It had been a long day.
My pandemic has been generally okay, but yesterday it was a little underdone and maybe what it needed was a little more sesame and oregano on my covids.
Whatever it was, it could have been better.
Not that there weren’t high points. Remember Legos? I’m not talking about the kind that cost $59 only make one thing, but the old ones, little bricks that you had to think of what you were going to make before you made it? Where the template was that magic space called your imagination?
I found a small bucket of those in Target and brought them home because the boys were coming over. The box said “Danger! Choking hazard! Not for children under 3!” Kohaku just turned 2 so I figured he’d be fine.
Sure enough he tried one but spit it out. Next to “Choking hazard!” they should also have added “Tastes like shit!”
And then I was kind of surprised. I had forgotten how excited little kids can get making things. We made some stuff together but mostly they snapped together the bricks, adding fanciful things like propellers to gardens.
If I ever grow up I’m going to get a garden and put a propeller in it.
For dinner I had a gourmet feast. I eat cheap and I eat well, averaging about $5 a day for three squares that include homemade mostly everything. But tonight things got fancy because I chopped and fried up a couple of strips of bacon to put in the mashed potatoes.
This left me with a bunch of bacon fat, one of the Eight Wonders of the Ancient World and the First Wonder of the Modern. Bacon fat is versatile because of its prime ingredients, bacon and fat. In this case I got it good and bubbling and then used it to fry up the edges of my cornbread.
Cornbread fried in bacon fat is pretty darn good.
But at the end I looked at the plate and felt a bit remorse. It was already 6:30 and too late to go for a ride.
“But wait!” I said to myself. “Don’t you always tell people that even a 20 minute ride is better than nothing at all?”
“Yeah,” I answered, “but that’s what I SAY, it’s not what I DO. There is a DIFFERENCE.”
When you don’t want to ride, excuses are plentiful as weeds in an unkempt front yard. The most prolific weed is “I don’t want to get all kitted up to ride twenty lousy minutes.”
But then my commuter bike was leaning against the wall reproachfully. “I don’t need no kit,” she said.
My road bike reproached, too. “It takes you five minutes to kit and shoe up, max.”
I put on my bicycle clothes and went for a twenty minute ride. I really didn’t feel like going a minute over twenty because, bacon fat. And it was chilly. And I am weak.
When it came time to make The Decision, though, I’d warmed up a touch, just enough to tackle Abbottswood, which would add a few minutes. Done with that and sweating, I reached the Fork in the Road but plowed on, coasting down to Vallon. The Monaco climb was going to add a few more.
At the end I eschewed Whitley-Collins and took the cheap way home down Highridge.
I still got in a bunch of climbing and a forty minute ride.
It felt pretty good.
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