I motored my way down to New Belgium’s Tour de Fat on Saturday. Yes, I said motored. It was for the best really. 1) The only bike I own is my ten speed from Junior High (total 80’s … black, with pink and turquoise accents … and two flat tires); 2) The last time I rode a bike I ran over my own leg (yeah, I don’t know, but it’s true); and 3) If I rode a bike from home, with my current chubs, in the 90 degree temps, I would be dead (and hence, no pictures for you).
So while driving to a bike festival may seem like a major fail, it was really a win.
We went later in the afternoon so we would be sure to catch March Fourth Marching Band. It was hotter than blazes—the amount of sweat pouring forth from my body was most unfortunate. But oh the spectacle of it all!
By the time we left I was ready to go out and purchase a bike … and the perfect attire for next year’s shenanigans.
For those unable to experience the wondrous whimsy yourselves—never fear! I snapped a few shots, just for you.
So slap on your ID bracelet…
Grab yourself a Fat Tire, and prepare to be amazed …
{poor, poor fellow; so pitiful ... and yet, so very tasty}
We attended a luau at “the home.” My grandma and her friends performed the Hu Ke Lau during happy hour, followed by Hawaiian dancers, and a hawaiian themed dinner–complete with roasted pig. I must say, it’s always a bit disconcerting to look my dinner in the face. Never been a fan, myself. Fish with eyeballs? No thank you!
If I wasn’t such a carnivore, I would totally be a vegetarian. Sigh.
And so my wish for you, dear friends: may your days be as beautiful as a Hawaiian afternoon, may your nights be full of song and dance … and when you look upon your food, may it not look back …
{nothing like new books begging to be read}
A couple weeks ago Maddy, of the Maddy Chronicles, announced the winner of her giveaway: Amy of Magpie and Muttonfly. I was dubious. After all, the winner was chosen via random generator. Who wins those things? Certainly not I! Still, out of curiosity, I clicked the link. And what do you know? It brought me here. I clicked back; clicked again. Same thing.
It took me ten minutes to realize I had actually won. You do not even want to know how long it took me to decide. An Amazon gift card, people! There are WAY too many options. Like a pup on spring morn’ … just when I would focus on one thing … SQUIRREL!!!
Finally, I settled upon books. Shocking, I know. They arrived in the mail yesterday … right as I was coming home from an errand. I must have seemed a tad overzealous because the mailwoman looked a tad scared. Could it be helped, my friends? Me thinks not. After all, it’s one thing to get books in the mail … it’s a whole other when they were free {to me}.
And, I might add, they are bea-u-tiful. Sigh. I purchased books I had planned to read this summer: When You are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris, Aunts Aren’t Gentlemen by P.G. Wodehouse, and The Thornbirds by Colleen McCullough. I know the first two will be good; the last, I haven’t a clue. It could be total sap. Luckily, it’s a lovely paperback. It’s also orange, so there’s that …
So thank you {again} Maddy! I plan to keep them forever–and I’ll think of you each time I see them upon the shelf.
In other bookish news, people keep asking what I’m reading … so I created a page that will tell you just that. Now if only I can figure out how to make it show up…
Finally, I was planning to give you a short review of Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet … but I do believe I’ve rambled on quite enough for one sitting. Another post, for another time, perhaps?
Until then, happy reading, dear friends!
I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for fall. So, it would seem, are retail stores. Chunky sweaters of muted tones are beginning to creep their way in amongst tank tops awash with color. It’s a beautiful thing. If only the temps would simmer down. But alas, it’s suppose to reach 98 degrees today. Sigh.
Guess there’s only one thing to do: shop for Autumn-ready shoes.
Shoes like these from Ruche …
{Pink Studio Bellina Mary Janes from Ruche}
They’re playful and elegant all in one.
Or, perhaps these from ModCloth …
{Dessert Course Heel from ModCloth}
Fallish hues wrapped in a sophisticated heel–what’s not to love? Of course, the fact that they’re described as a confection … caramel … milk chocolate … dark cocoa … sugary nougat … makes them all the sweeter.
Now that’s good marketing … for someone. After all, I may not be able to afford the shoe, but I’m sure I can swing a candy bar or two!
{Look at that bow! I'm a horrible mother. Sigh.}
My weekend ended on a high note–with the concert of a friend. I still remember the first time we heard him play. My mother told me the son of a co-worker would be providing entertainment at a Christmas party. A little boy, tickling the ivories, isn’t that cute? Of course, it didn’t take us long to realize there was nothing little about his performance.
Now he’s all grown up.
He and a friend–cellist and fellow Stanford-graduate–held a concert yesterday afternoon. They performed Bach, Beethoven, and Rachmaninoff.
I’m not so familiar with Rachmaninoff. No doubt learning the piece can bring a grown man to tears; listening, however, endues power. So powerful in fact that I literally jumped from my seat. That’s right, I jumped straight in the air. Though humiliating, it couldn’t be helped. I just wasn’t quite ready for that forte.
Which brings to mind a particular orchestral workshop…
Each year, you see, area high schools would join together and learn from a great conductor. That year, our conductor was a wiry man, with spectacles perched precariously atop his nose, and a mass of white hair that stuck every which way, but down. The first day he was intent on hammering in the finer points of dynamics: bending down he would whisper, pia-niss-i-mo; standing tall, he would thunder, FOR-TISS-I-MO — with a fist pump for good measure. We, of course, snickered.
Before we knew it, however, we were doing the same …
pianissimo
FORTISSIMO
All together now …
pianissimo
FORTISSIMO
Unfortunately, that particular conductor fell from podium on the morning of the second day {he must have been a tad overzealous with that fortissimo}. He was not seriously injured mind you, but he did not return.
Just imagine the things we could have learned if only he’d stayed. After all, to this day, whenever I hear a piece that rises in volume, I want to pump my fist in the air, and loudly exclaim, FORTISSIMO!
Of course, any skill may very well have faltered by now. Still, when I see the likes of Josh and Nick I can’t help but want to pick up my instrument. And I usually do. I pick it up–check for warping, tighten the bow, tune the strings, and play a song that I’m assuming sounds akin to an animal dying a slow, painful death by the way my cats run for the hills. Seriously. One little song and it takes DAYS for them to recover.
Lucky for them, when I opened my case this morning I found my bow in disarray {I looked for bugs; I did. I found nary a one … though it still kinda freaks me out}.
My poor old violin. Perhaps I’ve abused her quite enough. Perhaps it’s time to take her in … tune her up … and let her play more than once every five years … perhaps …
