Casita Klatsch

Vroom II

Motorcycle "boot camp" rocked, although it came at a cost.  Over three days, I and four other inmates spent 11 hours in a classroom jointly reading and discussing the Motorcycle Safety Foundation's rider manual, and another 11 hours sitting on banged-up, overheating Honda Nighthawks in the blazing sun while our very competent instructors went meticulously through 17 riding exercises with us.  And at Sunday noon, having passed the knowledge and skills tests, with motorcycle rider license in hand (or at least with the requisite paperwork to take to Large Marge at the MVD), I lugged my sweaty hump back to Casa Crazyhorse and collapsed in a moist heap. 

A few hours later, I was in pain.  I am not referring to the pain brought on by fatigue from using a variety of muscles to remain upright on the motorbike.  This was pain of the gastro sort.  When the discomfort began, I wrote it off to the fast-food delights I had quickly taken in during our short break between the morning and afternoon sessions on Saturday.  It had been ages since I'd eaten a burger and fries at Carl's Jr, and I figured my system wasn't used to it.  But then the gastro pain increased, as did the borborygmi loud enough to hear in Benson.  (Grossed out now?  Well, that's what you get for reading the blog of a medical lexicographer.)

By midnight, I wanted to vomit.  But I couldn't.  I seldom can.

Now, after spending the whole day in bed nursing a bloated abdomen, I am fairly certain I know what it is:  I have ingested some kind of bacterium or fungus, and it has turned my lower GI tract into a toxic waste facility.

How do I know this?  Because the memory of the black-mold-covered spigot on the giant Gatorade urn they had for us at the motorcycle range came to me at some point in the night. During the two days on the range, blinded by thirst, and with the heat, sunglasses and helmet distorting my vision, I gulped down cup after cup of the stuff before I noticed the mold on Sunday morning.  (See, Mark.  I'm really not a card-carrying mysophobe.  If I were, I would have seen it immediately.  I probably wouldn't even have touched the urn.) 

When I called this to the attention of my classmates, they chuckled in horror.  And they kept drinking it.  I wonder if any of them is in the same shape today.  Wait, what's that distant rumble?

I know I got the motorcycle license just to ride our scooter to rehearsals, but now I want a bike.  Especially this one.  I think dropping a lot of cash on the course, subjecting myself to the its grueling nature, and sitting through this stomach bug for however long it takes for my immune system to blow it away, are justification for saving up for one.  And yes, Mom, I'll be careful.

Happy Birthday, Homer

We hosted a birthday gathering for Homer on Saturday.  I think Homer had a good time, despite some wicked allergy problems. 

The temps aren't climbing as high these days, which means we were able to enjoy the backyard without roasting. 

I volunteered to bake the cake.  I love a good challenge, and considering Homer is the Cake King, the challenge was certainly on. 

F.O. puts together his famous homemade ice cream

Homer requested a yellow cake with chocolate frosting.  After some searching, I decided on a basic yellow cake recipe from The Well-Decorated Cake and creamy chocolate icing from Bon Appetit. 

 

A trip to the second-hand store solved the problem of not having an electric mixer.

Fresh from the oven, the cakes don't look too glamorous. 

But they clean up well.  

Like any self-respecting birthday cake, it stayed hidden from the birthday boy's sight in the cake cover I got at the second-hand shoppe.  Just like Grandma's!

And the moment arrived.

Homer blows

Richard

Homer and some of his fellow revelers

Thursday

Ater-work fun at the second-hand store!

mid-century Scandinavian salad bowl and servers, ceramic with teak handles and trim

We got a salad server, Martha the Shrew got a hair-cut.

Vroom

And so I begin week 4 with the dregs of the cold that has slowly migrated from my head to my chest, leaving me with one of the worst cases of bronchitis I have had since childhood.  I am so tired of coughing, I could scream.  But that would just make me cough more.  Last week, a couple of people in the dog park were telling me that they know many who are sick with what sounded like the same thing.  Sounds like it's a nasty bug that hangs on for weeks, even without bronchitis. Great.  And just when I have some singing to do soon. 

On the brighter side, the weather is finally cooling down a tad.  I haven't really felt much like getting out, but I have taken some bike rides with Zane and Mark over the past few days.  At some point, I'll remember to take along my camera.  As much as I love it, my iPhone just doesn't hold up to the Ixus when it comes to taking shots for the blog. 

Speaking of riding on two wheels, my motorcycle riding class is coming up in a couple of weeks.  No, there's no mid-life crisis here.  (I don't think I am due for another one of those for a couple of years.)  I simply need to get a motorcycle endorsement on my license, in order to ride our scooter to and from the above-mentioned rehearsals, the venues for which are quite far from our house on decidedly bike-unfriendly roads and not very public-transport convenient. 

The motorcycle class saves me from having to memorize the operator's manual, which apparently is what you have to do to pass the knowledge test. Yes, I sauntered into the MVD a few weeks ago, having skimmed the photocopy of the manual angrily hurled at Mark by one of the MVD staff after he threw a tantrum at them for not having the manual available either online or in their offices (apparently it's under revision...beats me how a person is supposed to be expected to pass the test if the study materials aren't available, and haven't been for months).  I had sailed through all the sample questions in the manual and the 5-question online practice test.  "Puh-leaze Mary, piece of cake," I said to myself and Mark.  I was ready for my license now.  Not. 

Up to that point, I hadn't failed a test, well, ever.  But there I sat, only minutes into the exam, blushing under the ugly drop ceiling, looking at an outmoded monitor displaying a large red "F" that was decked out in what appeared to be Comic Sans font, by far the largest insult.  I hadn't even finished half the test, but I guess I had already missed enough questions that it didn't take a very complicated algorithm to work out that there's no way I could pass.  I ashamedly returned to Large Marge at the counter and said I'd be taking my manual back.  (She had confiscated from me as I entered the exam room.)  In addition to my photocopy, Marge gave me a print-out to sign and bring back upon my next attempt.  As if it weren't etched into my retina enough, I looked down at the piece of paper and saw the same offensive "F" staring back at me.  Nice touch.

About three weeks later, after the sting of my first failing grade had eased and I could again entertain the notion of a retake, I did some research and found that taking (and successfully passing) a 17-hour motorcycle riding class would waive the need to sit the MVD test and provide me with my motorcycle endorsement.  And they provide the bikes.  It will be a hellish way to spend a weekend, but way better than having to look Marge in the eye again.

Hubba Hubba

The Hubble has a fancy new camera!  How about this for spectacular?  

Butterfly Nebula (NASA/ESA/Hubble SM4 ERO)

Zane has expressed interest in learning astronomy.  He also has a fascination with photography.  How awesome would it be to go into astronomical photography?  Or photographic astronomy.  Or whatever.  I know he's young, but I think it would be the bee's knees...as long as I didn't have to study the physics behind it all.  That makes my brain hurt.

I'll stick with my 7th chords, vocal performance practice and conducting and admire the pretty pictures. 

Tiebreaker

I really love this about us.

The shoe organizer Mark and I share--notice the laces.

Dry humor...literally

I was going to begin this post with something about our water being shut off this morning, due to a delinquent amount accrued by the previous account holder the month BEFORE we moved in.  But Mark scolded me for mentioning it on Facebook, so I guess I shouldn't say anything here.  Oops.

Anyway, because of the above unmentioned business, the morning has been a bit crazy.  I must get to work, and there's no time to post.  So I'll leave you with the following.  No doubt the site has been around for a while, but I've just stumbled upon it.  If you need a giggle, I encourage you to check it out.