• Cycling in walking clothes

    From Joy Beeson@21:1/5 to All on Sun Aug 22 21:07:05 2021
    A three-pocket jersey isn't comfortable in a chair, so I'm wearing a
    scoop-neck T-shirt to my tooth-cleaning tomorrow.

    It's a factor that all my long-sleeved linen jerseys have worn out, so
    I'm wearing a short-sleeved cotton jersey that, at a predicted high of
    86F, isn't very comfortable on the bike, either.

    Of course, this means that I have to carry a purse. This is no
    problem in the dentist's chair, but will be very awkward when I stop
    at the grocery on the way back.

    Perhaps I should carry a jersey to change into.

    Joy Beeson
    joy beeson at centurylink dot net

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  • From Joy Beeson@21:1/5 to All on Sat Sep 11 20:27:02 2021
    Friday, 10 September 2021

    It went the other way yesterday. I'd started an all-day ride, and
    while I was looking around my first stop a couple of miles from home,
    my spouse called from the car dealer to say that he needed someone to
    drive the Taco home after he picked up a loaner.

    "Will this interfere with your ride?"

    "Nah. I don't have appointments any of the places I plan to go."

    It took only a a minute or two longer to drive from Nissan to Winona
    than it took to ride from Our Father's House to Winona, so I got into
    the truck without even taking off my helmet. Which proved an
    inconvenience later, when I filled up the passenger seat with

    Before we got to the dealer, I'd decided that as long as I was in the
    truck, I'd come home by way of Husky Trail and scratch a few things
    off my shopping list at Aldi. I had planed to get home at five,
    sunset is at eight with civil twilight until half past, and this would
    save me from finding room for a gallon of milk after I'd picked up
    fifty-six cans of cat food.

    It's amazing how many bags of groceries can be packed into the
    footwell of the passenger seat of a Tacoma. All I put into the bed
    was the seltzer and a half-full bag of heavy stuff that didn't mind
    bouncing. With the handles of the bag knotted together; it slightly
    surprised me that I could -- in thirty or forty years of using those
    bags, it was the first time I had tried.

    (I wish I knew who *made* those bags!)

    (But it's very unlikely that the maker is still in business.)

    It was time for lunch when I got home, so instead of drinking my
    extra-strong tea, I went to bed. I slept like a rock until it was
    past time to feed Dave. Luckily, us old folks keep the freezer
    stocked with frozen meals for just such occasions.

    While I was dressing for Take Two this morning, the phone rang: our squirrel-chewed car was ready. I cascaded through a few changes of
    plan before I remembered that the car he was going to the dealer in
    was the loaner; he didn't need anybody to bring it back.

    It had taken a while to find out why the air conditioner didn't work
    because you have to take the front bumper off to get at the damaged
    place. Repair consisted only of splicing a sensor wire and patching
    the casing the squirrels had chewed through to get at the wires, but
    taking the bumper off and putting it back cost a good bit of skilled

    So I changed the date on my map and set off. I even duplicated the
    stop at Our Father's House, because I'd forgotten a shirt that I
    wanted to get rid of. But instead of looking for pants that I could
    convert into riding knickers, I just cruised around the edge of the

    A stop at the recycling center got rid of a half-full can of spray
    sunscreen, half a can of scouring powder, and two cans of foot powder.
    They have a "paint room" where they give away opened packages of

    Thence into long-distance mode, headed for the gazebo at Tippyriver
    Downs. This time the floor was reasonably clean and none of the
    tenants wanted to use their gazebo, so I was able to do my sciatica
    exercises. Gazebos are as good as graveyards for lying down for a few
    minutes without attracting ambulances.

    The front restrooms at Walmart were out of order, so I got a bit more
    walking than I'd planned on. The caution tape closing the entrance
    said that they were "closed for cleaning", but there was plenty of
    time to clean them while I was eating lunch and touring the shoe
    department, and they were *still* "being cleaned" when I stopped in
    again on my way back from PetSmart.

    Then a straight (as the road wiggles) line for Penguin Point. I got
    there soon after five, but they could have killed and dressed a
    chicken while I was waiting for my order. It didn't help that the
    woman in line ahead of me was ordering dinner for twelve, and though
    she spoke English fluently and had hardly any accent, she needed to
    have things repeated a lot.

    Not to mention that it *was* five o'clock, and the drive-through was
    backed up to the street.

    But Dave had been craving fried chicken for some time, so we had a
    very satisfactory meal.

    Joy Beeson
    joy beeson at centurylink dot net

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