oops

Wickett's hiding spot. Fortunately, it's sturdier now following some "emergency" engineering.

The life of cycling clothes is a vicious cycle.

1. Wash
2. Dry
3. Fold/roll/pair/etc.
4. Wear
5. Peel off and fling to bottom shelf or washer
6. Repeat

Winter is the toughest season as there are quite a few items that we only have one of. So if we get hit by rain or other events, the sudden discovery that clothes didn't make it from the washer to the dryer on a weekend morning can cause serious panic.

A couple years ago I got some nifty snap together shelving units from Target. They've worked well. They're ventilated in all sides so the occasional not quite dry clean stuff can dry and the frequent nasty wet dirty stuff doesn't die on the bottom shelf if it doesn't make it straight to the washer. I've been meaning to engineer some improvements to the snap-together-ness of the shelf for a while...

Sunday night, I walked into the house with the dog food. I clipped one of the "snaps" and it was clearly a very important one. Within a few minutes, the whole deal came down. Now it's put together better. I wish I'd done it sooner, but it wouldn't have been any more fun if I had.

I'm cautiously optimistic that my engineered solution to make the unit stronger will survive even if I managed to knock out one of the snaps again. I think since it's tied together, it'l hold together well enough that I can replace the missing snap.

But, only time will tell...

T-Bob before the fall

We started the weekend on Friday evening the way we start most weekends. Stuffing our faces.

This time, we'd ventured over to Aparicio's at 18th and Avenue K for some Mexier Tex-mex. They did not disappoint. We hung out longer than usual and eventually wandered over to Braum's for ice cream. Nothing like a little frozen dairy to warm you up on a cold Texas Friday night.

Marty and Nick

My original Saturday plan was to take a nice long jaunt on the motorcycle in the morning and sneak in a bicycle ride in the afternoon. However, I woke up to find that 33 degrees really was just as cold as I remembered. So I had some breakfast and went to the 8:00 ride start to harass anyone dumb enough to ride. Which turned out to be Marty and Nick.

I ran a few more errands (I may, allegedly, have visited a guitar store and picked up a new guitar. Allegedly.) before bundling up and joining a crew for an afternoon ride. While there was certainly no shortage of Indians, we had a surfeit of cheifs as well. Yet, somehow, we all agreed to proceed in a generally southeasterly direction. Unfortunately, we seemed to agree to do so at mach 3. A tad quick for my broken self. Fortunately, they took mercy upon me, and we carried on at a more reasonable pace over to Sachse where we dropped George. And Charles.

By the time we made it back to Plano, I was utterly and completely done for. Longest 3 miles in my life back to the house. But, a good night's sleep, and I enjoyed a lovely ride down to SMU on Sunday morning with Nick and T-Bob. Bob and I may, allegedly, have suggested that the operator and passenger of a black Land Rover were douche bags. Allegedly. On Lover's Lane no less. I'm pretty sure they were late for church.

By the time we got to SMU, it was really threatening to drizzle. So we bailed. Yup. Turned right around. Well. Almost. T-Bob may have decided to have a "Dude! Hold my beer and watch this!" moment with a curb. He's only in a soft cast. Heal up quick, dude! With our wounded compatriot in tow, we took it easy back home. It turns out 31 miles were about right for me on Sunday, given the cold and the general level of pain from ambling along with a broken ankle and broken shoulder blade. Amanda, it seems, rode 27 miles. Which, by her account, was clearly 6 miles too far. Perhaps she'll share her side of that story.

Western Burger

I can honestly say the only appropriate follow up to their burgers is a nap. Which I also took.

The experts can say what they will about the importance of diet and appropriate physical therapy following an injury. I'll stick with some painful miles on the bike and a burger. Thanks.

Why do today what you can do in the middle of the night? Last night, I decided to hook up the fuel pressure gauge in our new truck. Not a bad idea in itself, but the fuel pump chose that exact moment to die. I couldn't be happier, since it forced me to replace the fuel pump (cheaper) and discover that the injector pump (rather more expensive) seems to be just fine. I should learn better than to trust malfunction codes from computers. I discovered that the replacement part could be had - cheaply - from the Dallas office of Cummins Southern Plains - at the late hour of 10:30 pm! So... I trekked down there and got one. I muttered to myself as I pulled in to the garage, "I should just go ahead and swap those out. It shouldn't be too bad." And it wasn't. Note to self: When changing fuel pumps, put the fuel tank on the downhill side of things. I think I still smell like diesel.