1996 is vintage in bicycle years!

My "new" 1996 Trek 5000















The ratio is probably something akin to dog years. Bicycles, for the most part, have a relatively
short life span. They take a beating and are not often well-cared for, ie, left outside, thrown down, crashed, etc. Finding a 13 year old bike in great condition is somewhat rare, as in the case of the Trek I just got. It was ridden a few times, then put in a basement time capsule for 12 years.

One thing I've found about riding at my advanced age: one cannot turn one's head around as easily to check for oncoming traffic! I guess I used to be able to spin my head around as a teenager, put not anymore. If I try to turn my body for a better view, I get paranoid about falling over. Perhaps things will loosen up a bit as I get into better shape. In the meantime, I do a lot of stopping and starting when I have to turn corners or move into traffic. I just thought it would be a tad easier to assimilate back into this activity...not! I am however, not deterred. Riding is becoming quite addicting, something that is written about quite often in bicycle magazines and online forums. Could be worse. I could have taken up some other "addiction" with less benefits. The only downside: $$$. But, I'm learning how to ration out that as well.

Time for some inventory clearance on eBay.

The first of several bicycles going on eBay...an early nineties Trek 2300 Carbon/Aluminum road bike. They made this model out of both materials for some reason. It's kind of a collector's item but needs to go in order to "finance" a few other projects and the arrival of my everyday rider coming soon...a 1996 Trek 5000. The 5000 is a few years old but was not ridden for many years by its owner (less than 100 miles according to the listing). Since I can't afford a new Trek Madone yet (Lance and Levi's ride), this one will suffice.


Photos forthcoming of the "new" one when I gets here.

The 2300 was purchased as a frame only and I added all new components...that was the fun part. Selling it, packing it, and shipping it won't be quite the joy of building it.

But...its' all good.

At least I saw them ride by!

The Tour of California wraps up this weekend. I know I have never been a sports fan of any form, but...I guess I'm a fan of this tour thing. Lance has returned with his entry in the Tour of California, and a guy named Levi Leipheimer from Santa Rosa (and Lance's teammate) is the rider to watch. Check out the AMGEN site if you're interested in the stages and routes. My close encounter came near the end of Stage 3, San Jose to Modesto last Tuesday.

I managed get my lazy butt out of house just as a monsoon-like deluge ended around 4:30. Drove about 4 blocks, parked in a nearby neighborhood and sprinted to the intersection by the college where the peloton was to make a turn toward downtown and the finish. The Tour of California rode by, making the 90 degree right turn without incident. They had bunched up together by then, ie, the main group (peloton) closed the gap with the break-away riders.

The crowd started screaming, "Here they come!" just as I reached the intersection. Standing one row of onlookers back, I raised Loretta's point-and-shoot camera (mine stayed home due to the rain, bad mistake it turns out), and commenced to push the bottom repeatedly as they glided by around the corner. Unfortunately, the button I was pushing was the on/off button! When I finally noticed that the flash was not going off and the lens was moving in and out each time I pushed the button, I recovered from that temporary insanity and started taking pictures. Pictures of the pavement, the man's hand waving in front of me, and the old bag's camera who raised her's up blocking my view.


Nice shot, huh? One of those wheels may or may not belong to Lance or Levi. But, they were in there somewhere.

There's always next year when I can plan on attending more than one of the starts or finishes somewhere in California...and bringing my own camera.

I...

I am a 59 year old male.

I have a wife and live with her in Northern Central California with three dogs (one blind one, one sick one, and one very small one).

I have two ex-wives.

I have a mother. I don’t have a father any longer.

I have two children, one female, one male...and one grandson and a son-in-law.

I have two younger sisters and five nieces and nephews. One sister I communicate with semi-regularly, the other I don’t.

I had two grandmothers and one grandfather (I never met one grandfather).

I daydream and fantasize all the time about money and things I’d like to do and places I’d like to see.

I am not proud of everything I’ve done in my life.

I have a feeling there is still something big and important I am destined to accomplish.

I have traveled to and lived in several states and foreign countries.

I play the guitar. I used to play drums and learned to play the accordian.

I make a living working for a major retailer, though I have also worked as an Avon delivery person, a fast food employee, a tire installer, a creamery worker, a member of the armed forces, a restaurant manager, a radio DJ, and a photographer.

I have a large bucket list.

I have recently taught myself to work on bicycles and would like to make a living building custom bicycles.

I rode Harley Davidsons for five years, and will ride again someday soon.

I have several tattoos and plan to get several others.

I have pattern male baldness though my hair has remained black (what’s left).

I had a quintuple bipass as well as four angioplastys and a heart attack at a very young age.

I love to cook and consider myself a self-taught chef with no desire to ever work at this vocation professionally.

I used to have many friends, now only a select few.

I pray almost every day, though I don’t really know who I praying to besides myself.

I am an optimist 80% of the time.

I don’t take anti-depressants any longer.

I used to work out at a gym five days a week.

I weight 238 pounds right now though my goal is 198.

I would like to be a vegetarian but am far from it right now.

I love to write and would like to write short stories and a novel.

I want to publish a book of my photographs.

I believe most people think I am funny and witty though sometimes moody and too serious.

I smoke and drink alcohol.

I cry during sentimental movies and some news stories.

I am very critical of others uncaring and rude attitudes, beyond that I give people the benefit of the doubt until they prove otherwise.

I believe in capital punishment and think that the list of capital crimes should be expanded.

I can water ski, but not snow ski.

I hate most professional sports and have virtually no interest in following any of them.

I have Jamie Leigh Curtis’ autograph and lip print on a napkin. I once had a 20 minute conversation with Mark Hamill in person. I’ve met Lou Ferrigno, George Fenneman, Bruce Hornsby, Carol Kane, Jack LaLane, Fess Parker, Engineer Bill...I know there’s more, can’t think of them right now. I interviewed Lloyd Bridges on the phone.

I heard my name read aloud on my birthday by Sheriff John.

I earned three combat air medals in Viet Nam.

I hope I win the lotto.

I have no idea where this came from, it just sounded like fun at the time,

Face time in Seattle

I recently had the opportunity to fly to Seattle and meet the newest member of my family, my grandson Rowan. Born on December 17th 2008, he just turned 6 weeks old. I'm quite sure I was much more impressed with him than he with me. Besides simply being able to simply see him in person, I managed to fulfill another small goal: hold him and rock him to sleep. In fact, I was even able to take him from a fussy crying state to sleeping in my arms...at least once (my efforts weren't always successful I might add).
He is quite the beautiful baby, this coming from someone who rarely doles out any compliments in the direction of newborns...I happen to think most should be kept swaddled from head to toe until they are at least two or three years of age as a public service (remember that Seinfeld "ugly baby" episode?).























All babies have their "moments", as evidenced by these two photos. He was not real happy about being dragged out of his nice, warm house and shuttled to Pike Place on a cold, dreary, Seattle morning. Not even flying fish impress him at this point. He does love riding in the car though, blissfully asleep on the way there and on the way home.

All in all, the short, hectic trip to Seattle only whetted my appetite for more "face time" with Rowan James Gonzales...not to mention with my daughter and son-in-law, Jen & Roth. I don't know exactly when I'll be back, hopefully soon. I do want my grandson to know his Grandpa Skip, aka, Grandpa James.

What a maroon!

A depressed writer who has spent most of the money he earned from his first book...

That title was taken from a description from a movie playing on cable today (The Dog Problem). The film itself appears somewhat forgettable, but the title may serve a purpose in this blog.

A depressed writer? Isn’t that statement alone redundant in nature.

So, what is a depressed writer? Certainly not a writer who has been “successful” enough to sell some of his work, perhaps in the form of a novel. Would that writer have realized one of his greatest dreams: the selling (to a publishing firm and the public) of his work(s)? And would that goal make him more happy, more self-actualized, and not depressed?

I suppose the same could be said about a musician, or a photographer, or an artist. Or any number of artist endeavor based professions. You know, those right-brain type intellects; right-brain meaning random, holistic synthesizing, subjective thinking human beings. Versus left-brain type intellects; meaning logical sequential, rational, analytical, objective thinking human beings.

How about a writer/photographer/artist who embraces the left side of his brain as much as the right side of his brain, ie, he loves the logical, planned, analytical, mathematic side of life just as much as the sentimental, sunset-loving, spontaneous, what-is-the-meaning-of-life side of his brain?

A depressed writer? Isn’t that redundant (adj, exceeding what is necessary or normal; serving as a duplicate). In the same category as in tuna fish, lower down, raise up, big giant, or any number of other pleonasms* we use on an almost daily basis.

So, if you ever meet a writer who is not depressed (clinically or otherwise), how about more precisely describing him as a happy or non-depressed writer? Which, now, would be a term that could be considered an oxymoron (adj; figure of speech that combines two normally contradictory terms). Now, we may, indeed, have found an example of a conundrum.

Conundrum: verb; a paradoxical, insoluble, or difficult problem.

I feel I am more of a conudrum than an oxymoron. Emphasis on moron (verb; disused psychological term for a person with a mental age between 8 and 12, slang for a stupid person).

I prefer to consider myself ignorant versus moronic. Ignorant: adj; without knowledge, sophistication, or, at times, intelligence. An ignorant, moronic, depressed writer/photographer who has never been able to afford therapy.

I may have simply made some poor choices in life. But at this point in time, I’m quite comfortable with it all, et al...as well my future prospects...despite it all.

*pleonasm: verb; the use of more words (or even word parts) than necessary to express an idea clearly. Kind of like this blog!

Is phlegm nutritious? And other questions to ponder this new year.

Haven't written anything for a while. Don't care! Oh, shit! I'll admit it...I do care.

With the passing from 2008 to 2009, it seems a good time to at least ponder what this means to me. No matter how hard I try to ignore the importance or non-importance of January 1st compared to any other date during the year, I'll always be destined to dredge up fresh platitudes about new beginnings, past failures, and other nostalgic sentimentalisms. First and foremost in my thoughts: what the hell happened in 2008!

So much of what transpired last year I wish to forget. Let's face it, it wasn't the greatest year for most of us. At the very least, it was somewhat scary as well as historical. A rowdy, over-blown presidential election and the choosing of a new leader who promises real change (for the better) this time. The fall of an already crumbling, precarious economy and roller coaster stock market ride. The disgraceful gouging of gas prices followed immediately by a severe record drop in price after the demand went down (duh...do ya' think?). All of the previous keeping the media in a town crier feeding frenzy mode on a daily basis. I'm back to watching the 5:00 0'clock TV news for the first 2 minutes again. When the lead story is about some woman who has been keeping 175 cats in her house, I switch back to the Travel Channel to see if Kirsten Gum's program is on (Cash and Treasures...and, yes, she's smokin' hot).

The news media is now obsessed with the upcoming inauguration, punctuated with a couple Afghanistan and Gaza feeds plus a daily dose of the who-gives-a-rat's-ass story of the year What Will You Do After The Digital Conversion? Our "local" Sacramento TV stations even post a countdown clock every time they run a story about this during every newscast. "Only 39 days, 14 hours, 3 minutes, and 17 seconds left until your rabbit ears won't work any longer!!! Find out what you can do about it tonight at 11:00". Anyone who cares about watching television and is still using rabbit ears or an antenna screwed to their roof needs to sell their moonshine still and get a dish or something similar.

For us (Loretta and me), 2008 could be considered the worst year since we've been together (13 years). Not because we had problems or issues with our relationship mind you. But because of the some of the changes we incurred in our life: losing a job, losing a house, losing a longtime best friend (not by death, but lost nonetheless), just to name a few. Those first two loses are just things, possessions, and have since been replaced. The last one...not quite as easy to replicate.

Yes, last year will be one we may talk about for a while. Or maybe it's best to let dead dog's lie. And since I'm quite the (day)dreamer, I should prefer to think about what is in store for us this new year, 2009. Unlike in years past, I didn't make any New Year's resolutions...at least not publicly. I have certainly set some new goals for myself and for Loretta and I as a couple. All of which, by the way, are health and personal in nature, not financial or possession-oriented.

Last year wasn't a great year in my life...save for one, huge, gigantic, epic ray of silver lining light. Jenifer gave birth to her and Roth's first baby and my first grandchild. Rowan James Gonzales was born a couple weeks early on December 17th. Had he come into this world as scheduled, the first week of January, 2008 would have been a total loss on the plus side. I'll thank Rowan personally some day for jumping the gun and what his (early) appearance meant to me.

I closed out 2008 with several weeks of a nasty cold/bronchitis malady that we haven't quite identified and I have not yet totally said goodbye to. It lingers a bit to this day, but is waning as each day goes by. I still have the cough at times as well as that persistent phlegm. Which leads me to the question, "Is phlegm nutritious?" If it is, I should be experiencing some sort of benefit from it. Evidently it isn't. At least I haven't found anything to suggest that it is by Googling that question. Besides, there are other questions for this new year much more profound and pertinent that I must ponder. And ponder them I will, but without much intensity or over-thinking. I reveal one of my resolutions by saying that. Less stress, more fun.

I'll close this one with a quote from one my favorite philosophers, Foghorn Leghorn.





"I say...I better not look...I just might be in there!"