Godspeed and Farewell.

But I woke up this morning with a piece of past caught in my throat

and then I choked

I...
I guess I've learned the taste of days that will always burn.
I...
I guess I've learned if it's in the corner of my eye I can't always turn

~ Rites of Spring, 'For Want Of'


Don't ask, I'm not going to talk about it now.

- Ryan

...Did He Say "Raccoon Trap?"

Another week of avoiding work in the basement has gone by quite nicely. The dadgum main room is usable (and highly used) now so the urge to move everyone and everything back out to sand and seal the floor just isn't there for me. Or Tammy. Or the kids.

Got the tonneau cover back on the truck, which guarantees a call within the next few days to go help someone move something... and I'll have to take it off again. Never fails.

Maxwell's demon may very well be a real and quantifiable Spirit of Perversity. And he apparently lives under my sink.

Rode again today (a real ride, not an 'I got on the bike just to keep the streak alive' thing) and verified that I still, in fact, hate being cold. At least the skies have been incredibly clear, so much that you can see Long's Peak to the North and Pike's Peak to the south. Beauty can do a fair amount of distracting, but just not enough for me to not notice that my knees were turning blue.
Still mud-and-snow (Snud? Mow?) on the trail which means that you can pick any one of the following options when coming up on a stretch of goo:
a) Come to a complete stop, but with no hope of ever getting enough traction to start again. You'll have to walk the bike home.
b) Keep pedaling in a straight line and come out of the mud safely, but pointed in a completely random direction. This turns into step a) at this point.
c) Attempt to keep pedaling and turn with the trail. This will result in the stepping-on-a-wet-bar-of-soap effect with both wheels and you'll fall over. If you're lucky, you'll land on one of the softer stumps or fluffier rocks before going to step a).
When things start going iffy on the trail, I have a tendency to look for the softest possible bail spot, and frankly, it'd be a lot easier if we had more fat kids here, standing by as nature's pillows. There are just never enough fat kids to go around. Maybe Obama will fix that imbalance.
Or fix mine. Either way.

Speaking of yesterday, we made it 16 years without Tammy killing me in my sleep. I'm not sure what the 16th anniversary present is supposed to be, but hopefully it was either the 'Your Own Pack Of Gum That You Don't Have To Share With The Kids' or 'Boots That Were Really Really On Sale' anniversary.
She's entirely too good for me, but I'm not letting go of her just to see if she'll come to her senses. I must be some sort of raccoon trap like the one in Where The Red Fern Grows (go read it) for her.
We had a blast looking at model homes and dreaming about upgrades (or, in my case, dreaming about being DONE with upgrades.) We took Sage out with us in the morning and, surprise, didn't get knifed during breakfast at the biker joint. Dinner was at Union Bistro here in town, and impeccably presented, delicious and with my sweetheart. Great days.

Dub

Back on the bike.

Found that while a series of 50+ degree days does melt the snow in the sidewalks, it does not guarantee a mud-free trail. Every shadowed corner was a magical journey to the land of primordial sludge... hence Tammy asking sometime later, "why is there mud in the kitchen?"

The basement is coming along - still have to sand and seal the floors, finish the windowseat and put up the desk and cabinets in the office, but that's small beer compared to the work already (and thankfully) done. Should have pictures up shortly.

Burke made it through his baptism in one shot, even though the water was, shall we say, brisk?
Great day.

Back to work - more to come, assuming no supervillans ascertain my secret identity and begin stealing my mail.

- Ryan