Andrew and I went for the first bike ride of the season this afternoon. (Well, technically Andrew’s ridden to work thrice since he bought his commuter bike the other week, but it was the first trail ride for him and the first ride at all for me.) The weather was stunning, the trail was mostly dry, and I am the saddest sack of humanity ever. I did, however, mostly remember how to work the gears. I know I’ll get better again, and I know I was basically heading out with a rusty piece of equipment (my bod, not my bike – my bike is beautiful), but man, it’s humbling. That said, it was awesome to get out, and zooming down a hill with the wind in your face and the sun on your back was as glorious as I remembered. And a beagle puppy tried to eat my tire, so really it was the perfect day.

And so, my clothes are muddy, my legs are bruised, and my major parts all hurt. What I would not give for the presence of nubile minions to rub me with unguents while I pass out. Mmm… unguents… Instead, I settled for a shower and some lime Tostitos. Also, in a stroke of genius, I decided to take the beer bottles from my kitchen to Andrew’s so he can return them. I don’t drink beer at home by myself for some reason. (Red wine? Whiskey? No problem, but beer? Nah…). Only if I have company. I am happy to drink beer when I’m out with folks, or at Andrew’s. And so going to the Beer Store is one of those things I just never get around to doing. Andrew, on the other hand, has a… uhh… healthy appreciation of alcohol, and so goes to the Beer Store often. Perfect. Besides, these things have been sitting in my kitchen so long I’ve dusted them. Twice. (Hey Mark, remember the beer we had when you were here? In August? Yeah, that.) It was getting kind of embarrassing…

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