Stopping To Smell The Roses

Today I went for a hike and bike in Middlesex & Somerset County (NJ), down the D & R (Delaware & Raritan) Canal State Park tow path. I started in New Brunswick, rode up to Bound Brook, followed it around and down to Franklin. I wandered off at Amwell Road and rode over to Colonial Park to take a rest.

For most of my ride I was preoccupied with thinking about all the things I should be doing or need to do as soon as I can tear myself away from having fun and get home to get some work done. As you may or may not know, I’ve been trying to balance the fun with the work better this year and still having a constant struggle. I really hate my brain arguing with itself like that, but what the heck, there wasn’t much to look at this trip so it had to stay active in some way.

I have deadlines, I have jobs and tasks to do, I have ideas to work on, business stuff to handle, bills to pay, calls to make, and things like that, yet here I was, out riding my bike and enjoying another beautiful day. By the way, I haven’t looked into this, but one thought along the way was that the weather seems to be a lot nicer this year than last. I seem to remember it raining a lot more last year. Or was that the year before?

Distractions lost after a while, I found myself in Colonial Park on a beautiful summer day. I peddled over to check out the Rudolf van der Goot rose garden. I was rather surprised to see how many were in bloom, all different colors, all throughout the garden. There were some georgous (and fragrant) Hybrid Tea roses right in the front part. I was attracted over to a deep crimson red rose, the Mister Lincoln. Since I didn’t have my notebook or camera on me to document my visual feelings, I did something else instead that I usually don’t do. I stopped, admired, and then bent over to smell it. During my large inhale of strongly scented rose, the following thought popped into my head:

I quickly thought of my ride down to this point, my struggle for balance and argument with myself, and
then…suddenly, my joy at the sight and aroma of a flowering rose that God put right there for me where I literally stopped to smell the roses. And I’ve got to tell you, they smelled mighty swell.

I so enjoyed the comedy of the moment that I thanked God and then took a few more moments to walk all the way through the garden, admiring many more roses, herbs, and other flowers. Sadly, I didn’t have my camera with me on this trip. I really wanted to capture the massive blooming Lord Baltimore Hibiscus over in the corner.

I have to also say that days and times like this are what give me faith. Despite all the negative things happening in life, God still reminds me that he is there watching, helping, and bringing me roses (and humor) when I need them. Shortly after I got there a couple arrived and followed behind me. They whisked right through all the fragrant Hybrid Tea roses and instead spent a lot of time bending over the herbs in the back that actually had signs in front ot them saying, “smell me.”

The girl would stop at each one, smell it, and then complain to the guy that she couldn’t smell anything. It was killing me that she didn’t just do it once or twice, she stopped at every single plant that had a “smell me” sign and every single time she complained to the guy that she couldn’t smell anything. At one point I almost turned and told her, “Lady, you have to ignore the signs and stop to smell the roses,” but I decided it wasn’t up to me to give her that lesson. And then I thought of a funny tattoo to get and where to put it.

My time is up for now. I just wanted to remind you to stop and smell the roses as often as possible, wherever they are.

New Favorite Sport

I think I might have a new favorite sport - Mountain Biking. I love hiking, especially on mountains, but I think I like biking even better. The only downside for me is that I can’t carry as much photography equipment as I’m bouncing up and down mountains.

I love riding my bike. It’s something that I’ve done since I was a toddler and I still try to do almost every day. Most times I just ride around town, a few towns over, in and around parks, or on local bike routes. I do it mostly for the exercise and fun of it, but sometimes as transportation to save gas.

I’ve never had a great bike. Actually, when I was younger there really weren’t so many different types, at least not like today. Then I travelled and moved around a lot and during the prime of my life when I should have been riding, I didn’t.

A few years ago I missed it and decided to buy a new bike. I got a relatively inexpensive hybrid because I didn’t want a bike that was worth more than my car and I wasn’t sure how much I would use it. I wanted a hybrid because…basically I know my own personality and sometimes I feel the need to go “off road.”

It turns out I don’t use my bike nearly as much as I would like to, but enough so I carry it around with me every day. I just throw it in the back of my truck and I’m ready to ride whenever I get the chance. I love exploring with my bike. When I first moved to where I live now, I got the bike out and drove it all around to learn the area. Actually, I still do that, only further out and different directions now.

Yesterday, when I got out of work it was still nice out and I felt like riding. I drove to a nearby location that I knew had some mountain bike trails that I haven’t tried yet. I knew the trails were there, but I had no idea what level rider they were for. As far as mountain biking goes, I still consider myself a “beginner” or “intermediate” because I usually only ride on mellow flat surfaces or streets. I had no idea that the place I went to was considered “advanced” trails. I very quickly found out.

I was sort of surprised when I pulled into the parking lot and spotted about a dozen cars with bikers all around. Some were just coming in, some were getting ready to leave, some were blowing up tires, some were putting frames together, and some were putting their camelbacks on. They all seemed to be doing something besides resting. It was sort of a strange sight to see. All these people seemed to be like a certain breed or type of person. I supposed sports like that do attract certain kinds of people, and apparently I’m one of them - or at least I want to be like one of them. I don’t quite have the bike for it though.

These people all had bikes that were worth thousands. Titanium or carbon fiber, or whatever the lightest, strongest material is. They all had nice shocks and disc brakes and seemed to be stripped down essentials of only what they needed. And all the bikes looked trail-worn, not at all shiny new.

My bike is about 4 or 5 years old now and it looked brighter and shinier than everyone else’s. Nobody had a bright paint job like mine had. Nobody had a little pack under their seat and another strapped to the front of the handlebars like I had. Nobody had a water bottle attached to the frame like I do. I also didn’t notice any headlights, tail lights, speedometers, horns, bells, or radios, but surely somebody must have had at least one of those things. There’s was probably just smaller, dirtier, and more powerful than mine so I didn’t notice it.

As I walked towards the back of my truck to pull my bike out, I inquired to the rider I parked next to, “Wow, seems to be a lot of riders here. Does that mean there’s some good trails here?”

He returned a deviously friendly smile and simply said, “Oh yeah, there’s some pretty nice trails here. And the best part is their legal.”

From that answer I judged he had done a little illegal trail riding, but I wasn’t nearly ready for that yet, so I didn’t ask anything further. I’ll figure that out later on when I get some more riding experience. Instead, I put my helmet on, pulled my bike out and was ready to go. I thought it sort of funny that I was good to go in 10 seconds while those experienced, professional-looking dudes were pumping up tires and attaching parts before they could take off.

I had no idea where to go, so I set my stop watch and just followed someone one that I saw take off right before me.

The path went from the parking lot into the woods and split within about 10 or 20 feet. I went left. As it turned out, left seemed to be the path that led straight the hell up the mountain. I made it up the first steep incline and vibrated my butt over the pile of rocks some idiot put the path right over. I maneuvered around the trees, over all the tree roots sticking up on the path, around the next tree, around the big rock, and then down a slight decline before trying to jump the tree lying in the path and then peddling my ass back up the next huge hill. I made it about half way, jumped quickly back on my bike before anyone saw me pushing it and then hit about 10 more obstacles before trying to pedal up another incline way too steep for me to handle. I jumped off huffing and puffing and new (from experience) that I was almost near my maximum safe heart-rate. I was sweating profusely now and when I thought it might be the moment just before I died, I thought I would check my watch to see how long I lasted mountain biking. It said 3:16. That was my first “Holy Shit” of the day.

That “Holy shit” was more because I almost killed myself in less than 4 minutes than the biblical implications of having eternal life. The other 49 or so “Holy shits” came as I caught my breathe and continued on the path. I also sprinkled in lots of “OH MY GODs,” “You’ve got to be kidding me,” and “Are you serious? No way.” and assorted other expletives and questions as to my sanity while riding.

It was without a doubt the most difficult bike riding I have ever done - and I loved it.

I have never run across so many trees lying down in a path in my life. I was able to jump a couple of them; I was not able to jump a couple, and a couple I didn’t even try because I knew it would have been suicide. I have never ridden over so many rocks and tree stumps before. And I may not have ever sweat so much and so fast before. I’m pretty sure I have not gotten my heart pumping like that on purpose. And I know without a doubt I have not seen and been so close to so many deer in such a short period of time.

I’ve been out jogging and riding enough lately to see a lot of deer. Depending on where I am, I kind of expect it. But this place had lots of them and they were right near the bike path. Most seem to be used to mountain bikers going by so they ignore you. I was actually within about 20 feet of them and they just stayed there eating their leaves. One time (when I need a break), I got off my bike and walked toward a deer to see how close he let me get. I made it to about 6-8 feet before he decided to move back a little. Even then, he only jumped back about 20 feet and waited to see what I would do next. Oh yeah, did I mention there were signs up saying “No Hunting?”

I ended up giving myself an awesome workout for about an hour and then decided to head home for dinner. I had lots of fun, but I would guess if I was more experienced at mountain biking I would have wanted it to be a lot longer. After dinner, I looked it up on the internet and found out the trail I was on was considered “advanced” so maybe I’ll have to consider myself a little more than a beginner now since it didn’t kill me.

I’m already researching to find out where I can ride next. I also hope to return to take some pictures of the trail and the deer and hope to post those either here or on my website. I have a few other things to do besides having fun, so stay tuned, it may be a while.

Real Man Diet

Men hate to admit they are on a diet.

Not being much of a man, I’ll admit that I’ve tried a few diets over the years. Why would I be ashamed to admit it? I don’t know, maybe its Barbie’s fault, maybe its society, the media, or advertising companies. Possibly it could be my own self-esteem issues. I don’t confess to be intelligent enough to figure out who is to blame on this issue. I think there could be varying opinions. I prefer not to blame myself because I think I am not the only guy who does not like to admit they are on a diet. I think it is at least a country-wide phenomenon, if not world-wide.

A friend of mine was carrying around this spare tire under his shirt for years. After observing what looked like a slight reduction in the size of his tire, I once heard somebody ask him if he was on a diet. He quickly gave the wrinkled face with disbelief sound effects “Tsss” followed by a long drawn out, “Nooooooooooooo.”

In case that answer wasn’t convincing enough, he threw in a joke, “Why? Do you think I’d look good in a Speedo?”

Another friend claimed “it must be the light” when accused of losing weight, then he turned around to the other side and stuck his belly out as much as he could to see if that helped make him look any more “normal.”

Somebody once made a comment to my smart-ass cousin (yeah, it runs deep in the family) about looking a little skinnier. He replied, “I guess my diet’s working; I try to only drink two six-packs instead of drinking the whole case all at once. That way I save calories and money.”

I was sort of surprised to hear how openly he was willing to admit that he was on a diet, even if it was cleverly disguised as some sort of macho diet.

Over the years, I’ve heard similar things from guys, depending on the personality and situation, such as:
“I just quit eating at fast food places.”
“I’m just eating a little less of everything.”
“I’m just watching what I eat a little better.”
“Nah, I’m not on a diet. It must be an accident because I’ve been playing more baseball.”

I’ve observed that intimacy and social situations seem to play a role in the male response. If you are having a one-on-one conversation with a close friend and you ask about their diet, you might get a completely different answer than if you ask him in front of a room full of strangers at a party where he will be socially obligated to exhibit his manliness and discredit any such notion as a diet. “No way, Dude. Diets are for girls! Are you calling me a chick?”

The last line was usually delivered with clinched fists as if to challenge so in less you were bigger than the guy or just fooling with a buddy, the answer was usually no. Most guys know the line between teasing a friend and challenging his manliness. If you go around doing that, you probably aren’t going to have too many friends.

All of this is my way of leading up to say that I’m not really on a diet, but I am however learning how and “trying to eat well.” I’m also trying to get my fat rump off the couch to move a little more often. A couple years ago I used to walk a lot then I slacked off last year while I did other things. This year I just got fed up with the obesity and decided to finally do something about it.

Diet, nutrition, exercise, being healthy, staying active, all relies heavily on your mental state and capacity. I’m pretty mental so I figure I can do any of it. I’ve kind of been into the power of positive thinking every since reading Dr. Peale’s book many years ago. I just hope I can stay in the right mental state long enough because I have a very long way to go.

My mental state was screwed up for years after getting thyroid disease and almost dying. It screwed up my body pretty bad in many ways. It took a few years to recover and stabilize. Once that was under control, I sat down one day and looked at the enormous ball sitting on my lap and finally got sick of it. I had gained so much weight that the obesity was beginning to cause new medical problems and concerns.

I read yesterday that adult obesity is up over 25% in America. To test that, I did a quick unscientific study of the people I work with. I didn’t ask anyone their weights, but judging by looks and what knowledge I’ve gained in the past few months, I’d say out of 30 people, at least 12 of them are obese and a few others are overweight, but not quite obese yet. Twelve out of 30 is 40%, a lot higher than the nation’s average. An even scarier statistic is that the average age of those 30 people is 26 years old, far too young to be so obese.

With that new-found knowledge and unscientific study, I may have to use some of my blog space to share my personal story. It might be embarrassing for me, but I would hope it might help someone someday. I may not be an expert, but I decided to lose weight and so far I have so I must have learned some things that I could share. Just remember, it’s only to be healthy, but I’m not on a diet.

Stay tuned for the continuation of the story in the near future.
Ty

Bicycling

In the summer I carry my bicycle around in my truck bed.  I have a cap over the bed, so I just throw the bike inside and lock it until I’m ready to ride.  It comes in handy either to exercise or when I want to roam a wide area to photograph things.  As I’m peddling around casually in the park or on a long trec, I’m happy I learned how to ride a bike as a child (and have thus far not forgotten). 

I have many great memories of bike riding, but unfortunately, one I cannot remember is the day I learned how.  I spoke with my sister about this recently.  I informed her of how I remembered riding a bike when I was a kid, but I can’t remember exactly when I started or who taught me.  I don’t remember if I jumped right into it or I started with a tricycle or training wheels.  I assume it was my father who taught me because that seems like something a father teaches his son, but I don’t know for sure.  For all I know, I could have been such a “Momma’s boy” that I got my first bike lesson from my mother.  I somehow doubt it, but you never know.   I’ll have to try to remember to ask my parents next time I see them.  Or I suppose I could do what I usually do and make up my own version of it.  Come to think of it, I’m now starting to remember bits and pieces…

I now remember when I was five years old, we moved out to the country.  I have no idea of the exact situation that lead to that, but we seemed to have gone from poor city folks who couldn’t afford anything to country suburbanites with a new car and a new house on a hill out by the lake.  It was a great, somewhat secluded new neighborhood that was slowly turning from a rural New England vacation getaway for wealthy city folk to a normal suburban neighborhood for middle-class families.  We moved into one of the houses by the lake that was fit and capable to survive in all year.  Yeah, we had electricity and a fireplace.  I had some friends who only came up for the summer because their house didn’t have such luxuries.

Surrounding the half of the lake where we lived was an almost level dirt road with lots of pot holes.  I seem to remember my father taking me down to that dirt road and teaching me how to ride a bike there.  I also remember there were no tricycles (either we couldn’t afford that when we were citifolks or Dad decided they were totally unnecessary).  We also didn’t bother with the whole training wheel thing.  I am beginning to recall a quote that went something like, “You don’t need no tricycle or training wheels.  If you’re ready to ride a bike, get on the thing and ride it.  If you’re not ready, just wait until you are.”  Or something to that effect.

That first time now comes back to me.  Dad, having the same level of confidence in me as he did with every other childhood thing, judged my bike riding status and didn’t even bother to get me a bike.  When I thought I was ready to try it and whined enough for him to teach me, he finally got fed up with listening to me.  “Are you in a big rush to learn how to ride a bike like your brother?”

Then Dad did as he did so many subsequent times, he pulled on my ear lobe and dragged me over to my brother’s bike, which was lying in the front yard. 

When my ear was directly over my brother’s bike, he let go of it and ordered me to pick up the bike.  I did so and followed him down to the dirt road with all the pot holes right after he said, “Come on.”

Once we got down there, I remember my heart almost pumping out of my chest with anticipation.  I don’t quite remember the perspiration flowing down from my forehead, but I’m sure it was.  My father ordered me to hold it steady right there, and quickly picked me up and plopped me down onto my brother’s bike.  My older brother of course was quickly running up behind us yelling at me to get off his bike.  I think the wind was blowing some of dirt road into my eyes too, but I can’t say for certain.

Once aboard my brother’s Schwinn, Dad started pushing me down the dirt road and actually took the time to reassure me, which I thought was very comforting.  “Go ahead, I got you,” Dad told me.

Approximately 5 seconds after Dad’s comforting reassurance, he let go.  I did not realize he let go until about three complete turns of the pedal when I finally went into my first pot hole, bounced 6 inches off the seat, and as I tried to keep my balance, stirred the bike too much to the left and directly into the lake.

Now that I think of it, I believe that was the first day I remember my older brother pounding on me.  He was so upset that I ruined his bike, he just started whaling away as soon as he got to me.  There was no inkling of concern or care for my well-being.  At that age I guess I can’t really blame him.  All I remember was him pulling me out of the water as I still clung to his handlebars because I was so proud of my achievement.  “Did you see me?  Did you see how far I went?”

Bam, right in the shoulder.  I never thought of it then, but after a lifetime of beatings, I have come to appreciate how my brother never hit me in the face.  It was mostly in the arm or stomach, sometimes the leg if we were sitting.  I now realize that’s because he loved me and he never wanted to hurt me, but he did get angry easily and that was the only way he knew how to express it.

I was kind of his human punching bag, only I was like a laughing hyena punching bag.  He would hit me and I would smile or shrug it off.  Not fully appreciating my reaction, he would hit me harder and for some reason that would usually make me laugh louder, which of course would get him more upset and make him want to hit me harder and faster.  It was a vicious cycle that usually went on way too long until my mother broke it up or I had enough and would go climb a tree to get away from him because I was like a little monkey on trees and he wasn’t.

I couldn’t believe my first time riding a bike my brother wasn’t proud of how far I went all by myself, even if it was downhill and into the lake with his bike.  I looked up to see if my father was proud and he was just standing up there laughing at my brother whaling away on me.  “Dad, I did it,” I informed him, like he wasn’t
there to witness.

“Yeah, you sure did,” my father laughed.  “You sure did it.”

My brother took over pulling his bike out of the lake from me.  It gave him something else to do other than hit me.  As soon as he let up, I asked my father, “Can I get a bike, Dad?  Now that I can ride one, can I get a bike?”

“You call that riding one?” My father asked, then seeing the immediate dissapointment on my face, added, ”You’ll have to ask Santa Claus.”

What the heck was he talking about, ask Santa Claus?  It was the middle of summer for crying out loud.  Santa Claus won’t be around to ask for…well, forever. 

That was another thing too complicated for a five-year-old to comprehend, but I later learned it meant we were not rich enough to buy “big ticket” items like bicycles, stereos, skis, or whatever, so if you wanted, needed, or just got something like that, it had to wait for a major occasion like Christmas or a birthday to be given to you as a gift.  To this day I still try the same thing with my wife, but she doesn’t seem to understand when I give her a new dryer for her birthday, a hot water heater for Christmas, or good seat concert tickets for two for our anniversary.  Oh well, what can I tell you?

Oh, I can tell you this -

I still love to ride my bike and I do it almost every day in nice weather.  I took about a 30-mile ride last week and felt great for days later.  On most days when I don’t have much time, I still try to ride for at least a half hour and walk/jog for another half hour if nothing else.   I tend to prefer a hybrid bike so I can go on or off road at a whim, which I do frequently.  I have found some pretty nice trails and tracks off road and in hidden places. 

I’m feeling a little saddened now because I twisted my knee yesterday and can’t ride or run today.  I got a new seat for my bike recently.  It’s a two part seat that holds my behind, but “eliminates pressure on vital arteries.”  I’ve really been enjoying that comfort.  It throws off my balance a bit and adds more pressure to my hands gripping the handlebars, but I think it’s an acceptable trade off.

Happy riding.
Ty

Dead PC

I went on vacation.  The mind is a beautiful place.  Too much room sometime though.  Somebody painted my walls.  Things are bright, in the right light.  No lines are straight, none cross.  “Where have you been?” she asked.  Right over there.  Didn’t you see?  Under the tree?  Maybe the leaves were covering.  Sometimes they do that.  I was listening to the Dead today.  I can’t tell you how beyond excited I am to finally have an MP3.  My PC is dead.  Is that politically correct?  God, I hope not.  I had a mouse, but it died too.  Things are falling apart right in front of me.  And yet, I seem to be in relatively good spirits.  Thank God for spirits.  At least the good ones.  Do you see the colors yet?  Where are you now?  I told you, under the tree.  When I was a child, it was always in the tree.  But those childhood toys are dead to me now.  You feel me?  Sometimes it’s the simple things.  The sunshine, the drumbeat, the bike ride, the guitar lick.  I hope you take time out to smile.  I hope you’re not too sad, too old, too lonely, too wise, too intellectual, too sofisticated, too stuffy, too busy, too full, or God forbid, too shy.  If you don’t listen to the Dead, at least listen to the wise.  Don’t worry.  Be happy.  Everything is going to be alright.  You are beautiful.  Today was beautiful.  Imagine what tomorrow will be.  If you can’t find anyone to love, start with yourself; the rest will come.

Enjoy.  Peace.

Whiffle and Dye

It was a beautiful summer day today, nice and hot with a bit of humidity and no pool to jump in. I decided to do what I’ve been doing quite a bit lately, get some mellow, easy exercise. For me that means riding my bicycle for a while and then walking; Nothing too strenuous.

I decided it was so warm that I would ride my bike down to the mall and then go inside and do my walking in the air-conditioning. The mall wasn’t too busy that time of day so I was making some pretty good time in the nice cool air until I got down to one end. As I was passing a hair salon, someone called me over and interrupted my pace.

Once I start walking and get up to a nice pace I don’t usually like stopping until I’m finished, but today I was in a good mood and immediately determined that I still have most of the day to walk, so stopping for a second shouldn’t hurt too much.

The petite, energetic girl who flagged me down said they were offering free samples of a hair dye today and anyone interested could get a free haircut or style to go with it. Wise-ass that I am, I quickly removed my hat and showed her how little hair I had was hardly worth dying.

She returned a misleading smile and whispered, “You ever think about losing that gray in your beard?”

Then she casually, but effectively threw in the sales pitch, “I bet your wife would think you look hot.”

I know from previous experience if I was single, that was the point I was supposed to say, “Oh, I’m not married” and take off from there.

But I am married now, so instead I said, “Oh yeah? You think my wife would notice that?”

It sounded like a good challenge to me since I thought the only way my wife would think I looked hot was if I came home with my hair on fire. The girl was a natural born sales person and she sucked me in.

Truth be told, I was actually thinking of shaving my beard off because there is so much gray in it now. I’ve had a beard most of my life because I’m one of those guys that prefers not to carve their face with a razor every day. I’m not wild about having a gray beard yet, but I still think that’s better than no beard at all.

I wanted a haircut because it is summer and mine was getting long enough to start curling. To be offered a free solution to both on a day when I had nothing better to do sounded like a good idea. I took her up on the offer. She shuttled me in to one of the empty seats while giving me a little explanation of something or other. As soon as she slid my glasses off and clipped a body bib around my neck, she spun the chair and said, “This is Jose. He’ll do your cut and dye.”

Without my glasses on, all I could see was her fade away back out to hook another fish. I was left with some old fat smelly dude named Jose with more gray than me all over his head. All Jose said was, “Regular?”

“No.” I told him, considering a quick bale-out before it was too late. But I decided to show him how tough I was. I said, “Give me a whiffle.”

Suddenly Grey Jose looked like he did not know many English words. “A what?”

“A wiffle,” I repeated. “You know, shave it all off” I added for clarification.

That’s just what he did. Grey Jose shaved my head more than I had ever had or hoped to have. He cut so much off, I don’t know why he didn’t just break out the razor and shave it for real. When he finished the top of my head he kindly confirmed I was still with the program. “Take gray out beard?”

“See,” I replied for some reason.

I wish I could see what was going on, but my glasses were too far away to reach. I just sat there shaking and blindly wondering what I had gotten myself into.

I could tell Grey Jose was finished with me when he splashed my head with powder and followed it by swiping a big brush on the top and around my ears and a towel quickly wrapped and unwrapped around my entire head. As he spun the chair around so I was no longer facing the mirror, Miss hot pants from out in the mall handed my glasses to me and tried some sort of sales pitch about something that just happened. I didn’t hang around to listen. I threw the body bib at the chair and ran out without looking or listening. Feeling slightly rude about it, I at least shouted a quick, “Thanks” as I ran back out into the safety of the mall.

I finished my walk and went back out to ride my bike for a while. I wore a hat today and did not realize until I got home that I should have ridden for a while without the hat to give my now bald head some much needed sunlight. Apparently Jose did not know what a whiffle was, because he ended up going a little beyond. The one good thing about it is that I can’t see it myself so I’m not constantly reminded how bad it looks.

I was right about my wife not noticing my gray-less beard too. The first time she saw me when I got home was from behind. I heard a loud screach followed by, “OH MY GOD! WHAT DID YOU DO?????”

I don’t know why she freaks out like that about my hair. It’s not like I had much to begin with. The entire top has been gone for many years and I only had about a 3″ patch of hair anyway. For some reason that makes a difference to her and she seems to think I look worse when the entire head is bald.

She was in so much shock about my newly shaved head that she didn’t even notice the beard. It was a little annoying to see her quickly turn and look away every time I walked near her all night, especially when she held her hand up to avert her eyes. Maybe some day she’ll read this and then force herself to look at me again. After her reaction, I didn’t bother trying to explain what happened.

I considered adding a photo to give you a better laugh, but with comedy you have to draw the line somewhere.

Skittles In the Yard

It has been two weeks since I mowed last and with all the rain we’ve been getting the grass is getting tall once again. That means Skittles is once again enjoying the privacy. If you haven’t read my 5/1/08 post on my Photo Blog, Skittles is the bunny that lives in my yard. He likes tall grass to hide in.

Today I noticed him lying out in the tall grass again. I notice that he seems to love doing that just when I’m thinking of mowing. I hate to keep taking away his hiding spots, but I also don’t want the yard to get too much out of control. I can’t believe this, but I actually considered mowing most of the yard except about a 3 foot circle right in the middle so Skittles will still have a place to hide.

That’s where I found Skittles today, right in the middle of the yard. It was a beautiful day, nice and sunny, blue skies, temperature in the seventies. It was so nice that I began my day by skipping coffee and breakfast and went for a 40-minute walk instead. When I returned, I was thinking of mowing, so I looked out into the yard and saw Skittles lying right in the middle enjoying the sun.

The neighbor on the other side of my back yard was already out mowing and singing loudly (and badly) with his ipod and earphones on. The other neighbor was dipping in and out of the garage, clanging and making a bunch of racket. Behind Skittles, people walked by and stopped to talk on the sidewalk, buses stopped according to schedule, cars and trucks passed, and he ignored it all and took a nap right there in the middle of the yard.

Here’s a picture of him to prove it. He managed to prop his eyelid open half way as I aproached, but I didn’t seem to bother him because he went right back to his nap and ignored me. He looked so cute, I felt sorry for him so I left him alone. Rather than mowing and distubing him, I decided to go out front and trim the hedges that were now about 3 feet too tall.

My Hedge trimming project took all day. Perhaps it wouldn’t have taken as long if I didn’t stop to take so many pictures. I kept ducking in back to check on Skittles and then I did a lot of holding still and waiting for the Cardinals to get in just the right position to take their picture. I had the company of both a male and female Cardinal for most of the day while I worked out front. If you want to see those pictures, they are posted on my FLICKR page.

Thanks for stopping by.
Ty Randall

Battle of Bended Knee

Sounds like a war with the white man on the reservation, “battle of bended knee.”  What it is really about is the battle of old age against my bent knee on the ground. 

Many years ago when I first became a homeowner and had to do my own yard work, I wandered through the gardening section of Wal-Mart in search of some clippers.  I remember seeing for the first time a pad to kneel down on while gardening.  It was green, so it would match the grass I guessed.  I actually laughed out loud.  I’m kind of insensitive sometimes so it struck me as being funny.  “Who the heck would need a pad just to kneel on the ground?”

I thought the ground was soft enough padding.  Heck, I slept on it in my pup-tent with no padding, I did lots of yard work and other activities without needing a pad, I could even drop down on that hard floor of the Wal-Mart without needing a pad to land on.  Needing a pad to kneel down on just seemed funny to me.  Today I am much more sensitive, understanding, and wise.  Today I would not think it was so funny to see a pad to kneel on.

Today my knees are killing me.  Yesterday I went out and photographed the New Jersey Folk Festival.  The festival had three separate stages and lots of other activities going on as part of the annual “AG day” at Rutgers University in New Brunswick, New Jersey.  I spent most of my day running from one stage to another, quickly dropping down on my knees to take a few shots, then running on to the next spot to drop down on my knees again so I wouldn’t block anyone’s view.

Today I went out to photograph some flowers in the garden.  That was when I first felt the sharp sting in my knee that felt like a huge needle.  It happened as I was kneeling down to get a nice low angle on a tulip.  I was so unprepared for the sudden pain that shot into my knee that I screamed loudly as I quickly pulled my knee out from under me. 

I continued the scream all the way down until my face landed in the dirt.  Naturally, there were people around who turned to look when they heard a loud scream.  They got a good laugh when they saw me dive into the dirt.  The 3 or 4 year-old kid seemed to think it was the funniest.  I think I may have scared them.  They muttered some things in Spanish and hurried away with concerned looks, like they weren’t quite sure what else a lunatic who dives into the dirt is capable of doing.

Now that I am over the hump and on the downslide of life, I am in agreement with those who say getting old sucks.  It’s bad enough if you have normal medical issues, but when things (like knees) start hurting for no reason other than you used it, sucking is the first word that comes to mind.  If you are reading this and too young to understand, try to at least remember it because some day you will understand. 

I know muscles can get weak and out of shape from non-use and then you really feel it if you suddenly use them too much.  But knees?  I don’t think there is an exercise to get your knees in shape for kneeling on them.  If there is, please let me know because right now it feels like the thick needle is still sticking in them.

After today’s incident in the garden, I was thinking of the next festival I plan to go photograph.  The Red Bank Jazz & Blues Festival is coming up the first week in June.  On my way home from today’s photographic and dirt eating adventure, I stopped at a local sports store and purchased a pair of kneepads.    Not the kind of pad with a handle that you carry out to the garden.  I needed something more flexible because I have enough photo equipment to carry.  I got the kind you pull up over your leg, like if you were a wrestler. 

They were out of black, so I had to get a bright red kneepad.  Obviously comfort is still more important to me than style.  It wasn’t until driving home that I remembered it would probably be warm for the Red Bank festival in June so I’ll have to wear shorts.  I should look pretty awesome with red pads under my shorts.  I might as well make up a special T-shirt that says something like, “Go ahead and laugh, I can take it.” 

Now that I’m ready, I can’t wait for the next battle of the bended knee!

I’ll give you two samples below of “shots from bended knee” that I spoke of in this blog entry.  As soon as I have time, I’ll post my Folk Festival photos on my website so either check back or make sure you’re on the mailing list so you get notified.

 

Happy Dreams and Milk

Last day of winter.  Spring arrives tomorrow.  I think we ended up with a total of 7 inches of snow all winter where I live.  That would probably make some people happy, but it doesn’t do much for me.  Winter is going out with a cold & rainy bang today.

That cough and runny nose I spoke of a few weeks ago ended up turning into chest congestion, then somehow it moved against gravity and went up to become a very bad head cold that flattened me for days, then before that was over, dropped back down to my chest again, where it tore up my throat and lingered on for weeks.  Nasty bugger, it was.  I’d say I’m about
98% back to as close as I get to normal now.

My doctor confirmed how nasty it was.  She says it has turned into pneumonia for many people and some have even died from it.  I’m still here, but also still coughing a little and throat dries out.  I think it’s almost done and I’ll be able to drink milk again soon. 

Besides milk, I’ve also stayed away from the coffee & caffeine while sick.  I don’t know, I just felt the need to cleanse.  Turns out its not all green tea I hate, only that strong Tazo loose-leaf
kind that I had that day.  I’ve been drinking the decaffeinated ginseng peppermint and honey ginseng teas and they are green.  Today I heard somebody order a tea and say, “leave room for milk.” 

What’s up with that?  Who puts milk in their tea?  Is that an American thing?  Is that a British thing?  Or is it just a thing that someone who doesn’t really like tea does?  I can see lemon, honey, sugar, or something like that; but milk?  That just sounds wrong for some reason.

Sunday night I got about an hour sleep and Monday I got 2 hours.  On Tuesday morning I had an appointment with the accountant, so I broke down and drank a half-cup of coffee, hoping that would help get me through.  I don’t think it did anything for me, but I was able to stay awake until the afternoon, when I finally gave up and took a nap.  Last night I got back to my usual 5 hours sleep and today I’m back to dreaming of a full 8 hours.  Sometimes I just think that would be awesome to get enough sleep, but that’s what dreams are for…dreaming of all the things you wish you had, even if it’s sleep so you could have more happy dreams.

Accounting For Taxes

It’s tax time and I’ve found some “accounting irregularities” that need my immediate attention so I haven’t had time for much else lately.  Dreams and wishes, prayers and wonders. 

One of my most frustrating things is that I already have so many things planned out, but with limited time, have to prioritize and just wait until the appropriate time.  Oh well, at least the grass is beginning to turn green.  Yes, that means yard-work awaits.  Let’s see how long I can put that off.