August 15th, 2005


Sunny Sunday

Was up past 3 am trying to find plain (not carpenter, not cargo) Levi's shorts in my new size (one notch larger than off the rack) and the only vendor was JC Penny, and they wanted 20% more for shipping. No thanks.

So I slept in.

Looked in the bathroom mirror, and decided that before I took a shower I really ought to do something about my hair. So I dyed it black. Turns out I was wrong last time when I said I had chosen the wrong brand. Revlon Colorsilk black hair coloring stains skin just as much as Clairol's Nice 'n' Easy. At least this time I only left it in for 15 minutes - not 45 like the last time. After-shave got rid of most of the dye on my skin, and it took a lot less work than last time. My beard is not growing back in some spots, and with the black I now look like a Mexican B movie bad guy. I just can't wait for the comments at work tomorrow.

By the time I got around to thinking about breakfast, it was almost lunchtime, and lunch was going to be the mid-point in my bike ride. So I popped something into my mouth which had some minuscule nutritional value, pocketed a syringe holder with what normally would have been my usual morning insulin dose (I'll shoot up at lunchtime), and headed out to the car with the bike rack, bike, camera, book and a bag of grapes just in case I got to feeling low blood sugar levels on the ride. Also filled up my camelback and took that along too.

Drove out to Shoreline Park, unloaded the bike and immediately rode off to the burrowing owl hill. Got some good shots with the 300mm lens, I think. I'll download and look at them up close tomorrow. I stopped a lot for photos, but the detour to the owls added half a mile to my usual distance. As usual, went to Ming's for dim sum, then got on the bike and this time did the detour to the Palo Alto duck pond, which also adds half a mile to the trip.

Didn't stop much on the way back, since I was planning on going to the spot where I usually have lunch, and shoot the myriad wildlife I've described in an earlier post. But the place was swarming with people, and there was just a lone fat squirrel which hadn't run screaming. Sigh. I'll get photos at lunch tomorrow.

So I went back to the car, took my time putting the bike on the rack and getting my gear stowed because I just hate hate hate those obnoxious parking vultures. You know, the type A idiots who park in the middle of the lane, waiting for you to get into the car and pull out just for them. There were plenty of parking spots in the same row, so instead of getting into the car and leaving so the jerk who was hovering instead of parking two cars down could have my spot, I grabbed my camera, locked the car and headed for the lake shore. Sure enough, he parked two cars away. By the time I got back to the car the vultures were gone.

Got home, put the bike and rack away, got into my bathing suit and went to the pool. I wasn't interested in swimming, I just wanted to cool off and also stretch some muscles which were complaining about the bike ride. Much easier to do in the buoyancy of water than on land. Slathered tanning oil all over, I still smell like a Piña Colada, hold the pineapple. My tan is getting pretty dark, at least on my arms and legs.

Back home I played with the cats, played on the computer, watched some TV, made dinner, called my sister and parents, and left a message with a Seattle friend then took off for downtown MV Starbuck's for some iced tea and eye candy. And finished Esther Friesner's very short book Monday We Saw Mermaids, the cover of which claims to be a parody of a 1400's seaman's diary, but it's nothing of the sort. It's a fantasy which takes some nuns, a priest and a heretic Jewess from a convent in Spain to somewhere in the New World, in search of Prester John's kingdom. Prester John was a probably mythological ruler from somewhere in India in the 1100's. The book's title, it says, comes from a quote from Christopher Columbus' diary which she translated as "Monday we saw mermaids". It actually says "sirens" which is not quite the same thing. Anywho, the book was not up to her usual standards, lacked her penchant for puns, looked like it was what a writer might send to a publisher as a suggestion for a novel, rather than as the novel itself.
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