grrgoyl

This was the second weekend for The Mixed Signals Gang. Gerry pushed mightily for a return to the Lair, but Ter and I had our hearts set on my beloved Audubon Loop. Tery did okay at the Lair (apart from the falling and flat tire), but she suffered a bit of PTSD afterwards and I felt she should probably try somewhere a little tamer until she was more used to her bike (nicknamed "The Gray Ghost" nee "Silver Fox").

Just as we pulled into the parking lot, a storm cloud made good on its threat and broke, spattering us with a few raindrops. Families were literally fleeing the trail in terror. But, and this is why I love Colorado, it was done by the time we saddled up and headed into the woods, leaving behind a lovely breezy sunlit fall afternoon.

The ride was fairly uneventful, only exciting to me because we found a different path to loop back on which opened up a whole new unexplored route. Tery did okay (I suppose; she stayed far behind us so she didn't feel any pressure from being watched), though wasn't awfully keen on the trail back as it involved climbing some smallish hills and rocketing down the other side. Downhill still kind of terrifies her (as it did me when I first started out. Then one day it just sort of clicked and now I live for it).

Some pictures:

Sporty and Sassy Ter. You can see the storm front retreating in the face of our bold determination to enjoy the day

Action shot of Ger. He got some air off that tiny root in the path. So manly!

Me and Rojo

I kind of like this carefree one taken without my knowledge, and since it's my blog I get to appear twice

~*~

Monday was absolutely gorgeous, 80 degrees. I couldn't wait to get out, even just to go around the park. But first I had to bring a large torchiere lamp to donate to Goodwill. It was heavy, but not extraordinarily so. I was walking out to my car with it when I felt a sudden twinge in my back that almost made me double over. It hurt so much that it pretty much killed any bike plans. Stuck inside on possibly the last really nice day of the season (though who knows...fingers crossed for global warming); I was PISSED.

So I made the most of it by watching some movies:

( ::Clash of the Titans (2010):: )

That's it. This movie is just dead to me. Flashier effects to be sure, but shallow, nonsensical plot line. Give me back Harryhausen's photoshop job.

Second, ( ::Paranormal Activity 2:: )

The best thing I can say about this movie is I didn't pay to see it (thank you, torrents). And I want some of whatever

kavieshana was smoking when she said it was as enjoyable as the first (which I guess technically is true, though not necessarily a positive). Sorry, babe.

Current Mood: sore

This is Halloween, this is Halloween...

I'm not sure where my inspiration for my costume came from this year. I already had the hat, but I'm pretty sure I did last year too. But it had the dual appeal of being relatively simple to put together, and being a character hardly anyone would recognize (I have a perverse need to go as really obscure things for Halloween; probably my way of ferreting out the "cool" people. Exhibit A: Rorshach from The Watchmen last year. Exhibit B: Max from Rushmore the year before. Exhibit C: Donnie Darko the year before that).

I went as Jayne Cobb from TV's Firefly. If you're staring at me blankly, I guess we now know which camp you're in (kidding).

I knew Chris the host would know me, since I gave him my DVDs of the show and movie when I acquired the Blu-ray versions. It bothered him that I chose someone with such questionable morals (he's a good man in a fight, but he did try to sell out Simon and River in that one ep), but I assured him my choice was based on owning the hat and not any special affinity with him (I lied. Jayne might be my favorite).

Here's the full length shot:

Big Damn Heroes

(I'm obligated to point out that the photoshop was Tery's idea. Without it you would have had a backdrop of a kind of messy living room and a TV playing From Dusk 'Til Dawn (pole dancer scene, NSFW).)

The drop holster and gun (BB) came from eBay. The rest was all thrift store and already owned, even authentic Bowie knife with sheath (not pictured anywhere, sadly) that I have for some reason.

This here's Vera. She's my very favorite gun

The goatee was a surprisingly big hit, mostly because no one even recognized me as me. People admitted they walked into the room and thought, "Wonder who the new guy is?" And Laura's beau Tyler took it a step further and thought, "Wonder who the new guy is? I'd consider going gay for him." The sweetest thing a girl wants to hear! (no, srsly -- I was ridiculously flattered.)

I'm considering growing one for reals

Tery went as "Glee's" Sue Sylvester. No one knew her either, except for one homo accompanying Tabby. Figures.

Two Janes (Lynch and Cobb)

The only other great costumes were Laura and Tyler, et.al. as a hillbilly family -- he's the redneck (in reality he's a civil engineer or somesuch, so the exact opposite), Laura is his sister bride and Kay is his cousin bride. Laura's mom is the proud redneck grandma.

Family of Tea Partiers

Almost no one else wore costumes. Lame. Chris and Liana (the hosts) were Shrek and Fiona, but very minimal interpretations (Chris had a mask and big green hands that he wore for all of 30 seconds). I don't have a decent picture of them.

Two-date Tabby (so called because she brings a posse with her everywhere) upped her game to Three-date, bringing her ex Denise (as a nondescript vampire with cool glue-in fangs, but nondescript nevertheless) and two boys wearing recycled costumes from previous years, Lame and Lamer. They spent the whole night trying to get the girls to leave, not realizing Tabby never departs before midnight.

I was mildly irritated because for the last month I've had practically every Saturday off because the hospital was so slow and there was no point in going in. Nowhere to go, so I spent these rare weekend nights off fighting to stay awake before finally passing out in front of the TV and being kicked off to the bedroom by Tery.

This weekend I finally had something fun to do, and the hospital was full of patients. Naturally. Not only did I have to give a bunch of pills and IV meds, I had to check a min pin's blood glucose, my most difficult duty. You have to draw blood from the tiny veins in their ears, which, lacking any scientific means of locating them, means randomly pricking them repeatedly and hoping for a gush. Most of the time I manage it because I'm dealing with very old, very sick dogs who are used to being poked with needles. One weekend I had a "will bite" dog I was supposed to check glucose on every two hours. He barely let me into the cage to straighten his IV line, so of course my feeling was "are you KIDDING me?" I was more than a little relieved when I called the doctor and was told they didn't honestly expect me to do it.

Anyway, I lucked out this time and hit a vein on the second try. I dashed around taking care of everyone else, and was back to the party within an hour. Not too terrible. Except whenever I have to go back to the hospital after a party is over, I find myself gripped by a bone-deep weariness and I can barely keep my eyes open so I might as well go home (but I can't).

On the other hand, I was thankful to have a reason to leave, or else Chris would probably keep me all night (on this occasion, doubtlessly to join him in a "Firefly" marathon). As it was, he cornered me on my way out to the hot tub (I wasn't going in, I was only going to chat with the people who did) and insisted I do a karaoke song with him.

The problem with Chris is he's an aging hippy who only likes music from the 70's. And, like most drunks, he's terribly insistent you indulge his requests, no matter how much you try to (politely) fend him off.

He was hellbent on singing a song by someone, couldn't remember their name, but while searching his collection came up with plenty of other options. He asked if I had heard The Carpenters. I said of course I had, but I wasn't a huge fan. "You need to revisit them, because they're AWESOME," he said determinedly. I did my best to convince him that I didn't like his music, it was nothing personal, but forcing me to "revisit" it was unlikely to change my mind. "I've got stuff from the 80's too," he responded with a wounded look on his face.

Fortunately Liana passed through at that moment and told him to leave me alone. I could have kissed her.

Speaking of music, no one, not even people who recognized me as Jayne, sang me his theme song. :(

~*~

Lair o' the Bear with Ger and Ter

The good news is I've FINALLY done Lair o' the Bear. Unfortunately I have no pictures to share because I forgot my camera. I blame Gerry, he's always in such a big damn hurry.

I'm especially sad to have no pics because it was Tery's first adventure with us. She finally got herself a mountain bike and this was her maiden voyage. She didn't fare too well -- fell twice (once to the left, once to the right), and got a flat on the downhill trip (Gerry and I were miles ahead of her. She had to rely on the kindness of a passing stranger. I felt terrible). She says she had fun, but now a few days later she's confessed to a bit of post traumatic stress disorder.

I'm bringing her to my nice easy relaxing Audubon Loop next weekend to try to create a good experience for her.

I was disappointed that for her first trip we didn't see any of the sinister-looking devil squirrels I see all the time in the mountains.

Alvin, Eater of Souls (and the occasional nut)

Tery's troubles notwithstanding, I loved the Lair, and it has moved to the top of my faves list. Pretty much like every other mountain trail minus 80% of the rocks and tree roots. A really sweet, smooth ride, especially on the downhill.

We dubbed ourselves the "Mixed Signals Gang" because as we climbed up, we passed a biker going down who asked me if there were any more behind us. I said yes because Gerry was back there. Gerry, who was RIGHT behind me (I hadn't realized), said no. Poor guy. So our nicknames became Geronimo Ger, Scrappy T (Ter) and I'm Indefatigable Elaine for lack of cool adjectives beginning with E. I'm certainly open to suggestions.

When we got back to town we were both so hungry we stopped at Five Guys, a sinfully delicious burger joint I haven't dared even glance at since the ER. I had the smallest ~~slice of heaven~~burger they offer. I might have had some chest pressure later that night, or it could have been in my head. Well worth it.

Current Mood: energetic
Current Music: The hero of Canton, the man they call Jayyyyyyyyyyne

I've decided I'm running for office. And the only item on my agenda will be putting some kind of cap on these political TV ads. I'M SICK TO DEATH OF THEM. And I suspect I'm not the only one.

I can't stand the smear campaigns. Just because your opponent may or may not have done these horrible things you claim is not a reason to vote for you.

Our local news has a "truth test" you can read on their website to learn what is truth and what is exagerration (or outright lie). As you'd expect, every statement has a little bit of truth to it, but most are just taken out of context.

My point is, if we need a third party "truth test" to know what to believe, how on earth can we trust any of these people in Washington?

~*~

So what's new? I'm still biking, which isn't NEW, I suppose. I've gotten so hard core that not only do I swallow bugs now, I chew first. I think of it as a little protein bite (these are very tiny bugs, like gnats. I'm not talking horseflies). The good news is with the colder weather, the protein bites have become much fewer and further between.

I never thought of myself as a rage fanatic, but I've noticed I can't seem to leave the house without making at least one enemy. Mostly these are pedestrians, or even other bikers, who simply can't grasp the concept of using only one side of the path. I have stories that could fill hours, but no one wants to hear them I'm sure.

Occasionally my warpath extends to motorists. Not often, since my contact with them is limited to crossing one intersection to get to the park. But sometimes that 100-foot stretch is all I need.

One morning I had had a perfectly lovely ride (on Thursdays I don't start work until 10 a.m., so I get to go out early and be all smug in front of the poor schleps commuting to their 9-5). I was waiting to cross the intersection to head home. The light turned red, when suddenly this huge ass pickup truck literally screeched to a halt in a full straddle across the crosswalk. As the light was solidly red 10 seconds before he arrived, I can only wonder what the hell he was doing that he didn't notice. I'm willing to bet texting illegally.

I crossed, giving him a sarcastic little salute. That was all I was planning on doing, I swear, until my reptile brain took over, turned my vision white, and lifted my hand to smack the front of his vehicle as I passed.

I've done this once before. It was also a huge ass pickup (universally shitty drivers?) but that one had the sense to realize he was in the wrong and do nothing. This guy, however, laid on his horn and didn't stop until I was out of sight (I stopped to flip him my middle finger before moving on). Perhaps he thought his big, manly truck could be damaged by a girl slapping it?

I know I can't claim total innocence here. Like I said, I honestly wasn't planning on doing anything more than wave angrily. But it just isn't right. If someone came to a stop stretched diagonally across two lanes, people would get a little upset (they just wouldn't have the luxury of acting on it like I did). Cyclists get to use a very tiny percentage of the road as it is, and even that isn't safe from assholes like this guy.

But I've put two and two together. The one thing shared in common between everyone who angers me, be it pedestrians, cyclists, motorists, other shoppers in a store, neighbors, movie theater audiences, is this: They act inconsiderately, like they're the only ones on the planet. Ironically as our population explosion continues, people are behaving more selfishly, not less. It's about courtesy. It's about manners. It's about civility. These are becoming quaint antique concepts, like brunch and cotillions. Perhaps I was born in the wrong time. Perhaps I should be living on a remote mountainside. Perhaps I will someday.

~*~

Speaking of remote mountainsides (ha!), I went biking this weekend again with Gerry after a very long hiatus (his schedule, not mine). I thought I was done for the season, but he asked and I couldn't resist.

We went to Green Mountain trail, which is as unremote as you can get and still be in the "mountains" (technically the foothills). It's a popular spot for quick rides because it's close to civilization and a fairly short loop (about 10 miles, though you have to work for it in places).

It was a lot of work going up, since Gerry insisted on ignoring all the easy-looking sloping singletrack and sticking to doubletrack strewn with loose, exceedingly treacherous rocks (where the term "rockdonculous" was coined). Bleah. But we went the long way around the hill on the way back, down some crazy fun hard-packed singletrack that propelled this trail straight to the top of my list of favorites (well, before the list consisted solely of the Audubon Loop, so take that for what it's worth).

The two highlights were first coming across a scenic overlook where a memorial plaque sat, dedicated to "Anita Salazar: For cancer warriors and warriors of all dibilitating diseases." Yep, "debilitating" was misspelled. I don't know which broke my heart more, the mistake or not having a camera to show y'all. It's okay, I will certainly return to this trail again.

The second highlight was when a snake crossed our path. Gerry spotted it first, and he must have the eyes of a hawk because it was only about 9 inches long, very tiny. He told me to get it off the trail before someone else ran over it. I was going to, but as soon as it noticed me it turned and coiled threateningly, and it was then I saw the teeny tiny rattle. My first rattler!

I really didn't want to risk it, but Gerry took off his glove and shooed it off. It tried to strike at him -- little guy meant business. But didn't succeed, fortunately, because I've since turned up literature online that says baby rattlers are more dangerous than full-grown snakes because they haven't learned how to control their venom and release it all in one dose (though it's probably less venom than an adult).

Next trip will hopefully be Lair o' the Bear, cuz that trail will hang over my head until I finally get to do it.

~*~

Last but not least, a fairly quickie movie review. ( ::Ghost Writer:: )

I didn't even bother checking out the bonus features, which normally means I'll be purchasing it and saving them for later, but not in this case. I'm not so far gone with Ewan love to buy everything he does anymore. Not since Phantom Menace.

~*~

Coming soon: Halloween, and my truly kick-ass costume