Uncategorized

HW in her sh*t kickers. Our last day in Texas I think. You do not want to end up on the wrong side of a kick from one of those bad boys.

We had a good time in the Texas Hill Country. Though it’s always a little sad at the end of a tour. I’ve been on many over the years.  At the start you’re pressed together with people most of whom you’ve never met before, and for a week or more you do everything together – cycle, eat breakfast, meet each night (to discuss the next day), sleep in the same hotel, etc.. Then before you know it – Poof! – the tour’s over. There’s the hugs, the goodbyes, the great-to meetchayas, and the everyone goes their own way. It feels a bit like drive-by friendship. Although, like the others I suppose, it does feel good to be back home.

Never before had a dog with a built-in carry handle

He likes to run the tide line trying to catch himself a gull. Just once I wish he’d get one. He’s a young dog so who knows, maybe one day one of them birds gets a little complacent, misjudges the dog’s distance or speed, lifts off a bit too late…who can say for sure.

Moving up the food chain

Happy Wife complained at the Starbucks this morning of having high interstitial fluid. (It’s the heat). I reminded her that her latte was a good diuretic. She proceeded to school me that diuresis (the reduction of interstitial fluid) is more involved than merely peeing out coffee.

“Sorry honey,” I said, “I got nothing.”

And so our day began.

One of those days you feel captive inside the airport hotel with few places to venture to on foot. Last night shortly after we arrived we crossed the gauntlet of traffic entering and exiting a major freeway and managed to find a decent Tex-Mex restaurant. We spotted the Starbucks next door. That was about it. Nothing else, really, except freeway and anonymous concrete as far as the eye could see. At least it beat hotel room-coffee and calling out for pizza.

Another few hours before we lift off for Portland. And then a couple more hours there before we lift off for the Greatland. Home after midnight.

But… But!  Eventually, on the pentultimate day of the tour, we found ourselves among the Bluebonnets

HW and I started the tour woefully out of shape. The last time I rode my road bike was probably September of last year. Longer still for HW. I think we were possibly the two youngest people on the tour, yet most days we came in last or near last. Not that there’s anything the least bit competitive about these tours, there isn’t, nobody really cares how fast or slow you are. But when people 10-12 years your senior finish the day a half hour or more before you, you do begin to wonder 1) how the hell they stay so fit, and 2) why they are not reaching for four ibuprofen the second they dismount their bikes.

By night we roamed Main Street in Fredericksburg in search of a decent place to eat. The city was originally settled by Germans in the late nineteenth century and so not surprisingly many restaurants feature German inspired fare. Somehow, though, schnitzel and potatoes over red cabbage doesn’t make the mouth water after 50 miles in the saddle in 82 degree heat. (I think we were also the only two on the tour to refer to an 82 degree day as hot). We tried a German restaraunt one night and the food was awful. The meat was absolutely flavorless, like it had been boiled in gray water. The noodles and fries were equally tasteless with the texture of wet cardboard. I added salt (a lot) to my (so-called) chicken-fried steak. No difference. All I tasted was salt. Which I have to admit was an improvement. A similar disaster played out on HW’s plate. To her credit she was brave enough to try the “blue cheese” dressing on her dinner salad (such as it was). Not me. The stuff came separate from the salad in a small plastic cup. Pretty typical, until you looked closely – small white curd-like clumps of who knows what sunk to the bottom of a milky-white oil substance. Whatever it was it looked to me like it had spoiled. The look on HW’s face after one mouthful indicated maybe it had. I hailed the waitress and asked that she bring us the ranch dressing instead. That, at least, was passable.

On our last day in Fredericksburg two women, at what came to be our favorite wine bar, where cowboys come to Tweet and drink Rose, turned us on to Ottos.

And Otto’s? OMG.  The venue ain’t much larger inside than the living room of a large house, but don’t let that fool ya.

For starters we shared the Foie Gras “BLT”

seared hudson valley foie gras, tomato jam, candied bacon, quail egg

HW’s entrée,  Duck Schnitzel

hand-breaded duck breast, spätzle, rotkohl, kirsch demi-glace, duck cracklins

Mine, locally-sourced Quail with potatoes voulere over broccoli

(special of the night so couldn’t find the fancy description online)

For dessert, a slice of sinfully delicious cheesecake with caramel drizzle and salted pecans

Better yet, one of the women at the wine bar who turned us on to Ottos called the restaraunt while we were eating to tell our waiter she wanted to pay for our drinks! Blown away we were by that Texas-sized generosity, I wanna tell ya’ll.

Guess which one’s cardboard

Waiting for the starting gun at the start of the LBJ 100. Must’ve been 1500 cyclists

Sensational day for cycling. Cool in the morning and 70 by midday. Free food and beer at the end. Impressive organization. I’d do it again for sure. This women rode thirty miles on this bike, in those clothes. It’s not visible here but there is leather saddle on the bike. Impressive effort. Captured her here performing for onlookers after the ride

Stopped at the Whole Foods flagship store in Austin while out shopping for a pair of sensible walking shoes for Happy Wife. She’d forgotten to pack flats or flip-flops. The healthiest food, the store claims, is near the entrance. The abundance is overwhelming

We didn’t intend to stay long, just wanted to check the place out. Then HW said, Hey, why don’t we pick up some cheese, hummus, crackers, and olives to eat back at our room? Brilliant! So far so good. Until we spotted the wine bar. Instantly we looked at each other, raised our eyebrows and nodded simultaneously. Not a word went between us. We tend to be of one mind in such matters. Before we knew it we were seated at the bar, the groceries paid for, opened and spread out in front of us like a picnic lunch. We were into our second glass of wine before we took note of the cheesy movie showing on the TV behind the bar: Circle of Iron. NYT review here. Think Quest of Fire but with more dialog. The lead dude looked like Peter Frampton but was actually Roddie McDowell, plus David Carradine, who played four different roles in the movie, and Eli Wallach, who had to sit in a barrel of oil for ten years to get rid of his genitals. I asked folks around the bar why, but nobody was sure.

If you want to shop while you drink you can. The bartender was happy to decant your beer or wine into a plastic cup. If I’m not mistaken the shopping carts had drink holders. What a country.

 Like in other cities the abundance in Austin is not evenly distributed

For those of you trying to guess where we stayed, The Driskill. Happy Wife paused to point out the obvious, Dude, that’s Mr. Driskill

Later it was back to Tim Love’s Lonesome Dove restaurant to celebrate HW’s birthday

We enjoyed the food so much the night before we went back for more.

Wednesday we packed everything up and headed west to Fredericksburg to begin the bike tour. Hill country! Pretty country. Bluebonnets! The landscape sorta reminds me of a cross between Pasa Robles, CA and the hills outside Santa Fe, NM. More later from the first day of the ride.

Today (Friday) was supposed to be the second day of riding, except we woke to heavy thunderstorms and sheets of rain. So the tour leader cancelled the ride. It was 84 yesterday. This morning it was 55. Not expected to reach even 65 today. Starting tomorrow, 75-85 and sunny for a week or more. Tomorrow we’re all entered in the LBJ 100.

The seat of state government. Or the Butt, as you please.

Inside the rotunda on the second floor we visited the chambers of the Senate and house of Representatives. Both were empty. Probably a good thing. Who famously said: government which governs the least governs the best? In any case, quite the fancy affair. The docent was very knowledgeable and apparently thoroughly enjoyed bending Happy Wife’s ear about the things to see and do about town. Hmm.

 She’s never been shy around guns this one. The bigger the better

Later, after considerable walking about we mounted our bikes and ventured out. After just a few miles of pedaling through an industrial area, a stop at an East side bike shop for air and CO2 cannisters we managed to find a really nice trail along a creek. All told we must’ve ridden 15-20 miles. Don’t know for certain, my cyclometer needs new batteries.

Back at hotel we cleaned up and were off again.

A stop here, a stop there, a martini and wine, and a thoroughly scrumptious beef taretare

We ended the night at Mike Tim Love’s restaurant where, if you ever come, DO NOT pass on the burnt carrots with honey and Meyer Lemon and goat cheese. Shessh those were good. Finally, we strolled back to the hotel where we both surrendered to sleep like two jet-lagged Alaskans. Have you guessed where we are?

Imagine packing a dozen eggs in a half dozen-sized carton

So far so good.

But will the hat fit?

Voila!

At check-in tomorrow we’ll be asked: “Bicycle?” Because I can’t tell a lie I’ll say yes. And yet, I know you must be wondering, isn’t it a sin of omission not to say Bicycles? Not at a $100 a piece (each way) it isn’t. Besides, it’s hardly bigger (and certainly no heavier) than a large piece of luggage. We’re flying first class so our bags fly free, but not this one, oh no. “You’re going on vacation to have fun and you want us to transport a bicycle? Oh baby, that’s gonna cost you extra, big time!” Pfft.

What I hate about airline policies like this is how arbitrarily they’re enforced. Find a woman in a fair mood and sometimes she’ll ignore the policy entirely – $0.00. Get some rule-bound old fart and he’ll insist you open it up to make sure you’re not trying to get something by him.

Either way, can’t wait to get there. We’ve heard the wildflowers are sensational this year.

Had a moment in the Men’s room the other morning where you think it’s just Number One, so you get going, then realize, no, Number Two wants out as well. (Must’ve been that banana). Anyway, without bothering to zip up I did a sort of modified Moonwalk to an open stall, hoping nobody would walk in just then. Sat down and while I got my business done I thought about just how absurd life can be sometimes.

Is it just me or does Trump not look like Jack Kemp back from the dead and too long in the Florida sun?

A close second was Happy Wife shortly after cleaning the downstairs toilet

Speaking of whom, poor girl, she fell on the ice and landed on the back of her head. Eight stitches later she was on the mend and a strict concussion protocol. She’s all better now, in fact the stitches came out this morning, a pro bono effort performed by her nursy friends at the kitchen table. It’s been a few weeks since the accident but I still test her cognition now and then, just to make sure: Tell me the one reason you married me? Any answer that doesn’t include rock-hard abs and chiseled features and I’ll know something’s wrong, she’s off to the Neurologist.

Given the paucity of posts here lately you might think it was me who fell on my head, causing sudden Agraphia. I have no real excuse, just a jumble of interruptive things to get done this past month, a few days under the weather and, honestly, just feeling a little enervated lately. That will have to change soon. We’re off for two weeks of vacation in the southwest the end of this month. We will be expected to exhibit vitality and good spirits. It all begins with me spoiling Happy Wife on her birthday with 3 nights in a 4-star hotel, dinner out wherever she pleases, an evening stroll along a bridge beneath which, we’ve been told, thousands of bats emerge each night to delight onlookers, and whatever else moves us. Following that, a 7 day bicycle tour.

Can’t wait.

Latest number one dislike: Web sites where videos begin automatically. There is no punishment too cruel for these site designers. If I want to know about the latest product to improve my colon health I’ll click the damn play button, okay? Mark my words, no self starting videos will ever – Ever! – appear here at Rod’s Alter Ego.

Hello! Welcome to the unfolding narrative of our daily lives. We have a house guest. Our friend, Mel, a traveling nurse of sorts, is here for several months to work at the radiation clinic where she used to work when she and her husband lived in Anchorage before moving to the southern most reach of New Mexico. A place we understand is so quiet at night you can hear a gecko yawn. Until Mel finds a place to rent she’s welcome to stay with us, being she’s quiet as a church mouse. You might be thinking, hey, lucky man, alone in the house with two nurses – RAWRrrrr. I assure you, those days are behind me. I mean the very idea I might one day come downstairs to find these two dressed in sheer white stockings, matching garters and sky-high white stiletto heels, playfully sparring like two kittens with their stethoscopes over who’ll be the first to listen to my heart, well…where was I, right, anyway, fuggedaboutit.

The earthquake a couple weeks ago turned the water at our Nest pooh brown. When the ground shakes that hard the rust on the well casing falls into the well. This is the second time this has happened since we bought the place over three years ago. It’s not a big deal, we open a faucet or two in the house and let it run, a couple hundred gallons or so and the problem resolves. Problem is, if you use the hot water before the water runs clear, as I mistakenly did, then certain filters and orifices in the on-demand water heater become clogged. Oh no, Maintenance. Wouldn’t you know it the heater was installed in a mechanical closet, the keyword being “closet,”  thus preventing ease of access by a six foot tall, one hundred ninety-five pound aging white male (did I mention I turned 56 a week ago today?). Imagine replacing the light bulb in your oven while jammed inside it. Worse, imagine you’re the Tin Man sans his oil can. Worse yet, the filter is at the back of the unit. Houdini couldn’t contort like I had to.

After maintenance was complete (sort of anyway – the hot water pressure is still not what it used to be meaning at least one more trip into the “closet” for me) Happy Wife, the dog and I walked to Tonsina Point. A glorious winter day, if you want to call this winter that is. Near forty degrees and still virtually snow free at sea level.

(One click remember makes most pics bigger).

After the river, we usually walk through a woods to access the beach proper. To stop and look up is to see the tops of hundred year old trees (Western Hemlock?) with their curious little moss-laden appendages sticking out

When we reach the beach all is peaceful. One earthquake in the right place though can turn this basin (Resurrection Bay) into a killer. The water drops off quickly to >160 fathoms (~1000′) in the center of the Bay. Get it shakin’ just right and it’s like a washing machine out there, sloshing against the mountains and drowning the lowlands (i.e. Seward)

We don’t dwell on that, but we’re aware of it. If we run for high ground the dog’s sure to follow us, so no worries there. And run we would, like a few weeks ago when we were down here and the 7.1 struck. At 1:30 am no less. It was dark then so it’s not like we could just step outside our bedroom door onto the porch to see if the water was retreating (the usual precursor of a tsunami). By which time it may have already been too late, again, depending on where and how big the quake was, as well as certain features of geology and geography. Happy Wife’s quick thinking is what would have saved us. She knew instinctively there was no time for analysis. Although in seconds I was on my phone surfing to the Alaska Earthquake Information Center, which posts information on quakes within like 30 seconds after they occur. By the time I discovered the quake occurred in Cook Inlet I was still in my clown pants wiping sleep dirt from my eyes while she was already dressed and frantic to leave, “We’re Going, NOW.” The city of Seward installed an early warning system for tsunamis a few years ago. But that night the sirens were silent. But what if the system failed for some reason? When your panicked all these things race through your mind.

Eventually we were grateful we were safe and went back to bed. The earthquake info site posted a 4.0 aftershock at ~ 4 am but we didn’t feel it. We drove back to Anchorage the following day and discovered all the drawers in our dressers and desks were wide open. A few things had fallen to the floor but nothing too serious. Remarkable, really, given how strongly the quake was felt in Anchorage according to friends and neighbors. Certain stores had shelves and/or cabinets collapse and fall, strewing merchandise all over the floor.

And so I survived to see another birthday. Happy Wife was in the mood to treat me to a night out, wherever I wanted to go. Sometimes she wonders if now that we’re in our fifties it’s still age-appropriate to put on the glam for a date night. “Dear,” I reassure her, “too soon the day will come when our hair has gone gray, our faces soft and fallen, our shoes have Velcro closures and all we have left is each other and the wisdom of elders.”

You’re right, she says, make me a drink while I go get ready

Be still my heart.

What’s ~4.6 billion years old, sometimes referred to as a “dwarf,” 93 million miles away, really hot yet still can’t melt a flake of snow in Alaska?

Hint (fill in the blank): Mama always told me not to look into the sights of the ___. Oh, but mama, that’s where the fun is!

It’s always uplifting this time of year. Right around my birthday ol’ Sol begins the Sisyphean climb back to its Zenith and our spirits are restored. Praises be. I’ve always said that it isn’t the winter cold that makes me moody so much as it is the short days. But not to worry, before long we’ll once again stow the bottle of Vitamin-D in the cabinet and look forward to months of midnight Sun.

Nothing lasts forever though

The Sun is roughly middle aged and has not changed dramatically for four billion^[b] years, and will remain fairly stable for another four billion years. However, after hydrogen fusion in its core has stopped, the Sun will undergo severe changes and become a red giant. It is calculated that the Sun will become sufficiently large to engulf the current orbits of Mercury, Venus, and possibly Earth.

Can you say Sunburn? When this day arrives it’s  gonna make present-day global warming seem like a mild hot flash.

We’re hosting a dinner party tonight. Roll-up lasagna, salad topped with oven-roasted sweet pecans, and who knows how many bottles of fine red wine. I retrieved a couple of beauties from our cellar I hope will show well. “Pinot Bill” will be here; he’s a good friend and former colleague now living in Texas who’s up here visiting for a couple weeks. Bill knows more about Pinot Noir than anyone else I know. Actually, he knows more about wine generally than anyone else I know.

One time he and I along with two other friends split a bottle of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, one of the finest (French) burgundies in the world. We’re talking like a few thousand dollars a bottle, ordinarily, but somehow Bill manged to get a sommelier at a fancy restaurant here in Anchorage to sell us one for $575 (if memory serves me correctly; this was over ten years ago, when oil was >$100/bbl). It was an especially good vintage, too (1990?), making it all the more remarkable. One bottle is four healthy pours of wine, so ~$145/glass for each of us (less a small pour we shared with the sommelier; the proper thing to do). After the sommelier decanted the wine the four of us just sat there staring at that garnet beauty for what must’ve been ten minutes or more. The floral aroma rising out of our glasses was so striking even a passing waitress paused to wonder what kind of wine we were drinking. We were all super careful not to make any sudden moves or do anything that might spill a glass. We laughed about that. Eventually, one of us, I don’t recall who, carefully lifted his glass by the stem, did all the usual swishing and sniffing one does with a good wine to judge its legs and nose, and then gently tilted the glass back to take the first delicate sip. Given the transcendent aroma of this wine that enveloped our table it was unlikely it had been corked (spoiled), but aroma alone is not always diagnostic, so the rest of us were like breathless, transfixed on the expression of the first sipper, anxious to witness his first impressions of the wine. I could hardly wait, Please oh please, I thought, don’t let this bottle be corked. Well, once that first sip finally washed over his back palette his eyes rolled back and his mouth was agape like someone who’d just had an orgasm. Hooray, we’ve got a winner! Over the next two hours you’ve never seen four happy grown men savor a single glass of wine so slowly. I’m not exaggerating when I say that was the finest wine I have ever experienced.

By comparison the wines tonight will be more pedestrian, a twelve year Barolo and ten year old Caymus Special Select are my offerings. Who knows what other bottles our guests will bring. It’s always fun to decant the wines and have people taste them blind, and then try to guess the grape type, vintage, and region. As you might imagine, correct answers are inversely proportional to the number of glasses imbibed. Should be a fun soiree tonight. Looking forward to seeing everyone.

Can you tell from my mood the dwarf is back?