Man, I had so many things on my mind earlier today that I was eager to write about but I forgot most of them. Up, just remembered something. One thing is that from now on I will refer to my legs as “dogs”. I would appreciate it, nay, I request, that everyone else also refer to my legs as dogs. So instead of asking me how my legs are feeling as we line up for a race, you should just ask, “how them dogs feelin, Kennett?” To which I might reply, “Oh, my dogs are barking a bit. Shouldn’t have done those four hours the day before yesterday.” I want to do this, not just because it sounds cool, but also to keep in mind the idea that my legs are like tethered sled dogs, eager to pull all day as long as the harnesses don’t get tangled and I keep them well fed with wet dog food, not dry, because as everyone knows if you feed a sled dog dry dog food it will get bloody diarrhea. That’s always one of the hardest words for me to spell.
Geeze, I really thought I had more thoughts today. I guess that was my main focal point of the day, so at least I got that important notion down in writing.
I did a couple semi-long rides this Friday-Sunday in my sickness rebound. I ate a lot of food last night after my ride, one of the best things being a huge smoothie made out of a king’s ransom of strawberries, ice, and vanilla whey protein. I took home a huge box of food from the hotel the other night. I think I made off with about three gallons of strawberries, if strawberries were measured like a liquid. And also half that much pineapple chunks. My mouth burns right now from eating too much pineapple today, due to the bromelain of course. One of the women that I work with has chickens at home and she likes to bring a lot of food home for them. She’s my only competition when it comes to hoarding the leftovers. The other night I was bussing tables like a mad man while she spent a good 15 minutes in the back packing up almost all the good food…for her damn chickens! We’re talking salmon, ravioli, steak, expensive main entree stuff. I was NOT happy, and I let her know…in a very passive aggressive way of course. I mean, I wouldn’t actually go rationally explain the issue and my point of view to her. That would just be stupid.
Luckily, I got back there just in time before she piled the rest of the food in her box for those damn chickens. I took almost all the fruit, which she was apparently mad about but I don’t care, since chickens don’t need fruit. I also got all the cooked vegetables and a huge thing of mashed potatoes, crackers, all the salad, and one plate of ravioli. All in all, about $100 worth of food if I bought it at the grocery store. Her chickens had that in salmon alone.
That night we served steak, ravioli, chicken, salmon, crab, shrimp, lobster soup, salad, cake, chocolate fountain, hors devours, etc… But the kicker was that the party downstairs was eating full on lobster tails. And for the first time in my life, I had lobster. I wasn’t sure if I was really supposed to have any, so I gulped the whole tail in three bites like a sneaky, dirt-faced 1800’s era London street kid might. It was good, but I don’t know what all the fuss is about. It has a similar texture as crab with a more meaty flavor. When it comes right down to it, bacon beats lobster any day. But that pretty much goes without saying. Not quite though, since I did say it.
I smashed some cat 4 legs yesterday on a ride that I was hoping would be fast, but wasn’t. The “hard” group ride starts in January, though in reality I just need to find a few guys faster than me to train in the hills with. Too bad Lang isn’t here. I bet he knows someone who’s fast that he could introduce me to.
What else have I done lately…oh, well I did THIS of course!! Jean bike bag, PRO.
Impressed? Check out that fine stitchmanship:
Unfortunately it sags and swings to and fro more than a 90-year-old’s bag, so I think I’ll have to make some modifications. It’s annoying when it flops against your legs all day long. Basically what I did was cut the lower pant leg off a pair of jeans, then took the crotch zipper and attached it to one of the opening, sewed the other end shut, then sewed on the straps from my old bike bag, which was NOT pro:
Since there were two zippers on it, I should have just sewed the broken zipper shut and called it good. But I decided spending two and a half hours making a new, from-scratch denim bag was a better way to spend my evening. My next creation will be to invent some sort of timing device to let me know when my oats are burning, cause this happens one out of four times I make oats, which is at least once a day.
KENNETT PETERSON 