Oh I don't know if i should say this but the rhubarb crunch takes me
back to my childhood
Rebecca says:
is that in a good way?
tell me more
Joel
well its in a plastic Tupperware container, kinda soft and slightly
above room temperature from being in my backpack.
its tart - not too much sugar
and the granola is mostly soft with shome crunchy bits
I used to crack open my lunch bag and pull the top off and I knew it
was homemade. no Twinkies, ding-dongs, fruit roll ups
I was envious of the other kids then
but now i feel pretty special for having homemade.
I appreciate it now for its value and for its value
of all the homemade stuff that's out there, something made with
rhubarb stands out.
its tart, its red, and its a dessert
compared to meat loaf, meat and potatoes, garden vegetables, corn on
the cob it beats them easily.
OK well not homegrown corn on the cob, they are sort of tied
Rhubarb crisp is sort of like ketchup to Midwesterners.
Friday, June 05, 2009
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
No Bronze for me
Miyagi: Why? Fighting fighting. Same same.
Daniel: Yeah, but you knew karate.
Miyagi: Someone always know more.
- The Karate Kid (1984)
So for those of you who know me, I bike. For the past few weeks I have been commuting one way from work by bicycle. It's a source of conversation among my co-workers, who ask questions like, where do you ride to? How far is that? What route do you take? How long does it take?
I usually take the van pool in to work, unload my bike and then from work in the evening I ride to my car which is at the train station in Puyallup. It’s a mix of trail system in King and Pierce county and side roads, preferably ones with wide shoulders and low traffic volume. (Unfortunately the real world has not caught up with the world in my head.)
There is a sense of pride in riding 2 hours and being able to tell people about it. Since I am the guy with the longest commute at work, it verges on a bit of show off-y.
So what is the ride like? When I start out from the office front door, I am clean and neat and generally look and feel like I have been sitting in an office chair all day. By the end of the ride, I am pretty worn out, my face is crusty with sweat, knees and legs are dull and loose, shirt damp and I am ready for a dinner. This metamorphosis takes place and I turn into a commuter.
For the past two or so weeks I have been out riding more often as it gets warmer, my legs and lungs are building up a level of fitness and I can tell.
All this can give a guy an ego. So let me pause and ask the question, do you talk to yourself? While exercising? What do you say? Is it positive? Is it overly positive? Do you ever get the thought you might just be able to take Lance head to head? Dream of riding down the Champs-Élysées with the entire peloton to your back? If so then you and I are not alone. It’s fun to do, but fun only in a sense that it’s a dream and some dreams are best kept to ourselves. I have to admit, I had been dreaming like this for the past few days on my ride home. It’s a fairly mindless ride in some places on the Interurban trail, which is mostly flat, straight.
no one around, and I am cruising along with only rabbits to scare up and cottonwood seeds to dodge, thinking thoughts of greatness.
Today I was gently reminded that we are often not who we think we are. I entered the Trail at Tukwila and 3 miles into it I met up with a rider. Actually, he met up with me. He came up on my left side slowly and kept cruising past me. I matched his speed and checked the speedometer; it was a pace of about 5 miles per hour faster, that me. The funny thing about it was I decided to follow him for a while. Not bad, I can keep up, I thought.
As we approached an intersection we stopped and restarted together. We rode but he inched further away from me.
A second rider, we shall call Mr. Green (shirt) caught both of us and rode past at an even faster pace. At a road crossing, I asked, “what pace are you guys keeping?" Mr. Green, smiled and gave a Houdini-like reply, it really depends on the wind and the temperature, and riding conditions." "We have a pretty good tail wind." I responded “yea, today is a pretty good day" he smiled. The sign changed and we crossed. I followed him and looked at my speedometer. His pace was 7 or 8 miles faster than either me or the other guy! We rode for the next 7 miles until I lost Mr. Green and the other guy in the distance. But not before another guy approached as stealthy as a cat burglar, he took third place from me. He caught the other guy and made it look easy.
I think I have made my point.
These small events in our lives allow us to give pause and reflect on our achievements, both great and small, and place them in the realm of all things. Whether we like it or not. I suppose my perspective has been given greater horizon and depth. And quite a reality check.
Daniel: Yeah, but you knew karate.
Miyagi: Someone always know more.
- The Karate Kid (1984)
So for those of you who know me, I bike. For the past few weeks I have been commuting one way from work by bicycle. It's a source of conversation among my co-workers, who ask questions like, where do you ride to? How far is that? What route do you take? How long does it take?
I usually take the van pool in to work, unload my bike and then from work in the evening I ride to my car which is at the train station in Puyallup. It’s a mix of trail system in King and Pierce county and side roads, preferably ones with wide shoulders and low traffic volume. (Unfortunately the real world has not caught up with the world in my head.)
There is a sense of pride in riding 2 hours and being able to tell people about it. Since I am the guy with the longest commute at work, it verges on a bit of show off-y.
So what is the ride like? When I start out from the office front door, I am clean and neat and generally look and feel like I have been sitting in an office chair all day. By the end of the ride, I am pretty worn out, my face is crusty with sweat, knees and legs are dull and loose, shirt damp and I am ready for a dinner. This metamorphosis takes place and I turn into a commuter.
For the past two or so weeks I have been out riding more often as it gets warmer, my legs and lungs are building up a level of fitness and I can tell.
All this can give a guy an ego. So let me pause and ask the question, do you talk to yourself? While exercising? What do you say? Is it positive? Is it overly positive? Do you ever get the thought you might just be able to take Lance head to head? Dream of riding down the Champs-Élysées with the entire peloton to your back? If so then you and I are not alone. It’s fun to do, but fun only in a sense that it’s a dream and some dreams are best kept to ourselves. I have to admit, I had been dreaming like this for the past few days on my ride home. It’s a fairly mindless ride in some places on the Interurban trail, which is mostly flat, straight.
no one around, and I am cruising along with only rabbits to scare up and cottonwood seeds to dodge, thinking thoughts of greatness.
Today I was gently reminded that we are often not who we think we are. I entered the Trail at Tukwila and 3 miles into it I met up with a rider. Actually, he met up with me. He came up on my left side slowly and kept cruising past me. I matched his speed and checked the speedometer; it was a pace of about 5 miles per hour faster, that me. The funny thing about it was I decided to follow him for a while. Not bad, I can keep up, I thought.
As we approached an intersection we stopped and restarted together. We rode but he inched further away from me.
A second rider, we shall call Mr. Green (shirt) caught both of us and rode past at an even faster pace. At a road crossing, I asked, “what pace are you guys keeping?" Mr. Green, smiled and gave a Houdini-like reply, it really depends on the wind and the temperature, and riding conditions." "We have a pretty good tail wind." I responded “yea, today is a pretty good day" he smiled. The sign changed and we crossed. I followed him and looked at my speedometer. His pace was 7 or 8 miles faster than either me or the other guy! We rode for the next 7 miles until I lost Mr. Green and the other guy in the distance. But not before another guy approached as stealthy as a cat burglar, he took third place from me. He caught the other guy and made it look easy.
I think I have made my point.
These small events in our lives allow us to give pause and reflect on our achievements, both great and small, and place them in the realm of all things. Whether we like it or not. I suppose my perspective has been given greater horizon and depth. And quite a reality check.
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