Holiday Wishes...

Merry Christmas to whomever actually reads my ramblings. I've been thinking about leaving a note of seasonal cheer on this site, but was sorta puzzled as to how. After all, when one doesn;t know who's paying attention, it's a bit difficult to leave a note for those people. Today, I received the answer.



I received a card today. It was perhaps the best card I have ever received. The note inside was simple, and it read, "Find your fast." Now, the friend who sent it - being a cyclist (like the Fat Kid, but, well, much better) understands that speed to a cyclist is both an achievement and a drug. You see, one can never be fast enough. You always want more. When you run out of opponents, you race the clock and yourself. Always, always, always, the drive to improve. To be faster.



But what my friend was wishing me was not that I would find my drug and become high as a kite. He was wishing for my dreams to be fulfilled, for a season to be remembered - in short, that whatever my heart desired may come to pass. To "find my fast" is a wish to find that which is most precious to you, and hold onto it.

It made me stop and think. What do I really want most of all? What is my "fast"? What I want, more than anything, is very simple. I want all of those people in my life to know how much they matter to me. I want to tell them what their lives have meant to my own. How I would never have discovered Shakespeare if it weren't for being cast in that play, or how I learned what love meant. I want them to know how their silliness helped me discover my own latent funny side, or how much a little bit of support helped me find the strength and reason to keep riding through the pain. I want to say 'thank you' to all those who simply gave a little affirming nod to my ideas, or laughed at a joke. Or read fom my pages. Or listened to me play & sing (or played and sang with me). I want to tell them how much I value their friendship, and for those friends that I am rediscovering, how much I've missed them. All of you, in whatever function you have served in my life, are responsible for who I am - and I could not be more grateful to each and every one of you.

Thank you, my friend, for your card. For that wish.

May you all find your own "fast" this holiday season, and know that yes, you have made a difference to at least one person.

And may God bless us, Every One.

I want to work for JC Penney.

Really, I do. But I don;t want to work just anywhere, no, I want to work making the catalog. What's more, I want to be the guy who gets to name the colors for everything. Seriously! Think about it: What color is anything? I could make it all up!! All I would have to do is get somewhere close to it, and I'm all set! The only job that requires less effort to be correct is a weatherman, but people don't like him. People like the guy that says, "No, that's not a pink shirt in the men's department, it's 'Pale Coral', or 'Salmon'." And Voila! A man buys a pink shirt for himself.
You can make colors sexy: red becomes scarlet, black is midnight, white can be called essence...seriosuly, the possibilities are rather limitless. And that's before you get to standard decorator colors! Green, Blue, and Yellow no longer exist. They are now: Windblown Sage, Ocean's Depth, and Warm Sunshine. Brown? Oh, don't even get me started on the many many shades of brown! From Umber to Sienna, Desert Sand, Smoky Tumbleweed, etc, etc...

And just think, we haven't even approached using "sounds" as descriptors, yet!!! "Harp's Melody"....who the hell cares what the color is, you KNOW some designer will see that , fall in love with it, call it "fabulous" and buy 30 yards of a fabric called "Harp's Melody." Say hello to your new drapes. While we're on the topic of designers, why has no one yet named a color or pattern "Fabulous"????? Just putting it out there.

Equally cool is the guy who gets to name the colors for Crayola. His job's already done for him. You can hear the conversation: Executive - "Hey what color is that? It reminds me of the lipstick left on my collar from the hooker I picked up last weekend." Color-Naming-Guy - "I call it 'Hooker's Lipstick'." Executive - "Wow, you really nailed it!" Color-Naming-Guy - "Just like you!" Both break into fits of uproarious laghter. This guy doesn't even have to think up new names for colors, he just calls them what they look like in real life! And your children use these colors, and like them!!!

And it's so cool, it even gets into the hunting community. Think about it - those neon vests they wear? "Blaze Orange". Why? Because hunters will wear something called "Blaze Orange" and they won't wear something called 'Construction Barrel'. They even have different kinds and patterns of camoflage which they wear with the blaze orange so that only their elbows can be seen!! And someone has to name these patterns. I simply call them: "sticks and leaves over taupe". Which suddenly makes them sound like a piece of art that should be hanging in a museum. Or a piece of something else that should be hanging on a laundry line. You choose.

Blogging, play practice, puppies, and...whatever...

OK, so I haven't been blogging in a while. For those of you who don't care for my sense of humor, this probably sounds like an excellent idea. Phooey on you. For those of you who look forward to my verbage, my humble apologies.

The reason I've been away has been because of Bertolt Brecht. Yep, it's all his fault. With the recent completion of the run of "Mother Courage and Her Children," perhaps one his better-known plays. Generally, this means that in 5 weeks, we built, produced, rehearsed, and got a very difficult show on stage and suitable for viewing audiences. The production is also being done in London at the moment, where they took a heck of a lot longer to get it up and running, and they have a whole ton of money at their disposal. A big fat nya-nya-nya-nya-nya to London.

OK, so now that I'm back, I have a rare lunchtime opportunity to take care of some writing. Rare, because most days for last few weeks, I've been running home on my lunch hour to take the puppy (also referred to as "Thunder Paws") outside before she floats away. What? She's a puppy, and suffers from a small bladder which requires some noon-time attention!! So yes, today, my lovely wife is taking on the duty of helping Thunder Paws out for her daily lunchtime consitutional, leaving me free to be here.

Am gearing up to start my off-season program. Usually, I would wait until November to start, but since the end of my summer was so sparse, I should count that as my time off, and start now. The problem is finding the time. Early morning isn't working out as planned, for it wakes the puppy, and she must then spend time tramping about the house (hence the nickname) and waking everyone up. Hmmm...hardwood floors seemed like such a good idea at the time. That leaves the evening, preferably right after work. Of course, at that point, Thunder Paws has been in her crate all day, and wants nothing more than to run around and get a little crazy. With someone. Luckily, she's not picky as to with whom - as long as she can get rid of some of the energy. Of course, since I'm the only one home at the time, her options are a bit limited. Simply finding a time to ride should NOT be this complicated!!!!!

Perhaps i will simply attach her to a large piece of concrete (with room to run, of course) and leave her outside the garage while I am inside ridding today. It's sorta with me, and sorta on her own, but as long as she can come and go as she needs, that should work, right???? *sigh* Gotta find a solution. Any and all suggestions are welcome on this one.

I have been having some success in my workshop of late. For those who don't know, I do a little bit of wood carving, and have been enjoying my current project. I'd tell you more, but it's a secret from certain prying eyes - rest assured that there will be photos taken and they will be posted for all to gawk ack and tell me how amazing I am. HA!

All right - I'm out. Type to you all another day.

Today is an excellent example of my entire summer...

The temperatures are correct for biking. I will leave work around 4PM, and will have daylight. I have energy and desire. There will be a puppy at home who will have been all cooped up all day long, needs attention and supervision, and afterwards, the NFL season opens up with Steelers-Titans. SO, even if I wanted to put my bike on the trainer to ride after dark...how can I miss the opening game of football season??? This kind of stuff has been happening to me all summer, where the choice is "ride, or do something else that is equally beneficial, but in other ways".

Alas, all summer, the "other ways" have been more important. Today will be no exception, I have no doubt. The only chance lies in if my wife comes home early enough for me to perhaps only miss a little of the game while I ride...in which case, I can turn on the radio and listen to it. I suppose that will have to do.

That being said, it's time to work on building the specifcs of my off-season training program!!! This part of the year is a lot of fun for that. Of course, the real goal is to win, to succeed, to be better than I was. But how best to do it? Part of me wants to spend 200 miles a week on the trainer. That.....that is a lot of time in my garage, and I seriously doubt I have that much time to spend. I may get a week or two in with that much, but every week??? That's kinda silly. No, I think this year, the goal will be a much more reasonable 120-150 miles/week. Work it out, and it's 6 days of 20 miles and 1 day of 30 to reach the top-end of the goal. That's not all that difficult, but it is pressing just a little. It may mean that I do ten easy miles in the morning to wake up and ten harder ones when I get home. It may mean a lot of things. But it's reasonable, and that's the most important part.

So, there you have it. The goal is set, and you've all been notified, so now I'm accountable to you. If I don;t do it, you all have permission to berate me like crazy!!!

Of puppies, automobiles, and impromptu house renovations....

So, we got a puppy. There are a few differences in getting a puppy, and getting a dog. A dog usually already knows how to communicate. It also usually knows the important stuff like "No, don't eat the electrical cable," and other such useful information. Puppies do not know these things, yet. And so the teaching process has begun. Sad/funny: teaching a puppy is not unlike teaching a child. The major difference, of course, is that the puppy is MUCH faster in ascertaining that it is to the puppy's advantage to do what you say, when you say it. Children??? Well, I know I didn't do it that way! But repetition is key, and a few things some fella named Pavlov figured out are quite useful, too. For example, ring the bell hung from the doorknob every time you put the dog out, saying "OUT". The idea is that she'll learn to ring the bell when she wants to go outside. But she is learning very well what the first thing to do outside actually is. This is a good thing. Business first.

So, here I sit, with a puppy by my feet, whilst my wife is off kicking tires. Hey, it doesn't hurt, right? Of course, being campers, there is a problem with adding a new family member to join you: how do you pack them in an already overfull car? Well, the solution, of course, is to continue to bail out Detroit!! Somehow, we gave them a ton of money, and they didn;t give us cars - we still have to pay for them. This just seems a TAD UNEQUAL to me, but what do I know? Oh well, I'm sure this is going to be another road of fun. She actually looked at this one online, though, so it;s very possible that my wife will come home in a vehicle other than the one she left in. After all, she said she was "only looking". This is a phrase at which I cringwe, because every time we "just look" - and it usually doesn't matter at what - we end up "just spending". So basically, I'm "just scared s!!tless."

And phase three. NEVER "just look" in a home improvement store. Particularly if you are the one who will have to do said repairs/upgrades, NEVER EVER go and "just look". It will mean "just work", which will leave you "just tired", "just covered in paint", or, the best: "just bleeding" because whey mean that you will put your blood sweat and tears into a job - they're actually serious! I've taken care of the sweat and blood already today - though admittedly, we're talking about a single drop of blood...well, maybe two drops. hardly a mortal wound. But basement steps can be tricky, and painting them is never fun. Granted, they look tons better than the ancient carpet that WAS covering them, but still, it's not fun. Particularly when the felines of the house need to use them to get to the litterbox. Now, I have kitty prints in my freshly painted stairs, and paw-prints all over my basement floor. My grey basement floor. With the lightest green possible in prints. Wondrous.

Now, my only hope is that my wife does not go and get the new vehicle - because it can fit more project supples....and I don;t want to work any more on my day off!!!!!

The unknown use of a cycling jersey....

For those not "in the know" those handy-dandy, lycra-infused shirts with zippers down the front and - if your' elite enough to get them - sponsors' trademarks/logos all over them are called "jerseys". Yes, they make one look like a stock car on two wheels, and yes, they are designed by the same fellas who design clown outfits. That being said, there is nothing quite like a matching "kit" - and yes, it can be candy-apple red, puce, and purple, and a cyclist somewhere will call it "sweet". Oh, and the complete kit (matching shorts, socks, jersey and sometimes even shoes) will probably run about $250.00. But I digress.

In a hurry to get out of the house tonight to head to play rehearsal, I tossed on a jersey. I was merely thinking of something that could possibly keep me cool on stage. I did not yet know of the cool usefulness that was to come. So there I am, thinking that I'm looking pretty cool in my jersey, going through rehearsal. Now, I must explain that the particular scene for which I was called - the one where I play the character "Peasant" - is a physically active scene. I have two lines. They are: "My arm's shot" and "The baby's still in there." BUT, in this scene, I must feign smoke inhillation, a shot through my bicep, an injury of the head (just for giggles) and that my home is burning down and my child is still in the house - even though I assume when you're a parent, you largely stop mattering at all, and only the child is important. Oh yes, and my stage"wife" is also pulled from the building without thinking of the child. Riiiiiiiiight. So, it's a physically active scene. Coughing, shortness of breath, terror, awe, gratefullness, etc, etc. All this must be conveyed to the audience.

Now, to memorize my lines is no great task. I can at least manage this much - you see, I've acted once or twice before - and to memorize my cues is likewise no great task. All I have to do is listen for my cues and then go. For this, the time that I need to spend with my script is limited, at best. But, since I'm still allowed to have it on stage, you'd better believe it's coming with me! So, after about 6 takes of the scene - which was only "blocked" (for those not theatrically minded, "blocking" is where the director tells you what he wants, even though he's going to change his mind about the whole thing three days later) yesterday - I discover that I am really without need of it, and there I am, on stage with a lot of paper in my hands, and I'm supposed to be escaping from a burning building.

Now, cycling jerseys usually have three pockets sewn into the back of them. This is where riders will stash all sorts of useful things: food, water, iPods, race radios, biological passports, spare tubes, cell phones, etc. You name it, a cyclist has probably tried to put it into his jersey. Why? Well the pockets are THERE, we might as well use them! In fact, I once heard of a cyclist who tried to pack a chihuahua into his jersey. That one...it didn't end well. Now, this particular jersey is one typically worn when doing off-road stuff - so it only has one big pocket in the back, which zips open and closed. Well, I didn't need my script...and I. Have. One. Big-assed. Zippable. Pocket.

So, into the pocket goes my script, and I sputter, cough, heave, fall, bleed, forget my baby, remember that I fogot the baby, and hug my stage wife (who, I should mention, is a brilliant actress and really makes it easy to act with - thanks, Elizabeth!). It was brilliant. BRILLIANT, I say! Hey, for the first night of actually working the scene, it was some good work! The director was pleased - and that's not always easy. All in all, it was a good hour's worth of work, and further proof that the cycling lifestyle is benficial to everything.

OK, so I'm bad at blogging...

How else can one explain letting this go for more than a year? Actually, what I found is that I've got nothing worth saying, really, on any sort of a daily basis. Oh, I have my moments, but they are few and very far in between. So what have I been doing???

OK, biking this summer was a complete and utter loss, after what I thought was a pretty decent off-season. Whoops - I had the indoor trainer set at too low a level, and my brilliance was diminished significantly. I wasn't as good as I thought I was. But - I fear I've gotten worse this summer, because I've had very little time to ride. Not riding is bad for the fitness, and I find myself now in the unenviable position of having to get back on the bike for some serious exercise, else all my hard work previously will be for naught.

I find myself currently involved in a production of "Mother Courage and Her Children" (Brecht), set to go up in October. It's a nice show...little in scope, broad in message and size of cast. I have two or three smaller parts in it, which suits me just fine. I don;t think I'd want a larger role at the moment. I'm on stage - that's good enough for me.

I'm also working on a short piece for a writing contest, entitled, "The Fifth Son". I hope to have portions of it available for sharing soon. It's a modest length piece - 5,000 words is the contest limit. A nice little exercise for the Epic Fantasy Writer.

Busy, busy - with Christmas around the corner, I'm designing things left and right in my head. Luckily, I have a little time off ahead of me, so I will hopefully be working on some of the preliminary items then. If all goes well, I will be able to get much accomplished.

OK, all for now - This will hopefully get more interesting as I move forward.