed last year's Tour is still in about the same situation.
Did I miss anything?
What's a boy to do? Why ride. That's what I did this yesterday. It was raining when I woke up and had it had dumped about an inch of rain on us in a short period of time. But after I ate, the sun was out. Why mess with my schedule?
I slapped on my kit, hopped on and was hit by a wall of humidity. The pavement was slick and puddles were everywhere. At one point, showing how deeply I've devolved, I moved to the left to avoid a puddle and announced, to the puddle mind you, that I was on its left.
I rode through two inches of standing, muddy water so that I wouldn't miss the climbing portion of my ride and, conversely, rode back through it to get home. On the way out I rode through it slowly. On the way back? I blew through it. My butt was soaked. On my way back up one of my favorite hills I came across a roadie in the ditch changing a tube.
"Everything okay," I asked.
"Yeah," he said. "But Kenda tubes are shit!" He's not the first guy to tell me that.
The results of my ride? See the photo set below.
It was an awesome ride. The heat and humidity was punishing. The muddy water in my shorts was unpleasant. And I wished I could have kept going all day long.
Will I watch the Tour? Of course. I'm in it for the stories that come about each day. I love the narrative aspect of a bicycle race.
Dopers? Screw 'em. This is riding dirty.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Songs of Gert
Since only three people read this blog, I figured I'd post some songs (which will disappear within 7 days) that I've been listening to lately. If someone decides to bust me, I'll pay for every file downloaded. Hell, I'll buy everyone the album if I have to. So you can suck it authorities.
For some reason, I've been feeling maudlin about Gert these days. I think the impending kindergarten hurdle that's waiting at the end of summer is getting to me. So, I sit here and think about her. I feel joy and sadness mixed together. She's growing. Which is great! But, with each passing day the little girl she was is disappearing. I'll miss that little girl as I get to know the growing girl.
See? Told you. Total cornball. But the songs are good.
Eels - Theme For A Pretty Girl That Makes You Believe God Exists
Paul Simon - Father and Daughter
Ben Folds - Gracie
Wilco - My Darling
Neil Young - Here For You
The Band - All La Glory
Loudon Wainwright III - Daughter
Stew - The Sun I Always Wanted
Weirdly, I always associate that last song with my friend Jeff and his daughter, who missed the first of May by a slim margin. I'm sure he'll let me borrow it for my reverie.
For some reason, I've been feeling maudlin about Gert these days. I think the impending kindergarten hurdle that's waiting at the end of summer is getting to me. So, I sit here and think about her. I feel joy and sadness mixed together. She's growing. Which is great! But, with each passing day the little girl she was is disappearing. I'll miss that little girl as I get to know the growing girl.
See? Told you. Total cornball. But the songs are good.
Eels - Theme For A Pretty Girl That Makes You Believe God Exists
Paul Simon - Father and Daughter
Ben Folds - Gracie
Wilco - My Darling
Neil Young - Here For You
The Band - All La Glory
Loudon Wainwright III - Daughter
Stew - The Sun I Always Wanted
Weirdly, I always associate that last song with my friend Jeff and his daughter, who missed the first of May by a slim margin. I'm sure he'll let me borrow it for my reverie.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Sunday Dinner
Wanna come? Today I'm feeding my family a grilled dinner that is made entirely with ingredients that are calorie and fat conscious. We are having:
Dry Rubbed (home made!) Grilled Chicken (skin removed) with a home made BBQ Sauce
Grilled Corn with a Garlic Butter (that has no actual butter or margarine) Lime sauce and sprinkled with a hard Mexican cheese (depends on what I find at the store). I adapted this from something I saw on TV.
Baked Potatoes topped with a warm Ranch Cheese Sauce. The cheese sauce is my invention. I can make two cups of it that has under 320 calories. Considering that you'd need about two tablespoons, we're looking at a high protein, tasty, gooey treat under 50 calories per serving. I kid you not. And, it's made out of one of the primary sources of my lunches (something that all sorts of people have eaten for years and considered boring and stupid). In fact, it's also the basis for my low-cal blackened chicken alfredo. Oh yes, and it's good.
So there you go. Dinner's at six. Bring good beer.
Dry Rubbed (home made!) Grilled Chicken (skin removed) with a home made BBQ Sauce
Grilled Corn with a Garlic Butter (that has no actual butter or margarine) Lime sauce and sprinkled with a hard Mexican cheese (depends on what I find at the store). I adapted this from something I saw on TV.
Baked Potatoes topped with a warm Ranch Cheese Sauce. The cheese sauce is my invention. I can make two cups of it that has under 320 calories. Considering that you'd need about two tablespoons, we're looking at a high protein, tasty, gooey treat under 50 calories per serving. I kid you not. And, it's made out of one of the primary sources of my lunches (something that all sorts of people have eaten for years and considered boring and stupid). In fact, it's also the basis for my low-cal blackened chicken alfredo. Oh yes, and it's good.
So there you go. Dinner's at six. Bring good beer.
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