Mudville
My enthusiasm for biking has taken a hit this week. Every spare second of my time has been consumed with trying to get the team details in order. If I read or write another message about t-shirts, team bio details, or sponsor letters I'm going to flip my fucking wig. I think I need an intervention for 24 hours, basically so I don't show up at the MTBNJ picnic and postal the whole lot of you. That would be so bad for t-shirt sales, I'll grant you that. Though I guess I could wait until later to drop off the deep end. Due diligence insanity planning is where it's at.
So a bit of no joy in Mudville right now.
What does it all mean Basil?
How many one line catch phrases can I use in this post?
Walter and Steve both commented they like this better, which is cool. The 7 Weeks blog was too focused, not free form enough. While an occasional haiku isn't out of the realm of possibility most of that blog was focused and pointed, like a stick. You just didn't get so much of this:
I wander lonely
As a clam and bits and bits
And kibbles and bits
That's beautiful. What you get on this side of the fence is free-form garbage after a long day at work. I'm spent. Mudville Station here I come. Aside from work and Team MTBNJ I'm getting pelted with IMs from Nat about our psychotic daughter. "She won't sleep. She just sits there screaming no. She's playing but crying. Yes real tears. I need a drink and smoke."
You see, she was sick. Or she is sick. No more fever but all of the sudden she seems afraid of sleep. So she fights gallantly until she cannot physically keep her eyes open anymore. Then she sleeps, wakes up, and screams. It's a blast. I may go home and open another Bear Republic 22 oz bomber. Figure the end of February is a long time away. Besides, it would be more impressive to lose 15 pounds than 12 in 4.5 months.
So it looks like this week will only be the Tuesday ride. I'm trying not to think about this but I don't see how I can avoid the trainer until mid-late November. I could try to ride after work but Nat is usually bordering on insane when I get home, especially this week. Tonight I'm sending her out and taking on Sir Screams-A-Lot myself with my Double Douce. My only other option is waking up at 5:00 am and hitting the road. Sounds like fun if you're into things like stapling your hand to the floor.
I guess it's not odd that my desire to get up and ride nearly 2 hours before the sun comes up is pretty low. By "low" I mean Death Valley low. I was motivated when the races were still on but now I'm liking sleep. Plus I don't get to sleep until after 11:00 most of the time right now.
I don't feel like a fat fuck yet but 3 rides a week isn't going to cut it for the next month I can tell you that.
* scene change *
So after the bath tonight I noticed Julia had small spots of rash all over her body. Nat happened to be calling the doctor to ask about her not eating and mentioned the rashes, and they said we could bring her in.
So we brought her in.
And I'm there filling out the paperwork and Steve calls with some good news. I mean, he has no idea I've declared a 24 hour hiatus which means nothing really. So far in this hiatus we've gotten a lead on another potential rider and Steve's calling me with good news all the while I'm filling out this form. So my attention isn't all there as I'm putting down things like my daughter's name, which would explain why they said, "Your daughter's name is Giant Bicycles?"
I'm all like, "Whatever, Giant is sick."
And we get in the office and they take her temperature which takes all of 1 second and she flips her wig totally. They do it again 5 minutes later and she flips her wig, and flips her wig again, spins her head around 360 degrees and starts vomiting fire.
Anyway she has rosiola or some shit. All kids get it and so here I am standing in the kitchen with my blackberry finally drinking my Bear Republic 22 oz Red Rocket Ale and let me tell you it's the best fucking beer I've had in a long time. Nat didn't get her free time but hey it's cool because Julia should be better in a few days.
* scene change *
On the train on the way to work. This hiatus idea was stupid. Unless I totally unplug from the computer it's impossible to stay away from anything. It's ok, a nice beer, a Rutgers upset, and a good night of sleep makes it all better. It's Friday so whatever happens at work will roll off my back in about 8 hours.
So fuck it dude let's go bowling.
So a bit of no joy in Mudville right now.
What does it all mean Basil?
How many one line catch phrases can I use in this post?
Walter and Steve both commented they like this better, which is cool. The 7 Weeks blog was too focused, not free form enough. While an occasional haiku isn't out of the realm of possibility most of that blog was focused and pointed, like a stick. You just didn't get so much of this:
I wander lonely
As a clam and bits and bits
And kibbles and bits
That's beautiful. What you get on this side of the fence is free-form garbage after a long day at work. I'm spent. Mudville Station here I come. Aside from work and Team MTBNJ I'm getting pelted with IMs from Nat about our psychotic daughter. "She won't sleep. She just sits there screaming no. She's playing but crying. Yes real tears. I need a drink and smoke."
You see, she was sick. Or she is sick. No more fever but all of the sudden she seems afraid of sleep. So she fights gallantly until she cannot physically keep her eyes open anymore. Then she sleeps, wakes up, and screams. It's a blast. I may go home and open another Bear Republic 22 oz bomber. Figure the end of February is a long time away. Besides, it would be more impressive to lose 15 pounds than 12 in 4.5 months.
So it looks like this week will only be the Tuesday ride. I'm trying not to think about this but I don't see how I can avoid the trainer until mid-late November. I could try to ride after work but Nat is usually bordering on insane when I get home, especially this week. Tonight I'm sending her out and taking on Sir Screams-A-Lot myself with my Double Douce. My only other option is waking up at 5:00 am and hitting the road. Sounds like fun if you're into things like stapling your hand to the floor.
I guess it's not odd that my desire to get up and ride nearly 2 hours before the sun comes up is pretty low. By "low" I mean Death Valley low. I was motivated when the races were still on but now I'm liking sleep. Plus I don't get to sleep until after 11:00 most of the time right now.
I don't feel like a fat fuck yet but 3 rides a week isn't going to cut it for the next month I can tell you that.
* scene change *
So after the bath tonight I noticed Julia had small spots of rash all over her body. Nat happened to be calling the doctor to ask about her not eating and mentioned the rashes, and they said we could bring her in.
So we brought her in.
And I'm there filling out the paperwork and Steve calls with some good news. I mean, he has no idea I've declared a 24 hour hiatus which means nothing really. So far in this hiatus we've gotten a lead on another potential rider and Steve's calling me with good news all the while I'm filling out this form. So my attention isn't all there as I'm putting down things like my daughter's name, which would explain why they said, "Your daughter's name is Giant Bicycles?"
I'm all like, "Whatever, Giant is sick."
And we get in the office and they take her temperature which takes all of 1 second and she flips her wig totally. They do it again 5 minutes later and she flips her wig, and flips her wig again, spins her head around 360 degrees and starts vomiting fire.
Anyway she has rosiola or some shit. All kids get it and so here I am standing in the kitchen with my blackberry finally drinking my Bear Republic 22 oz Red Rocket Ale and let me tell you it's the best fucking beer I've had in a long time. Nat didn't get her free time but hey it's cool because Julia should be better in a few days.
* scene change *
On the train on the way to work. This hiatus idea was stupid. Unless I totally unplug from the computer it's impossible to stay away from anything. It's ok, a nice beer, a Rutgers upset, and a good night of sleep makes it all better. It's Friday so whatever happens at work will roll off my back in about 8 hours.
So fuck it dude let's go bowling.
Labels: parenthood, pointless