Time Travel

It was a very low-key four day Thanksgiving break.  We, The Pie and I, decided to keep it quiet... close to home.

Thursday I decided to start the anal compulsive sorting of shit in the entertainment center.  I had finally bit the bullet and bought a flat screen and a Blu-ray (but well before Black Friday in order to give "the man" a middle finger and spend @ $100 more than I had to), and found that our second hand entertainment center was a haven for old boxes, wires, VHS tapes, recordable DVDs, and all manner of uselessness.  Whilst frittering and wasting the hours in an offhand way, I lost track of time, made a huge mess, and when trying to step over said mess, I stubbed my toe on the foot of the couch.

That, in and of itself, was the most brilliant thing I did all weekend.  It did not stop me from going over to Bill Nye and Ramsay's place for typical (but not so typical) Thanksgiving foodage with the family.

Pleasant, normal people stuff.  Gathering, eating, drinking, conversating.  Not so bad being normal sometimes.

Friday.  I had planned on finally actually "racing" my cross bike in an actual cross race...

But my toe was very unhappy less than 24 from the initial stubbing.  Sad.  Free cross race less than a twenty minute ride from the house, and I pull up lame with a terrible back story.  Still, The Boy (who was in town) and I headed over to watch anyways.

Fun to watch, envious of the racer folk.  Looked like a pleasant afternoon of bumping around a grassy park. Headed to Birdsong Brewery afterwards and came home to this on my front door:

You're welcome for the slightly used Ardent, Kangalangamangus.

Saturday, I was much more motivated. 

The annual hanging of the number plates, an indication of a "season" being truly over.

So that's done.  What else?  Bleed three sets of XTR brakes?

Break out the bleed kit, check for all the parts, read the instructions, leave everything on the work bench, and go rake leaves instead.  I'm more familiar with that process and can see the results much easier.

Numbers hung, leaves dealt with using blower, mower, rake, and anger... I will have to make sure I go for a ride on Sunday.

But then I wake up unmotivated the next day, finding better use of my time Photoshopping my friend's Crosspump photos on Facebook.

Eventually others made better ride plans, I hopped in Joey's luxurious Camry, and we headed to the US National Whitewater Center to ride with the Trail Coordinator/Head Off-Leash Dog Ball Buster/You're Going the Wrong Way Informer/Log in the Trail Remover, Lee Flythe... who as you can see has a hard job even while going for a simple bike ride... even though he was able to go for a bike ride and call that "his job."

Come home, clean up, head out to a Faster Mustache "meating" that was an actual meeting and not just a taco party.  Plans being made for the 2014 Tour duh Charlotte... because it is apparently not going to plan itself.

Come home, go to bed, wake up parched from a heavily sodium laced General Tsao's chicken, go back to bed, wake up again, find myself in front of the keyboard, and now it's now.

Tomorrow is still the future.