New Year in Gotham

This is a little delayed, but the Dark Knight and his resident nemesis wish to wish everyone a Happy New Year:

Boston Tow

To save on gas, my bf’s been working on a solution for biking out to visit me (we currently live about 60 miles apart) rather than driving his truck. The only hold-up was the question of how to transport his Boston terrier. Dad had a Bob trailer sitting unused, so Jim asked to borrow it and after the purchase of a harness and a couple of short leads to attach the harness to the trailer, Noki was set to go:

Jim also ordered some Doggles to protect those big, buggy Boston eyes:

but persuading Noki to wear those WHILE riding the trailer will take some more training and treats on our part.

The longest test ride has been about 20 miles, but Jim is working Noki up to the big miles and Noki couldn’t be more excited to be out on the open road, spending time with his dad:

Bed of Rose

As part of a morning ritual, we walk out to check on the bees and plants every day. A couple mornings ago, Jim and I found this:

a tiny frog sleeping in one of the Knock-out blossoms.

Swing Time and the Nifty Fifty

After a year of hesitation on the matter, Mom and I ventured out to the local swing dance a couple months ago and got more than we bargained for. We found ourselves amidst an interesting and very varied community of wonderful, welcoming, helpful, (and most importantly) patient people.

We had no idea the swing dance scene was so big here in the Tampa area, but so far we know of five weekly dances and have frequented two of them.

Friday night isn’t normally a Swing night for us, but this past Friday was the 11th Anniversary of the Swing Time group based out of the Gulfport Casino.

Ma and I got dressed up for the occasion, cause we really just need an occasion to get dressed up, and headed off to Gulfport.

(As always, our dog did all she could to help)

On their website, Swing Time advertised a Jack and Jill Dance Contest as part of the night’s festivities:

But since neither Mom nor I knew what a Jack and Jill contest was, we bypassed the opportunity to sign up as we came in.

As always, we had a wonderful time dancing with our favorite regulars, then a few songs before the competition was to begin, Sam – the organizer and dance instructor – walked up to me with a slip of paper asking, “Are you signed up for the contest?” Me: “No.” Him: “You should be” (or at least that is what I heard in my head). Me: “Ok.”

He wrote “Katy” on the paper and took off.

When it came time for the contest, Sam notified everyone that too few men had signed up to allow partners for all the female contestants, and he warned that girls would be entered on a first-come-first-serve basis.

Getting nervous about dancing in front of everyone, I figured I had a guaranteed way out assuming that I was among the last to sign up. Sam called out the first 11 girls and had them draw a random guy partner out of a pail of names. He then announced they were down to the last male and hence the last couple for the contest and my mental fingers were crossed it would not include me.

There was a silent, implied drumroll then, “Katy, come on up!”

Whether frozen in fear or deep in premonition, I didn’t move for a moment. As luck would have it, there was another Katy (or perhaps a Katie) in the line of girls (not that surprising a situation, really) who immediately stepped forward to claim the spot. Phew! I was saved by the ubiquity of Katys! (or Katies?)

Ready to turn and head back to my seat with a smile, I heard, “This one is for Katy P.” It took me a second, but then I thought, “Aw, crap. I’m Katy P.”

I stepped up to the pail and drew the remaining name. I couldn’t read the handwriting, but I saw the last male contestant standing alone and marveled at my luck. I had never met him, but had been watching him and his wife – an obviously close and talented pair – dance together all night long.

Given a couple minutes to warm up with our newly drawn dance partners, Vinnie took me through different steps and turns and a bit of  Charleston to get a feel for my ability. Next, everyone was lined up and had a thirty-second turn to impress the judges.

Had I the choice, I would have gone first to get it over with, but as we had been paired last, we had the final slot. Mostly we clapped along with the beat and cheered on the other contestants, but while one couple was dancing, Vinnie leaned over and asked, “Do you know how to walk out together?” making a circular sweeping motion with his foot. I’d done something like that before, so shrugged and said yes, but immediately tripped over his foot when he tested it out. He clarified the move with a demonstration, then we practiced it – all the in span of about ten seconds.

When our turn finally came around, my heart was almost beating hard enough to drown out the worries about tripping in front of everyone, but Vinnie led me out on the floor smoothly and we took off. I messed up a couple of times, but thankfully he had told me that your footwork didn’t need to be perfect as long as you were showy, and we were showy!

I have no idea what we looked like or exactly what we did – it’s all a blur for me – but I do remember lots of Charleston kicks and the lack of me falling or tripping, so here’s to Vinnie!

They announced the results would follow shortly then cranked up another song, open for all dancers. I danced that one and sat the next one out, then they announced third place, and the runners up – the pair of whom won free passes to future swing nights. Then for the $100 cash prize, they announced the winners:  ”Katy and Vinnie!”

Wait, what?

I looked up from the plastic cup of water I had been sipping and saw some eyes looking back at me, so I headed out the floor to meet up with Vinnie and accept our $50 each.

Apparently the next round of drinks will be on me…

Dig, a Fig!

After breakfasting on tender, ripe figs during a trip to Greece several years ago, the dream of having access to fresh figs nestled its way deep into my mind. Since Florida is replete with sundry produce – both local and internationally grown – I had hoped fresh figs could become a part of my daily fare, but for some perplexing reason, fresh figs are nowhere to be found here.

So, when on a visit to a nearby nursery a little over a year ago, upon spying a 1′-tall turkey fig tree for sale, I shelled out the $6 and headed home a very happy, very excited camper.  While Florida isn’t the BEST place to grow figs, they supposedly can survive and thrive here once established, but they would probably take a few years of growing before bearing any fruit.

When it came to putting the plant in the ground, unfortunately, the lot where I live has old oak trees in each of its four corners which pretty much block out any consistent sunshine. So I carefully zipped the tree up in a daypack and scootered it on my back the sixty miles out to my boyfriends house in the Lakeland countryside.  We planted the little tree and, over the course of a year, watched it grow, die and grow again.

Around the beginning of this month, we had to have a new well drilled and since the well company’s equipment would have crushed the little sprout, we transplanted the still-petite tree to the other side of the house then watched it closely over the next few days.  When it didn’t wilt or die, we pretty much left it alone to do its miraculous, natural thing.

Then, yesterday, while mowing, my boyfriend noticed this:

Our first fig!!!  Hooray!  I can’t begin to convey how excited I am about our fruit tree bearing fruit!  We planted it and it grew! Who knew!

There is a second little one on the way (see small, round, blurry dot in center of image below):

and while it might not be a good idea to let these ripen on such a young plant (they might leach more nutrient than the plant has to offer), we’re going to wait and see how things go.  So keep your fingers crossed for our spry tree and its little fresh figs!

N.Y. Tourette – Days 14-19

Friday, July 15th to Wednesday, July 20th

We spent the next several days in Bumpass and the surrounding areas trying to explore all our options on getting the Mini back to Florida since we expected the problem was one that local mechanics wouldn’t be able to fix. We thought about renting a truck or a trailer or both.We looking into having someone else tow it down. My uncle even offered his car for us to drive to Florida to get Jim’s truck, which we’d then use to tow my uncle’s car back to Bumpass and the Mini home. But the my mom offered to drive Jim’s truck up to us, so we shipped a key to her over the weekend and went to buy a hitch and ball to fit Jim’s truck.

After an interesting day spent dealing with the various Uhaul dealers of Richmond, we finally procured all we needed for the hitch, and we were able to reserve a rental 2-wheel car dolly.

Mom arrived late Monday night/early Tuesday morning (she is a true road warrior), then after a short night’s sleep, Jim installed the hitch and we went to pickup the car dolly.

The Uhaul guy had sold us a wiring kit that wasn’t an obvious install, so we took it back with us and he took time to help us with it. The installation ended up involving removing the taillights, opening wiring bundles and splicing wires, and it turned out especially great that he was there for the process because it turned out that he had sold us what appeared to be a defective unit. He tried another then concluded that his computer had listed the wrong wiring product for Jim’s truck. He picked out another type of wiring package and it worked fine, but the whole process took over an hour.

Anyhow, we attached the car dolly and returned to Bumpass to find the Mini didn’t have enough clearance to ride long distances on the dolly safely.

Sooooooo…

We packed everything up, loaded the Mini, said our goodbyes to our awesome host family and returned to the Uhaul store to try to switch out the dolly for a full trailer.

Luckily they had one on the lot that was not yet reserved, and the dance of trading that out for the dolly wasn’t too painful. After some time of attaching the trailer and getting the Mini loaded and secured, we grabbed snacks from the 7-11 next door and got underway sometime after noon or one.

A day of driving landed us just outside of Savannah where we slept soundly for the night then got a good early start the next morning for the final hours of our trip.

We took the Mimi to DJ Minis place north of Tampa. After describing the problems, he suspected the CV joint, so we left the car with him, took Mom to her van, dropped the trailer at the assigned location, grabbed a bite to eat and finally headed home!

N.Y Tourette – Day 13

Thursday, July 14th

Day 13. Lucky thirteen…

We woke at 3:45 hoping to get an EARLY start before Long Island’s morning rush hour. The Mini was packed and ready to go by 4. It started up fine and we sat, giving it some time to warm up. The past few days had been surprisingly sweltering for Floridians in New York, however the forecast for the day predicted some relief – good news for travelling without a/c – and the chilly morning made that prediction all the more promising.

After several minutes of sitting together, quietly in the morning’s darkness, we decided we should get going. Jim put it in gear to back out of my brother’s driveway, gave it some gas and the Mini died. And wouldn’t start again.

We went through the checklist until we found the carbs weren’t getting any fuel, then focused on that problem with little luck. One of us talked the other into taking a break until there was more light to work by and I went back to bed for more sleep while Jim researched the problem. When I woke, he was working on the fuel pump, trying to resolve a vapor lock issue.

Erick and I visited while Jim got the car running again, then we said our goodbyes and Jim and I got on the road leaving Long Island a little before 10.

Traffic wasn’t as bad as we anticipated and we made good time to the Verrazano Narrows Bridge to Staten Island. But while getting in line to pay tolls, we mistakenly entered one for the access road rather than one that would route us onto the interstate. This turned out for the best as we missed a huge mess of traffic and got to see (and sniff) local parts of Staten up close.

We made it to I-95 without much trouble, enjoyed our quick progress along the Turnpike and had only one other detour while trying to avoid a tunnel toll in Baltimore, which again resulted in a nice, close-up tour of downtown Baltimore.

We began to hit traffic just north of DC (as I’m sure everyone does). I navigated as best I could to help avoid some of it, but did little to get us out of it before rush hour started. Still, we moved along pretty well and didn’t come to stand-still traffic until south of DC near Dale City.

Sitting in the stop-and-go traffic was bad for us, but worse for the car. The engine started making noise whenever Jim tried give it gas while in gear and there was no exit in sight (though the access road was literally right next to us, blocked only by a k rail barrier).

Jim pulled over on the big shoulder, checked the car and determined this wasn’t anything that could be fixed road-side, so we called the insurance to have a tow truck pick us up. Unfortunately, he didn’t arrive until about an hour and a half after his ETA. Oh, well.

He gingerly loaded up the Mini and drove us all the way to my aunt’s house in Bumpass, VA (surely you remember that town by now), fifty-some-odd miles past what insurance would cover, but it was worth it! We were so thankful to be among welcoming family members rather than stuck in the city on the side of the interstate.

We rolled in around 9:30, *moments* before my aunt’s family pulled into the driveway from their long evening at VBS. (Our conversation with the tow truck driver was, “It should be right around here some where. This one? No. Maybe that one. No. Oh! That one where the van is pulling in!”) So all of us were there to watch the unloading of the car and my littlest cousin even got to steer the Mini while the rest of us pushed it into what is becoming its reserved parking spot at their house.

We were thankful to shower and sleep soundly that night, grateful to have a comforting place to work out our new troubles. I couldn’t ask for better family.

N.Y. Tourette – Days 11 & 12

Tuesday, July 12th to Wednesday, July 13th

Tuesday we spent practically the entire day at home, helping my brother smoke two racks of ribs, a brisket and a pork butt. After a day of running around Manhattan, this was more than we every would have hoped for: rest, relaxation and really REALLY good food.

His wife and a friend of hers from work joined us for a homemade dinner of bacon-wrapped cream-cheese-stuffed baked jalapenos, short ribs, grilled potato salad, 3-bean baked beans, and collard greens, all with handmade caipirinhas. Amazingly delicious!!!  Thank you Erick!!!

————————–

Wednesday was also pretty low key, though Erick took Jim and I to Port Jefferson for ice cream!

While chowing down, we wandered the boardwalk,

eventually ending up out on a pier overlooking a sailing class for young kids.

Unfortunately, I didn’t think to take pictures of the sailing class, but we had a wonderful time making fun of the kids who couldn’t get their boats to go. Though they were in absolutely no danger, as soon as their sail began to luff they would start screaming for help with all their strength. Ah, kids.

After returning to the house Erin joined us and we four went out for cheap, delectable sushi and cold sake, then came home to finish off the night with episodes of Archer on Netflix and preparatory packing for our departure in the morning.

N.Y. Tourette – Day 10

Monday, July 11th

We had decided to return to the city to check out the museums, so we woke up early to prep for the train ride and a day in Manhattan. We packed light – Batman, a camera, our phones and some cash – and caught the LIRR train from Stony Brook to Penn Station.

The train trip to Manhattan was just under two hours and by the time we arrived, we were pretty hungry. Eager to start exploring, we grabbed a quick bite at a nearby Burger King then walked to Times Square, ducking inside Toys R Us and Swatch before a round of photos of Batman on Broadway.

From there we walked by Radio City Music Hall and through the Rockafeller building en route to the Plaza

After pictures in the Plaza, we ducked back into 30 Rock to grab some coffee and snacks as well as a few postcards which we quickly filled out and mailed in the basement post office.

Then we skipped a couple blocks over to St. Patrick’s Cathedral and caught a train toward the Met.

While walking up the steps of the Met, that feeling of dread arose as what looked like “Closed” signs come into view. Apparently you can visit the museum any day of the week BUT Monday. I guess everyone needs a day off.

Slipping around the side of the Met, we entered Central Park.

With a loose plan of heading to the west side to see the Natural History Museum, we wandered around, finding an obelisk:

and a castle in the process:

Unfortunately, Belvedere Castle is also closed on Mondays.

We passed the theater for Shakespeare in the Park and saw the Natural History Museum then entered the nearby metro station to head down to the Intrepid:

We got hungry after our train ride though, so we stopped at a Turkish place called Troy Turkish Grill on 9th Ave and 40th St for tasty (and gluten-free) falafel and dolmas. Then we went to the park on Pier 84 (which has several fun waterworks) before heading to the Intrepid.

We stopped for a drink at the park’s bar to let Jim’s phone charge

then took the train to see Ground Zero and the replacement building:

From there we wandered toward Wall St.

Before heading back to Penn Station to catch our train back out to Long Island, we hoofed it down to Battery Park to watch the sunset behind the Pier A building and to get at glimpse of the Statue of Liberty.

From there we walked along the Hudson River Greenway to return to the station (with only one other photo stop)

and arrived at Penn Station with plenty of time to catch the 8:45 out to Stony Brook.  Looooooong day with LOTS of walking, but a fun one for both of us.

N.Y. Tourette – Day 9

Sunday, July 10th

Happy Birthday to Mom!

We had a nice morning sleeping in after our late night of driving, car repairing and visiting with my brother, Erick, and his wife, Erin.  Once awake, we called to wish our mom a happy birthday, then we got in gear to drive to the city for Sunday brunch.

Originally we planned to eat at Bondi Road on Rivington, but with a 45 minute wait we left Bondi for Poco then decided to eat next door at Cafe Cortadito. The menu options sounded tasty and many appeared to be gluten-free, so we ordered plantain omelettes with shredded beef, Spanish chorizo and ham and started off with blood orange mimosas.

We had a great time catching up with my brother and his wife, and even made friends with the three girls at the table next to us. Talking religion, politics and everything in between (as well as the fact that we suspect the drinks were spiked with something other than champagne) made for an exciting brunch. But after returning from the city, we took it easy enjoying a delicious meal of spicy mushroom veggie burgers, quinoa and mixed greens prepared by my brother. Here’s to having an amateur chef in the family!

N.Y. Tourette – Days 7 & 8

Friday, July 8th to Saturday, July 9th

After the excitement of Thursday’s parade and fair, we took it easy Friday. Our tires were scheduled to arrive, but we were undecided on whether to set out after their installation or to wait until Saturday morning to leave for New York.

Friday morning we drove the Mini to Kenny’s auto shop in Louisa then walked to the local coffee shop and worked online as we waited for the tires to arrive.  When FedEx finally delivered them, Jim talked with the mechanic and confirmed his evolving suspicion that the tires were tubeless tires and the wheels were sealed. If you recall our adventure in Jacksonville, this news (which meant the tires didn’t need tubes) was both upsetting (as we had wasted several hours in Jacksonville in search of 10″ tubes) and comforting (knowing we wouldn’t have to do it again).

We returned to the house, very pleased with our new tires, but since it was almost 5pm we chose to delay our departure until 8am the next morning.

We woke early Saturday morning, packed our things and said our goodbyes. In the Mini, Jim started the engine and we began pulling out of the (long) driveway ahead of schedule. I waved out the window, saying “Bye! Love you!!”, then the car died.

Jim couldn’t get it going again, so I pushed it back to it’s original parking spot as we apologized and laughed. We got to work on the car, checking everything we could think to check, and finally after several attempts at starting it up she came to life. My uncle Bryan pointed out that it was now 8AM and we joked about the car’s punctuality, uncertain which of the changes we had made (if any) were responsible for the successful start up. After another round of hugs and some uncertain goodbyes, we headed east toward Richmond, then north toward D.C., passing another fair with a neat, roadside rollercoaster on the way.

We skirted around D.C. then headed east toward Annapolis, opting to follow Hwy 301 across the Chesapeake Bay and up along a nice, quite stretch toward Wilmington. There we caught I-95 to Philadelphia and followed it up toward Manhattan, eager to arrive in NYC.

We exited the NJ Turnpike, grabbed some gas and got in line for the toll at the Holland Tunnel. As expected, the traffic was a mess (the road pares down from something like 8-9 lanes to two through the tunnel…

… which is surprisingly simple compared to the train yard just north of the tunnel entrance.)

While in line, we were cut off several times and almost run over by a bus once,

but there were also plenty of people delighted by the Mini and happy to let us in. Once we made it into the tunnel, it took us probably 40-45 minutes to make it the five miles to a friend’s place in Brooklyn. By the time we parked on Havemeyer, we were covered in sweat and the Mini was running hot (but still looked great and took up only half a parking spot).

We met up with my friend, Shawn, then walked to find sushi and give the Mini a rest. After maybe an hour of walking, eating and visiting, we returned to the Mini, said goodbye to Shawn, started the car and made it four or five blocks before we broke down (just after passing Hope St, ironically).

I pushed the car to the curb while Jim steered, then I unpacked the tool bag and oil rag from the boot while he opened the bonnet. We proceeded to run through the checklist as locals stopped to stare at, pose with and photo the Mini with her hood up. Though we were upset at the breakdown, the surrounding neighborhood and its inhabitants made the experience very entertaining. Nevertheless, it took about two or two and a half hours of tinkering and consulting our Mini manual and with Jim’s dad on the phone to get it running again. We thought we would be stuck in the city for the evening, but luckily we got back on the road a little before 9pm, just as it was getting dark.

We hightailed it out to my brother’s place in East Setauket looking forward to a good night’s rest, but in the meanwhile, I started work on a rap song for the circumstances:

Broke down in Brook-lyn
and our dizzy won’t spin.
No spark to the heart
of my Mini Tin Tin.
Two wheels in the gutta
while the starter – sputtas,
missin’ the times
when she ran like butta.

(to be continued… … maybe.)

N.Y. Tourette – Days 3-6

Monday, July 4th through Thursday, July 7th

We woke at the Holly Bluff campgrounds not to the songs of birds chirping but to the cacophony of what sounded like an avian war. The sun was just barely up, so we ignored (as best we could) the racket all around and slept in a bit longer. When we woke again, surrounded by a now-quiet campground, only two other people – both part of the staff – were awake and about. We cleaned up, packed up, then loaded the Mini hoping others campers would begin to stir before we had to fire up our loud engine.

I killed some extra time taking pictures of the grounds including two major attractions, the putt putt course and the church:

However, when the time came to leave and no one else was up, we decided we couldn’t waste any more time. We got in, turned the key: “BRAAAAAAAM bram bram bram brumbrumburmbrum…” and hit the road, probably leaving several grumpily awakened campers in our wake.

We had a great day of driving, made good time and even stopped to capture our crossing into Virginia: Awhile later we arrived safely at my Aunt Milly’s house only to find that after we turned the car off it wouldn’t start again. After Jim got it running again, we took the Mini to the nearest town for a check and tune up. Though they weren’t able to do much in the way of a tune up, they were able to find new tires for us. Unfortunately, it would take several days to order and ship them. In the meantime, we immensely enjoyed our company and all the adventures they and area had to offer:

…including the annual Fireman’s Fair and Parade:

N.Y. Tourette – Day 2

Sunday, July 3rd

Sunday started out a little rough. The Mini ran, but Jim had adjusted the timing a bit to see if it would do better and it didn’t. So we spent a few miles, driving, stopping, adjusting then trying it all over again.  But once he got the timing back to where it was, we started comfortably cruising the back roads toward Georgia.

We stopped at a McDonalds to get some oatmeal for breakfast (I’ve had it several times and it appears to be gluten-free enough) and drew the attention of several patrons, three of whom were old guys suited up and on their way to church. One even had a “Jesus” baseball cap, which was adorable. They chatted with Jim about the car’s specs and wished us well on our trip.

Georgia was largely uneventful aside from the beautiful roads, but at the border to SC along Hwy 301, we saw something cool. I couldn’t pull out my camera in time, but here’s the Google satellite image:

Next to the 301/73 bridge is an old pivoting bridge, apparently nonoperational.  This website gives a short history on it along with some better pictures.

We continued on, with no problems from the paltry South Carolina roads. Unfortunately, we did make a few wrong turns, so while we planned to arrive at our campsite outside of Asheboro, NC by 8 or 8:30, we didn’t get there til 9, just at closing.

We paid $17 to the Holly Bluffs Campgrounds office and were guided to our tent site (complete with water, electric and a picnic table). After quickly assembling our little tent, we showered off and sat down to a game of cribbage (which I won). =)

All in all a very nice day.

N.Y. Tourette – Day 1

A couple months ago I bought a ’66 Mini Cooper and though it requires a lot of tweaking and maintenance, the car is a blast to drive (and surprisingly roomy).

Not to mention, it fits into a space smaller than one sixth of the garage!

After driving it occasionally for two months, the bf and I decided to take it on a road trip. I hadn’t visited my brother and his wife in about a year, so their home on Long Island (and their open invitation) became our destination.

———–

Saturday, July 2nd

We started out from the Tampa area, taking backroads almost entirely, and made it about 250 miles into the trip before we had problems.

Heading north on Hwy 17 somewhere south of Jacksonville, we crossed a set of potholed railroad tracks going over 45mph. The same set of tracks was probably what caused the 18-wheeler in front of us to run off the road and, had I been paying attention to the road instead of to the swerving, shuddering, dust-kicking giant, I probably could have better avoided jumping the canyon, but I guess that’s life.

We continued on, undeterred except to slow for each subsequent railroad crossing, and rolled into Orange Park, just south of Jacksonville, hoping to grab something to eat and continue into Georgia to camp for the night. But while stopped at a stop light a lady in the car next to us said “Hey!”. I was expecting a follow up of “Nice car! What year is it?” which was the choice phrase up to then, but she followed with, “Do you know your front tire is really low?” Since that was not at all what I expected I couldn’t think of anything to say before Jim covered for me with, “We do now!”

We pulled off the road after the light and got out to find our front driver-side tire well on its way to being flat. We brought out Jim’s trusty bicycle pump and took turns pumping up the flat since we didn’t see anything wrong with the tire itself. However, when we went to take the pump off the valve, the valve tore off with it and the tire sighed as all our hard work quickly disappated.

As we don’t have the Vince Gill’s kind of wealth we couldn’t afford to hire a designated cusser, so we did the dirty-word work ourselves then pulled out the tools and spare to change tires. Jim jacked up the car, while I searched for a tire place that could repair a 10″ tire at 5pm on a Saturday before a major holiday.

A nearby Firestone said they would stay open for us so we gently made our way to them only to find they lacked the machinery to work on an 10″ wheel. They recommended Pep Boys down the street, who informed us that even if they had the equipment to change out a 10″ tire, they couldn’t replace the valve because it wasn’t a tubeless tire and they didn’t carry any tubes, much less a 10″ one.

They suggested we try a tractor supply store and helped us call around but by that time, around 6pm, most shops had closed or were closing for the weekend. Pep Boys pointed us in the direction of some other tire stores so we rolled down the road and into a Tire Kingdom across from a Kmart hosting a classic car show. The Tire Kingdom guys didn’t have any 10″ tubes in stock or at the warehouse, but said they could do the work if we could find a replacement tube and be back before closing at 8.

Jim figured our best bet was to go to the car show and ask around, so we moved the Mini to the Kmart lot and parked at the last space in a long row of classic cars on display. Jim asked around and, after putting in a help request with the show’s DJ, spoke with two men who suggested a nearby Harbor Freight Tools which might carry some kind of tube. We thanked them and walked back to the car to find it half surrounded with spectators who couldn’t have cared less that we weren’t part of the show.

A man and a red-headed boy took a extra bit to examine the car so Jim invited the kid to sit in the driver’s seat. The kid tried it out then laughed as he told us our Mini was the only car shorter than him.

We set out for Harbor Freight, thankful to find it stayed open until 9, and found a small shelf in the back of the store with tubes for wheelbarrels, etc. We opened several boxes until we found the right size, grabbed two, then headed to the front of the store only to wait an agonizing, clock-ticking ten minutes to check out since each cashier was having trouble either entering discounts, working out warranty info, checking prices or calling for a manager.

Eventually we got the tubes (at a 10% discount, thanks to another customer who slipped us an online coupon code) and jetted as fast a we safely could to the Tire Kingdom where Patrick and Miles stayed twenty minutes after closing to switch out the tubes and rotate the tires. Thanks for helping us get back on the road guys!

While they worked on the car, I researched campsites, but none were availble at the late hour, so we went in search of motels. After calling around, we found a Rodeway Inn for about $60 and settled on that. But as we drove up to the motel we found what we thought was another, more modern car show.

The parking lot was lined with moded cars and sport bikes with LEDs and the entrance to the motel was guarded by curvy, leggy women in slightly covered bikinis, one of whom held a fistfull of event wristbands. She stopped us and sauntered up to the driver’s side window. In the passenger seat, I could see from her waist to just above her knees, putting the the hem of her shirt – which *almost covered* her bikini bottom – slightly, thankfully below my eye level.

Jim said, “Hey, we’re here to win the car show!” She laughed and said, “It’s not a car show, we’re havin’ a pool party. It’s ten per person to get in and unlimited drinks.” Jim responded, “Actually, we’re just here for a place to sleep” and she replied, “Bring you key card by and I got ya.”

While the idea of a free pool party sounded like an interesting, adventurous way to cap off an eventful evening, we were more concerned with getting dinner, so we waded through several upset motel patrons (“I want my money back!”) and asked for a room away from the pool. Then after unloading and locking up the car, we walked to a nearby Waffle House where we were greeted by a cheerful older waiter who hung out at our table to listen to our adventure. We later found out it was his birthday as his coworkers and friends showed up with cupcakes and a hearty “Happy Birthday” performance.  I love road trips. =D

Belated Goodbye

Shortly after the memorial service for my maternal grandfather, we received news that my father’s dad had been admitted to hospice care. He passed away within the week and no one from my immediate family was able to attend his funeral in Texas.

I didn’t know him as well as my mom’s dad, but I have several wonderful memories of his hugs, his smiles, and his warmth. I remember how his kind, soft drawl was so contrasted by his macaw’s raging, irreverent squawks; I remember him playing the mandolin by the fireplace on holidays in duets with my uncle; I remember him greeting us when we visited him at the car dealership. But other than holidays and the occasional random get-togethers, our family didn’t see him often.

But on our bicycle trip around Central and East Texas, Dad and I stopped by his house after a horrible day on the road and had a wonderful time visiting with him as he told and retold us about golfing and retirement and having a babysitter (who was hired because he was showing signs of Alzheimer’s).  We cracked a joke about Dad hiring me as his babysitter to makes sure he plays in the road (via the bike) and enjoyed the afternoon while waiting for my sister to pick us up and take us home.

And that was the last time we saw him – over two years ago.

I wish time didn’t slip away so easily and I wish I had known him better. Thankfully, he was geographically surrounded by our extended family; between his children, their children and their childrens’ children I doubt he was ever at a loss for company.  But, I still wish I could thank him for the wonderful, if sparse, memories I have of him.

No Onions

It’s been a month since my grandpa died. A lot has happened in that time, but so much stands still.

As was the case after Grandma died, there’s much I’ve wanted to write, but none of it will come out.

I’m sitting next to his empty wheelchair in his room. Hospice came within a day of his death to retrieve their equipment, but everything else remains largely untouched, all arranged as it was before he died.

Eventually we’ll have to clear the room of his things. To incorporate it back into the house as a living space. But, as is always the case when someone is no longer in your life, everything of his bares memories.

I was out of town when he died; my last goodbye was rushed. He passed relatively suddenly though – hopefully with little pain – and, thankfully, my mom, her brother and my grandpa’s brother were all here for him.

If nothing else, I want to say how grateful I am to have had Grandpa in my daily life. To nurse him and converse with him. To hear him reminisce and tell (occasionally dirty) jokes. To watch Law & Order marathons and the Turner Classic Movie channel together. To sit with him as advocate, translator and entertainer at the doctor’s office or in the ER. To clean him, bathe him, turn him and feed him. To scratch his back and listen to him purr.

Caring for him was a huge burden and an immense joy; I’m lucky that, for a short time, this role was mine.

Grandpa: I love you. I miss you. I wish I had let you try my ice cream.

An Easter Eastern

Yesterday, following a nice afternoon walk with my boyfriend and a quick trip to the gas station for mower fuel, I headed inside expecting Jim to follow shortly. Instead, a few minutes later I get a phone call from him, who, as far as I know, is still right outside (ah the convenience of cell phones).  He cryptically says something along the lines of, “Come outside, there is something you have to see.”

I find him and the neighbor conversing from opposite sides of the vine-covered fence, say hi and wonder what’s going on. Jim casually reaches down to move one of the vines, only it’s not a vine, but a rattle. And a tail. And, oh.

I think a few profanities then move closer and am introduced to a huge, apparently deceased eastern diamondback resting on top of the fence. I follow the tail up to the head, vised in the neighbor’s hand as a safety precaution. Just in case this gigantic snake isn’t quite completely dead.

The neighbor tells of how he found the snake in the field behind his house (the same field that borders my bf’s fence), hit it over the head and brought it back. Jim mentions a double fang and the neighbor pulls out his knife with his right hand while still clenching the snake’s head in his left and uses the blade to prod out the fangs.

Meanwhile, the snake’s body is slowly squirming in gentle undulations. Wait, isn’t Easter a day for resurrections? Perhaps I should step back a bit.

The neighbor planned to have the rattler stuffed, but held it out for us to see it’s full length. Jim took this picture and the last with his cell phone.

Personally, I’d never have the guts to purposefully get near a rattler, much less attack and retrieve one, and normally I’d say anyone who does is probably a bit off their rocker, but this guy was as calm as any person on a beautiful Easter Sunday afternoon and he obviously new how to safely handle a snake, dead or possibly alive. So hats off to him for making this Easter an exciting one!

Hope yours was just as fun!

The Biggest Little Trip of the Year

A couple weeks ago my SO, Jim, got a call from his dad and in a very short time they arranged to fly Jim, Jim’s son and me out to Reno to surprise Jim’s mom on her birthday. We left dark and early last Friday to catch a pair of flights, totaling eight hours, out to Nevada where Jim’s dad collected us from the airport and drove us to their hometown, a small community as hour or two southeast of Reno.

Those who knew about the visit worked hard to keep it a surprise and their work payed off! His mom was completely astounded when Jim and his son walked out from the kitchen, and (don’t tell her I told you this) it was very sweet to watch her cry while hugging her son. Family reunions always get me, right here. =)

We spent Friday night visiting with Jim’s immediate family and grandparents then had another gathering of relatives on Saturday for a pizza party, during which Jim and I got to sneak out for a rumble around town in Jim’s dad’s awesomely restored pickup!

After cruising around, playing with dogs, parrots, horses and children (one of which apparently has a thing for turning keys left in any ignition, including tractors), cooking pizzas, hiking farmland and drinking wine, I’d normally be happy to call it a day, but Jim’s brother, father and mother took us visiting-three to a nearby gun range and encouraged us to try our hand at their collection.  I couldn’t begin to recount all of what we shot, but it was a blast (no pun intended).

Then on Sunday (which happened to be my birthday) we had plans to return to Reno to visit Lake Tahoe, but first started the morning with a little horseback riding

and lots of singing and dancing with the parrots!

After packing up, we headed through Carson City to Reno then drove up to the northeast end of Lake Tahoe where we rented snowshoes.  Jim’s brother, Joe, and his dog, Bandit, led us up to an overlook where we could hand-feed small wild birds. [I didn't bring my camera, but with any luck I'll be able to post photos from other cameras as the picture come in.]

Luckily, we remembered to bring Batman!

We also took time for a quick sled after our hike, then hit a steakhouse for dinner and finished out the night with cribbage lessons for me and Jim’s son at the hands of Jim and Joe.

It was a wonderful, whirlwind of a weekend, but the next morning we arose at four to catch our 6AM flight back to Florida, school, work and heat.  Nonetheless, we’re packed with great memories of some fantastic family time!  My hearty thanks to all the Dibbles – big and small, human or animal – for such a marvelous visit!

Speed Post

In honor of Daytona weekend and the Bike Sebring race (and the fact that I have homework to work on and a test to study for) I’m making this one a speed post!

Race results:

Katy Polk

- 12 hours of biking in beautiful weather around the Sebring, FL area and on the Sebring International Raceway

- Place: 1st! (…out of one)

- Category: Recumbent female, 12 hr, age 25 – 29

- Official miles: 185.1

- Unofficial miles: 185.1 + 3.7 = 188.8 (I finished my last lap 10-15 seconds too late, so it didn’t count, except to my legs.)

- 1st 100 miles completed in 5:15 hrs at 19.5 mph (woohoo! ok maybe it’s not terribly impressive, but it is a personal best)

- Roadside pees: zero! (also a personal best)

Kent Polk

- 24 hrs of biking; half during a gorgeous day, half during a smoke-filled night

- Place: 2nd (his competition was an actual person – John Schiltter) and to clarify that’s 2nd in his category AND 2nd overall!

- Category: Recumbent male, 24 hr, age 55 – 59

- Official miles: 484.7

- Unofficial miles: 488.4 (same issue)

- Road pees (not a typo): …um, a lot, according to him.  I wasn’t there.  Thankfully.

This post is too speedy to cover everything, but lady Bacchetta riders Jackie, Michelle and Sara Kay did waaaaaaaaaaaay better than I did.  (Go ladies!!!)  And of course 24 hr Bachetta riders John (492.2 mi) and Troy (469.6 mi) were incredible, as always. =)

Thanks to my mom and my bf and all the Bachetta crew members who kept us awake, alive and on the bikes!  What a great weekend!

Dab

A friend’s loss and a relative’s ailment have brought me full circle this week. Life gets crowded and it’s hard to single out something worthwhile to share. The past months have been wonderful, revitalizing, tumultuous and trying, and while all the small victories and revelations seem irrelevant, they remain my daily bread.

What don’t you know that I can share? The loved ones you are taking for granted won’t always be fodder.  Yet you can’t share your time with everyone. You have to make a choice and that decision will always leave someone wanting. It will never be enough. All you can hope is that your loved ones know you love them.

Whatever may or may not come, we have this life.

A limited canvas and a limitless pallet.

An Oom-Pah Evening

A short time after my grandma’s funeral, Mom flew back to Florida to spend more time with her father. While taking care of Grandpa, she rented an accordion (which she’d been wanting to learn) from a nearby shop to give her something to do while looking after him.

She had to fly back to Texas before the rental period ended, so the accordion has stayed here in the house since, and on a few of those days when watching TV and doing laundry isn’t enough to pass the time, I’d pick it up and try to figure it out.

I played “Mary Had A Little Lamb” and “Jingle Bells” and even took a semi-successful crack at “San Antonio Rose” following an afternoon of having Patsy Cline stuck in my head. But, since it has to go back tomorrow, while waiting for Grandpa’s med-time to roll around this evening, I picked it up for one last round and worked out the melody – and some of the bass line chords – of “Oom-Pah-Pah” from Oliver! (with help from this guy).

Thankfully, Grandpa is nearly deaf, so me pumping out notes dug up from memory isn’t as painful for him as it would be for a healthy set of ears. Although I have no idea how or even if you can play the accordion quietly, Grandpa slept right through the whole practice session.

But I didn’t go completely without audience. Batman was there to help iron out the melody.

Interlude: Death and Ice Cream

It’s been a little over a month since my last post. A little over a month since my grandma’s 98th birthday.  I’ve had a few little things to blog about here and there, but what really needs writing won’t come.

Grandma passed away almost a week after her 98th birthday. We all thought she’d live to be a hundred. But accidents happen and sometime they change everything.

After the doctors decided there was little they could do, she was discharged to my parents’ home to live out her last days. Thankfully all of her children were able to fly in to be with her, and for the last week of her life she was surrounded by her children and grandchildren. Few people are that lucky.

Since I returned from the funeral, I’ve been taking care of my grandpa and filling my mind and my spare time with a hodgepodge of hobbies: gardening and raising seedlings, trying to learn a song on an accordion, writing and mailing lots of letters. And when Woot offered up a $100 ice cream maker for $30, I took up ice cream making.

Prior to this, my one memory of making ice cream is me squatting in the breezeway of my grandma’s house, surrounded by the flow of extended family, squared off with an ice cream maker, staring in wonderment at the spin and the salts.

With Grandma gone, it’s important to keep those memories alive.

But I wish she were here to taste these homemade creations. I know she’d enjoy them.

So far my favorite is mint chocolate chip (Ingredients: heavy cream, whole milk, sugar, chopped dark chocolate, peppermint extract and green food coloring):

The runner up was last night’s creation. No name for it yet, but it’s a mix of cream, milk, soy milk , vanilla yogurt, lemon extract, honey and ginger:

Not nearly as creamy as the mint chocolate chip, but powerfully tasty and refreshing.

The other flavors tried turned out wonderfully, too: homemade vanilla, fresh strawberry, and sweet cinnamon (which tasted almost exactly like a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and milk, without the crunch).

But honestly, I bought the ice cream maker with I one flavor in mind: Thai red curry.

Curries are made with coconut milk and many of them are slightly sweetened, so why not make one into an ice cream? But googling the idea brought up this website: 101 Frightening Ice Cream Flavors From Around the World.

Undeterred by curry ice cream’s association with the likes of raw horseflesh ice cream, pit viper ice cream and deep sea water ice cream, I made my simple batch with three components: coconut milk, sugar and red curry paste.

It came out a pretty, pastel orangish/red hue, and surprisingly, tasted just like red curry (minus the chunks of meat and veggies). But the chill is unsettling. Curry is served hot and spicy, and this tongue-toasting, brain-freezing treat messes with the mind. All I wanted to do was nuke it and slurp the resulting soup along with a mound of rice.

I haven’t made any curry ice cream since, but now the challenge is to find something to balance this gustatory experience. Curry ice cream can’t stand alone, but it’s still disturbingly delicious. Maybe if I add some shrimp, some spring onions…bamboo shoots…red and green bell peppers…

End Days and Aftermath

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to ride the streets of Manhattan. The bike needed some adjustments, plus we had other plans involving Coney Island (and the impromptu purchase of a silver lamé bikini), but I did get to do a little sprint over and back on the Williamsburg bridge (which elicited several funny stares and a couple conversations) then pedaled around the streets of Williamsburg before meeting my friend and a mass of locals to watch a hazy sunset over a lazy river.

On the way home, we passed an interesting sculpture chained to the sidewalk:

which reminds me of a fixture of the Lower East Side, The Knit Bike:

(photo courtesy of S. Rice)

Someone recently asked me what I like so much about NYC, and though the answer largely has something to do with car-less living and wide social acceptance from anonymous crowds, the proliferation of art and culture also tends to bend my affections. Especially when a large part of it is accessible curbside.

Oh, and there’s the food.  In one day of my stay I had gluten-free mac ‘n’ cheese (and I’m not talking the normal stuff; this was rice macaroni with rosemary, melted brie, roasted figs & roasted shitake mushrooms), gluten-free cupcakes (vanilla with strawberry topping & carrot cake with cream cheese frosting), and delicious gluten-free pizza. It was a whirl-wind of food my brain said I really really really shouldn’t be eating and though it took me practically until the end of the day to relax and enjoy the meals, I am nonetheless amazed at what is available! We topped off my stay with tacos from a Korean BBQ restaurant (fish and shitake tacos may sound bad but are actually excellent) and episodes from Cowboy Bebop, which I hadn’t seen in ages (not food-relevant, I know, but worth mentioning).

Although I didn’t get to ride Central Park, missed my pilgrimage to the Met, and never actually got to be in the city with Batman (we kept missing each other – he really needs to get a cell phone) I still enjoyed every moment.

Upon returning to Long Island, I intended to go for a ride on the less-traveled roads east of where we stayed, but after my week of what I hope is the closest I will ever come to a rock and roll life style (my sleep schedule upended, my skin inexplicably bruised, my feet scabbed from dancing shoes, my liver exhausted from booze and my lungs gasping from exposure to a city’s worth of second-hand smoke) I felt more than a little under the weather and decided to skip the ride. Plus, since I was staying with family out on Long Island, we had more pressing obligations to consume our time:

(As a family, we have learned that it is essential to find Joy wherever one can. Even occasionally at the expense of small, dignified – and hopefully declawed – animals.)

Before I had time to recover and consider another ride, it was time for me to fly home.  Bye bye New York.  With any luck, I’ll be back soon. Next time, hopefully with Batman.

Big Apple Ride & Birthday Soup

I’m staying with a friend in Brooklyn and since I have my Corsa with me, I took it for a spin today. The west side has a fantastic bike trail, so I rode the full length of Manhattan twice then headed around the south end, across the Williamsburg Bridge and back to my friend’s place. My bike computer is back in Florida, so I get to guess about my distance and speed, but it turned out to be a nice ride. I stayed off the roads, wanting a chance to scout out routes and local behavior toward bikers and I gotta say I’m impressed with the work the city has put toward incorporating bikes. Usually I hate bike trails, but the ones I rode worked pretty well (minus pedestrians who don’t hear “passing left” for one reason or another).  Tomorrow or Friday, I’ll take to the streets. If you’re so inclined, say a prayer for me.

And in the meanwhile, be sure to wish Bruce Campbell a happy belated birthday the Sci Fi Wire way:

Check out the website for more info, the above images and a link to PDFs you can print up and apply to nearby, unsuspecting soup cans: http://scifiwire.com/2010/06/four-labels-from-the-bruc.php

For Bruce’s more recent fans, commenter “brucefan” pointed out on the Sci Fi Wire page that the can labels should remind consumers to be careful when eating scalding-hot soup. Some kind of warning or perhaps a notice about the danger of getting burned…  (If you look closely, the Gumbo Ho-Tep label does include a health warning, but it bares no relation to a burn notice.)

Belated RAAM Results

So the Bent Up Cycles team rolled into Annapolis some time around 3 or 3:30 am Saturday morning. My sister and I were a little delirious from lack of sleep by then so the exact timing I’ve long since forgotten, but the official finishing time was 6 days 9 hours and 50 minutes for a little over 3000 miles. Woohoo!

While crossing the country he needed to maintain a relatively constant power output, but since Dad got to ride the last leg of the race, they told him to give it all he had. As Crew Member Bill liked to say, “We put a quarter in him and let him go.” As I understand, he went around and above 30 mph for much of the last leg, and this after six days of riding cross-country with his teammates, climbing mountains, through high altitudes, across huge plains, along interstates, at night, downhill, on bad roads and amidst bad weather. These guys amaze me. Dad, Dana, JV and Willie: you rock. You can read Dad’s ride report here.

Considering they had just biked across the country, they looked pretty good when they rolled across the finish.  Of course, the official finish line was at a Shell station about 3 1/2 miles away. Upon arrival there, they were given a few minutes to clean up and don new jerseys, which we at the family-and-friends finish line greatly appreciated.

After congratulations and hugs (that were, happily, neither as sweaty nor as smelly as they would have been without the complimentary freshening-up stop), the team members got up on stage for a quick interview about their experience and a photo op, then opened a bottle of champagne with the crew to toast the accomplishment. (We got a picture of Dad holding the glass, but couldn’t catch a clear one of him drinking it. You’ll have to take my word for it.)

Subsequently, bikes and riders were packed into minivans with, of course, the exception of my Corsa – Dad’s borrowed backup bike for the race. In the commotion, I retrieved the beauty (oh baby, have I missed you) and spirited it away to our minivan waiting across the parking lot, then caravaned with the rest to the motel.

We slept a bit then spent Saturday’s remaining daylit hours wandering around Annapolis with two of his amazing crew members, Lonnie and Bill, feeding Dad multiple meals from various eating establishments. The afternoon culminated in a banquet hosted by RAAM where Dad was able to really really refuel himself with all the good, tasty, fresh, solid food he was unable to either get or digest during the race. They also received their plaques at that time.

Back at the motel, Dad, my sister and I sat on the back steps, enjoying the evening and talking with Dana and several crew members, one of whom is an author, researching his next book. His first one – Dead Hand Control – looks pretty awesome (and is currently on it’s way to my house), so I’ll be among those first in line for his next. One of these days I hope to publish something longer than a post, but in the meanwhile it’s neat to have the chance to talk to someone who has already been there.

For now, I want to applaud the riders and crew of the Bent Up Cycles team. You guys and gals did a fantastic job of kicking butt on the road and taking care of my dad. I can’t thank you enough. And to those of you who I got to know, I hope to see you again (and maybe ride with you!) sometime soon.

Oh, and though we didn’t get to spend much of Father’s Day with Dad since they had to get back on the road early Sunday morning to head home, we did give him his Father’s Day gift. Can you guess which one we finally settled on?