Firkroy is hitting the path, and getting things moving.
Part of the “Keeping me alive program,” along with eating bowls of oatmeal in the morning, and not eating big chunks of cow, is bike riding. With the kids in school, I now have more flexibility with my time during the day. I ride my bike with my older son to his school, and then continue on for a thirteen mile trip along the Willamette river, on the bike paths of Eugene.
It's a pleasant ride along the river, groups of elderly people can be seen walking along the path, as well as bike commuters, hobos, and falling leaves. There are also people selling hand made jewelry laid out on blankets in the grass as I ride by, community gardens, parks, and that big “O” on Autzen stadium. I slow down as I go through the delta ponds, a small wildlife refuge with Western Pond Turtles that like to sit atop logs, beached on little islands in the middle of the water. There's also a beaver dam with ducks bobbing up and down trying to get at whatever is beneath the ripples. The Oregon State Beavers and Oregon Ducks may have a contentious rivalry on the gridiron, but in this pond beavers and ducks are in harmony.
I have a Fuji cross bike that I've had for several years, and I've made a few modifications to it. I've added fenders, changed the peddles, and replace the seat post. All in the name of making my bike fit me just a little bit better. My wife gave me a pair of black mountain bike pants, and later, a matching black long sleeve bicycle shirt. Mountain bike pant look more like regular shorts than Tour de Pants bicycle pants, which is good because I'm not ready to look like a ballet dancer wearing tights. I look a little more like Darth Vader, and if I added a cape and helmet, I could practice using “The Force” as I'm riding along. I could pick up and move whole groups of strolling old ladies out of the way, or I could part clouds of hobo cigarette smoke like the Red Sea, with a wave of my hand. Oh so many possibilities, but alas I can only use “The Force” for good.
Other bike paths in the area have less traffic, and you can find big packs of the Tour de Pants riders clad in their colorful advertisement laden bicycle gear. Just don't get in their way, they would rather run over babies than break formation. They're getting in shape for the Tour de France so watch out... Most won't even make the Tour de Springfield, but I suppose they can have their fantasy.
Upon arriving at home after my commune with two wheels and nature, It's time to go to work. I've ramped up my eBay sales, and like a Ferengi searching for a profit, I've been sniffing around for things for sale that I can pick up cheap, and then resell on eBay or Craigslist. Sales as a profession is hard to do correctly, but the challenge can be rewarding. But, selling to some of the people on eBay is anything but rewarding; some of them are real pieces of work. I've had a few people who didn't pay after winning my auctions, and I've had to go through the process of getting my selling fees back from eBay on more than one occasion, after buyers renege on their end of a deal. About six years ago I had one individual click on a “Buy it” button on a Vespa like scooter I was selling, he then turned around and give me negative feedback because he was confused by how the system worked. I had a not so pleasant conversation on the phone with this Ding Dong, and it wasn't pretty. As a result, I try and avoid selling anything a dumb person might want. I have a low tolerance for financial dealing with idiots; if only someone would invent the IQ filter. Craigslist is a little better, but sometimes I ignore email replies that I know are from people that I don't want to deal with, or Spammers.
And we all know what we would do to Spammers if we could just get our hands on them around here, “spit.”
Here lately, I've been getting the itch to throw some pots; I'm a potter amongst other things, and the kids have reeked havoc on the dishes that I made years ago. But first I have a bedroom to add for my oldest son, and more house painting to do. I've forgotten what boredom feels like a long time ago, and I have a feeling It may have something to do with that little voice in the back of my head, coming from my spouse with her honey do list in one hand, and a cattle prod in the other. But it's just a hunch.
The zucchini that I purchased last week was made into zucchini bread! Oh the splendid aroma of zucchini bread, with a chunk of melting butter running all over it. “Mmmmmmm.” Oh, if only I had more zucchini, then maybe we could make more of that wonderful nutty bread.
But Wait! Maybe Daryl from from across the street has more zucchini he wants to unload...
Run run run, “Knock Knock Knock,” on Daryl's door.
“Anyone home? Yooouuu Hoooooo!”
“I'll help you with more of those zucchini Daryl!”
“Buddy?”
“I see you hiding behind that curtain!”
“Open up! I need more zucchini!”
“KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!”
“Come on, be a pal!... Buddy?...”
No comments:
Post a Comment