While many bicycling enthusiasts are fighting for their chance to become the next road-side memorial, there is such a thing as riding for fun with no other agenda but to enjoy the scenery, breathe fresh air and get some exercise. It’s easy to spot a casual bicyclist: they are not dressed up as a gay piñata, they are not riding a fancy bike, they are not equipped with various accessories i.e blinking lights, rear view mirrors, hydration systems, etc. They are not blocking traffic lanes, not arguing that they are an equal mode of transportation and that they have just as much right to be on the road as a normal motorized vehicle. Just the opposite: the casual bicyclists are content with riding on a sidewalk or in a park where they don’t bother anyone and have almost a hundred percent chance of coming home in the same condition they left.
Last Sunday I took my bike to the Mill Creek Streamway Park for a 38 mile round-trip through one of the best-kept and better looking nature parks in the metro area. I can ride the whole distance from my house without getting on the road and only crossing one intersection with a stoplight. Riding the trail this time of the year is a great way to enjoy your exercise. The smell of blooming flowers and trees, fresh cut grass, birds are chirping, pretty women are jogging in skimpy outfits and you are pedaling along through the hills and valleys toward the Kansas River where the trail ends. On the way back you are pleasantly tired but still enjoy your surroundings, the views, the smell and of course the women. You don’t care about your protein intake, heart rate, cadence and hydration because you realize that you are not and never will be Lance Armstrong. So you render unto Lance that which is Lance’s and keep moving. Disco music in your MP3 player is helping you along the way, fresh air supplies the nutrients. At the end, you drag your tired body to the couch, just to lay down and dream about the next weekend ride.
Riding a bike on a trail.
As pleasant and fun
As it sounds
I already have poll questions for the next two weeks, one of them is dealing with body hair and is a little more controversial, although I am pretty sure I know the answer. So the controversy will have to wait.
The question of the week came up because I can’t recall anybody ever mentioning that they watch the DVD extras i.e directors’ comments, deleted scenes, actors’ bios, etc. I admit that if I like the movie I may look at deleted scenes or an alternate ending. I never (not once) had director’s comments on and may have looked at other extras less than 5 percent of the time. If extended cut is available I always select it but then it’s not an extra, because I am still watching the same movie just a longer version. I understand that there is plenty of space to fill on a DVD but why not fill it with some B-movie or whatever. I realize that many people who read this are self-professed geeks, so poll results will probably be skewed towards “yes”.
Today while shopping at Costco I stepped away (for a second) from my cart loaded with apparently highly-desired goods and some asshole stole my cart. In exchange said asshole left me their cart with a box of cookies and a pack of Clorox Wipes. Obviously I am a much better shopper and my stuff was very good but that’s not a reason to steal my cart. I circled the store trying to identify aforementioned asshole or my abandoned cart but found neither and had to start my shopping all over. While hoping that the cart thief will choke on the fresh ripe pineapple I so lovingly picked, I came up with the title which I thought was pretty clever and that’s why I am writing this post. On the second look the title is not so clever but I already typed it so read it anyway. You better not be eating pineapple…
Why wouldn’t this happen to me instead?
UPDATE: I wasn’t robbed, my cart was taken before I paid, so I had to start over. Still pissed me off.
Couple of weekends ago I was sitting at the Harvey House Diner inside the almost empty Union Station, drinking a strawberry milkshake and reminiscing. Not that long ago this place was crowded with thousands of people as the second largest train station in the country, filled with sounds, voices and emotions. Today it spends it’s days quietly, ironically populated by the dead. I am not old enough to remember the glory days of the Union Station but in another place and another life I rode my share of rails. There is something special about traveling by train. It’s an experience rather than just a means of transportation. On a long train ride you have time to relax, to think, to read, to sleep, to talk, to eat, play cards, meet people, sleep some more, and, most importantly, to look outside the window. You actually travel to your destination; you see changing landscapes; unknown places slowly pass before you; you wake up in the middle of the night at some station you’d never heard off, its sleepy inhabitants getting on the train and you can hear them walking through the rail car; you see a sunrise and then a sunset hundreds of miles later and the train keeps chugging along making that rhythmical sound that only a train can make and gently swaying from side to side. Finally you arrive, your train is greeted at the station by the sounds of a brass band and waving crowds trying to see a familiar face through the dusty window. You are tired and continue swaying even on the solid ground. A happy reunion or a new adventure awaits.
Many of my trips started at this train station:fun trips, work trips, trips that I loved and some that I didn’t, like the one to the army, or a trip to the unknown country when I left one last time, not knowing if I am ever coming back. Many times my parents or friends were there to wave good-bye or to meet me when I was coming back. I may not remember every time but I do remember the feeling, feeling of someone waiting for you. I think at least once in a lifetime everyone should travel by train, even for no other reason than to experience it.
In the meantime, you can always spend a slow lunch hour at the Union Station and imagine all the hustle and bustle of the past, the tears of joy or sadness, emotionless voice of the announcer, the constant hum of the crowd, whistles of the conductors, in other words life that used to be there and and now is not.
Union Station,
Old walls still remember
Sounds of life.
How did the cowboy boot invented in Olathe, KS become a part of the Mexican national dress?
Probably because they go well together with a tight pair of jeans and a nice sombrero.
And here we see a child wearing KCK national dress.
I am not sure if this has anything to do with Mexico, but if your date shows up wearing one of these outfits she is a keeper and you just found your true love.
And lastly, for the women who like mustachioed men, some throws.
As always my best work goes unnoticed while a post about beets gains unexpected popularity, which once again proves that the reading public is fickle beyond any reason. Usually by the middle of the week I accumulate some items I want to mention but don’t want to make them into separate posts. So here goes:
The local band with the Russian accent mentioned here will be appearing in Westport on May 15th. Mention that you read about them here and they will pour you a vodka-shot. (OK, I made that up but go ahead and demand it anyway).
This is an older article but I read it yesterday so it’s new to me. That’s just fucking evil. Notice I never (hardly ever) cuss on this blog. This actually calls for it.
And speaking about evil: we all read about the story of a couple prostituting their daughter and training her to be a dominatrix (WTF). I hope the prosecutor is also asking the questions who were perverted fucks who paid $80,000 for the services. If there is a case to request their ISP records and knock on some doors, that’s definitely it. Just export these people to the place described in the article linked above.
Turns out that most of us are too wimpy to handle our coffee without add-ons. If we weren’t Starbucks wouldn’t be on every corner.
Lastly, May wants to know what you think about the technology of the future. Nanobots and all the other sci-fi geek stuff is OK with me, but where is the completely programmable customizable one size-fits-all bionic woman? I hope she doesn’t run on Windows Vista…
Long time ago (and I mean long,long time) I was traveling in what was then a beautiful and welcoming Republic of Georgia, still a part of soon to be defunct Soviet Union. Georgia is known for its beauty, Caucasus mountains and warm beaches on the Black Sea, ancient cultural relics, great food and some of the best wine in the world, and as the birthplace of Joseph Stalin. Stalin was born in the City of Gori which was a huge source of pride for the Georgian people. When Stalin was alive, his portraits, monuments and various other likenesses were literally everywhere. After Stalin’s Cult of Personality was condemned in 1956 most of this junk was removed and one of the few places that kept all of it’s pre-1956 glory was the City of Gori. From the huge portrait of Stalin at the entrance to the railway station to his monument and museum at his birthplace, complete with Stalin’s personal rail car, the city looked like the old days when it was the Birthplace of the “beloved” leader.
By the time I was born all of the history books and movies were edited not to dwell on Stalin’s persona and the horrors during his regime. In the movies he was shown as a wise man of a few words, issuing battle-winning military directives, and in the books there may have been a mention or two about the cult of personality. It wasn’t a secret but it wasn’t talked about either. As it turned out later,everything was much worse than it was presented in 1956. So when I found myself staring in amazement at something I have never seen in my lifetime, I didn’t really think twice about standing at the birthplace of evil, on the contrary, it was neat to take a step back in time.
A lot has changed since I stood next to the Stalin’s rail car in Gori. There is no Soviet Union, Georgia is not so welcoming anymore, and I don’t have curls. I found this old photo in my album and thought about my careless youth and fun memories I still have from that time.
This article in the Star (found via TKC) describes Mike Hendricks’s visit to the Russian store “European Delights” previously mentioned by me here. While I am sure the store owner is delighted to have some free advertisement, I’d like to point out that:
The store owner Ed may not be able to discuss finer details of English grammar with you but he doesn’t speak in one-word sentences like Frankenstein either. There are usually other people in the store who can help if you are having a problem.
They would let you sample their foods but don’t expect to leave the store “stuffed” unless you had your stomach stapled.
My personal observation is that the people in the Midwest will try weirder foods if they are fashionable (think sushi) before they will try something more conventional only from a different country. And there is always an acquired taste factor that accounts for a lot of caution at the ethnic store.
If you you around 95th and Antioch be sure to stop at European Delights to stock up on candy, some of the best deli meats and cheeses in town, and pickled tomatoes, but whatever you do please do not buy canned borscht. You can’t can the magic of borscht.
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Today while shopping at Costco I stepped away (for a second) from my cart loaded with apparently highly-desired goods and some asshole stole my cart. In exchange said asshole left me their cart with a box of cookies and a pack of Clorox Wipes. Obviously I am a much better shopper and my stuff was very good but that’s not a reason to steal my cart. I circled the store trying to identify aforementioned asshole or my abandoned cart but found neither and had to start my shopping all over. While hoping that the cart thief will choke on the fresh ripe pineapple I so lovingly picked, I came up with the title which I thought was pretty clever and that’s why I am writing this post. On the second look the title is not so clever but I already typed it so read it anyway. You better not be eating pineapple…
his monument