untitled and more uns

I loathe this time of year. There is no one factor that creates this palpable malaise.  It is a myriad of external stimuli and internal conflict.  People out and about in their cars going god knows where at all times of the day to do god knows what with god knows who.  This cycle of whatever the holiday season hath become when you're too old to be excited about exchanging wrapped turds.  Staring at the shelves of winter gear as I get ready for my commute to work without taking into account the constant fifteen mile an hour headwind I wasn't expecting.  That thing inside me that says I need to make the most of every day talking down to the part of me that wallows in the miserable stenchy guilt of not wanting to do much of anything at all.

Probably has nothing to do with any of those things.

All I wanted to do this past weekend was ride my bike, attend the local bike shop Christmas party, do some trail work on the Winter Shart Tarck course... and mebbe sneak in some laps afterwards.  I'm undecided if I'm going to race at the new for 2022 venue, and this was gonna be chance to determine my interest level.

Then there was the rain.  A massage in the middle of Saturday that The Pie had gifted me for Christmas during the short break in the rain.

BTW:  An annual (or so) massage is probably like driving your car around for a couple years, putting it into the ditch a few times, flooring it at every green light, jumping every railroad track crossing, clocking up 75,000 miles... and then thinking an oil change will make it all better.  I did enjoy my massage, but suffice to say, my body (specifically all the things I damaged this past summer) is not well.

The rain kept me down to one short Sad Dad™ ride on the greenway...

no cruise over to the shop party, and then no ride on Sunday because... we had to head over to my mom's place to euthanize her cat.  Can't say I was in the mood for another Sad Dad™ after that.

When it rains, it pours.

Regret coming over for a quick read yet?

I'm looking for the light at the end of the tunnel.  My mom already has a new adult cat living with her, so hopefully that will ease her grieving process.  I'm thinking about Winter Shart Tarck, mebbe doing the Moab Rocks Stage Race.  I'm 100% headed to Snowshoe for the World Cup in July.  I'm leaning hard into the idea of heading back to the Breck Epic to get my revenge.

I've got a couple books from the library.  Will be nice to bury my head into something, even if I have to wear readers now.  I haven't read a book since the pandemic started back in  March 2020.  Dammit.

What did Jack Donaghy say about fiction being for people with beards... ?

Hopefully this blerhg post was shitty enough that people won't be all, "I wish Dicky would write more."  I mean, I covered all the hot topics already in the past... why road bikes should have drooper posts, why cyclocross races should be done on ONE BIKE (no pit bikes), where babies come from, how to write a bulletproof resume (hint, leave out the part about being a bike messenger for twenty five years), five things you shouldn't put in your mouth, and why the world would be a better place if we had one global potato-based economy.

Pretty sure I covered all that.

The other day, Barlow told me a story about a conversation he had with a homeless person the other day.  The shirtless man told him that he'd be all set once he married himself a sugar momma.  

Here's to the power of positive thinking.