|Chelli’s Killer Guacamole|
Something like 111 million Americans watched the Super Bowl last night. I feel sorry for the guy who had to count them; he missed a good game. Rootchopperette sided with the Giants only because I rooted for the Patriots. I grew up rooting for the Giants in the Fran Tarkenton era, when they were rarely better than mediocre. Then I lived in Boston and Providence in the Chuck Fairbanks era, when the Patriots were rarely better than mediocre. Having become a Red Sox fan and endured Bucky Effing Dent and all that rot, I am never more a fan of New York teams. And so the outcome of last night’s game was depressing.
To make up for that I had way too much of Chelli’s guacamole during the game. Then there was the beer (Shiner Bock’s pretty good), the Italian food and the carrot cake and ice cream. I didn’t get to sleep until after midnight so I awoke groggy, bloated and unmotivated. It’s a wonder I could get my leg over my bike this morning.
Overcoming all this adversity, I saddled up for a chilly ride to work. The 26 degrees at the start ever so gradually gave way to temperatures in the mid-thirties. Along the way as I was warming up, I passed Alex and Belle, our resident bald eagles, sunning themselves in a tree along the Mount Vernon Trail. (Seeing them never gets old.) Fortunately, the wind was at my back.
I arrived at work remarkably comfortable and survived the day with little energy for the ride home. It was still light out (spring is getting closer!) and the temperature was 50 degrees, which allowed me to ignore the headwind.
|Stupid Sign with Beer Circle|
About a week ago I started noticing little circles on the traffic signs on the trail. Apparently a beer lover has decided to decorate the warning signs along the trail. I don’t pay a whole lot of attention to the signs anyway, especially stupid ones like this one. If I do what the signs say, I stop and get off my bike. Then, apparently, it’s okay for me to re-mount my bike and ride it across the road. Why don’t they have signs for car drivers that tell them to stop then get out of their cars before crossing? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? .
My commute is nearly 15 miles long so by the time I passed the Beltway it was dark. Mesmerized by the white circle from my headlight, I neglected to look up to see if Belle and Alex were still around. When I reached Dyke Marsh a mile later, I stopped to take a picture of the full moon but, as usual, it came out as a white dot. The Sequoia showed up nicely though, just before it fell over on its side. Unharmed, I pedaled home in the dark, giving me Utilitaire no. 3, and my second and last night Utilitaire.
|Dotting the Sequoia at Dyke Marsh|
When I got home Rootchopperette showed me the t-shirt that she wore to school. “I Love NY”. Pass the guac, please.