Thursday, October 3, 2013

What's a 'chilihead'?

My extended absence, and then this bizarre re-entry into the now-dinosauric bike blog venue, does not in any way diminish by faith in blogging. Or more specifically, in bike-blogging. I just needed to start with that. I think we are all rad, right to our graves.

And with that, I present you with the following non-bike content . . .

 But more on topic to the title then, my friend-at-work Mark closed down his pepper garden last night, and since I had previously made it known to him that I enjoy suffering, he brought me a "baggie" today. The delivery of the Sears catalog doll page on Christmas at the Walton household could not have generated more surprise and excitement. (Go ahead, google it.)

So anyways, he drops it off in the morning and it's all sealed up and I'm kind of watching it all day and it's starting to sweat, inside, and the baggie is getting all foggy, so naturally, when I get home, I want to let it breath. Which I do, right next to my 'puter, while I am busy extending my workday into the evening.

Pretty damned soon though, my skin is burning and my eyes are watering and I'm POWERING through what I need to get done. So I can get it done, and run. Away. Anywhere. And then come back, to the bug zapper that will surely smite me. And I am happy, so happy. Thank you, Mark, for the peppers and for the paper that introduces me to the bizarre psychopathic concept of a dude who is totally focused on how to survive the winter without being able to walk out to his chili garden in the morning and snap off a pepper.

Adventure awaits, painful as it may be.

4 comments:

Hugh Gilmartin said...

Great blog! Skimmed through parts of it after riding Rattlesnake Lake to Hyak and back yesterday. My rather short trip had me dreaming of a longer one, which lead me to your adventure. Thanks! Hugh

Phillip Arpke said...

Good to have you back in the bloggin' saddle...it inspired me to jump my butt in gear too!

Anonymous said...

There once was a blogger named Pat
He wrote with plenty eclat
He was my idol
Til his blog went idle
Now this bloggy idyll's kersplat

tom brocow said...

pat s's smooth stylings caress
like soft tresses that tickle my breasts
but i think that eclat
rhymes with bad bra
that compresses, depresses, molests