For the average reader of this blog, this post is something you can skip over and simply return another day to read my latest take on life as a whole. However, there are a special few who I feel the overwhelming urge to address here today. Those little rats scouring the web and this blog for any crumbs I may have left along the way. They know who they are, so if this post seems odd, thank you for stopping by again today but this doesn’t apply to you.
As for the rest ...
Thank you for your continued interest in my life and this blog! It’s nice to know that you value my words so greatly that you feel the need to visit this blog so frequently. While the average reader of this blog visits once a day, or every few days, and only two or three pages per visit, your counts far exceed these figures. In many cases you return 4 and 5 times a day with total daily page views in excess of 10-15 pages! I never realized what power my writing held over you. I do apologize for the lapse in posts on here for your enjoyment but, unlike some of you I am employed, furthering my education, and have a family. These things all take precedence over my writing and, alas many of the posts for this blog have simply gone unfinished and remain unavailable to the general public’s eyes.
Given the particular posts you continue to hit, and their respective category tags, I am quite certain I know what it is you are looking for, and am highly amused that after months with nothing posted on this subject you continue to come here searching for more content. I liken this to the boy who continues to beat his head against the cement wall in hopes of making his headache go away, or the rat who continues to seek out the cheese on the trap though he has already lost his tail and two feet to other traps along the way. After all, if you continue to do things the same way, you will always wind up with the same results!
Since you are here however, I will toss you a piece of that brick of cheese you have been scouring my blog for. Yes, I have received your letter. It is nice to know that the student who couldn’t cut it in law school has found something to do with her time. This one was far more professional than the first and clearly did not come from the uneducated end of the group. Congratulations, you may have learned something from this after all. Let those who have the ability do something while those who haven’t a clue sit back and watch.
Logic would suggest that you will take your crumbs and scurry away into the crevices of the Internet again but rodents always seem to return to a past source of food hoping to find more. It’s in their nature and related to the small brain capacity so, until next time …
Showing posts with label Motorcycle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Motorcycle. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Monday, July 06, 2009
How did you celebrate YOUR Freedom this year?
Friday 7/3/09
With the sun fully up and the sky finally blue after almost a solid week of overcast and rain, Jen and I loaded up the bike, double checked the straps on the luggage, and headed out on the bike for a much needed mini-vacation about 11:00 AM. Our first destination was lunch, but with only 58 miles on the trip odometer since the last time I filled the tank, we hit the expressway and headed toward Port Huron figuring we would get lunch and gas all in one stop. With the wind at our back and traffic a little light once we made it out of Flint on I-69, we managed to hit Imlay City around 1PM and filled our tummy’s with warm Big boy food while we watched the sky turn overcast through the windows. The sun was peaking through the cloud deck every so often, and it was clear that there was blue sky up there beyond those gray clouds, but it was also clear that we were riding into the remainder of the overcast cloud deck as we headed east.
After a quick lunch stop at Big Boys, a fuel stop across the road, and some time to put on the long sleeve t-shirts before climbing back onto the bike, we were ready for the next adventure. We made it to Port Huron and through the confusing interchanges of I-69, I-94, and M-25 before slamming into a line of cars stopped for what would be a long stretch of red lights. It was the Friday before a major holiday and M-25 is a major route from the metro Detroit area to the Thumb, we were in Holiday traffic at 1:30 PM.
We finally managed to make it out of Port Huron, north of Lakeport, where we toured a State Park neither Jen or I knew existed, and won’t be returning to, and realized that we had finally left the traffic behind us on our journey farther north. We stopped at a couple of roadside Parks along M-25 between Port Sanilac and White Rock and cruised along the country scenes while M-25 flirted with the shoreline of Lake Huron and the sun played peek-a-boo through the thick cloud deck above. Eventually we made it to Harbor Beach and turned inland on M-142 headed for a quick gas stop and our final destination for the night.
We arrived at the hotel in Bad Axe, checked in, and were unpacking the duffel in our room by 5:30PM, right on schedule. We checked out the accommodations, stretched our legs and backs for a bit, made a quick Walmart run for some items that had been left behind, and stopped into the Gathering Place, attached to the hotel, for some dinner. I managed to convince Jen to join me in a quick game of pool in the game room after our meal, which I barely won, and we each tried our hand at an old school Elvira pinball game, neither of us was very good at that either. The pool was crawling with loud children so Jen and I opted to forgo the evening dip and simply retire to our spacious room, it was by far the largest hotel room I have ever stayed in and could easily have accommodated an additional king size bed along with all the furnishings that were in there already.
Saturday 7/4/09
Jen dragged my butt out of a surprisingly comfortable bed around 8:30 AM, she had been up for at least a half hour before I even opened my eyes, and we managed to hit the road by 9:30. This time we were headed home, via the long route, and from Bad Axe drove north on M-53 to Port Austin, which looked like a neat little country town we would like to go back to, but we didn’t dare stop for all the people crawling every which way. Port Austin was the center of the Thumb’s 4th of July activities, including the parade that was to happen at 1pm, but at just before 10AM there were so many people every where you looked that Jen and I decided not to stop and instead headed west out of town along M-25 toward Port Crescent State Park. We made a short stop at a roadside park just outside of Port Austin and wandered down the sandy path for a photo opportunity of the shoreline and offered our assistance to another biker family who wanted their picture taken along the lake. While Jen and I were getting ready to climb back on the bike, the two bikers who asked us to take their picture wandered back up to their bike and eventually got up the nerve to ask if they could take my picture. He wasn't looking for a goofy pose next to my ride but rather, a shot of the back of my jacket, where my Dykes on Bikes Detroit patch is sewn. They LOVED the patch and he wanted to take the photo back to show off to the rest of his biker friends.
I stood still, smiling the whole time, for the photo and eventually Jen and I did manage to climb back on the bike and ride off toward Port Crescent State Park. After a short cruise through the campground, which both Jen and I agree we would NEVER stay in due to site size and absolute lack of privacy, we headed over to the day use area for a little time off the bike and in the sun and sand. Yes, sand. We didn’t hike all the way down to the beach, but we didn’t have to because the wind has blown layers of sand over the boardwalks. So much so that it looked like Mother Nature had installed the worn handrails and fence posts in the dune paths herself. It was a beautiful day to build a sand castle along the beach and stand knee deep in Lake Huron as the waves splashed up to your waist, but Jen and I opted to view it from a platform above the beach and snap a few shore photos instead.
After a potty break and a slow cruise through the rest of the day use area, we headed back to the main road and westward on M-25. Not long after leaving Port Crescent State Park, we came to a screeching halt on the highway and waited patiently for the white tail deer to decide which direction she wanted to cross the road in. The car in front of us spooked her mid crossing and she was clearly confused about the safest direction to go. Once the path cleared I rolled forward slowly, keeping a careful eye for any movement on the roadside while we slowly passed the area the deer had just entered, and where I suspect she came from as well. I was not about to tangle my motorcycle with a 150+lb deer, that would not have ended well for either Jen or me.
Not too far up the road, we pulled into the Sleeper State Park campground and, though the ranger told us she couldn’t allow us to drive through the campground, I made a somewhat intentional wrong turn and managed to cover one of the loops to the campground. We were once again checking out layout and campsite size, for future reference. As much as I was tempted to, I didn’t dare cross the path of the ranger again and venture to the other side of the campground. Instead, Jen and I headed across the road for a stretch/snack break in the day use area along the shores of Lake Huron.
We parked, grabbed the packable cooler, and headed up the boardwalk to a nice platform that overlooked both the beech and the forested hillside and dunes. It was a beautiful spot for a picnic lunch, or snack in our case. My watch said it was just about noon when we stopped but since we had to forgo the planned breakfast stop in Port Austin due to the crowds, my tummy thought it was much later than that. We snacked, stretched, and watched the flocks of Cedar Waxwings and robins fight off the large family of chipmunks from the berry bushes along the hill side. We even snapped a few pictures of a chipmunk munching down on a cracker that I dropped on the ground and decided to toss his way. It was too cute to pass up.
With our energy partially restored and knees in full working order, Jen and I climbed back onto the bike and headed out to M-25 once again. This time we were in search of a lunch spot hopefully not too far down the road. That’s where the trip got a little scary and I was reminded just how quickly things can get dangerous while riding a motorcycle. Traffic was clearing on M-25 and I was preparing for a right hand, up-hill turn out onto the roadway when my finger slipped from the clutch lever and I popped the clutch, with the forks already turned to the right, Jen on the back seat, and the 50+ lb duffel on the rear luggage rack.
I immediately put my right foot down, stood up off the seat, and did my best to straighten the forks while applying the front brake to keep the bike from rolling in any direction. I’ve done this before, even with Jen on the back, and we saved the bike. This time, the combination of the pavement angle, the weight of the duffel, and me never explaining to Jen that she should try to counter balance the bike by sliding her weight to the high side of the bike, were too much. We didn’t manage to save it. It was like a bad dream, helplessly watching in slow motion as the bike laid itself muffler side down. It was propped up in the rear by the packed saddle bags, which saved the mufflers from damage, and the passenger peg which folded itself up nicely under the weight of the bike. As I lay on the ground under the bike, it took at least a full second for my brain to remember what I should do. I slid out from under the bike, thankfully not pinned under it’s weight, and killed the engine before looking back to check on Jen. She was okay, not visibly uninjured and sliding herself away from the bike. We survived our first crash!
I jumped to my feet, asked her once again if she was okay and quickly realized that two cars had stopped on the road to be sure that we were alright. From seemingly out of nowhere two gentlemen arrived at my side to heft the bike from its pathetic side down position and help me place it in its much more majestic side stand down with forks turned and parked position. I could have done it myself, by using the laws of physics and a little technique they taught me in my motorcycle safety class, but I was thankful for their help none the less. While Jen and I collected ourselves and I adjusted the mirror that had been badly knocked out of position in the fall, I checked for obvious damage. We were on the side of the driveway and out of harms way, I took my time getting back on that bike. My nerves were shaken; I didn’t know what I had done wrong, why I had popped the clutch in the first place. I was concerned that I would do it again and the next time Jen and I wouldn’t be so lucky. I was well over 100 miles from home, the bike was barely scratched, both Jen and I walked away, though not entirely uninjured we would later discover, and I had no choice but to confront the fear and climb back on the bike.
Jen, trusting in me more than she probably should have at the time, took a deep breath and climbed back onto her seat. I waited for her thumbs up to let me know she was settled, started the bike, and slowly pulled out on to the road. I was driving far more careful than I had in months, listening to every sound the bike made, watching for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. It was then that I realized what had caused me to pop the clutch starting the catastrophic chain of events pulling out from the state park. My clutch lever was sloppy! Had I ever checked that before? The bike was still almost brand new, but with close to 8,000 miles on it the clutch cable had stretched and a simple adjustment would have prevented that fall.
Not far up the road, I’m not certain it was even 5 miles to be honest, I pulled into a lakeside resort that offered lodging and a restaurant that looked open for business on the national holiday. As Jen and I climbed off the bike I again walked around looking for damage. What I found was a little bit of fluid that had spilled out of the engine and onto the chrome of the air cleaner cover, I presumes oil but suppose it could have been gas as well. I explained to Jen that it was normal and did not mean that the bike was damaged. Motorcycle engines are designed to remain in the upright position and when laid on their side, it’s common for them to leak a bit of fluid. There was no puddle, there was barely any fluid at all to be perfectly honest, but it was just enough to washed off some of the filth from the chrome and make it almost shiny again. That's the only reason I even noticed it.
I also discovered that I had scraped up the end of the brake lever, the bottom of my driver peg, and the tip of the passenger peg when the bike went down, but that was it. No dents, no dings, no serious damage at all. In fact, all the damage I did do could easily be explained as simple flying debris on the highway, they really are that superficial! Lady luck was certainly watching out for us on that trip as it could have been so much worse. Even the injuries Jen and I sustained, a twisted ankle for Jen, a bruised knee and pulled right arm for me, could have been so much worse. My bike has a dry weight of just less than 700lbs. It was not dry, and it had an additional weight load of close to 100lbs with the duffle and saddle bags. Add in hot engine and exhaust parts, there could have been so many more common injuries, but we were lucky.
We collected our nerves over lunch while we watched the children playing in the pool and the waves roll in on the distant shore of Saginaw Bay, then paid the bill and headed out to the bike for the final stretch toward home. We were in Caseville, still a good hundred miles from home, but it was time to make tracks, trade the scenic shoreline vistas for farmland and open prairies, and once we hit Sebewaing, to eventually head south toward home once again. With an emergency stop to watch a mother mallard duck parade her ducklings across the road, then turn back to the shoulder where they came from and hide in the weeds, and gas stop just north of Frankenmuth where we stretched, refueled with a bit to eat, and quenched our thirst with some cold drinks, Our trip was rapidly coming to a close. We decided to head home the quickest route that did not involve the expressway. Just north of Flint, I changed my mind, made a quick right turn, and hopped on I-475 to complete our journey home. After two solid days on the bike and close to 350 miles logged, I was ready to be home and park the bike for a day or two while my tail bone and my now aching right arm healed.
All in all, we logged roughly 350 miles and a total of 10 hours on the bike over a two day period. We enjoyed the scenery, the wildlife, and the hospitality of rural Michigan. It was a welcomed break from daily life and an excellent way to celebrate our freedom on Independence Day weekend. We’ve even talked about a modified version of the trip this fall when the color begins to pop. It should be a beautiful ride along the shore of Lake Huron and Saginaw Bay with the trees in full fall colors.
With the sun fully up and the sky finally blue after almost a solid week of overcast and rain, Jen and I loaded up the bike, double checked the straps on the luggage, and headed out on the bike for a much needed mini-vacation about 11:00 AM. Our first destination was lunch, but with only 58 miles on the trip odometer since the last time I filled the tank, we hit the expressway and headed toward Port Huron figuring we would get lunch and gas all in one stop. With the wind at our back and traffic a little light once we made it out of Flint on I-69, we managed to hit Imlay City around 1PM and filled our tummy’s with warm Big boy food while we watched the sky turn overcast through the windows. The sun was peaking through the cloud deck every so often, and it was clear that there was blue sky up there beyond those gray clouds, but it was also clear that we were riding into the remainder of the overcast cloud deck as we headed east.
After a quick lunch stop at Big Boys, a fuel stop across the road, and some time to put on the long sleeve t-shirts before climbing back onto the bike, we were ready for the next adventure. We made it to Port Huron and through the confusing interchanges of I-69, I-94, and M-25 before slamming into a line of cars stopped for what would be a long stretch of red lights. It was the Friday before a major holiday and M-25 is a major route from the metro Detroit area to the Thumb, we were in Holiday traffic at 1:30 PM.
We finally managed to make it out of Port Huron, north of Lakeport, where we toured a State Park neither Jen or I knew existed, and won’t be returning to, and realized that we had finally left the traffic behind us on our journey farther north. We stopped at a couple of roadside Parks along M-25 between Port Sanilac and White Rock and cruised along the country scenes while M-25 flirted with the shoreline of Lake Huron and the sun played peek-a-boo through the thick cloud deck above. Eventually we made it to Harbor Beach and turned inland on M-142 headed for a quick gas stop and our final destination for the night.
We arrived at the hotel in Bad Axe, checked in, and were unpacking the duffel in our room by 5:30PM, right on schedule. We checked out the accommodations, stretched our legs and backs for a bit, made a quick Walmart run for some items that had been left behind, and stopped into the Gathering Place, attached to the hotel, for some dinner. I managed to convince Jen to join me in a quick game of pool in the game room after our meal, which I barely won, and we each tried our hand at an old school Elvira pinball game, neither of us was very good at that either. The pool was crawling with loud children so Jen and I opted to forgo the evening dip and simply retire to our spacious room, it was by far the largest hotel room I have ever stayed in and could easily have accommodated an additional king size bed along with all the furnishings that were in there already.
Saturday 7/4/09
Jen dragged my butt out of a surprisingly comfortable bed around 8:30 AM, she had been up for at least a half hour before I even opened my eyes, and we managed to hit the road by 9:30. This time we were headed home, via the long route, and from Bad Axe drove north on M-53 to Port Austin, which looked like a neat little country town we would like to go back to, but we didn’t dare stop for all the people crawling every which way. Port Austin was the center of the Thumb’s 4th of July activities, including the parade that was to happen at 1pm, but at just before 10AM there were so many people every where you looked that Jen and I decided not to stop and instead headed west out of town along M-25 toward Port Crescent State Park. We made a short stop at a roadside park just outside of Port Austin and wandered down the sandy path for a photo opportunity of the shoreline and offered our assistance to another biker family who wanted their picture taken along the lake. While Jen and I were getting ready to climb back on the bike, the two bikers who asked us to take their picture wandered back up to their bike and eventually got up the nerve to ask if they could take my picture. He wasn't looking for a goofy pose next to my ride but rather, a shot of the back of my jacket, where my Dykes on Bikes Detroit patch is sewn. They LOVED the patch and he wanted to take the photo back to show off to the rest of his biker friends.
I stood still, smiling the whole time, for the photo and eventually Jen and I did manage to climb back on the bike and ride off toward Port Crescent State Park. After a short cruise through the campground, which both Jen and I agree we would NEVER stay in due to site size and absolute lack of privacy, we headed over to the day use area for a little time off the bike and in the sun and sand. Yes, sand. We didn’t hike all the way down to the beach, but we didn’t have to because the wind has blown layers of sand over the boardwalks. So much so that it looked like Mother Nature had installed the worn handrails and fence posts in the dune paths herself. It was a beautiful day to build a sand castle along the beach and stand knee deep in Lake Huron as the waves splashed up to your waist, but Jen and I opted to view it from a platform above the beach and snap a few shore photos instead.
After a potty break and a slow cruise through the rest of the day use area, we headed back to the main road and westward on M-25. Not long after leaving Port Crescent State Park, we came to a screeching halt on the highway and waited patiently for the white tail deer to decide which direction she wanted to cross the road in. The car in front of us spooked her mid crossing and she was clearly confused about the safest direction to go. Once the path cleared I rolled forward slowly, keeping a careful eye for any movement on the roadside while we slowly passed the area the deer had just entered, and where I suspect she came from as well. I was not about to tangle my motorcycle with a 150+lb deer, that would not have ended well for either Jen or me.
Not too far up the road, we pulled into the Sleeper State Park campground and, though the ranger told us she couldn’t allow us to drive through the campground, I made a somewhat intentional wrong turn and managed to cover one of the loops to the campground. We were once again checking out layout and campsite size, for future reference. As much as I was tempted to, I didn’t dare cross the path of the ranger again and venture to the other side of the campground. Instead, Jen and I headed across the road for a stretch/snack break in the day use area along the shores of Lake Huron.
We parked, grabbed the packable cooler, and headed up the boardwalk to a nice platform that overlooked both the beech and the forested hillside and dunes. It was a beautiful spot for a picnic lunch, or snack in our case. My watch said it was just about noon when we stopped but since we had to forgo the planned breakfast stop in Port Austin due to the crowds, my tummy thought it was much later than that. We snacked, stretched, and watched the flocks of Cedar Waxwings and robins fight off the large family of chipmunks from the berry bushes along the hill side. We even snapped a few pictures of a chipmunk munching down on a cracker that I dropped on the ground and decided to toss his way. It was too cute to pass up.
With our energy partially restored and knees in full working order, Jen and I climbed back onto the bike and headed out to M-25 once again. This time we were in search of a lunch spot hopefully not too far down the road. That’s where the trip got a little scary and I was reminded just how quickly things can get dangerous while riding a motorcycle. Traffic was clearing on M-25 and I was preparing for a right hand, up-hill turn out onto the roadway when my finger slipped from the clutch lever and I popped the clutch, with the forks already turned to the right, Jen on the back seat, and the 50+ lb duffel on the rear luggage rack.
I immediately put my right foot down, stood up off the seat, and did my best to straighten the forks while applying the front brake to keep the bike from rolling in any direction. I’ve done this before, even with Jen on the back, and we saved the bike. This time, the combination of the pavement angle, the weight of the duffel, and me never explaining to Jen that she should try to counter balance the bike by sliding her weight to the high side of the bike, were too much. We didn’t manage to save it. It was like a bad dream, helplessly watching in slow motion as the bike laid itself muffler side down. It was propped up in the rear by the packed saddle bags, which saved the mufflers from damage, and the passenger peg which folded itself up nicely under the weight of the bike. As I lay on the ground under the bike, it took at least a full second for my brain to remember what I should do. I slid out from under the bike, thankfully not pinned under it’s weight, and killed the engine before looking back to check on Jen. She was okay, not visibly uninjured and sliding herself away from the bike. We survived our first crash!
I jumped to my feet, asked her once again if she was okay and quickly realized that two cars had stopped on the road to be sure that we were alright. From seemingly out of nowhere two gentlemen arrived at my side to heft the bike from its pathetic side down position and help me place it in its much more majestic side stand down with forks turned and parked position. I could have done it myself, by using the laws of physics and a little technique they taught me in my motorcycle safety class, but I was thankful for their help none the less. While Jen and I collected ourselves and I adjusted the mirror that had been badly knocked out of position in the fall, I checked for obvious damage. We were on the side of the driveway and out of harms way, I took my time getting back on that bike. My nerves were shaken; I didn’t know what I had done wrong, why I had popped the clutch in the first place. I was concerned that I would do it again and the next time Jen and I wouldn’t be so lucky. I was well over 100 miles from home, the bike was barely scratched, both Jen and I walked away, though not entirely uninjured we would later discover, and I had no choice but to confront the fear and climb back on the bike.
Jen, trusting in me more than she probably should have at the time, took a deep breath and climbed back onto her seat. I waited for her thumbs up to let me know she was settled, started the bike, and slowly pulled out on to the road. I was driving far more careful than I had in months, listening to every sound the bike made, watching for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. It was then that I realized what had caused me to pop the clutch starting the catastrophic chain of events pulling out from the state park. My clutch lever was sloppy! Had I ever checked that before? The bike was still almost brand new, but with close to 8,000 miles on it the clutch cable had stretched and a simple adjustment would have prevented that fall.
Not far up the road, I’m not certain it was even 5 miles to be honest, I pulled into a lakeside resort that offered lodging and a restaurant that looked open for business on the national holiday. As Jen and I climbed off the bike I again walked around looking for damage. What I found was a little bit of fluid that had spilled out of the engine and onto the chrome of the air cleaner cover, I presumes oil but suppose it could have been gas as well. I explained to Jen that it was normal and did not mean that the bike was damaged. Motorcycle engines are designed to remain in the upright position and when laid on their side, it’s common for them to leak a bit of fluid. There was no puddle, there was barely any fluid at all to be perfectly honest, but it was just enough to washed off some of the filth from the chrome and make it almost shiny again. That's the only reason I even noticed it.
I also discovered that I had scraped up the end of the brake lever, the bottom of my driver peg, and the tip of the passenger peg when the bike went down, but that was it. No dents, no dings, no serious damage at all. In fact, all the damage I did do could easily be explained as simple flying debris on the highway, they really are that superficial! Lady luck was certainly watching out for us on that trip as it could have been so much worse. Even the injuries Jen and I sustained, a twisted ankle for Jen, a bruised knee and pulled right arm for me, could have been so much worse. My bike has a dry weight of just less than 700lbs. It was not dry, and it had an additional weight load of close to 100lbs with the duffle and saddle bags. Add in hot engine and exhaust parts, there could have been so many more common injuries, but we were lucky.
We collected our nerves over lunch while we watched the children playing in the pool and the waves roll in on the distant shore of Saginaw Bay, then paid the bill and headed out to the bike for the final stretch toward home. We were in Caseville, still a good hundred miles from home, but it was time to make tracks, trade the scenic shoreline vistas for farmland and open prairies, and once we hit Sebewaing, to eventually head south toward home once again. With an emergency stop to watch a mother mallard duck parade her ducklings across the road, then turn back to the shoulder where they came from and hide in the weeds, and gas stop just north of Frankenmuth where we stretched, refueled with a bit to eat, and quenched our thirst with some cold drinks, Our trip was rapidly coming to a close. We decided to head home the quickest route that did not involve the expressway. Just north of Flint, I changed my mind, made a quick right turn, and hopped on I-475 to complete our journey home. After two solid days on the bike and close to 350 miles logged, I was ready to be home and park the bike for a day or two while my tail bone and my now aching right arm healed.
All in all, we logged roughly 350 miles and a total of 10 hours on the bike over a two day period. We enjoyed the scenery, the wildlife, and the hospitality of rural Michigan. It was a welcomed break from daily life and an excellent way to celebrate our freedom on Independence Day weekend. We’ve even talked about a modified version of the trip this fall when the color begins to pop. It should be a beautiful ride along the shore of Lake Huron and Saginaw Bay with the trees in full fall colors.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
My 4th of July Plans ...
The Route:
Distance:
175 mi – about 3 hours 49 minutes
Cost:
Hotel: $105
Gas: $30
Food: $60
Time Alone with Jen - PRICELESS!
Enjoy your Independence Day
Monday, June 15, 2009
Office politics ... way too much like High School
I guess I was probably a little over due for a reality check on discrimination and discomfort with the whole subject of homosexuality for far too many people out there. It has been a long time since it has slapped me in the face as a reminder that not everyone out there is comfortable with my sexuality and some are down right offended by it. To be honest, I’m a little uncomfortable with the idea of women sleeping with men, but I don’t’ go around telling all the breeders of the world to stop loving who they love and prohibit their rights to equality and free speech.
This all began last Friday when I innocently wore my Dykes on bikes club T-Shirt to work since it was a jeans day. I got a few smirks and second glances as I walked in and up to my desk, but nothing out of the ordinary or all that unexpected. I also managed to get a few compliments on the design and one person asked where they could get one like it. It was a quiet day around the office and I went on with the business of my day, left my desk a grand total of three times, and had extremely limited contact with the rest of my co-workers. Yet, at about 11:30 my direct supervisor came and asked me to come with him. As we passed by his office where I assumed we were headed, he told me we needed to go talk to the Director of our department … never a good thing. I was told that I was in violation of the company dress code because my T-shirt fell into the vague category of “overly controversial” and that I would need to take the remainder of the afternoon off (with pay) because I did not have another shirt to change into. Let the drama begin.
I asked few questions, knowing that the office politics were not worth getting upset over right then and there, returned to my office to close out of all my files, grabbed my bag, and headed to the human Rescources office. It was then that I learned that HR had no idea I was being sent home, seemed a little strange to me, and that the person who was in HR that day could not explain to me why the shirt was so controversial. She requested that I bring it back Monday so that her boss could look into the matter for me. On that note, I left the building at about noon on a beautiful sunny June afternoon and enjoyed my suddenly extended weekend. I had some things I needed to get done before Monday morning, which is what I was working on when I was called away from my desk. I made the decision that if I was not allowed to work my regular schedule to complete those tasks they could wait until next week and the project would simply be delayed a week, no skin off my nose. I didn’t do a single work related thing from Friday at noon until I arrived today at 8:30 to start the new week. Thank you for the time off!
I had time to cool off over the weekend, to let the irritation slide a little bit and approach the issue with a little more political tact that I could have mustered Friday. I scheduled a meeting with the HR manager as directed and took in the shirt so he could look at it. The first words out of his mouth “Wow that’s a pretty shirt. I wouldn’t mind wearing one of these.” Then he attempted to answer my questions and assure me that he will look into the matter for me. He also apologized on behalf of the company that I felt “singled out”. Until that moment, I didn’t realize that everyone else sees this as a clear case of discrimination. I was simply asking why the shirt was controversial, not why I couldn’t wear it. If it doesn’t fit the dress code for jeans Fridays, I won’t wear it. But I need to know why it doesn’t fit so that I don’t wear another shirt that may land me in the same situation. So far, nobody can tell me the answer to that question.
In that short conversation with HR, I don’t feel much better about any of this. If anything, I’m more confused. What I learned is that if one single person is uncomfortable with or offended by a shirt you wear to work you can be sent home, presuming that the dress code is enforced universally. I guess this means that for every Christian, political, sports team affiliated, etc shirt I see that I disagree with I should take my concern to HR rather than being an adult, considering the source, and walking away. I was also reminded that there are people in this office, a place I have been comfortable enough to be out from the moment I walked in on my first day, that are so uncomfortable with my sexual orientation that merely being reminded of it is offensive to them. Seeing gay pride colors or slogans on my shirt, or the trade marked name of a lesbian motorcycle organization makes them so uncomfortable that they can’t get their work done if it is in the building. Yet those same people see nothing wrong with spouting Bible verses, wearing Christian themed shirts, and discussing Christian topics in the middle of the office corridors where not every employees of this company is a Christian. Ahh the double standard.
My saga continues over the T-shirt controversy as the HR manager asks questions of those involved in the decision to send me home, and to our parent companies HR department to find out their view of the situation and how things should have been handled. In the mean time, I’m uncomfortable being in the building today, and experiencing a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time, hatred toward me for something I can not, nor do I wish to change. I know it is their ignorance that will one day be their downfall. I know that I must be the bigger person and allow them their prejudice, but I don’t like this familiar feeling of being alone in the crowded office and not even able to look my department head in the face let alone the eye. He has forever lost my respect simply for the way in which he handled the situation. I guess it’s fitting that he is obviously uncomfortable around me today as well. He has not said a single word to me in the handful of time I have crossed his path and more than once he has seen me walking toward him in the hall and turned away rather than acknowledge my presence. Feels like high school all over again in so many ways!
This all began last Friday when I innocently wore my Dykes on bikes club T-Shirt to work since it was a jeans day. I got a few smirks and second glances as I walked in and up to my desk, but nothing out of the ordinary or all that unexpected. I also managed to get a few compliments on the design and one person asked where they could get one like it. It was a quiet day around the office and I went on with the business of my day, left my desk a grand total of three times, and had extremely limited contact with the rest of my co-workers. Yet, at about 11:30 my direct supervisor came and asked me to come with him. As we passed by his office where I assumed we were headed, he told me we needed to go talk to the Director of our department … never a good thing. I was told that I was in violation of the company dress code because my T-shirt fell into the vague category of “overly controversial” and that I would need to take the remainder of the afternoon off (with pay) because I did not have another shirt to change into. Let the drama begin.
I asked few questions, knowing that the office politics were not worth getting upset over right then and there, returned to my office to close out of all my files, grabbed my bag, and headed to the human Rescources office. It was then that I learned that HR had no idea I was being sent home, seemed a little strange to me, and that the person who was in HR that day could not explain to me why the shirt was so controversial. She requested that I bring it back Monday so that her boss could look into the matter for me. On that note, I left the building at about noon on a beautiful sunny June afternoon and enjoyed my suddenly extended weekend. I had some things I needed to get done before Monday morning, which is what I was working on when I was called away from my desk. I made the decision that if I was not allowed to work my regular schedule to complete those tasks they could wait until next week and the project would simply be delayed a week, no skin off my nose. I didn’t do a single work related thing from Friday at noon until I arrived today at 8:30 to start the new week. Thank you for the time off!
I had time to cool off over the weekend, to let the irritation slide a little bit and approach the issue with a little more political tact that I could have mustered Friday. I scheduled a meeting with the HR manager as directed and took in the shirt so he could look at it. The first words out of his mouth “Wow that’s a pretty shirt. I wouldn’t mind wearing one of these.” Then he attempted to answer my questions and assure me that he will look into the matter for me. He also apologized on behalf of the company that I felt “singled out”. Until that moment, I didn’t realize that everyone else sees this as a clear case of discrimination. I was simply asking why the shirt was controversial, not why I couldn’t wear it. If it doesn’t fit the dress code for jeans Fridays, I won’t wear it. But I need to know why it doesn’t fit so that I don’t wear another shirt that may land me in the same situation. So far, nobody can tell me the answer to that question.
In that short conversation with HR, I don’t feel much better about any of this. If anything, I’m more confused. What I learned is that if one single person is uncomfortable with or offended by a shirt you wear to work you can be sent home, presuming that the dress code is enforced universally. I guess this means that for every Christian, political, sports team affiliated, etc shirt I see that I disagree with I should take my concern to HR rather than being an adult, considering the source, and walking away. I was also reminded that there are people in this office, a place I have been comfortable enough to be out from the moment I walked in on my first day, that are so uncomfortable with my sexual orientation that merely being reminded of it is offensive to them. Seeing gay pride colors or slogans on my shirt, or the trade marked name of a lesbian motorcycle organization makes them so uncomfortable that they can’t get their work done if it is in the building. Yet those same people see nothing wrong with spouting Bible verses, wearing Christian themed shirts, and discussing Christian topics in the middle of the office corridors where not every employees of this company is a Christian. Ahh the double standard.
My saga continues over the T-shirt controversy as the HR manager asks questions of those involved in the decision to send me home, and to our parent companies HR department to find out their view of the situation and how things should have been handled. In the mean time, I’m uncomfortable being in the building today, and experiencing a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time, hatred toward me for something I can not, nor do I wish to change. I know it is their ignorance that will one day be their downfall. I know that I must be the bigger person and allow them their prejudice, but I don’t like this familiar feeling of being alone in the crowded office and not even able to look my department head in the face let alone the eye. He has forever lost my respect simply for the way in which he handled the situation. I guess it’s fitting that he is obviously uncomfortable around me today as well. He has not said a single word to me in the handful of time I have crossed his path and more than once he has seen me walking toward him in the hall and turned away rather than acknowledge my presence. Feels like high school all over again in so many ways!
Born into a world that will never understand you
Forced to live a life that will never make you whole
Spend your whole life wondering why it doesn’t feel right
Or listen to your heart and set yourself free
Stand up
Stand out
Stand tall
Never let their hate filled words break your resolve
You’re not a freak, a mistake of nature
You deserve to belong and to be loved
You are human too!
Monday, June 08, 2009
Motor City PRIDE 09 - it was a good day!
It began like any other Sunday in June, except that I was awake, out of bed, and moving before 9:00 AM. Mom and Dad stayed the night after finishing the tile job very late on Saturday and, though I was awake when they left, I never actually saw them Sunday morning. Jen and I dressed and headed to Fenton to return the loaner car to the Ford dealer and pick up the Escape for what had better be the FINAL time for the transmission repair. A quick stop for breakfast and we were headed home under partly cloudy skies debating the weather for the remainder of the day. By 10:30 we had decided to risk the 10% chance of rain and climbed on the bike headed south for Motor City PRIDE in Ferndale, MI.
The winds were calm and the ride down was nice, even with a still healing tail bone, but when we hit Auburn hills I decided I needed a break from the express way pace. We exited smoothly on Square Lake Rd and took Woodward south to 9 Mile where the festivities had already gotten under way. Our instructions were to arrive at any of the barricades along 9 Mile and ask security how to get to the DOBD crew … but Security had no idea! Thankfully we had a cell phone and managed to contact H-Bom who gave us detailed directions to get around to the back of the blocked off area and in to our space for the day. The row of chrome was impressive!
Jen and I spent the day hanging with the girls, getting to know some of the members who have not been able to make it to meetings, and cruising through the crowds to check out all of the booths and festivities. It was our first PRIDE in at least 8 years and I was impressed at how much it has grown and how well they pulled it off considering the lack of communication and late planning for some of it. Jen and I even managed to make it into the new Affermations building, though Sean was not to be seen so I couldn’t give him a hard time about his days as president of GALA at Oakland University in the mid 1990’s
The PRIDE festivities wrapped up around 6:30 and many of us headed over to a member’s house for a little food and some quieter time to hang out. The streets of Ferndale were packed with people most of the day and the Thumpa-Thumpa of the dance pavilion could be heard way down at the end of the line where we were set up. It was nice to sit quietly in the back yard, well as quietly as 9 vocal women can sit while eating, razzing those around the table, and telling stories. I was comfortable with the crew, even those I didn’t know before walking into PRIDE that morning, and it was a good feeling to be with a group of friends who accept you as you are, no questions asked. For me, that’s what PRIDE is all about, well that and the people watching as they parade past you dressed, and often barely dressed, in everything you can think of, and many things you wouldn’t dream a person would wear in public.
Jen and I hit the road about 8:15 hoping to beat the incoming rain and crawl into bed before it got dark. We managed to pull into the garage at almost exactly 9:30, hang up the gear, and call it a night before the sun was completely down, but we did not manage to beat the rain completely. There was a period of about 5 miles of stinging rain drops on the face and minimal spray off the front tire, but like it often does in Michigan, it cleared, the pavement dried, and the wind dried us out long before we ever got home.
A good day … A long day … and next Saturday we ride to Lansing for Michigan PRIDE, as a pack!
The winds were calm and the ride down was nice, even with a still healing tail bone, but when we hit Auburn hills I decided I needed a break from the express way pace. We exited smoothly on Square Lake Rd and took Woodward south to 9 Mile where the festivities had already gotten under way. Our instructions were to arrive at any of the barricades along 9 Mile and ask security how to get to the DOBD crew … but Security had no idea! Thankfully we had a cell phone and managed to contact H-Bom who gave us detailed directions to get around to the back of the blocked off area and in to our space for the day. The row of chrome was impressive!
Jen and I spent the day hanging with the girls, getting to know some of the members who have not been able to make it to meetings, and cruising through the crowds to check out all of the booths and festivities. It was our first PRIDE in at least 8 years and I was impressed at how much it has grown and how well they pulled it off considering the lack of communication and late planning for some of it. Jen and I even managed to make it into the new Affermations building, though Sean was not to be seen so I couldn’t give him a hard time about his days as president of GALA at Oakland University in the mid 1990’s
The PRIDE festivities wrapped up around 6:30 and many of us headed over to a member’s house for a little food and some quieter time to hang out. The streets of Ferndale were packed with people most of the day and the Thumpa-Thumpa of the dance pavilion could be heard way down at the end of the line where we were set up. It was nice to sit quietly in the back yard, well as quietly as 9 vocal women can sit while eating, razzing those around the table, and telling stories. I was comfortable with the crew, even those I didn’t know before walking into PRIDE that morning, and it was a good feeling to be with a group of friends who accept you as you are, no questions asked. For me, that’s what PRIDE is all about, well that and the people watching as they parade past you dressed, and often barely dressed, in everything you can think of, and many things you wouldn’t dream a person would wear in public.
Jen and I hit the road about 8:15 hoping to beat the incoming rain and crawl into bed before it got dark. We managed to pull into the garage at almost exactly 9:30, hang up the gear, and call it a night before the sun was completely down, but we did not manage to beat the rain completely. There was a period of about 5 miles of stinging rain drops on the face and minimal spray off the front tire, but like it often does in Michigan, it cleared, the pavement dried, and the wind dried us out long before we ever got home.
A good day … A long day … and next Saturday we ride to Lansing for Michigan PRIDE, as a pack!
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Well at least I still have a word processor
So I have a little time on my hands again, we’ll get to why later, and decided to update this thing for a little change. This makes twice in a week … see I am improving!
School is finally nearing the end for this year, I have a grand total of exactly 8 days left of these two pain in the a$$ classes and then I can officially begin summer vacation. The work load has been way more than I wanted to do for this session, but still manageable. Thankfully I excel at writing, even in the college paper and essay realm, and the only issues I ran into were lack of interest in the subject, Geography, and a professor who is IMPOSSIBLE to pleas in Cultural Diversity. I have yet to get full credit on one single assignment outside of weekly participation and one of my six weekly quizzes. That was pure luck since it’s a 10 question quiz with exactly 15 minutes to complete, I simply managed to beat the 25% odds on every question and guess correctly the few I didn’t honestly have an answer for. I always was good at pulling a good test score even when I hadn’t read a single word of the assignment for the week, nice to know I can still pull that off once in a while.
The tail bone is healing, slowly, but I managed a short ride on the motorcycle over the weekend. Unfortunately, the cruiser style of bike I have puts a tone of pressure on the tail bone area when you ride and, while it use to be comfortable, with a fractured tail bone it hurts just to sit on the darn thing. Add in the vibration of the engine and road surface and I was ready to get off after just a few miles in the saddle. It’s less painful today than is was over the weekend and hopefully I will be able to ride again soon. If not, I did a little research for a seat cover that will resolve this issue for me and just might have to buy an “old man seat cover” for the saddle until this heals fully. In any case, I will be riding again by May 16, though not participating in the River Ride with the crew that day; 200 miles just won’t happen that soon for my tail bone.
I still haven’t written another word on my next project, nor have I done a dang thing about getting another agent for Unconditional. I contacted someone who may act as an editor for me, but she is extremely busy and nothing has been finalized as of yet. I am tempted to just self publish the damn thing with lulu.com, buy the ISBN number, stick with on demand printing, post it on eBay and Amazon.com, and be done with it. BUT, would it really sell on Amazon.com with a listing of thousands of books on there? My gut tells me know and that I should stick to hitting the virtual pavement and dig up an agent. For the record, so do those that are in the business and have read it. They claim I just haven’t hit the right agent’s inbox yet. Well DUH! If I had hit the right inbox by now I would have a signed agent contract and they would be working on a publishing deal for me. Instead, at least I have written it and those who it was really written for have read and enjoyed it. That counts for something I suppose
It’s up, it’s down, it’s UP …. No wait, it’s down again!
That statement was heard frequently at work today as the Office Internet connection bounced from functional to offline for the better part of the day. Thankfully, our crack team of communication experts, okay I can’t even type that with out chuckling, was on hand to resolve the issue in no time flat, or uphill, or downhill, or whatever elevation change you can think to plug in here. Seriously, the internet bounced between usable and dead for a little over two hours today, spending most of that time period in the dead column, and people noticed. At the same time it was reported that our firewall locked up cold and had taken out three of the five facilities outside our corporate office that have a constant live connection to our building. Coincidence that the internet went down over the same interval? Last I knew, the connections to the facilities were restored, the firewall was still running, and our Internet connections was flaky at best … Thankfully its up frequently enough that I managed to get a little work done thins afternoon, and then it dies again and I had to start over. Got to love our dependence on technology and the Internet.
School is finally nearing the end for this year, I have a grand total of exactly 8 days left of these two pain in the a$$ classes and then I can officially begin summer vacation. The work load has been way more than I wanted to do for this session, but still manageable. Thankfully I excel at writing, even in the college paper and essay realm, and the only issues I ran into were lack of interest in the subject, Geography, and a professor who is IMPOSSIBLE to pleas in Cultural Diversity. I have yet to get full credit on one single assignment outside of weekly participation and one of my six weekly quizzes. That was pure luck since it’s a 10 question quiz with exactly 15 minutes to complete, I simply managed to beat the 25% odds on every question and guess correctly the few I didn’t honestly have an answer for. I always was good at pulling a good test score even when I hadn’t read a single word of the assignment for the week, nice to know I can still pull that off once in a while.
The tail bone is healing, slowly, but I managed a short ride on the motorcycle over the weekend. Unfortunately, the cruiser style of bike I have puts a tone of pressure on the tail bone area when you ride and, while it use to be comfortable, with a fractured tail bone it hurts just to sit on the darn thing. Add in the vibration of the engine and road surface and I was ready to get off after just a few miles in the saddle. It’s less painful today than is was over the weekend and hopefully I will be able to ride again soon. If not, I did a little research for a seat cover that will resolve this issue for me and just might have to buy an “old man seat cover” for the saddle until this heals fully. In any case, I will be riding again by May 16, though not participating in the River Ride with the crew that day; 200 miles just won’t happen that soon for my tail bone.
I still haven’t written another word on my next project, nor have I done a dang thing about getting another agent for Unconditional. I contacted someone who may act as an editor for me, but she is extremely busy and nothing has been finalized as of yet. I am tempted to just self publish the damn thing with lulu.com, buy the ISBN number, stick with on demand printing, post it on eBay and Amazon.com, and be done with it. BUT, would it really sell on Amazon.com with a listing of thousands of books on there? My gut tells me know and that I should stick to hitting the virtual pavement and dig up an agent. For the record, so do those that are in the business and have read it. They claim I just haven’t hit the right agent’s inbox yet. Well DUH! If I had hit the right inbox by now I would have a signed agent contract and they would be working on a publishing deal for me. Instead, at least I have written it and those who it was really written for have read and enjoyed it. That counts for something I suppose
It’s up, it’s down, it’s UP …. No wait, it’s down again!
That statement was heard frequently at work today as the Office Internet connection bounced from functional to offline for the better part of the day. Thankfully, our crack team of communication experts, okay I can’t even type that with out chuckling, was on hand to resolve the issue in no time flat, or uphill, or downhill, or whatever elevation change you can think to plug in here. Seriously, the internet bounced between usable and dead for a little over two hours today, spending most of that time period in the dead column, and people noticed. At the same time it was reported that our firewall locked up cold and had taken out three of the five facilities outside our corporate office that have a constant live connection to our building. Coincidence that the internet went down over the same interval? Last I knew, the connections to the facilities were restored, the firewall was still running, and our Internet connections was flaky at best … Thankfully its up frequently enough that I managed to get a little work done thins afternoon, and then it dies again and I had to start over. Got to love our dependence on technology and the Internet.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Catching Up ...
The “newness” of Facebook has worn off after roughly a month of using it almost daily. Yet, I still log in almost daily and either play a game or two or at the very least change my status message. I’m not on it three and four times a day like I was in the beginning, but it has remained a part of my daily routine, and this blog has suffered for it. I once used this blog to keep my friends informed about happenings in my daily life, and occasionally to vent frustrations. Over the last month that I have been an active Facebook member, I think I have updated the blog three times, but that may be over estimating it. I suppose it’s time to break that cycle and get back to journaling on here again.
School is, well going. I am 4 painful weeks into my final six weeks of classes before a much needed summer break. May 14 I will once again be free to spend free time writing things I care about and want to see completed rather than one essay after another form my painful Cultural Diversity class. The class title alone evokes instant headache pains, and did long before I knew what I was in for. I am an open minded culturally aware person, the exact opposite of who this class was designed for eons ago. I was not looking forward to taking it and decided to just get it out of the way now and be done with it, mistake number one. I am also taking a World Geography class, figured it would go well with a cultural class, mistake number two. These two classes combined mean that I am writing one to two essay papers a day, every day. All of them have a minimum word count in the 200-300 range and some come with a maximum word count of 500. Failure to keep it in the word count range means point reductions in Geography and 0 points in Cultural Diversity. As much as I hated my C++ and Java programming classes, I would gladly take them again if it meant I wouldn’t have had to endure this semester with these two classes. The saddest part is that I have yet to learn something I didn’t already know in EITHER class. I have been reminded of things I learned in high school, but nothing I didn’t already know about. There are still two weeks left, maybe I can get something out of these two classes other than a mediocre grade yet, but I won’t hold my breath.
Work, it’s work. Same stuff, different day and week. Disaster Recovery testing went, and as it typical not all of it worked as planned, but within 24 hours of the building being totally destroyed we know we can have the core business back online and process orders again. Whether we could write checks, or look up sales data historically is another story, but we could process payroll so long as you have direct deposit, which most of us do, so I’m okay with that. NooB is improving, or my tolerance for his mistakes is growing. One of the two, you make the call which it is. The bottom line about work, I still have a job. That is something more than many of my friends and Jen effective last Friday.
That’s right, Jen lost her job Friday. Thank you President Obama for extending those UE benefits out to 79 weeks, and for the State of Michigan who increased the UE benefit maximum. Our checking account will appreciate it I’m sure. Now if only I could add her to my insurance so we didn’t’ have to pay the COBRA on hers … that would make this just about perfect timing. We knew it was coming, just didn’t expect it so soon, nor did we expect it to happen the way it did. I’m actually happy she’s not working there any more, she was miserable. I would rather have to foot the full bill for her insurance than see her so miserable Sunday through Friday and occasionally on Saturday too. She has been looking to get out of there for a while and has a couple of leads on a new job, but if nothing else, 79 weeks of UE will allow her to spend some time with Mom and get us back into the trading game with the little bit of capitol we have managed to save over the last year.
That covers the major stuff, nothing has happened with Unconditional, I haven’t done much work on the new project yet, and I’ve slacked off on searching for an agent to represent Unconditional. School got in the way. I have my motorcycle from Mom and Dad’s, but with a busted tail bone I can’t ride it. Maybe by this weekend I can stand a short ride with Jen. I reconnected with some old friends, thanks to Facebook, and haven’t found the time to even send Jack an e-mail let alone hang out with him. Vermont vacation has been canceled for this summer and instead we are taking a long weekend to Tennessee over Memorial Day weekend and a 7 night camping trip to the U.P. in August. So far we think Tahquemenon Falls State Park … but no reservations have been made yet.
School is, well going. I am 4 painful weeks into my final six weeks of classes before a much needed summer break. May 14 I will once again be free to spend free time writing things I care about and want to see completed rather than one essay after another form my painful Cultural Diversity class. The class title alone evokes instant headache pains, and did long before I knew what I was in for. I am an open minded culturally aware person, the exact opposite of who this class was designed for eons ago. I was not looking forward to taking it and decided to just get it out of the way now and be done with it, mistake number one. I am also taking a World Geography class, figured it would go well with a cultural class, mistake number two. These two classes combined mean that I am writing one to two essay papers a day, every day. All of them have a minimum word count in the 200-300 range and some come with a maximum word count of 500. Failure to keep it in the word count range means point reductions in Geography and 0 points in Cultural Diversity. As much as I hated my C++ and Java programming classes, I would gladly take them again if it meant I wouldn’t have had to endure this semester with these two classes. The saddest part is that I have yet to learn something I didn’t already know in EITHER class. I have been reminded of things I learned in high school, but nothing I didn’t already know about. There are still two weeks left, maybe I can get something out of these two classes other than a mediocre grade yet, but I won’t hold my breath.
Work, it’s work. Same stuff, different day and week. Disaster Recovery testing went, and as it typical not all of it worked as planned, but within 24 hours of the building being totally destroyed we know we can have the core business back online and process orders again. Whether we could write checks, or look up sales data historically is another story, but we could process payroll so long as you have direct deposit, which most of us do, so I’m okay with that. NooB is improving, or my tolerance for his mistakes is growing. One of the two, you make the call which it is. The bottom line about work, I still have a job. That is something more than many of my friends and Jen effective last Friday.
That’s right, Jen lost her job Friday. Thank you President Obama for extending those UE benefits out to 79 weeks, and for the State of Michigan who increased the UE benefit maximum. Our checking account will appreciate it I’m sure. Now if only I could add her to my insurance so we didn’t’ have to pay the COBRA on hers … that would make this just about perfect timing. We knew it was coming, just didn’t expect it so soon, nor did we expect it to happen the way it did. I’m actually happy she’s not working there any more, she was miserable. I would rather have to foot the full bill for her insurance than see her so miserable Sunday through Friday and occasionally on Saturday too. She has been looking to get out of there for a while and has a couple of leads on a new job, but if nothing else, 79 weeks of UE will allow her to spend some time with Mom and get us back into the trading game with the little bit of capitol we have managed to save over the last year.
That covers the major stuff, nothing has happened with Unconditional, I haven’t done much work on the new project yet, and I’ve slacked off on searching for an agent to represent Unconditional. School got in the way. I have my motorcycle from Mom and Dad’s, but with a busted tail bone I can’t ride it. Maybe by this weekend I can stand a short ride with Jen. I reconnected with some old friends, thanks to Facebook, and haven’t found the time to even send Jack an e-mail let alone hang out with him. Vermont vacation has been canceled for this summer and instead we are taking a long weekend to Tennessee over Memorial Day weekend and a 7 night camping trip to the U.P. in August. So far we think Tahquemenon Falls State Park … but no reservations have been made yet.
Friday, April 17, 2009
A little uninspired ...
I’ve not been writing lately, have no drafts as promised for the new project. I’ve not been doing much of anything except work, school, and of course Facebook these days. Last night Jen and I put on the new roller blades and went for a slow roll around the block. It has been YEARS since either of us has been on a pair of skates, far more for her than I, yet we both made it safely from start to finish with not a single fall. Tonight perhaps we can do two laps, or maybe climb on the bike and go for a leisurely ride instead. That may help to clear my head, inspire me to write again, perhaps to get him out of it for a bit. Funny how that seems to help.
In the winter, I board, keeps me level headed, calm, and peaceful; except when it frustrates the hell out of me because I can’t managed to turn the right way and fall on my butt over and over on a run. In the Summer I use to sail and hope to resume that recreational activity once again very soon. Last year I found a new means of maintaining my sanity, riding my motorcycle. Something about the freedom, the wind in my face, the uninhibited connection with my surroundings rolling along the pavement on two wheels has the same effect on me as boarding, sailing, and hanging with Jack for any length of time.
Is it possible that spending time with someone can produce the same type of effects on your psyche as other “substances” and eventually lead to withdrawals when they are not around?
He’s there when I close my eyes again, across the room in his favorite chair staring out the window at the waves. Occasionally I hear a question, in his voice not my own, and I wonder if I should answer. The more time I spend away from him, the more frequently he wanders through my thoughts. The more I look for a reason to make time to spend with him, as if I really need one. I know exactly what will happen the moment I set foot out of the car, and that simply wanting to spend a little time hanging out is reason enough. Yet I can’t come up with what to say in an e-mail other than to ask if his weekend schedule has cleared any since I heard from him last in the first week of March. And so the withdrawals continue until I eventually get inspired enough to contact him again and request a little of his weekend time once again. In the mean time, the bikes, motor and peddle variety, will have to fill that growing void I feel inside.
In the winter, I board, keeps me level headed, calm, and peaceful; except when it frustrates the hell out of me because I can’t managed to turn the right way and fall on my butt over and over on a run. In the Summer I use to sail and hope to resume that recreational activity once again very soon. Last year I found a new means of maintaining my sanity, riding my motorcycle. Something about the freedom, the wind in my face, the uninhibited connection with my surroundings rolling along the pavement on two wheels has the same effect on me as boarding, sailing, and hanging with Jack for any length of time.
Is it possible that spending time with someone can produce the same type of effects on your psyche as other “substances” and eventually lead to withdrawals when they are not around?
He’s there when I close my eyes again, across the room in his favorite chair staring out the window at the waves. Occasionally I hear a question, in his voice not my own, and I wonder if I should answer. The more time I spend away from him, the more frequently he wanders through my thoughts. The more I look for a reason to make time to spend with him, as if I really need one. I know exactly what will happen the moment I set foot out of the car, and that simply wanting to spend a little time hanging out is reason enough. Yet I can’t come up with what to say in an e-mail other than to ask if his weekend schedule has cleared any since I heard from him last in the first week of March. And so the withdrawals continue until I eventually get inspired enough to contact him again and request a little of his weekend time once again. In the mean time, the bikes, motor and peddle variety, will have to fill that growing void I feel inside.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
so much to do, so little time to think
School has been keeping me busy lately, with the first Java class winding down to it's final week soon and projects to complete in order to make the grade. Work has been busier than I have been use to with little time to work on much of anything personal except at lunch and my evenings have been spent finishing homework that normally would be done at work. The newB is learning, and has figured out how to stay out of my office for most of the day, unless he has a question which is understandable ... has resulted in much lower stress levels for me during the day.
The weekend was spent north ... it went ... it was loud ... Genna was a blast most of the weekend and even Maddalynn had her moments. Poor Margurite is cutting teeth and has a double ear infection so not much sleep was to be had Saturday night though she was content most of the day time hours and is just about old enough to actually play with. She's just under 8 months old so though she can sit up on her own she tends to lean over in one direction or another and winds up falling down. By Thanksgiving she should be ready.
The bike is parked for the winter, except taking care of the fuel tank since I was an idiot and left the ignition key at home and couldn't run the lines dry or open the gas cap. The seat is off, it's parked out of the way, and the gear is packed away for the most part. Even my boots went north to spend the winter with my jacket and helmet, don't have much call for them around here with nothing to ride.
The highlight of the weekend ... about an hour and a half Monday morning spent with Jack. I'm still digesting that conversation and will talk about it eventually ... for now I am just content knowing I managed to talk to him openly for the first time in my life. It took most of the summer to get to the point where I could speak what has been running through my head, but I did it and I think we both have a little better understanding of where we're each coming from. And, for the first time in my life, if I never got the chance to talk to him again, I could be at peace with that.
It's late, I need sleep, I'm off to bed before today turns into tomorrow.
The weekend was spent north ... it went ... it was loud ... Genna was a blast most of the weekend and even Maddalynn had her moments. Poor Margurite is cutting teeth and has a double ear infection so not much sleep was to be had Saturday night though she was content most of the day time hours and is just about old enough to actually play with. She's just under 8 months old so though she can sit up on her own she tends to lean over in one direction or another and winds up falling down. By Thanksgiving she should be ready.
The bike is parked for the winter, except taking care of the fuel tank since I was an idiot and left the ignition key at home and couldn't run the lines dry or open the gas cap. The seat is off, it's parked out of the way, and the gear is packed away for the most part. Even my boots went north to spend the winter with my jacket and helmet, don't have much call for them around here with nothing to ride.
The highlight of the weekend ... about an hour and a half Monday morning spent with Jack. I'm still digesting that conversation and will talk about it eventually ... for now I am just content knowing I managed to talk to him openly for the first time in my life. It took most of the summer to get to the point where I could speak what has been running through my head, but I did it and I think we both have a little better understanding of where we're each coming from. And, for the first time in my life, if I never got the chance to talk to him again, I could be at peace with that.
It's late, I need sleep, I'm off to bed before today turns into tomorrow.
Monday, October 20, 2008
A little proof that I am still breathing
All right, it’s been over a week and it’s time to start writing again. The economy is still tanking on a week-by-week basis and my investment account is shrinking almost daily. The election ads are still running though the McCain camp wants the world to believe they have abandoned Michigan as a lost cause. Seems like yet another political chess move that backfired on the republicans because for every “red” ad there is a “blue” one that both precedes and follows it in all forms of media with most of them funded by non-partisan groups like the UAW.
Work is, well, work. We have finally hired a new PC Technician to fill in the huge gaps created close to three years ago when our company made major staffing reductions. Woo hoo! Finally, somebody else can start answering the “I forgot my password” calls while I concentrate on larger projects that have been collecting dust for the past three years. Unfortunately, this also means that we have to train the newB, he’s right out of college and has little to no “real world” experience so this will take a while. I remember being young and green, though I began working in the field while still in college, and I’m trying to give the kid the same kind of chance I had when I was in his shoes. I was fortunate enough to have a boss that trusted me, was patient with me, and encouraged me to step outside of my shell and do things I was totally uncomfortable with almost daily. He challenged me to do phone support within weeks of joining the company and against my better judgment, I agreed to give it a shot. Anyone who knew me right out of high school knows how shy I was back then but somehow the security of not being face to face with the person allowed me to excel at my new duties and eventually I moved into a role of face-to-face support. Almost fifteen years later and I now find myself in the position to groom a new generation of tech support and will gladly hand over the reigns of day-to-day user support as soon as the newB is ready to take them.
The book, well it’s finished and awaiting a decision on who should publish it for the masses. I have three offers on the table from three different subsidy publishers at the moment. I am not certain subsidy is the way to go, so they sit there while I consider other options. I like the idea of 50% royalties on every sale, but that will only help recoup the initial out of pocket expense of $500-$600 if the book actually sells. As an unknown author, there are no guarantees and I would be relying heavily on the publisher’s marketing machine to get it out there for me. Since I can’t seem to find much on either of the companies out there, good or bad, I am taking my time in making this decision. In the mean time, I have updated the version available through the lulu.com storefront with the new chapters, tweaks to existing ones, and the current cover. I hope to see Jack next weekend and drop of his copy, Stacey is next on my list, and by Christmas it should be in the hands of all those I have promised final versions to.
Speaking of next weekend, the bike, sadly, has gone north for the winter and I will be pulling it out of the trailer and parking it in the back of the barn at Mom and Dad’s next weekend. I am hopeful that the weather will hold out for me at least one day and I can take a final ride, burn a little more gas out of the half-full tank, and clean the remainder of thousands of dead insects from the chrome before parking it for the next five months. It will signal my official end of summer and may induce a state of depression for a few days, but have no fear, I’ll just write to make it all go away instead of climbing on my bike and letting my sadness blow in the wind. I have a new story to tell, one that will require my attention in the coming months while I wait for spring to arrive and can once again use my motorcycle as therapy. Maybe by then I’ll have a sailboat to use instead and the motorcycle will just be a fun form of transportation with excellent gas mileage.
It is slightly past mid-October, the holidays are looming in the near future, and the leaves are finally falling from the trees everywhere I look. School is puttering along nicely and except for this weeks assignments has come and gone without much real head scratching on my part. Given a little time at home over the next two days I should manage this weeks assignment as well and can concentrate on finishing up this final project once and for all. Then it’s on to the next six weeks of Java where we will complete the book and I may need to spend more time writing code than I currently do. I have a backup plan, Eric has taken Java and should be able to assist if I get in a bind. I haven’t had to call yet, but he’s been warned. Provided Jen cooks dinner he says he’s willing to do a little java tutoring if need be.
And now you are up to speed
Three strikes and we’re on to try number four in a few weeks
Work is, well, work. We have finally hired a new PC Technician to fill in the huge gaps created close to three years ago when our company made major staffing reductions. Woo hoo! Finally, somebody else can start answering the “I forgot my password” calls while I concentrate on larger projects that have been collecting dust for the past three years. Unfortunately, this also means that we have to train the newB, he’s right out of college and has little to no “real world” experience so this will take a while. I remember being young and green, though I began working in the field while still in college, and I’m trying to give the kid the same kind of chance I had when I was in his shoes. I was fortunate enough to have a boss that trusted me, was patient with me, and encouraged me to step outside of my shell and do things I was totally uncomfortable with almost daily. He challenged me to do phone support within weeks of joining the company and against my better judgment, I agreed to give it a shot. Anyone who knew me right out of high school knows how shy I was back then but somehow the security of not being face to face with the person allowed me to excel at my new duties and eventually I moved into a role of face-to-face support. Almost fifteen years later and I now find myself in the position to groom a new generation of tech support and will gladly hand over the reigns of day-to-day user support as soon as the newB is ready to take them.
The book, well it’s finished and awaiting a decision on who should publish it for the masses. I have three offers on the table from three different subsidy publishers at the moment. I am not certain subsidy is the way to go, so they sit there while I consider other options. I like the idea of 50% royalties on every sale, but that will only help recoup the initial out of pocket expense of $500-$600 if the book actually sells. As an unknown author, there are no guarantees and I would be relying heavily on the publisher’s marketing machine to get it out there for me. Since I can’t seem to find much on either of the companies out there, good or bad, I am taking my time in making this decision. In the mean time, I have updated the version available through the lulu.com storefront with the new chapters, tweaks to existing ones, and the current cover. I hope to see Jack next weekend and drop of his copy, Stacey is next on my list, and by Christmas it should be in the hands of all those I have promised final versions to.
Speaking of next weekend, the bike, sadly, has gone north for the winter and I will be pulling it out of the trailer and parking it in the back of the barn at Mom and Dad’s next weekend. I am hopeful that the weather will hold out for me at least one day and I can take a final ride, burn a little more gas out of the half-full tank, and clean the remainder of thousands of dead insects from the chrome before parking it for the next five months. It will signal my official end of summer and may induce a state of depression for a few days, but have no fear, I’ll just write to make it all go away instead of climbing on my bike and letting my sadness blow in the wind. I have a new story to tell, one that will require my attention in the coming months while I wait for spring to arrive and can once again use my motorcycle as therapy. Maybe by then I’ll have a sailboat to use instead and the motorcycle will just be a fun form of transportation with excellent gas mileage.
It is slightly past mid-October, the holidays are looming in the near future, and the leaves are finally falling from the trees everywhere I look. School is puttering along nicely and except for this weeks assignments has come and gone without much real head scratching on my part. Given a little time at home over the next two days I should manage this weeks assignment as well and can concentrate on finishing up this final project once and for all. Then it’s on to the next six weeks of Java where we will complete the book and I may need to spend more time writing code than I currently do. I have a backup plan, Eric has taken Java and should be able to assist if I get in a bind. I haven’t had to call yet, but he’s been warned. Provided Jen cooks dinner he says he’s willing to do a little java tutoring if need be.
And now you are up to speed
Three strikes and we’re on to try number four in a few weeks
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Summer's last stand?
So maybe we'll get one more nice weekend out of this summer after all. After two weeks of grey skies, rainy days, and temps struggling just to hit 60 it is suppose to be sunny and in the 70's all weekend! It will be beautiful for a change and Jen and I will certainly be out on the bike for at least one of these upcoming summer-like days, but is it just a tease? Is this summer's last stand ending in just three short days and ushering in colder temps and possibly snow? We've already had our first freeze of the season, earlier this week in fact, and I have had to scrape ice from my car windshield at least one morning already. I am not ready for snow and ice. I am not ready to give up warm days and riding the motorcycle at least on the weekends. I really don't want to give up riding it to work either but morning temps in the low 40's have prevented that for the last two weeks. Maybe I can squeak out one last rid to work this Friday when it should be in the upper 40's or low 50's at 7am.
School is going surprisingly well so far and after two weeks I am far from lost in code. I have managed to get my homework done without much hard work and not a single late night slaving over an open textbook and keyboard. I haven't even pulled out a single hair debugging my weekly programs. This either means that I have become one of "them", a programmer, or I am seriously due for some harder assignments and hours of debugging the next program. Maybe being one of "them" wouldn't be all that bad.
day 7 try 3
School is going surprisingly well so far and after two weeks I am far from lost in code. I have managed to get my homework done without much hard work and not a single late night slaving over an open textbook and keyboard. I haven't even pulled out a single hair debugging my weekly programs. This either means that I have become one of "them", a programmer, or I am seriously due for some harder assignments and hours of debugging the next program. Maybe being one of "them" wouldn't be all that bad.
day 7 try 3
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Life update ...
Okay enough about the economy already, it’s all doom and gloom anyway. Classes have resumed and those who told me suffering through two sessions of C++ would one day benefit me, well they were right. I guess there’s a first for everything. I’m taking Java I currently and so far I have to say that it’s pretty simple. I stress the SO FAR part of that statement mind you because I see what is around the corner and cannot guarantee it will remain simple for long. The prof is easy to work with and so far has not docked me any points, yes that means as of the end of week one I currently have a 4.0 in a programming class, but there is still two assignments he hasn’t graded yet so it may not hold up past Monday. The assignments have been easy so far because the concepts are the same in Java as they were in Visual Basic and C++, just a little different syntax. Quite honestly I would have to also agree that Java is easier to learn because the methods, classes, and operators (sorry had to get technical for a sec) are named logically and simply by looking at the command System.out.println(“Hello”); I can figure out that the result should be the word Hello printed to the screen, C++ is no where near that obvious.
Okay done with the technical stuff … on to other things in life
Summer has faded into Fall and wish as I might it looks like Winter will be here sooner than I am prepared for. I have permission from Mom and Dad to store the bike in the barn for the winter and I will be taking it up there the end of October … but I have to ride it up there. It just might be my first ride with long underwear and snow pants! Jen and I are suppose to go on a ride with Dykes on Bikes on Oct 11 but if it’s cold I think we may just skip that little party, or show up in the heated Mazda. I’m not ready to be cold and miserable for six months yet damn it. Summer was cold and rainy most of the time, fall just took another 20 degrees of the temps and in a very short time, I will be looking at leafless trees and mud everywhere. If the snow would just come and stay till March I would be okay, it’s just that brown grass, brown trees, brown mud part of winter that I can’t stand.
No word from Jack yet, he’s either not back yet, on another Eagle Village trip, or having more difficulty with is e-mail application. Some people just aren’t cut out for technology I suppose.
Day 1, Try 3
Okay done with the technical stuff … on to other things in life
Summer has faded into Fall and wish as I might it looks like Winter will be here sooner than I am prepared for. I have permission from Mom and Dad to store the bike in the barn for the winter and I will be taking it up there the end of October … but I have to ride it up there. It just might be my first ride with long underwear and snow pants! Jen and I are suppose to go on a ride with Dykes on Bikes on Oct 11 but if it’s cold I think we may just skip that little party, or show up in the heated Mazda. I’m not ready to be cold and miserable for six months yet damn it. Summer was cold and rainy most of the time, fall just took another 20 degrees of the temps and in a very short time, I will be looking at leafless trees and mud everywhere. If the snow would just come and stay till March I would be okay, it’s just that brown grass, brown trees, brown mud part of winter that I can’t stand.
No word from Jack yet, he’s either not back yet, on another Eagle Village trip, or having more difficulty with is e-mail application. Some people just aren’t cut out for technology I suppose.
Day 1, Try 3
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Another meeting for the books
So ... meeting two came and went with nothing spectacular happening, except solidifying my belonging to the group as a whole and building on the fragile new friendships Jen and I have made.
The group is young, still getting it's member base up and running, and expanding by leaps and bounds each week it seems. With just 6 of us there at the table it was the largest meeting ever held, last week was the 2nd largest with only 5 of us there. I can't promise to show for every meeting, not certain that driving into the concrete maze, searching for a parking spot for 10 minutes, and then walking three blocks to get to Comos is worth it every two weeks to be honest, but I can certainly make it once a month!
Things are a little busy for all of us right now, end of Summer, Ren Faire, back to school, job responsibilities, and the daily pressures of life all around ... yet we find time to hang with friends once a week, or every two weeks as the case may be. It's a drive for Jen and, about an hour to get down there on a Wednesday night, but it was fun to just hang out with the girls. We talked about all kinds of things and it will be good for me to open up a little more. Wadog and Ronda asked a few questions when it was just the four of us, I answered honestly but the subjects were broad and light. After the rest of the gang took off for the night and it was just Jen and I with Wadog, she once again asked some general questions just trying to get to know us a little better. Thankfully Jen was there and fed answers when I was still too quiet.
I'm a bit out of practice I suppose, this whole get-to-know-you game is not something I have had to do outside of work in over a decade. I'm learning, I'm more self confident, and eventually I'll open up more freely, even when Jen isn't there to come to my rescue. So many years of hiding and changing pronouns, ducking questions, and withholding information takes a little time to reprogram. This is the first time I have ever hung out with a bunch of dykes and wanted to get to know them. Jen and I are unique, just like each and every member of the group is, and we have our own story that should be shared with those who care to hear it, but I'm not use to people wanting to know. In time I'll share, open up about anything that is asked of me, share things with anyone who asks ... for now, I'm doing my best.
The group is young, still getting it's member base up and running, and expanding by leaps and bounds each week it seems. With just 6 of us there at the table it was the largest meeting ever held, last week was the 2nd largest with only 5 of us there. I can't promise to show for every meeting, not certain that driving into the concrete maze, searching for a parking spot for 10 minutes, and then walking three blocks to get to Comos is worth it every two weeks to be honest, but I can certainly make it once a month!
Things are a little busy for all of us right now, end of Summer, Ren Faire, back to school, job responsibilities, and the daily pressures of life all around ... yet we find time to hang with friends once a week, or every two weeks as the case may be. It's a drive for Jen and, about an hour to get down there on a Wednesday night, but it was fun to just hang out with the girls. We talked about all kinds of things and it will be good for me to open up a little more. Wadog and Ronda asked a few questions when it was just the four of us, I answered honestly but the subjects were broad and light. After the rest of the gang took off for the night and it was just Jen and I with Wadog, she once again asked some general questions just trying to get to know us a little better. Thankfully Jen was there and fed answers when I was still too quiet.
I'm a bit out of practice I suppose, this whole get-to-know-you game is not something I have had to do outside of work in over a decade. I'm learning, I'm more self confident, and eventually I'll open up more freely, even when Jen isn't there to come to my rescue. So many years of hiding and changing pronouns, ducking questions, and withholding information takes a little time to reprogram. This is the first time I have ever hung out with a bunch of dykes and wanted to get to know them. Jen and I are unique, just like each and every member of the group is, and we have our own story that should be shared with those who care to hear it, but I'm not use to people wanting to know. In time I'll share, open up about anything that is asked of me, share things with anyone who asks ... for now, I'm doing my best.
Friday, September 19, 2008
It's Official!
Sometime earlier in the summer Jen sent me an e-mail with a link to a local women’s motorcycle club who was just getting their boots under them and in search of members. Like any good partner, I dutifully checked it out and, upon the page loading fully, began to laugh out loud hysterically. The link was for the Detroit chapter of Dykes on Bikes! It had been somewhat of a running joke between us since I took my first motorcycle safety class in 2007, that someday I would ride home sporting a leather jacket and Dykes on Bikes patch. I was only half-serious in all of those conversations, mostly because I assumed that there were no such chapters here in my home state at all, let alone one in my general geographic portion of this vast land mass.
As I surfed through their burgeoning website seeking information, I stumbled upon a “Contact Us” link and figured what the heck, let’s check it out. I typed up a quick e-mail expressing interest in joining the group and seeking information as to what I needed to do to make that happen as well as when meetings were and what the requirements for membership were exactly. I was shocked to get an almost instant response from their president telling me that simply by sending that e-mail I was considered a member and only needed to make an appearance at a meeting to meet the rest of the crew. I think Jen was even more surprised when I returned from work that evening with the news that I had “joined” and told her we just needed to show up for a meeting.
Meetings are held during the week about an hour from our house and consequentially we never managed to find the time to attend, until last night. When I went to work yesterday, I had no intention of doing anything other than putting in my standard 9-hour day, riding the bike home, and spending some time with Jen after dinner. The Dykes on Bikes meeting was to be held in its usual spot, at its usual time, and not exactly convenient to attend. Sometime around 3 o’clock I got an e-mail telling me that the venue for the meeting had been changed, to within 15 minutes from my house. It didn’t take long for me to realize that this was my chance to grab Jen, head out to our first meeting, and meet the crew. If we hated it we never had to go back and weren’t out anything but a few dollars in the gas tank and an hour or two of our Wednesday night. I managed to get in touch with her, by skirting around the firewall block on instant messaging here at work (don’t tell my boss that I know where the hole is), and she agreed that it was a good opportunity to test the waters. It was a plan!
I have to admit that I was nervous. I was walking into an unknown environment filled with unknown people, and quite possibly into an absolute drama fest in EVERY sense of that word. I’m a Dyke, a Butch Dyke to be exact, and I am well aware of what drama can ensue when you mix too many flavors of Dykes together in one spot for too long. Jen admitted she too was nervous, the whole meting new people thing isn’t usually our style to begin with but we were game anyway. As we pulled into the long driveway and passed clusters of trucks, trailers, and golf carts of crew who were at the fair grounds to shoot a movie, yes real Hollywood type movie with leading roles filled by names of people you would recognize, I was just hoping that I didn’t do something stupid like dump my bike in front of the “biker gang” and be laughed out of the meeting. It was a dirt road and I was carrying a passenger, so it was entirely possible to make a stupid mistake and go toppling over, but alas I managed to make it all the way to the main gate, hit the security checkpoint, and was waived through when I told the kid I was looking for the Dykes on Bikes group. They were easy enough to spot, all three of them standing next to a silver and purple Harley.
I pulled up slowly, flipped up the facemask, cut the engine, and introduced myself. Jen climbed off the bike and did the same as I carefully parked my bike next to that silver Harley and climbed off. They were friendly, entertaining, and genuinely happy to have us join them. I was impressed. I’m not certain what I was expecting to be honest but as we stood there talking, asking and answering questions while we waited for the rest of the group to arrive, my fears dissipated and within minutes I felt like both Jen and I belonged in the group for reasons other than my motorcycle.
The remainder of our evening was spent playing the hurry up and wait game that is so common in the movie business, or so others have told me, having a brief conversation with a producer, then a short meeting with the executive producer, and finally just sitting around a large table talking. I’m not certain anything will come of the movie thing, right now they are trying to work us into the script somehow as ourselves, the Detroit chapter of Dykes on Bikes. They have also offered roles as extras if any of us are willing to dress in period clothing at the Fair for background shots, but the chance to make an appearance in a major motion picture had nothing to do with why Jen and I went to that meeting in the first place. Do I think it would be cool to show up on the silver screen riding in a pack of lesbians down the road somewhere? Absolutely! Would I jump at the chance to make that happen? You betcha! However, the feeling I left that meeting with was the reason we went. It is something I have been searching for, something I didn’t know I was missing out on. When the gang headed to the hotel bar to get a drink, and I realized how late it had gotten, Jen and I decided to make our exit. We had not yet eaten dinner and since she gets up for work at 5am, we needed to get some food and head home to bed as quickly as possible. The group seemed genuinely bummed that we were heading out for the night, yet happy that we had finally made an appearance in a meeting. We parted ways with smiles and hugs, we were officially part of the family and I look forward to making time to attend more meetings in the future.
Mom, it’s official, your daughter is a self-proclaimed Dyke, she owns a motorcycle, and she is now an active member of the Dykes on Bikes!
To the crew from last night, Heather, Ronda, Marianne, Meg, and Cristi (I hope I spelled them right girls) THANK YOU! I have never in my life, been in a group of people who were so friendly, easy to talk to, fun, energetic, and understanding of my view of the world from the moment they laid eyes on me. It was truly an eye opening experience to hang out with you girls and I look forward to our next encounter. RIDE ON!
As I surfed through their burgeoning website seeking information, I stumbled upon a “Contact Us” link and figured what the heck, let’s check it out. I typed up a quick e-mail expressing interest in joining the group and seeking information as to what I needed to do to make that happen as well as when meetings were and what the requirements for membership were exactly. I was shocked to get an almost instant response from their president telling me that simply by sending that e-mail I was considered a member and only needed to make an appearance at a meeting to meet the rest of the crew. I think Jen was even more surprised when I returned from work that evening with the news that I had “joined” and told her we just needed to show up for a meeting.
Meetings are held during the week about an hour from our house and consequentially we never managed to find the time to attend, until last night. When I went to work yesterday, I had no intention of doing anything other than putting in my standard 9-hour day, riding the bike home, and spending some time with Jen after dinner. The Dykes on Bikes meeting was to be held in its usual spot, at its usual time, and not exactly convenient to attend. Sometime around 3 o’clock I got an e-mail telling me that the venue for the meeting had been changed, to within 15 minutes from my house. It didn’t take long for me to realize that this was my chance to grab Jen, head out to our first meeting, and meet the crew. If we hated it we never had to go back and weren’t out anything but a few dollars in the gas tank and an hour or two of our Wednesday night. I managed to get in touch with her, by skirting around the firewall block on instant messaging here at work (don’t tell my boss that I know where the hole is), and she agreed that it was a good opportunity to test the waters. It was a plan!
I have to admit that I was nervous. I was walking into an unknown environment filled with unknown people, and quite possibly into an absolute drama fest in EVERY sense of that word. I’m a Dyke, a Butch Dyke to be exact, and I am well aware of what drama can ensue when you mix too many flavors of Dykes together in one spot for too long. Jen admitted she too was nervous, the whole meting new people thing isn’t usually our style to begin with but we were game anyway. As we pulled into the long driveway and passed clusters of trucks, trailers, and golf carts of crew who were at the fair grounds to shoot a movie, yes real Hollywood type movie with leading roles filled by names of people you would recognize, I was just hoping that I didn’t do something stupid like dump my bike in front of the “biker gang” and be laughed out of the meeting. It was a dirt road and I was carrying a passenger, so it was entirely possible to make a stupid mistake and go toppling over, but alas I managed to make it all the way to the main gate, hit the security checkpoint, and was waived through when I told the kid I was looking for the Dykes on Bikes group. They were easy enough to spot, all three of them standing next to a silver and purple Harley.
I pulled up slowly, flipped up the facemask, cut the engine, and introduced myself. Jen climbed off the bike and did the same as I carefully parked my bike next to that silver Harley and climbed off. They were friendly, entertaining, and genuinely happy to have us join them. I was impressed. I’m not certain what I was expecting to be honest but as we stood there talking, asking and answering questions while we waited for the rest of the group to arrive, my fears dissipated and within minutes I felt like both Jen and I belonged in the group for reasons other than my motorcycle.
The remainder of our evening was spent playing the hurry up and wait game that is so common in the movie business, or so others have told me, having a brief conversation with a producer, then a short meeting with the executive producer, and finally just sitting around a large table talking. I’m not certain anything will come of the movie thing, right now they are trying to work us into the script somehow as ourselves, the Detroit chapter of Dykes on Bikes. They have also offered roles as extras if any of us are willing to dress in period clothing at the Fair for background shots, but the chance to make an appearance in a major motion picture had nothing to do with why Jen and I went to that meeting in the first place. Do I think it would be cool to show up on the silver screen riding in a pack of lesbians down the road somewhere? Absolutely! Would I jump at the chance to make that happen? You betcha! However, the feeling I left that meeting with was the reason we went. It is something I have been searching for, something I didn’t know I was missing out on. When the gang headed to the hotel bar to get a drink, and I realized how late it had gotten, Jen and I decided to make our exit. We had not yet eaten dinner and since she gets up for work at 5am, we needed to get some food and head home to bed as quickly as possible. The group seemed genuinely bummed that we were heading out for the night, yet happy that we had finally made an appearance in a meeting. We parted ways with smiles and hugs, we were officially part of the family and I look forward to making time to attend more meetings in the future.
Mom, it’s official, your daughter is a self-proclaimed Dyke, she owns a motorcycle, and she is now an active member of the Dykes on Bikes!
To the crew from last night, Heather, Ronda, Marianne, Meg, and Cristi (I hope I spelled them right girls) THANK YOU! I have never in my life, been in a group of people who were so friendly, easy to talk to, fun, energetic, and understanding of my view of the world from the moment they laid eyes on me. It was truly an eye opening experience to hang out with you girls and I look forward to our next encounter. RIDE ON!
Monday, September 08, 2008
A vote for McCain/Palin is a vote against me?
I never thought I would hear my mother tell me she was voting for John McCain, let alone because she likes his choice of a running mate!
That was the thought I couldn’t get out of my head all weekend after our short conversation on politics Saturday afternoon. I was so distracted that I found myself thinking about that conversation as I rode my bike home from Onsted that night rather than paying better attention to what was going on around me. Eventually, I pulled over and put in my headphones to help keep my mind occupied, and it helped, but that nagging thought of “how could she support someone who is so against everything I thought she believed in” kept creeping in once in a while.
It’s not my place to judge her for supporting one political candidate or another, nor am I about to tell her whom I think she should vote for. However, in this case, especially when the election is not far away and the polls are so close, I can’t sit idly by either. I spent a little time this morning getting facts to back up my gut feeling that the McCain Pailn ticket is just wrong for our country, and then typed up a bulleted list of issues Palin supports and, last I knew, Mom did not. I added a few facts about how Palin has flip flopped on the issues to suit whatever vote she was courting at the time. I summed it all up with a note telling Mom that I was not out to tell her how to vote but thought she should know exactly who and what she would be voting to support should she cast a Republican vote for president in November. I did not go as far as telling her that a vote for the McCain Palin ticket was a vote against her own daughter, thought that is exactly how I am seeing this election.
I have NEVER in my life told my mother who I thought she should support, nor have I opened my mouth when we disagreed on whom to vote for. Something about this campaign is different. Maybe it’s the feeling I get when I hear people list “she’s a mother” as a valid reason for supporting a McCain Palin presidential ticket. Maybe it’s the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that happens when I read through just how vehemently opposed to equality and homosexuality she is. I understand not every candidate, particularly those on the republican side of the world, agrees with or supports homosexuality, but never has there been a vice presidential candidate who is such a staunch supporter of everything anti-gay, including financially supporting the “ex-gay” movement. She has not been publicly quoted as saying that she believes we should be eradicated from the Earth, but I get this strange feeling that’s exactly where she stands. Add into that her stance on all things environmental and her support of amending the US constitution to prohibit any recognition of same-sex unions (in any form not just “marriage”) and prohibiting all abortions and I cannot imagine what the country would look like after just four years should McCain win the election.
Here’s hoping for an Obama victory, or a job offer in Canada!
That was the thought I couldn’t get out of my head all weekend after our short conversation on politics Saturday afternoon. I was so distracted that I found myself thinking about that conversation as I rode my bike home from Onsted that night rather than paying better attention to what was going on around me. Eventually, I pulled over and put in my headphones to help keep my mind occupied, and it helped, but that nagging thought of “how could she support someone who is so against everything I thought she believed in” kept creeping in once in a while.
It’s not my place to judge her for supporting one political candidate or another, nor am I about to tell her whom I think she should vote for. However, in this case, especially when the election is not far away and the polls are so close, I can’t sit idly by either. I spent a little time this morning getting facts to back up my gut feeling that the McCain Pailn ticket is just wrong for our country, and then typed up a bulleted list of issues Palin supports and, last I knew, Mom did not. I added a few facts about how Palin has flip flopped on the issues to suit whatever vote she was courting at the time. I summed it all up with a note telling Mom that I was not out to tell her how to vote but thought she should know exactly who and what she would be voting to support should she cast a Republican vote for president in November. I did not go as far as telling her that a vote for the McCain Palin ticket was a vote against her own daughter, thought that is exactly how I am seeing this election.
I have NEVER in my life told my mother who I thought she should support, nor have I opened my mouth when we disagreed on whom to vote for. Something about this campaign is different. Maybe it’s the feeling I get when I hear people list “she’s a mother” as a valid reason for supporting a McCain Palin presidential ticket. Maybe it’s the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that happens when I read through just how vehemently opposed to equality and homosexuality she is. I understand not every candidate, particularly those on the republican side of the world, agrees with or supports homosexuality, but never has there been a vice presidential candidate who is such a staunch supporter of everything anti-gay, including financially supporting the “ex-gay” movement. She has not been publicly quoted as saying that she believes we should be eradicated from the Earth, but I get this strange feeling that’s exactly where she stands. Add into that her stance on all things environmental and her support of amending the US constitution to prohibit any recognition of same-sex unions (in any form not just “marriage”) and prohibiting all abortions and I cannot imagine what the country would look like after just four years should McCain win the election.
Here’s hoping for an Obama victory, or a job offer in Canada!
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Crazy Three Day Weekend ...
So … the 3 day weekend came and went with much excitement, a few irritating moments, and not much sleep. It seems like it always happens this way when I try to get a relaxing weekend off to hang with the family. It started off on the wrong foot altogether by me leaving work about 15 minutes late and trying to rush home in Friday traffic. I managed to make it home, load up the bike, and be on the road by 6:45 headed north but upon the planned stop for gas we discovered we needed to make an unplanned stop for a minor repair. Thanks to a lose bolt holding the exhaust to the frame of the bike and my tool kit not having the right wrench in it we made a side trip to Jen’s parents house to borrow a wrench. It only took about ten minutes to tighten the bolt and we were once again on our way north only to hit traffic on the expressway. It took over an hour and a half to go 15 miles through Saginaw thanks to a construction detour and by the time we made it halfway to our destination and finished eating dinner, it was already almost 11 PM. Still two hours away from Boyne City, Jen and I decided to find a place to crash for the night and found ourselves a hotel room in Houghton Lake, thanks to Dan not answering his cell phone and me not thinking to grab the key to Mom and Dad’s house just-in-case.
Up with the sun and on the road again by 7:30, we headed north and made it to Heather’s a little after 10 am, roughly 11 hours later than originally planned, and I spent a good half hour answering one questions after another about my new mode of transportation. Maddalynn and Genna were excited that Aunt Shannon and Jen came on a motorcycle; they both think motorcycles are cool and it was all I could do to keep them from climbing all over it while it was still hot from the ride. I promised both a full tour once it cooled down and eventually they agreed and went to play with something else.
Unfortunately, the traffic delay resulting in our late arrival was just the first thing that didn’t go according to plan. When I left Friday night the weather report called for upper 70’s to low 80’s and sunshine. What we got was middle 70’s, wind, and cloud cover. Jen and I did manage to spend some time in the pool with Mom and Maddalynn but nobody else decided they were brave enough to join us so after an hour or so everybody climbed out, dried off, and warmed up. With tired children in need of naps, a late dinner (well after dark) Saturday night, and an uncomfortable night spent on the deflating air mattress (my own fault for not blowing it up enough) the crowd was cranky Sunday and the party broke up immediately after lunch. Some of us headed home, some of us to Mom and Dad’s house for the night, but with the Zellen crew on their way out of town it was quiet once again. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, Zellen’s included, but with three tired girls and two parents who were at their wits end in dealing with them, the peace and quiet was nice for the evening.
Monday also came and went and I never did make it over to see Jack. We spent a little time catching up on the sleep we missed over the weekend, packed up, spent time with Mom, and eventually climbed on the bike to head home a little after noon. I was a bit of a big chicken, felt guilty for leaving Mom, and wanted to get home and back to my daily life. There were just not enough hours left in the long weekend to make time to go hang out with him for a bit. I didn’t even make the planned stop in St. Johns at the dealer to get the bolt for the exhaust replaced. Instead, I turned onto US-10, stopped in Midland for lunch, and then continued on my way south. There was a layover in Mt. Morris to take care of something for Jen’s Mom and Dad and then the final destination of HOME! Weekend over; lose ends tied up around the house, plants watered, and time spent on the couch with Jen. I did manage to send off an e-mail letting Jack know I was still alive, I should have called but by the time I thought of it, it was far too late and I knew he would check his e-mail when he didn’t hear from me Monday.
So now it’s back to work, a nice change from the crazy pace of the 3 day weekend, and one last weekend to finalize plans and begin packing for vacation. I was ready for the relaxing trip before but after last weekend, I am more ready than I thought I could be. I don’t even care if all we do is hang out at the campsite and go nowhere for the first 6 days, I just need a vacation.
Up with the sun and on the road again by 7:30, we headed north and made it to Heather’s a little after 10 am, roughly 11 hours later than originally planned, and I spent a good half hour answering one questions after another about my new mode of transportation. Maddalynn and Genna were excited that Aunt Shannon and Jen came on a motorcycle; they both think motorcycles are cool and it was all I could do to keep them from climbing all over it while it was still hot from the ride. I promised both a full tour once it cooled down and eventually they agreed and went to play with something else.
Unfortunately, the traffic delay resulting in our late arrival was just the first thing that didn’t go according to plan. When I left Friday night the weather report called for upper 70’s to low 80’s and sunshine. What we got was middle 70’s, wind, and cloud cover. Jen and I did manage to spend some time in the pool with Mom and Maddalynn but nobody else decided they were brave enough to join us so after an hour or so everybody climbed out, dried off, and warmed up. With tired children in need of naps, a late dinner (well after dark) Saturday night, and an uncomfortable night spent on the deflating air mattress (my own fault for not blowing it up enough) the crowd was cranky Sunday and the party broke up immediately after lunch. Some of us headed home, some of us to Mom and Dad’s house for the night, but with the Zellen crew on their way out of town it was quiet once again. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, Zellen’s included, but with three tired girls and two parents who were at their wits end in dealing with them, the peace and quiet was nice for the evening.
Monday also came and went and I never did make it over to see Jack. We spent a little time catching up on the sleep we missed over the weekend, packed up, spent time with Mom, and eventually climbed on the bike to head home a little after noon. I was a bit of a big chicken, felt guilty for leaving Mom, and wanted to get home and back to my daily life. There were just not enough hours left in the long weekend to make time to go hang out with him for a bit. I didn’t even make the planned stop in St. Johns at the dealer to get the bolt for the exhaust replaced. Instead, I turned onto US-10, stopped in Midland for lunch, and then continued on my way south. There was a layover in Mt. Morris to take care of something for Jen’s Mom and Dad and then the final destination of HOME! Weekend over; lose ends tied up around the house, plants watered, and time spent on the couch with Jen. I did manage to send off an e-mail letting Jack know I was still alive, I should have called but by the time I thought of it, it was far too late and I knew he would check his e-mail when he didn’t hear from me Monday.
So now it’s back to work, a nice change from the crazy pace of the 3 day weekend, and one last weekend to finalize plans and begin packing for vacation. I was ready for the relaxing trip before but after last weekend, I am more ready than I thought I could be. I don’t even care if all we do is hang out at the campsite and go nowhere for the first 6 days, I just need a vacation.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
22 Days 10 hours 12 Minutes
That's how long before my upcoming VACATION!
While I don't look forward to the 8 hour drive, the packing and unpacking of the car, or the hundreds of dollars we will spend on fuel, I am certainly looking forward to 9 days away from the office and 7 of those being spent in the tranquility of the UP.
Our plan so far is simply to leave early Saturday morning and spend the first 5 nights camping at Bewabic State Park near Crystal Falls. While we're there, we may do a few day trips to various places in the area and possibly venture into northern Wisconsin but nothing major. We're taking the bikes, card games, and swim suits so my goal is simply to enjoy being out in the woods, hang out around camp, cook over the open fire, and try not to get eaten alive by any mosquitoes that happen to be in the area. The end of the trip will be capped off with a trip to what is probably my most favorite place to go in this state, Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore (PRNLS). The nephew has never been to the UP and we decided he's old enough for a little day hiking out on the rocks this year. It's something we've never done with him and I'm probably more excited to go back to Munising than camping.
There will be a boat cruise, a sunset spent out on Sand Point, a tourist visit to the old standby Miners Castle and Miners Beach to see what it looks like now (part of it collapsed last year and we haven't been up there since), a little rock collecting, and a day hike out to Grand Portal Point, Chapel Rock, and Chapel beach. If I can still walk at the end of that 10-mile hike, there will be another sunset photo opp and a trip to the pasty shop to stock up for the year. Good thing the cooler will be empty on the way home; I plan to fill it with pasties from Muldoon’s!
While I don't look forward to the 8 hour drive, the packing and unpacking of the car, or the hundreds of dollars we will spend on fuel, I am certainly looking forward to 9 days away from the office and 7 of those being spent in the tranquility of the UP.
Our plan so far is simply to leave early Saturday morning and spend the first 5 nights camping at Bewabic State Park near Crystal Falls. While we're there, we may do a few day trips to various places in the area and possibly venture into northern Wisconsin but nothing major. We're taking the bikes, card games, and swim suits so my goal is simply to enjoy being out in the woods, hang out around camp, cook over the open fire, and try not to get eaten alive by any mosquitoes that happen to be in the area. The end of the trip will be capped off with a trip to what is probably my most favorite place to go in this state, Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore (PRNLS). The nephew has never been to the UP and we decided he's old enough for a little day hiking out on the rocks this year. It's something we've never done with him and I'm probably more excited to go back to Munising than camping.
There will be a boat cruise, a sunset spent out on Sand Point, a tourist visit to the old standby Miners Castle and Miners Beach to see what it looks like now (part of it collapsed last year and we haven't been up there since), a little rock collecting, and a day hike out to Grand Portal Point, Chapel Rock, and Chapel beach. If I can still walk at the end of that 10-mile hike, there will be another sunset photo opp and a trip to the pasty shop to stock up for the year. Good thing the cooler will be empty on the way home; I plan to fill it with pasties from Muldoon’s!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Ahh the Dyke Spike
Much to the chagrin of my dear wife, I have once again earned my gay card with a shorter-than-normal haircut. It’s summer, it’s hot at least some of the time, and I wear a motorcycle helmet a lot so there are some benefits to short (and a little spiky) hair. Jen loves the short hair on the back of my head, it’s soft and she plays with it often, but when the top gets cut to just under 2 inches long, she gets testy. Her complaint is not that it looks bad, though it definitely qualifies for the “uber dyke spike” style but rather, that she can’t twirl it around her fingers. I must admit I like it when she does that and during the winter months I keep it a lot longer on top partly for that reason, that and my head gets cold under the snowboard helmet when it’s this short. However, in an effort to manage the helmet hair problem without putting on a hot do-rag, this haircut went a little shorter than normal and has definitely earned me at least a hundred Dyke Points. I’m saving up for that Dykes On bikes patch to go on my leather jacket
Now for the photos!
Now for the photos!
Monday, July 07, 2008
Livin’ on albuterol sulfate and biaxin!
Okay so it’s been one full month since I first got sick, and one full week since I tossed the diagnosis of the primary care doctor out the window and went to see the asthma and allergy guru. So far, so good. I’m still coughing more than I would like and have used the rescue inhaler FAR more than I am comfortable with, but it’s improving. I can walk up and down the hall at work without needing to stop to catch my breath, though stairs have not yet been attempted, and while at home I hardly use the rescue inhaler at all. I’ve completed the cycle of prednisone and believe its nasty “short fuse” side effect has worn off completely, and I have one more week of biaxin left before I will be completely cured. For now I also carry an official diagnosis of full blown asthma with the use of both singulair and flovent to control the condition … we’re hoping that drops back to just singulair in the next few weeks and eventually acute allergic asthmatic … time will tell.
Friday was the 4th, we spent it at a local State Park in the water and on the beach! It was a bit chilly in the morning, Jen and I got there about 9:30 to secure picnic tables and a shade tree, but turned out to be a really nice day. Big Seven Lake is shallow enough that it warms quickly in the hot afternoon sun and was a tolerable temperature even at 11am when we headed down the shore for the first time. I spent my day relaxing on an inner tube anchored just outside the swimming area, or just inside depending on how hard the wind was blowing at the time, and soaking up the radiation I’ve missed so far this season. By 3pm I had found pink skin in areas where the sun screen was either too lightly applied or missed all together and knew it was time to get my but into the shade. I would rather have stayed out on the water but that little voice in my head that sounded very much like Mom kept telling me if it’s already pink, it would be bright red by the time the sun goes down.
I think it was actually the first time I listened to that little voice and got out of the sun for the rest of the day. Does this mean I have finally grown up? I’ve always known better, known that pink skin at midday only gets worse with each second you spend exposed to the sun. I’ve always just taken the approach of ignoring it, or putting on a little more sin screen and continuing with whatever activity I was doing before I noticed it. And, I always paid a hefty price later in the day and for the next few days while the scorched skin slowly healed, pealed, and healed a little more. This time, mostly because I listened to my better judgment, the skin was red and a little painful for the first day but now, only three days later, is barely noticeable except under the hot water from the shower head. Maybe I should have saved myself a little pain all those years and listened to the advice from Mom about getting out of the sun.
The rest of the weekend was uneventful and spent at home. Jen and I became hermits for a few days while we got things done around the house, ran a few errands here and there, and spent quality time together for the first time in months. It was nice to stay home for an entire weekend and actually get something done around the house. This weekend is out last free weekend for the remainder of July and quite possibly the last weekend we will be home until August 23 (the END of summer). Climbing on the bike and going for an extended ride someplace suddenly sounds like a nice trip. I wonder if Jack would be home Saturday. Maybe we’ll just go to Houghton Lake and see the boys, I’m certain they will be up there. Or, maybe we’ll stay home again and enjoy some more time off together.
Friday was the 4th, we spent it at a local State Park in the water and on the beach! It was a bit chilly in the morning, Jen and I got there about 9:30 to secure picnic tables and a shade tree, but turned out to be a really nice day. Big Seven Lake is shallow enough that it warms quickly in the hot afternoon sun and was a tolerable temperature even at 11am when we headed down the shore for the first time. I spent my day relaxing on an inner tube anchored just outside the swimming area, or just inside depending on how hard the wind was blowing at the time, and soaking up the radiation I’ve missed so far this season. By 3pm I had found pink skin in areas where the sun screen was either too lightly applied or missed all together and knew it was time to get my but into the shade. I would rather have stayed out on the water but that little voice in my head that sounded very much like Mom kept telling me if it’s already pink, it would be bright red by the time the sun goes down.
I think it was actually the first time I listened to that little voice and got out of the sun for the rest of the day. Does this mean I have finally grown up? I’ve always known better, known that pink skin at midday only gets worse with each second you spend exposed to the sun. I’ve always just taken the approach of ignoring it, or putting on a little more sin screen and continuing with whatever activity I was doing before I noticed it. And, I always paid a hefty price later in the day and for the next few days while the scorched skin slowly healed, pealed, and healed a little more. This time, mostly because I listened to my better judgment, the skin was red and a little painful for the first day but now, only three days later, is barely noticeable except under the hot water from the shower head. Maybe I should have saved myself a little pain all those years and listened to the advice from Mom about getting out of the sun.
The rest of the weekend was uneventful and spent at home. Jen and I became hermits for a few days while we got things done around the house, ran a few errands here and there, and spent quality time together for the first time in months. It was nice to stay home for an entire weekend and actually get something done around the house. This weekend is out last free weekend for the remainder of July and quite possibly the last weekend we will be home until August 23 (the END of summer). Climbing on the bike and going for an extended ride someplace suddenly sounds like a nice trip. I wonder if Jack would be home Saturday. Maybe we’ll just go to Houghton Lake and see the boys, I’m certain they will be up there. Or, maybe we’ll stay home again and enjoy some more time off together.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Where's the Drown Rat?
We've all seen them on the roads, we've passed them more than once and more than likely, we've felt sorry for that poor sucker caught in a rainstorm while out riding their motorcycle. Last night if you were driving on I-96 or US-23 between Novi and Grand Blanc, that biker you passed feeling sorry for was me. It was a beautiful, sunny, blue-sky day when I headed out to work in the morning and the storms weren't suppose to roll into the area until well after I would be home for the day, so on the bike I went. Since this is Michigan, the storm picked up speed over the lake in the afternoon and rolled into the area beginning just in time for my commute home, according to Jen it began raining in Flint at about 4:45pm. I knew before I ever left work that I would be getting wet even if only from the spray off the front tire from wet pavement. I had to get home, there was not much point in waiting out the storm as it was a large cell that was suppose to take most of the night to pass through, so I bravely climbed on the bike and headed home at exactly 5 o'clock.
It was not yet raining in Novi when I left but the sky looked ominous off to the west and I knew I was riding right into it. I planned to stop up under an overpass about a quarter mile north of the I-96/US-23 interchange to get out the rain gear before continuing home. As it turned out that was a good plan but I was about two minutes too late. I was within 500 feet of the overpass and slowing down to pull off when the skies opened up and the large drops began to pound the pavement in front of me. I managed to stop just a little past the overpass and quickly backed the bike up under cover. I was a little wet but not near as bad as it could have been had I tried to make it the remaining 4 miles to the next exit where I could have pulled into a truck stop for a bit.
I climbed off the bike and began to dig out and assemble the rain gear. Another biker stopped briefly just to check that he was securely zipped up and covered head to toe in his gear, then wished me a fond "stay dry" with a chuckle as he rode off again. By the time I had all my gear on the downpour had subsided into a steady rain and the road was wet enough that the danger of oil slicks was low, so I pressed on toward home. I was prepared to be cold, wet, and miserable on my remaining ride home ... I wasn't. I was a bit hesitant to ride in the rain in the past not knowing how the bike would handle the slick surface and the reduced visibility involved but I quickly discovered that it wasn't all that bad. Sure my hands were wet, I don't own waterproof gloves (yet), my boots were wet on the outside and slowly soaking through to my socks by the time I got home, and the portions of me that got wet before I stopped remained wet and a little cold on the ride. But that was the extent of it.
When I arrived home I was greeted in the garage by Jen with a towel, she expected to see a drown rat standing there peeling off wet gear. What she saw instead was me, mostly dry under the layers of gear I was stripping off. My t-shirt had a few spots near the bottom that apparently were outside the rain jacket on the ride, my boots were wet, and the cuffs of my jeans were wet, but that was it. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that with the proper gear (some I need to purchase like waterproof gloves and boots) riding a motorcycle in the rain isn't all that different than riding it on a warm sunny day.
So, as you drive along the roads with your wipers cleaning your windshield enough to see a "poor sucker" on a motor cycle, don't feel sorry for them; they are probably enjoying their commute far more than you, even in the pouring down rain.
It was not yet raining in Novi when I left but the sky looked ominous off to the west and I knew I was riding right into it. I planned to stop up under an overpass about a quarter mile north of the I-96/US-23 interchange to get out the rain gear before continuing home. As it turned out that was a good plan but I was about two minutes too late. I was within 500 feet of the overpass and slowing down to pull off when the skies opened up and the large drops began to pound the pavement in front of me. I managed to stop just a little past the overpass and quickly backed the bike up under cover. I was a little wet but not near as bad as it could have been had I tried to make it the remaining 4 miles to the next exit where I could have pulled into a truck stop for a bit.
I climbed off the bike and began to dig out and assemble the rain gear. Another biker stopped briefly just to check that he was securely zipped up and covered head to toe in his gear, then wished me a fond "stay dry" with a chuckle as he rode off again. By the time I had all my gear on the downpour had subsided into a steady rain and the road was wet enough that the danger of oil slicks was low, so I pressed on toward home. I was prepared to be cold, wet, and miserable on my remaining ride home ... I wasn't. I was a bit hesitant to ride in the rain in the past not knowing how the bike would handle the slick surface and the reduced visibility involved but I quickly discovered that it wasn't all that bad. Sure my hands were wet, I don't own waterproof gloves (yet), my boots were wet on the outside and slowly soaking through to my socks by the time I got home, and the portions of me that got wet before I stopped remained wet and a little cold on the ride. But that was the extent of it.
When I arrived home I was greeted in the garage by Jen with a towel, she expected to see a drown rat standing there peeling off wet gear. What she saw instead was me, mostly dry under the layers of gear I was stripping off. My t-shirt had a few spots near the bottom that apparently were outside the rain jacket on the ride, my boots were wet, and the cuffs of my jeans were wet, but that was it. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that with the proper gear (some I need to purchase like waterproof gloves and boots) riding a motorcycle in the rain isn't all that different than riding it on a warm sunny day.
So, as you drive along the roads with your wipers cleaning your windshield enough to see a "poor sucker" on a motor cycle, don't feel sorry for them; they are probably enjoying their commute far more than you, even in the pouring down rain.
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