I have to say -- right now -- it's officially too damn hot for me.

It's uncomfortable typing, not because the keyboard is too hot but the table on which I lay my wrists is. Yes, I could get one of those "ergonomic" things, but I'm not the type. They made me use one at work, and that's one thing I never forgave them for.

Yes, they probably do something, and that "something" may even be "avoid lawsuits," but I've never been a big fan of them. I have a little carpal tunnel or repititive stress thing in my right hand and wrist, but it only hurts (nothing worse than that).

I'm not one to check with the government to see what's been found to be unhealthy every day. When I become aware of something like that, I'm typically skeptical, mostly because I've seen the government's track record. Hard to believe, but my own personal one beats it.

The other official thing is that yesterday I looked like an idiot. I have no idea how much of a stretch that is.

I needed bread, and not just any old bread, but fancy bread produced by a NASDAQ listed company (Panera - symbol PNRA). I miss the little bakeries I used to be able to go to, but Atkins represents progress if nothing else. Not content with looking like the old photos of Europeans, I stopped at another store and bought two pillows.

I didn't hear anyone laugh, but most of them were locked inside cars draining their engine's power by running air conditioners. It was under thirty degrees, so I guess most people are listening to movies or podcasts or something. Anyway, I'm sure I looked a sight riding a bicycle with two big pillows lashed onto it. Maybe everyone thought I was preparing for a crash.

I have to say -- right now -- it's officially too damn hot for me.

It's uncomfortable typing, not because the keyboard is too hot but the table on which I lay my wrists is. Yes, I could get one of those "ergonomic" things, but I'm not the type. They made me use one at work, and that's one thing I never forgave them for.

Yes, they probably do something, and that "something" may even be "avoid lawsuits," but I've never been a big fan of them. I have a little carpal tunnel or repititive stress thing in my right hand and wrist, but it only hurts (nothing worse than that).

I'm not one to check with the government to see what's been found to be unhealthy every day. When I become aware of something like that, I'm typically skeptical, mostly because I've seen the government's track record. Hard to believe, but my own personal one beats it.

The other official thing is that yesterday I looked like an idiot. I have no idea how much of a stretch that is.

I needed bread, and not just any old bread, but fancy bread produced by a NASDAQ listed company (Panera - symbol PNRA). I miss the little bakeries I used to be able to go to, but Atkins represents progress if nothing else. Not content with looking like the old photos of Europeans, I stopped at another store and bought two pillows.

I didn't hear anyone laugh, but most of them were locked inside cars draining their engine's power by running air conditioners. It was under thirty degrees, so I guess most people are listening to movies or podcasts or something. Anyway, I'm sure I looked a sight riding a bicycle with two big pillows lashed onto it. Maybe everyone thought I was preparing for a crash.

I once had a bike that had a Tour de France sticker on it. I seriously doubt that bike, a Follis, was ever a contender.

I've watched a little of this biking classic this year and I have to say I'm perplexed. Yes, the scenery is breathtaking and watching the bikes flow over the course is hypnotic and oddly beautiful, but I find the sport puzzling. Right after college, about the same time I got my Follis, I was attracted to a classmate and ended up moving in right next to her and her boyfriend. He'd met some guys while working in a bike shop, and they were all serious riders. Also, they liked Frank Zappa and getting wasted, so we all get along fine.

None of which has anything to do with the Tour de France, but from them I did learn a lot about track bikes, the various racing contests, and a lot about strategy. None of that has proven overly useful, but I hardly discount any knowledge on those grounds.

Anyway, back to the Tour de France. The first thing I've noticed is that only teams compete, no individual riders. Much worse, out of the the twenty-one teams of nine riders, twenty-one of the teams are sponsored by corporations. That's every one of them!

I realize Formula One is getting that way, but motorsport at least has privateers. Evidently there's none of that in bike racing, which I have to say pretty much turns my stomach. The only reason a company would sponsor a bike team is for advertising exposure and I'd prefer it if some people who loved the sport itself could have some teams.

Another thing I don't like is the broadcast team. Yes, I know, sports commentators are never decent grammarians or speakers, but another of my pet peeves is brought up by this group. No, it's not the overuse of the superlative this time, nor even the laziness often evidenced by those who confuse motors and engines. This time it's the misuse of the word race.

What the Tour de France is, is a rally. The difference between a rally and a race is a rally is a series of races with the winner the one with the fastest combined time. Dakkar is a rally, the Indy 500 is a race, just like the Kentucky Derby.

I don't think the event sponsors ever call it anything but a rally, but it's the weirdest one I've ever seen. Instead of the pure accounting of time I'd expect from a rally, the winners are given "bonus" times, a subtraction of time for the top three finishers. In a race for time, time shouldn't be a prize -- it's the goal! So not only does the winner win, he wins even more than he does on the road.

This may be justified by the most bizarre rule I've ever seen in sport: According to article fourteen of the rules, "All riders finishing in the same bunch are awarded the same time." That's right: a bunch of riders, who may be separated by a minute in real time, all get the same score. I have no idea what this does to inspire anyone to race, but I guess it makes it easy to keep score. They could use a sundial.

Oh, sure, it cuts down on crashes, but it completely ruins any sense of a race.

I guess the designers thought along these lines:
"Let's have a race around France."
"Great. We'll make it a rally."
"The thing is, we'll give just about everybody the same time. That will reduce hurt feelings."
"How can we tell who won, then?"
"Oh, we'll give bonus times to the winners."
"So, let me make sure I have this straight. We'll have a race for time, but won't be all anal about keeping track of that. Instead, we'll award time as a prize...in a race for time."
"Sure."

Still, nothing beats the scenery, and, like I said, watching the riders is hypnotic in the same way watching a lava lamp is. You may want to watch a part of it, just don't expect much of what you may think of as a race.

I once had a bike that had a Tour de France sticker on it. I seriously doubt that bike, a Follis, was ever a contender.

I've watched a little of this biking classic this year and I have to say I'm perplexed. Yes, the scenery is breathtaking and watching the bikes flow over the course is hypnotic and oddly beautiful, but I find the sport puzzling. Right after college, about the same time I got my Follis, I was attracted to a classmate and ended up moving in right next to her and her boyfriend. He'd met some guys while working in a bike shop, and they were all serious riders. Also, they liked Frank Zappa and getting wasted, so we all get along fine.

None of which has anything to do with the Tour de France, but from them I did learn a lot about track bikes, the various racing contests, and a lot about strategy. None of that has proven overly useful, but I hardly discount any knowledge on those grounds.

Anyway, back to the Tour de France. The first thing I've noticed is that only teams compete, no individual riders. Much worse, out of the the twenty-one teams of nine riders, twenty-one of the teams are sponsored by corporations. That's every one of them!

I realize Formula One is getting that way, but motorsport at least has privateers. Evidently there's none of that in bike racing, which I have to say pretty much turns my stomach. The only reason a company would sponsor a bike team is for advertising exposure and I'd prefer it if some people who loved the sport itself could have some teams.

Another thing I don't like is the broadcast team. Yes, I know, sports commentators are never decent grammarians or speakers, but another of my pet peeves is brought up by this group. No, it's not the overuse of the superlative this time, nor even the laziness often evidenced by those who confuse motors and engines. This time it's the misuse of the word race.

What the Tour de France is, is a rally. The difference between a rally and a race is a rally is a series of races with the winner the one with the fastest combined time. Dakkar is a rally, the Indy 500 is a race, just like the Kentucky Derby.

I don't think the event sponsors ever call it anything but a rally, but it's the weirdest one I've ever seen. Instead of the pure accounting of time I'd expect from a rally, the winners are given "bonus" times, a subtraction of time for the top three finishers. In a race for time, time shouldn't be a prize -- it's the goal! So not only does the winner win, he wins even more than he does on the road.

This may be justified by the most bizarre rule I've ever seen in sport: According to article fourteen of the rules, "All riders finishing in the same bunch are awarded the same time." That's right: a bunch of riders, who may be separated by a minute in real time, all get the same score. I have no idea what this does to inspire anyone to race, but I guess it makes it easy to keep score. They could use a sundial.

Oh, sure, it cuts down on crashes, but it completely ruins any sense of a race.

I guess the designers thought along these lines:
"Let's have a race around France."
"Great. We'll make it a rally."
"The thing is, we'll give just about everybody the same time. That will reduce hurt feelings."
"How can we tell who won, then?"
"Oh, we'll give bonus times to the winners."
"So, let me make sure I have this straight. We'll have a race for time, but won't be all anal about keeping track of that. Instead, we'll award time as a prize...in a race for time."
"Sure."

Still, nothing beats the scenery, and, like I said, watching the riders is hypnotic in the same way watching a lava lamp is. You may want to watch a part of it, just don't expect much of what you may think of as a race.

Today I was bemoaning the fact that nowhere near me sells hot pretzels when I learned that they have frozen ones in the markets. To be honest, I was reminded that I'd already been told that, but I may have been thinking about myself and missed the information.

So I went to the store, which I needed to do anyway, and found them. Now, I rarely look at frozen food, so I'll offer that as my excuse. Of all the aisles in a modern supermarket (or any store, for that matter), the ones that cost the stores the most money are the ones I avoid the most. It's not a snob thing, but the only frozen stuff I buy is ice cream, lemonade, and vegetables, usually corn, and I can find those quickly. Oh, and sometimes fish sticks to remind me of elementary school Friday lunches.

I know they have lots of frozen meals, and I've tried some of them, but they haven't been a favorite of mine since I first had the TV dinners years ago. Maybe the reason I shun them now is because they remind me of my mom, who ended her days eating nothing but frozen dinners (I believe the Swanson Swiss Steak was her favorite). Or, it could be that they cost so much and make me feel lazy.

Anyway, I looked up and down the aisles and, sure enough, they had frozen pretzels, so I bought some. There was a little bag inside which held six, and the directions indicated that I shouldn't use all of the enclosed salt unless I was preparing them all.

I made one, with hardly any salt at all.

But that's hardly the point.

Among my other purchases, I bought a salami (eww -- beef lips and butt). I can't help it: I like the way they taste. Unlike the shallots I buy, which invariably cause the checker to ask for help or look them up in a book, or the gnocchi that generates a "what do you do with this?" question, the salami scanned just fine and caused no comment at all, except from the bag girl.

She was young, maybe eighteen, I guess, and asked me what it was. I said it was a salami, and I guess I can excuse her because even though it was written on the side of the package maybe she's been trained not to read the customer's food.

She'd never heard of it, and that stunned me. I explained about sandwiches, and that seemed to spark some memory, but she'd never before seen salami except as part of an Oscar Mayer sealed and sliced product.

The more encouraging news, I realized as I walked out to my back with my bags, is that the youth of today isn't as obsessed with euphemisms as back in my day. Or, maybe, it's just her. Still, I gave myself a point for not saying anything about hiding it in the bag.

Today I was bemoaning the fact that nowhere near me sells hot pretzels when I learned that they have frozen ones in the markets. To be honest, I was reminded that I'd already been told that, but I may have been thinking about myself and missed the information.

So I went to the store, which I needed to do anyway, and found them. Now, I rarely look at frozen food, so I'll offer that as my excuse. Of all the aisles in a modern supermarket (or any store, for that matter), the ones that cost the stores the most money are the ones I avoid the most. It's not a snob thing, but the only frozen stuff I buy is ice cream, lemonade, and vegetables, usually corn, and I can find those quickly. Oh, and sometimes fish sticks to remind me of elementary school Friday lunches.

I know they have lots of frozen meals, and I've tried some of them, but they haven't been a favorite of mine since I first had the TV dinners years ago. Maybe the reason I shun them now is because they remind me of my mom, who ended her days eating nothing but frozen dinners (I believe the Swanson Swiss Steak was her favorite). Or, it could be that they cost so much and make me feel lazy.

Anyway, I looked up and down the aisles and, sure enough, they had frozen pretzels, so I bought some. There was a little bag inside which held six, and the directions indicated that I shouldn't use all of the enclosed salt unless I was preparing them all.

I made one, with hardly any salt at all.

But that's hardly the point.

Among my other purchases, I bought a salami (eww -- beef lips and butt). I can't help it: I like the way they taste. Unlike the shallots I buy, which invariably cause the checker to ask for help or look them up in a book, or the gnocchi that generates a "what do you do with this?" question, the salami scanned just fine and caused no comment at all, except from the bag girl.

She was young, maybe eighteen, I guess, and asked me what it was. I said it was a salami, and I guess I can excuse her because even though it was written on the side of the package maybe she's been trained not to read the customer's food.

She'd never heard of it, and that stunned me. I explained about sandwiches, and that seemed to spark some memory, but she'd never before seen salami except as part of an Oscar Mayer sealed and sliced product.

The more encouraging news, I realized as I walked out to my back with my bags, is that the youth of today isn't as obsessed with euphemisms as back in my day. Or, maybe, it's just her. Still, I gave myself a point for not saying anything about hiding it in the bag.

Here I am. I've been devoting my time to hacking up a new web page, one that will reproduce the contents of my three blogs. Not only might it be considered a Rube Goldberg inspired collection of PHP and HTML, it serves very little purpose. It's not as if the ten or so people who visit can't click and see the other pages themselves, or read the content, anyway, off their aggregators.

But, it serves a very worthwhile purpose: when I'm futzing about with that, I ignore everything else on God's green earth. There's been no sense in actually creating any content, you see, until I can display it in yet another format.

It's all about the form.

The other brainstorm I've had is to get into non-fiction. That's where the money is. I need to hurry up that Unified Page of Blogging and then begin querying publishers for my idea: The Complete Idiot's Guide to Blogging.

Think about it. There must be over three hundred people who've yet to start their own blogs. Yet, they hear about it constantly and I'm sure they have things as valuable to say as the rest of us. How can the world not be interested in what Roger said to you in the hall, or how your sister-in-law got hooked on drugs again and is living with that guy who steals bicycles?

Of course, I'm no expert on blogging, but I know more than the idiots do.

Here I am. I've been devoting my time to hacking up a new web page, one that will reproduce the contents of my three blogs. Not only might it be considered a Rube Goldberg inspired collection of PHP and HTML, it serves very little purpose. It's not as if the ten or so people who visit can't click and see the other pages themselves, or read the content, anyway, off their aggregators.

But, it serves a very worthwhile purpose: when I'm futzing about with that, I ignore everything else on God's green earth. There's been no sense in actually creating any content, you see, until I can display it in yet another format.

It's all about the form.

The other brainstorm I've had is to get into non-fiction. That's where the money is. I need to hurry up that Unified Page of Blogging and then begin querying publishers for my idea: The Complete Idiot's Guide to Blogging.

Think about it. There must be over three hundred people who've yet to start their own blogs. Yet, they hear about it constantly and I'm sure they have things as valuable to say as the rest of us. How can the world not be interested in what Roger said to you in the hall, or how your sister-in-law got hooked on drugs again and is living with that guy who steals bicycles?

Of course, I'm no expert on blogging, but I know more than the idiots do.

The other day I was encouraged to watch the Tour de France, which is some bicycle race in France. I did, and enjoyed the scenery very much.

Of personal interest, the guy who finished second that day was riding a Bianchi. When I bought my bike last year I'd never heard of that manufacturer, but I bought one because it was cheap. It was also on clearance sale because the frame is a very small, unpopular size. I guess they're okay. Mine has held together, and has only had one flat. Other than tightening things up, not really anything to fuss over. There are twisty things on the grips to change gears, but, while easier, they're no more exact than the old levers.

In spite of the fact that mine is one-tenth the cost of the ones they ride, there's don't include !@(Bikedtl.jpg:L120 popimg: "Bike Detail")a bell. Sure, they have fancy, pricey parts and are made of carbon fibre, but my bike has different things.

The TV coverage wasn't very good. The announcers suck and from what I saw they absolutely refuse to show or focus on any of the bikes. I figure the bikes are the point, but I guess the public is more interested in the people. One of them has only one testicle, which would seem to give him a weight advantage, but I think I saw a female rider whom I'm guessing has none.

The camera cut away when one rider was preparing for a "nature break," and I gotta say I have no idea how one could do that while riding in those chamois-lined shorts. Even more puzzling is how the woman would do it. The rider, however, was considerate enough to go to the side of the pack.

Formula One is having a race this weekend, too.

!@(gb_circuit.gif:L120 popimg: "Silverstone")

Somewhat timely, the race is in Great Britain. I like this track, the Maggots-Becketts-Chapel curves are a great twisty bit. (On the layout picture the labels show the gear, the speed (in both KPH and MPH) and the g-force. For the Timing points, marked by T, they display the time to shoot for).

It's my belief that anything that moves is a fun thing to race. The things that don't move, like flagpoles and treehouses, are sometimes used for endurance contests. Humans just need to compete, I guess, even though it causes lots of grief.

When they rode over the bridge across the Rhine into Germany it looked pretty cool.

The other day I was encouraged to watch the Tour de France, which is some bicycle race in France. I did, and enjoyed the scenery very much.

Of personal interest, the guy who finished second that day was riding a Bianchi. When I bought my bike last year I'd never heard of that manufacturer, but I bought one because it was cheap. It was also on clearance sale because the frame is a very small, unpopular size. I guess they're okay. Mine has held together, and has only had one flat. Other than tightening things up, not really anything to fuss over. There are twisty things on the grips to change gears, but, while easier, they're no more exact than the old levers.

In spite of the fact that mine is one-tenth the cost of the ones they ride, there's don't include !@(Bikedtl.jpg:L120 popimg: "Bike Detail")a bell. Sure, they have fancy, pricey parts and are made of carbon fibre, but my bike has different things.

The TV coverage wasn't very good. The announcers suck and from what I saw they absolutely refuse to show or focus on any of the bikes. I figure the bikes are the point, but I guess the public is more interested in the people. One of them has only one testicle, which would seem to give him a weight advantage, but I think I saw a female rider whom I'm guessing has none.

The camera cut away when one rider was preparing for a "nature break," and I gotta say I have no idea how one could do that while riding in those chamois-lined shorts. Even more puzzling is how the woman would do it. The rider, however, was considerate enough to go to the side of the pack.

Formula One is having a race this weekend, too.

!@(gb_circuit.gif:L120 popimg: "Silverstone")

Somewhat timely, the race is in Great Britain. I like this track, the Maggots-Becketts-Chapel curves are a great twisty bit. (On the layout picture the labels show the gear, the speed (in both KPH and MPH) and the g-force. For the Timing points, marked by T, they display the time to shoot for).

It's my belief that anything that moves is a fun thing to race. The things that don't move, like flagpoles and treehouses, are sometimes used for endurance contests. Humans just need to compete, I guess, even though it causes lots of grief.

When they rode over the bridge across the Rhine into Germany it looked pretty cool.

I rode up to a local hardware store yesterday to get some supplies for reinforcing that gate in the back yard. When I got there I realized I hadn't brought my wallet, but what was more disturbing is the hardware store is going out of business.

It was a moderately sized store with many crammed aisles full of everything. Not a lot of it, but just about always there was what you needed. If you couldn't find it, you only had to ask and someone would lead you to the end of some aisle where there were bicycle pumps or wire looms.

It was open for forty years easy, but at some point had become part of the Ace Hardware chain. I guess everyone else is going to a Home Depot, and that gigantic, faceless place can now celebrate another victory. No one who works there is half as helpful or friendly as the people were at Gerald's.

Today I went back (with my wallet) and the store is nearly empty. Everyone acted pretty sad and resigned, but that may have been my projecting. There's another independent place, one completely unaligned with corporations (as far as I know), but I never feel very comfortable there. It's actually a lumber yard (Southland Lumber) with a tiny building that sells hardware-type stuff. The receipts are written by hand, and I think they're big for supplying the movie industry. The inside walls are decorated with movie plates and signs, the kind I see all over town when they shoot on location.

They're always nice to me, but I can't help feeling I'm wasting their time when I go in to buy a pound of nails or something like a Saws-All blade.

Sure, I can ride to Home Depot. There's two of them, so I have my choice, but not the choice I want.

I rode up to a local hardware store yesterday to get some supplies for reinforcing that gate in the back yard. When I got there I realized I hadn't brought my wallet, but what was more disturbing is the hardware store is going out of business.

It was a moderately sized store with many crammed aisles full of everything. Not a lot of it, but just about always there was what you needed. If you couldn't find it, you only had to ask and someone would lead you to the end of some aisle where there were bicycle pumps or wire looms.

It was open for forty years easy, but at some point had become part of the Ace Hardware chain. I guess everyone else is going to a Home Depot, and that gigantic, faceless place can now celebrate another victory. No one who works there is half as helpful or friendly as the people were at Gerald's.

Today I went back (with my wallet) and the store is nearly empty. Everyone acted pretty sad and resigned, but that may have been my projecting. There's another independent place, one completely unaligned with corporations (as far as I know), but I never feel very comfortable there. It's actually a lumber yard (Southland Lumber) with a tiny building that sells hardware-type stuff. The receipts are written by hand, and I think they're big for supplying the movie industry. The inside walls are decorated with movie plates and signs, the kind I see all over town when they shoot on location.

They're always nice to me, but I can't help feeling I'm wasting their time when I go in to buy a pound of nails or something like a Saws-All blade.

Sure, I can ride to Home Depot. There's two of them, so I have my choice, but not the choice I want.

One of the things I'm best at it creating "to do" lists. Conversely, one of the things I could do better is ever look at them again.

Today I need to strengthen a gate in the back yard, one my dog could conceivably knock over. The other week while I was lounging around in the hammock reading or sitting on the deck writing, Minardi freaked out when an unleashed dog was on the front yard. To express his disapproval, he busted the front window.

That can wait for a bit (plywood is quite fashionable, although dark), but to stave off any further incidents, I need to make sure he won't tear down the gate over the driveway. The gate itself is framed with 2X4s and the bars are fashioned out of 1/2 inch conduit.

I designed and built it myself! Could you tell?

I have some angle iron brackets which will nicely prevent the gate from opening out or twisting enough to break. The thing is, I have lots of things, and it's not always (ever?) easy finding what I need. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I need to reduce my possessions and lighten the load on my life's ship.

So today, theoretically, I'll look around and see if I can find where I left those damn brackets. I have little hopes of finding them, and it's odds on that what I'll do instead is find a barbecue and then make chicken kabobs.

Which would necessitate a trip to the store for tomatoes.

One of the things I'm best at it creating "to do" lists. Conversely, one of the things I could do better is ever look at them again.

Today I need to strengthen a gate in the back yard, one my dog could conceivably knock over. The other week while I was lounging around in the hammock reading or sitting on the deck writing, Minardi freaked out when an unleashed dog was on the front yard. To express his disapproval, he busted the front window.

That can wait for a bit (plywood is quite fashionable, although dark), but to stave off any further incidents, I need to make sure he won't tear down the gate over the driveway. The gate itself is framed with 2X4s and the bars are fashioned out of 1/2 inch conduit.

I designed and built it myself! Could you tell?

I have some angle iron brackets which will nicely prevent the gate from opening out or twisting enough to break. The thing is, I have lots of things, and it's not always (ever?) easy finding what I need. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I need to reduce my possessions and lighten the load on my life's ship.

So today, theoretically, I'll look around and see if I can find where I left those damn brackets. I have little hopes of finding them, and it's odds on that what I'll do instead is find a barbecue and then make chicken kabobs.

Which would necessitate a trip to the store for tomatoes.