June 2007 Archives

Hi, minions! I hope you're still out there. My gracious Internet host informed me and the rest of the gang here that something's afoot in our corner of Blogland. At the time of this writing, that means the comments are shut off. Later, it could mean some changes (the last major server change meant a slightly different Web address for yours truly). In the scheme of things, none of this really means much. But stay tuned if you are really bored enough to follow my adventures, wherever they end up being posted.

And, as always, you are welcome and encouraged to communicate with me if you have something to say. That's a main reason I still toss out my drivel into the ether. You'll just hafta send me an e-mail at taoverman@hotmail.com.

Have a great weekend. Next week, fellow Americans should Go Fourth and multiply.

Date: Saturday, June 23, 2007
Distance: 82.04 miles*
Time: 5 hours, 30 minutes, 27 seconds
Average speed: 14.8 mph
Maximum speed: 37.4 mph (ride in late April)

*I think I need a new bicycle computer, although most rides I've been on are at least a wee bit longer than advertised. I usually set it so that my speed and the time of day are visible so that I don't psyche myself out near the end or get frustrated that it isn't over. Even if it was closer to an actual 75 miles, that's farther than I drove from home to get to the starting line.

The ride was a great experience, from start to finish. Even though past the halfway mark I was starting to hurt in places I didn't know I had. It rolled through beautiful, rural countryside in a sweeping loop, through several little towns, pulling us through historic downtown Waxahachie at the end. On a long, flat and hot stretch, I was so happy to see a sign that said W-town was a mere 20 miles away.

Me and about six other riders got stopped by a long, slow-moving train about a mile from the finish. They kicked it into high gear after it passed, but I slowed to look at the pretty houses (mostly Victorians and some Craftsman-style homes). I wasn't out to set a personal-best time, my goal is fun and fitness. Fun? Check. Feeling good? Check. Looser pants? Check. All's good.

To the four loose farm dogs at the crest of that big hill, thanks for the motivation to kick it up a notch. At the next rest stop, a fellow rider said the dogs were barking at her and she freaked out, pulling out a can of pepper spray that had no effect on the cavorting canines. The best rule of thumb (or rule of ankle preservation) is to just to keep riding ... eventually you'll leave the dogs' turf and they'll schlep back to terrorize people behind you.

This was the first ride I participated in where there were no other mountain bikes. Mine was an odd duck, a mountain bike with thinner, no-knobby road tires among the sleek road-specific bikes and even racing machines. But I kept up and passed many of them, proving that ultimately it's the engine that matters. Now I've just got to keep tuning my engine in preparation for 100 miles in August.

Next up is the Peach Pedal on July 14 in Weatherford, Texas. Fewer miles, but probably more hills. And peaches!

I'm not sure what the Riblet is doing, but he looks like a miniature game-show host or (gulp) politician. This is one where the Cutlet is smiling, though, which at the time was hard to capture with the camera.

Our house is "old" by some standards, rather "new" in light of others. Either way, in the 43 years it's been nailed, screwed, glued and mortared together, there have been a variety of people calling it home. They've made a few changes, used rooms for different things, had good and bad times here. In the past seven years, we've made arguably the most drastic changes since the place was built, but that's something we don't really know for sure.

On the breaker box, someone used masking tape and marker to label the rooms that each circuit covers. There is one labeled "nursery," and it happens to be the room we've used as a nursery/kid's bedroom as long as we've needed such a thing. The "den" is now a guest bedroom when necessary, but also holds our piano and elliptical exerciser, as well as a smattering of books and decorative flotsam.

Our upstairs room over the garage is a playroom, which I imagine it has been before. Could have been a nifty bedroom at some point, but lacking an elevated bathroom, a midnight pee run requires navigating the stairs and weaving in and out of living room furniture (on that note, we purposefully avoided a coffee table or end tables because they waste space, serve as junk collectors and cause more shin and ankle injuries than roller derby).

The back yard is large enough that it's easy to imagine a swingset graced it before, as it does now. There were also pets. I found evidence of a long-ago dog recently ...

We've all seen the "Head On" commercials by now (even living under a rock exposes most people to some kind of pop culture), and the revised TV ads where the people interupt the ad and say, "I hate your commercial, but your product is amazing!" There are also variations of the product, such as "Activ On," which I'm guessing is like turbo Ben Gay. The following is a list of products we desperately need in today's modern world, although I imagine at least a few have been thought of by others ...

• Right On! Apply directly to your hipness!

• Press On! Apply directly to your beat-up emotional state!

• Ramble On! Apply directly to your babbling mouth!

• Hard On! Apply directly to, um, you know!

• DiscoFever On! Apply directly to your white liesure suit and platform shoes!

• Move On! Apply directly to your next priority!

• Game On! Apply directly to your (insert sport of choice here)!

• Gamble On! Apply directly to a slot machine or craps table near you!

• Run On! Apply directly to your badly written sentence that's a grammatically concocted nightmare oh gimme a home where the buffalo roam amen.

• Turn On! Apply directly to your former best friend 4 ever you now hate! (alternately: Use it when the Hard On doesn't work!)

• Roll On! Apply directly to your armpits!

• Play On! Apply directly to your favorite jam band!

• Drive On! Apply directly to your road trip!

• Stove On! Apply directly to your burned hand!

Any you can think of?

I've always enjoyed watching TV commercials, even though I know so many are trying to separate me from some of my money. There's some skill in cramming a sales message in a few fleeting seconds, attempting to grab our attention among a sea of old yellers.

So, imagine that it's not hard to have a platonic crush on some of the women who virtually enter my home and, sort of, speak directly to me. One woman in particular has been in a variety of ads lately, ranging from Pizza Hut (she says, "Five bucks?") to a secret shopper at Shoe Pavilion. She's also pitched 3-Day Blinds and KY Warming Liquid and Personal Lubricant.

A search uncovered her name - Erica Shaffer – and one site suggests she has also been in a Miracle Gro plant food ad. Her resumé is much more impressive, from guest appearances on TV shows to hosting others. She is obviously talented, and beautiful (a requirement for selling most things these days), with the skills, training and ambition to back it up.

She has her own Web site, and seems destined for even more success. We at Texas T-bone (that would be "me" at Texas T-bone) wish her the best, in a noncreepy, nonstalking, nonthreatening way.

Warning: Big, steamy TMI ahead!

I don't know why I can be more productive on the potty when I've got something to read. That tendency runs in my family, I know, because my mother and grandmother both used their bathrooms as personal libraries. I know it runs in my wife's family, too, as her grandparents have a virtual doctor's office worth of reading material within grabbing distance of the hall toilet. It's not just a guy thing.

I've been considering offering some "Texas T-bone" T-shirts here, some with bicycle-related themes and others along the lines of "T-bone's Internet Café" designs on them. Would anybody be interested? I'm sure they would be conversation pieces, considering very few people know what or who the heck Texas T-bone is. Just a thought. A cheap and silly way to join Team T-bone, eh? It is kind of a dumb idea.

Speaking of bikes, I've got to get serious about riding. On June 23, I'll be riding a 75-miler through rolling hills. As of today, I've got to swear off lazing around eating buckets of lard. I can't afford a lighter, faster bicycle, so I need a lighter, faster me.

In other news, nobody really cares where Paris Hilton is, as long as she's not driving the car behind them. Her serving time is like the "Hokey Pokey" (or "Hokey in the Pokey") ...

She puts her left foot in, she takes her left foot out
She gets a weird rash and she shakes it all about

Ah, the joys of a home haircut. Maybe he'd be more open to it if we let him spend the $10 it would've taken to get professionally buzzed at the barbershop at Toys R Us. The kid already has enough toys, though, and the look on his face is worth framing. Sometimes it's tough to be 4.