Dangling the Carrot

Tags

biking, relationships

My children would do most anything for ice cream.  These days, all I have to do is mention that I might be making my vanilla recipe and they invite themselves over.  When they were pre-teen, I would entice them to ride their bicycles with me by making the destination one of the local Dairy Queen restaurants.  The creamy temptation was too much for them to resist.

More often than not, it takes a tasty reward to motivate most people who are not bicycle enthusiasts to ride any distance at all, whether that person is child or adult.  My friend, also named Steve, is one of those people.  His wife has enlisted my assistance to get him out to exercise with me, my bikey-ness (that is a word as of this moment) part of the reason she sought me out.  She is fit, he not so much, although the guy is one strong beast, something I was glad for when he helped me move from my house to my condo.  Steve grumbles in a good natured way as his wife says things like well you should get out and ride with him or you should get him to fix your bike so you can ride it.  He knows he should get exercise, it’s just not at the top of his list.

With some prompting and to his credit, Steve went out and bought new tires/tubes for his bicycle, then texted me to see when I could pick up his bike for a tune up.  I came over right away, took the bike home and rolled it from my car rack to work stand.  The new tires went on in a jiffy, followed by a quick bath and inspection.  After thoroughly cleaning the drive train, I trued the wheels (the rear pulled slightly to the right) then took it out for a test ride.  The brakes were still in good shape, but the shifter for the rear derailleur is shot — not surprising for a 25 year old bike.  Back on the rack and with cables cleaned/greased, I was able to play with the shifting enough to get it to shift through half of the range.  Since it’s a triple chain ring bike, he will be able to ride it with ease on the crushed limestone paths close by.  The bike looks a whole lot better now, is safe to ride, but not in perfect working order.

The price for the time I spent messing with Steve’s bike is good deal.  He has to ride that bike with me.  So, when I delivered the bike back to him last night, one of the first things I asked Steve was if he is available to ride with me this week.  When he hesitated, his wife dangled the adult version of an ice cream carrot in front of him.

Maybe you can ride to Dry City and have a beer?

Bingo.  We’re riding tonight after work.

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Bicycle Friendly

Tags

bicycle, neighbors, relationships

I like bicycles, so much that most people who know me identify that interest as part of who I am.  When I relax, when I exercise, it almost always involves a bicycle.  Many times over the years, friends think of me when they have a question about a bicycle they are buying, when they need an old bicycle fixed/refurbished, or simply when they start to enjoy bicycling themselves.  Many times, bicycles are the first impression people have of me.  Right now, I have a bicycle in my garage that a friend asked me to fix up for him — and it’s almost ready after one day.  I just need to look at the shift cables and make some adjustments.  The price for fixing up his bicycle is that he must go for a ride with me when I deliver it back to him.  His wife is very pleased with me, as well as her husband for taking the initiative to ask me to help.

After one year of living in my condo, my neighbors have become accustomed to the sight of me working on bicycles in my garage.  Usually, I set up my portable workstand out in the front of the parking bay where there is more light and where there is a breeze, my music playing lightly on the old stereo I have set up out there.  The community I live in is nestled into a quiet little valley next to a river, hidden away.   Each evening, my neighbors stroll by as they walk their dogs or get their exercise.  Many hang out on the drive in front of their building.  Most stop to say hello, ask about the bike I am working on, or to ask about how things are going.  A few stop by with their bicycle to ask me to help adjust a seat or to check out an issue the bike is having.  It’s a good way to get to know my neighbors, something I really enjoy.

Last night, as I was working on my friend’s bicycle, one of my neighbors stopped by with her bicycle.  If I said that I am not interested in getting to know Lisa a little bit better, I would be fibbing.  She caught my attention last year and we have light conversation occasionally as she passes by or if I see her at the pool.  At a condo party last summer, we teamed up for a bags tournament and won.  Lisa is fun, easy to talk to, a tall blonde, pretty.  Had she not been so guarded and my marital status still not finalized, I think I would have pursued her last year.  As it was, I just couldn’t get enough to gauge whether she was interested or not.  I thought that maybe she wasn’t available.  I needed to know more about her story.  Lately, she has stopped by for a little longer each time, shared quite a bit more about herself, enough that it is obvious she wants me to know she is available.  As I adjusted the seat height on her bicycle last night, she asked how I keep my garage so tidy and in order, how it is not filled to the brim with things.  Didn’t you bring a lot of things over from your house after the divorce?  I know I did.  I took the opportunity to purge in more ways than one, I explained, plus a lot of the things on my garage shelves are things I am storing for my daughter.  Can’t your ex wife store things for her?  Where does she live?  Do you have a friendly relationship with her?  More questions, answered easily.  I was happy to tell her that my ex and I have an amicable relationship — I think that gives a good impression.  It’s not quite that way with my ex, even after so many years.  She wants me to know more about her, I can see.

What will come of Lisa is yet to be seen.  Nothing, maybe.  Even one date could be playing with fire, risky seeing someone who lives within a few seconds walking distance.  That could also be a good thing.  One of the reasons my Saturday night friend is a question mark is that she is only available on Saturday evenings.  Either way, learning to navigate the female friend waters is proving to be interesting.  Honestly, after 25 years of marriage, I thought that I would no longer be attractive or interesting to the opposite sex.  Learning that is not exactly true is a challenge, a bit intimidating, but as I said it is interesting.

Here is what is also not what I expected — I thought that the woman who would be most appealing to me is one who is a cycling enthusiast.  What I am finding is that someone who falls into that category is a bit too enthusiastic about riding!  My Saturday night friend went for a short ride with me last weekend, thoroughly enjoyed herself.  It was a casual stroll through the woods close to my place, breathtaking since it was close to dusk.  I enjoyed watching her smile as she rode, genuinely happy to be riding with me.  She has long black hair, prettier when it was flowing lightly behind her.  It set the tone for the evening, helped me see a part of her that I was delighted to see.

Bicycle friendly is taking on a whole new meaning for me!

Silent Shrieker

Tags

condo living, neighbors

After yesterday’s blog, I think I am going to scratch future blog ideas such as “Why I buy baby wet wipes in bulk” off of my list.  For that matter, I should probably wipe “How to time your daily poop” off of the list as well.  Even though I considered knowledge regarding nose wings an essential ingredient to a successful existence, I should leave those topics up to the real experts from the retirement home.

Speaking of home, I am sure everyone wants an update on the saga with my downstairs neighbor, Terese the Terrible.  She is, after all, the reason I have to time my daily poop.  One mustn’t flush the toilet if one lives in the condo above TtT lest she inflict her terrible wrath on you.  Her voice is enough to release the Kraken from your cracken.

I can’t believe I said that.  I promise that I am completely sober.

Since I wrote my March 27 blog, chronicling our encounter at the condo board’s March meeting, TtT has vanished.  When I say vanished, I mean that there has been no evidence that she is living in her condo.  I am not sure when I first noticed that TtT was gone, but it must have been around the second week of April.  The occasional overnight stays from her husband stopped and the space under my feet was quiet.  Usually, he comes home to her after work, parks his old Jeep out front in the visitor’s spot.  The sound and smells of dinner time conversation waft up from below.  Some time in the evening he leaves, only staying with her over night a few nights a week.  I first noticed she was gone when her husband’s Jeep no longer was parked out front in the evenings and weekends, nor was it there when I left for work in the mornings.

For two months, I have lived in peace, free from worry, free from hassle.

Part of the mystery was solved when I spoke to a woman who lives in the building next to me.  The woman loves to garden, the courtyard entrance to her condo building magnificently maintained with various plantings.  The space behind her building is an impressive japanese garden.  She is outside frequently, tending to the plants around her building.

When I spoke to her, I quickly discovered that she knows all the gossip.  That makes sense.  She is always outside and people stop to talk to her.  Word from her is that TtT is indeed from Poland and goes back there to visit from time to time.  I knew that.  What I didn’t know is that TtT is recently retired.  Is it possible that my favorite downstairs neighbor was on extended holiday in her homeland?  Gardener lady suspected that.  She also told me that TtT has feuded with everyone that has lived in my condo unit.  At times, she has created a real furor and my building is known for its discontent.  Gardener lady also passed on another rumor that I have heard, that TtT’s husband has a house in a neighboring town and refuses to live with her full time.  That was a rumor she passed on with obvious disgust.  She told me that I should not feel bad.  No one in our community respects TtT.

I had approached Gardener Lady to ask her if it was OK to hang window boxes on the rails of my deck.  I was contemplating buying wrought iron window boxes lined with cocoa fiber.  She assured me that it is OK, complimented my choice of the cocoa fiber.  Before I left her, she hustled into her garage, emerged with three single pot wire plant hangers.  I thanked her (they are currently holding some cool geraniums) as I left.

It’s a good thing that TtT has not been home.  I now have four 36″ wrought iron window boxes hanging from the rails at the front of my deck, as well as six large pots of flowers lining the front and a four tiered plant stand in the corner.  Since TtT is not home, I have not bothered to place trays under the window boxes when I water them, so the water drips down below when I water the flowers.  Not that it would matter — TtT had her husband install a plastic tarp under my deck shortly after I moved in.  It was really lovely listening to her badger him as he did the installation.  To justify putting the plastic tarp up, she told property management that my grill was dripping grease on her patio (a grill that I did not have).

I can’t help but muse that maybe her husband finally cracked and chopped her into little Polish bits.  Could he slowly be feeding Terese sausage bits to the cat?  Maybe the last escapade we had in March sent her over the edge and she is cocooned in her bedroom, coiled in the fetal position and drooling.  Or maybe just maybe retirement means that she has moved back to Poland permanently.

A week ago Friday, TtT’s husband’s Jeep started showing up again.  However, no TtT.  For the last few days, he has spent the night there.  The only evidence of him being there is his vehicle and an occasional slamming of windows and their patio door (he makes a big production of it, like he is upset about something).  I have been waiting to hear evidence of TtT, but so far there has been none.  She is not there.  So why is her husband there?

That is driving me crazier.

TtT also has a friend who lives across the street, a thin 60ish woman with a short blonde haircut who is frequently outside walking a little yappy yorkie.  I suspect she has been assigned to keep an eye on me.  I know that she checks TtT’s condo now and then.  Last night, she walked her dog around and in front of my garage as I was working on the cruiser bicycle my daughter gave to me after she graduated from college.  I caught the woman looking at me of the side of her eyes, said a hello and received a grunt in return.  Her yorkie yapped at me as she scurried away.  This morning, as I left for work, I heard her talking excitedly in TtT’s condo to Terese, I suspect it was via Skype as I could also hear Terese’s voice through a speaker.

Yes, I was listening through her front door.  What does that make me?  I could hear her tell TtT that Monday night I had a late night visitor that I cooked for out on my deck, talking and listening to the Cubs game, then washed my dishes after they left.  It’s true.  My son came over around 9 PM Monday and I grilled bbq chicken for him.

I am hoping that all the activity below does not mean she is about to return.  I am hoping it dies down again.

By the way, my daughter’s bike is awesome.  It’s a Giant Simple 7, a cruiser with wrap around handlebars and large white wall tires.  She doesn’t want the bike any more.  I have been getting it back in shape and plan on keeping it.  I put new white walls on it last night and replaced the brake cables/housings.  The picture here was taken a few years ago, when I was getting it ready for my daughter to take it to college.

Will the saga continue?  Will the shrieking Jedi return?

My Nose Smells Like Curdled Cheese

Tags

personal, stink

How’s that for a title?  As if there are not already enough reasons to ignore my blog posts, I just gave everyone a reason to avoid my drivel simply by reading the title.  You’re welcome.

My nose does smell like curdled cheese now and then.  More specifically, matter is collecting in that little crevice next to each nostril, resulting in a rather nasty curdled cheese smelling odor.  When I first noticed the odor, I thought there was some animal invading my condo and depositing a turd in the corner.  After days of searching and a particularly strenuous ride (it does happen), I wiped the sweat from the corners of my nose then took my bike helmet off.  The stench on my hand was identical to the mysterious foul odor in my house.  Immediately I experienced simultaneous relief and shock — relief that my house was OK, shock that the offensive offender was yours truly.

How long had my face emitted an odor that resembled a jug of milk that had resided in my fridge for a few months?

I assumed that my personal grooming had lacked just enough detail to be the cause.  Perhaps the sweat was not being properly removed from my nose crevices?

I just looked up the proper term for “nose crevices”.  According to one website, the crevices between your nose and cheeks are called “nose wings”.  You do not want to be downwind of the wind beneath my nose wings.

It’s also a bit ironic that the foul odor was literally right under my nose.  In an effort to correct the aromatic issue, I began washing my face twice a day with a wash cloth, not just splashing and soaping.  A quick bit of internet research revealed a startling internet “fact” —

The pores in the creases between your nose and cheeks create and store more oil and grease than anywhere else on your body.

Who knew?  Maybe most people do.  I am one of those who did not have a clue.  It was a bit of a relief that it’s a common thing.  After all, I am getting older and I thought a stinky nose was one of those old man things, like hair growing out one’s nostrils and ears.  Apparently, the gunk under the nose wings is called nasal sebum and that space is extra oily due to the fact that the nose contains more amounts of squalene (whatever that is — but it sounds like something that should be stinky foul).  Normal washing may not get it all.  An astringent or peroxide may be necessary to do a better job.

It only helps some of the time.  Drat.  No wonder the girls sometimes wrinkle up their nose after kissing me (it happens — at least the kissing part).

I think it might be the shave cream that I use.  Rather than used canned shave foam, I buy a cream that is dispensed from a tube, called Cremo.  It’s a thick, slick paste that is applied after wetting the face with hot water.  Not only is the stuff amazing, a tube usually lasts around two months.  Canned foam lasts about a week, less if I give myself foam horns.  The directions on the Cremo tube say to apply a small dollop since a little goes a long way.  I usually slap on a bit too much, squeeze a large half dollar sized glob on my palm and rub my palms together, then put a thick layer quickly over my face and neck.  After shaving, I go right to the shower and rinse my already washed face in the spray.  Cremo says the stuff is good for my skin, so it shouldn’t be a bad thing if a little remains, right?

I am pretty sure that the Cremo is adding to the collection in the nose wing crevices.

I wonder if Waterpik has a nose wing attachment?

There will be more to report on the sebum story, I am sure.

 

VW Sucks?

I am a VW owner.  I am happy sometimes, frustrated often when it comes time to pay for repairs.  My VW requires a hefty investment to keep it running.  It runs and will run for a long time, but one must remain dedicated or else that sucker will go to an early grave.

Early is relative.  My 2012 VW Tiguan has nearly 120K miles on it.  In the two years it has been in my possession, every possible malfunction to that model has occurred.  I am poor due to its influence on my life, to the tune of over $5000 in repairs.  It has required a new water pump assembly, intake manifold gasket, new rear brake rotors/pads (thanks for the absolutely zero warning, VW… those suckers were expensive), ignition coils.. probably a complete intake manifold overhaul if the rough performance it is exhibiting is the culprit.

But I still like my VW.  Why?

Hell, I have no clue.  Maybe because the car has nearly 120,000 miles on it and shows no signs of giving up.  Maybe it’s because it will run over a deer carcass at 60 mph and show no ill effects.  I like my VW, hate that it makes me a poor man.

It would be gone if I could afford it.  It’s a good ride, but not good enough to keep going into debt to keep it running.