What to do with them old helmets

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Something I Learned Today...

...Black and White is always Gray...

No, wait.

The Shimano Alfine hub does allow a convenient tire change, once you figure out how to get get the hub loose from the cable. To simplify removal, set the gear to the lowest value (switching to "1" in my case). There is a lock ring that loosens once you twist it in the opposite from the arrow and then it disconnects from the gearing completely. Remove the wheel and change the tire/tube as needed and make sure that the wheel is back in place and any chain tensionser is correctly connected before reassembling the connector to the Alfine hub. Align the red dots and make sure that the housing fits snugly and then attach the lock ring and align the yellow dots. Twist the lockring clockwise and until it stops and then make sure that the hub is securely attached.

This is more for my benefit than yours. As I grow older, I need more reminders as you have probably not spent the best part of your your youth subjecting your brain to gross amounts of violence and alcohol as I have. If so, perhaps this may help...

A dream

I remember a dream I had. Now, a premonition of another dream comes.

If you're there, look for a fat guy with a big red beard and a curly mustache and say the magic word "fatboybiking" and win a free drink.

Come and see the madness that I feel is coming...

Rugged Toughness

Yup, that's you, tough ruggedness. I see you in there on that rich leather throne with your toughness ruggedly showing. Standing above traffic like the rugged cowboy tough-guy that you are, drink holders and GPS at the ready. Ruggedly staring into the brunt of traffic, the scowl of Ram-Tough on your lips. I see you astride your massive $60,000 throne to tough that you have, whilst I, lowly little pussy fag biker guy passes you in the rain.

The ads say you're a tough rugged toughie with a Ford Tough truck, all manly with its DVD player and digital stereo and remote starter (cuz only tough guys sit in already-warmed rugged trucks) and in-seat heating. Little faggy pussy biker fags like me ride in the rain and the cold. Rugged Chevy men ride with their heaters and radio blasting like six-guns in the parking lot you call a road.

Wimpy puss fags like me only bike, but you're probably on your way to a tough work out -- maybe even a spinning class. You scowl at the temerity I have to actually befoul the tough traffic you ruggedly sit in, to actually pass you. You'd show me if only the light would change, you'd let me know just how ruggedly toughly rugged and manly you are.

Maybe next time, Marlboro Man.

Footwear question

It's been cool and rainy here and I have my clothing pretty much dialed in except for the footwear. Currently I'm using Merrill hiking shoes which are water-resistentish and wool socks. They soak through fairly quickly, but it's not a big deal with the socks, at least above 40F (4C). Now it's below that and my feet are getting cold.

What to y'all use to cover your feet in this weather?

Hike a Bike

My normal route has been cut off by a fallen bridge, but not to worry, this one was brought down on purpose. By a badly worded sign and an invalid assumption on my part, I was forced to detour. There is a walkway over the highway that required me to push my bike up the steps and keep hold of it on the way down.

"No big deal." you say, "cross racers do it all the time."

With a fully loaded Big Dummy? I happened to be carrying breakfasts and lunches for the week and my bag in the back. Wrestling 70 plus pounds of ponderous [searches in vain for words to continue the alliteration], uh, bike isn't really the way I like to start my morning. Pushing it up is one thing, but the trip down was the tricky part. A bike this heavily laden tends to take even the smallest suggestion from gravity and run with it...

Anyway, put on yer woolens and ride (or push) yer damn bike -- this is the best time of the year to ride.

Time flies...

...and so does the snow. It's already November here in Minnesota with the attending wet snow and damp cold.

Excuse me.

... What? ... It's not? ... Still October, huh? ... I haven't been temporally shifted to Greenland, right? ... Lighten up, I'm kidding. ... Yeah, yeah, whatever. Still October? ... Tell my tomatoes, pally. ... Okay.

I've been corrected. It's still October. I thought I missed Halloween. I mean sometimes I miss it, but I was there. I can't remember, but I can remember why I can't remember. I'll have to put the turkey back now.

Winter looks like it's gonna come early and probably leave late. Eat before you ride and wear your woolens, folks. I just hope there's snow. Winter is fine with snow, you can go out and play in snow. Frozen grass isn't much fun to snowshoe on, trust me and -20F (-29C) and no snow just feels wrong. This year I plan to fish out my Cross Country skis and start doing that again, so it damn well better snow.

Time for my hot cereal...

Well, it's cold and rainy...

...but it's windy. Bleah.

If you're still out in this, Costco has Merino wool sweaters for sale at $19.99. I've picked up a couple and they'll be my base layer (underwear for you normal folks) for the next 5-6 months. They also have wool socks that are just like Smartwool's for $10 for 4 pair.

Steel is real, but wool is realer...

Autumn has arrived...

...on mighty winds from the Northwest. A wind like this will separate the true commuter from the rest. 30mph (48 kph) wind gusts and 50F (10C) temps should start clearing out the bike lanes Really Soon Now.

A post where I squeal like a little girl

I got to shake Brian Eno's hand and he complemented me on my beard.

Sticky

All in all, it has been a pretty cool and dry summer. I couldn't have ordered a better one, but the past couple of days have just been heavy -- thick, wet air is just awful to bike in.

Also, I can feel that I'm starting to grow gills...

Another reason to bike

I had a checkup last week and my weight was down, my cholesterol level was in the normal range (without drugs!) and my triglycerides were cut in half.

Eat your oatmeal and ride yer damn bike. Take this from a fat guy...

New blog

I've added a new blog to my links should anyone care. I plan to add recipes and more thoughts about cooking, food and drink to my latest vanity project. If you are in the biz (Lanny, hello!) or are a dedicated foodie and are interested in joining me, I'd love to have you post there with thoughts, reviews or recipes.

Comment if interested, thanks

[Added: Ray, you, of course, are welcome to join me. But, if any of your suggestions come from here, I'll have to ask you to leave. Don't argue, I have some serious Bouncer-Fu...]

Subversive...

...or so it feels.

Why does canning my own tomato sauce feel like an act of rebellion? Can I not just buy canned tomato sauce (or paste, or diced, or whole or whatever) more quickly and cheaply than spending hours cutting and peeling and standing over boiling water? Why in the world would I want to do this?

That's a good question...

Why do I fix my own bikes? Why do I cook my own meals? Make my own computers? Grow my own vegetables? Ride my bike in all weather?

Why do I want to live my life? Do for myself? Continue learning -- and by learning, I mean learning by doing and not learning by watching TV and "learning" about some subject. I want to do for myself. To fail as I did when I first started canning these tomatoes -- I forgot the lemon juice. I had to pour all the jars back into the cooking pot, add the lemon juice and start all over again after cleaning out the jars. Do I need the lemon juice? Intellectually, I think I don't, but I've never canned tomatoes before, so I follow the directions, pour out the canned tomatoes and start again. I don't know. Maybe next year I'll know, but right now I don't. I follow the directions, I learn the basics and subsume my ego, myself. I try to find Beginner's Mind.

I learn, I listen (or read) from those who know. I've never canned. I have ideas, but I've never canned and My Ideas Don't Count.

I learn. I fail. I succeed.

I have 7 quarts of tomato sauce. At what cost? I could have purchased tomato sauce for much less than the canning jars, tomatoes, lids, water, gas and pots needed. I would still be ignorant, I wouldn't have failed. I wouldn't have forgotten the lemon juice. I wouldn't have spent the time feeling the tomatoes, cutting the stems and bad bits away, smelling the scent as they collapse in the pan, sweated over the boiling tomatoes and jars. I wouldn't have forgotten the lemon juice. I would just have cans of tomatoes. An ingredient, nothing more.

I wouldn't have learned anything.

Now I know about lemon juice and hot jars and stirring and smells and sweat and I appreciate my sauce. It now has more meaning than just something that you pour over noodles. Something in which meatballs swim -- there's a lesson, some life's meaning.

Easy doesn't mean much, you don't learn, you never care, you don't remember.

Tomato sauce, jams and pickles and mustards. Living life with what is vibrant now and capturing it and the smells and sights while still vital and fresh.

Biking.

Not the safe, comfortable, easy way.

Living.

Processing

Me darlin' Mrs and I have been experimenting with canning as of the past couple of months and we've met with the usual combination of failure and success that comes with new ventures. For the past couple of years, we've gathered fresh things from the Farmer's Market and blanch, peel and freeze them for the year. We then added a vacuum bagger to seal things better in the freezer; typically we'll find a good deal on fresh fish in bulk and we'll separate it into single serving sizes for the freezer or bag up sauerkraut or Kim Chi.

Now we are expanding our preservation activities to include canning. We've met with success in canning pickles and beets and we've had mixed results with making jam. There are a large number of variables that can dictate the outcome of your preserves and getting them all under control is something that only comes with either being taught by someone who has done it for a while or, alternatively, through your own failures and introspection. As I am of the generation whose family didn't can (why? we have grocery stores...), we are learning from trial and error and from whatever books we can find on the subject.

Canning is a fairly specific form of cooking that doesn't lend itself to improvisation as the amounts of sugar, acid and (possibly) pectin are to be followed along with cooking times to ensure that you are able to meet with success. Even if you follow the recipe, you are not guaranteed that success as we've found out last night. We were in Door County, Wisconsin last weekend and we found an orchard that had pick-your-own cherries. Mrs and I easily picked two buckets that weighed in about twelve or thirteen pounds total. We immediately froze half of them upon returning home (quick aside -- freezing berries consists of putting them in a single layer in the freezer and then bagging them when frozen), while we waited to process the remaining fresh ones. We probably waited too long as one of the cardinal rules of canning is to use the absolute freshest fruit, possibly even a little under ripe. We now have jars of lovely sour cherry sauce instead of the jams we had hoped to give as holiday gifts.

As I say, we are learning the hard way.

But we have made jam from strawberries and the batch me darlin' Mrs. made was the best I've ever had. We duplicated the recipe from less ripe fruit and we ended up with a batch didn't set (turn into jam). Blueberries jammed well as did the raspberries.

But not all canning was jams, other experiments are different recipes for pickles. Mrs Yam likes the vinegary dill and I like the Kosher sours without vinegar. I've found a great book on fermenting that has a pickle I really like: Sandor Katz's cookbook entitled Wild Fermentation. I had first heard of this book last year at a demonstration of Sauerkraut preparation in Wisconsin. We have been making things from the book ever since.

As tomatoes are coming into season (as an aside, mine are finally ripening), we will be canning them into sauces and different preparations of plain ol' tomatoes: diced, chopped, whole, etc. I'll be making salsa and storing it as I've gotten kinda tired of paying 5 bucks for it and I can make better stuff anyway. I'll also be doing roasted peppers (both Poblanos and Sweet Red Bells) and various onion recipes like Chow Chow and Sweet Onion jam. Since the summer was so cool and that slowed the ripening of my tomatoes, I can expect that come late September there will be a lot of green tomatoes to turn into relish. Ah, well, no rest for the wicked...

We'll eventually be expanding our repertoire to include meat sauces and other low acid food preserving, but that will have to come when we feel confident enough to get a pressure canner. In the mean time, I will happily content my self by standing over large pots of boiling water and fruits during the August heat and humidity with my sweetie and dream of cooler days when this will a welcome reminder of summer.

My Little Pony

Road find:



I found it while bikin' to da bar Wednesday. Dumvee the pony is now safely secured to the stem as my mascot.

A bee in my bonnet

I think I need to rethink this whole wearing a helmet thing. A stinging insect became caught in my bucket and did what stinging insects to best. Not really a recommended way to start your day.

After the Fall

Went mountain biking Friday with Man-Cub and my perfect record still stands: I've been knocked from my bike each time I've been out. This time we were at Salem Hills in Inver Grove Heights and I didn't make it 20 meters into the trail when I biffed it on a berm during a turn. Sent me straight on my back and knocked the wind out of me.

Not having the sense God gave gravel, I perched my aching posterior back on the bike and continued through without incident. This is a beautiful trail and the mix of woods and prairie are really pretty.

I just hope I can get good enough at this that I don't have to stare at the trail the whole damn time...

Two days after and the pain is greater than either of the two previous days, but this isn't unexpected -- it should be better from here on out. It's hard to sleep, stand or sit, but I still look forward to going out again. Perhaps the river bottoms are next.

One car anniversary

I was going to write an entry on the first anniversary of my venture into one-carredness over the coming weekend, but when I looked at the entry, I actually sold the car at the beginning of July, not the beginning of August as I had thought. Well, happy belated freedom to me...

What have I learned over the last year?

biking isn't the easiest way to get around - let's be honest

biking can be the fastest way to get around

I'm less fat when I bike regularly

motivation is still a problem (see Snak's post), especially in the winter

I've saved a bunch of money

I'm buoyed by a sense of self-righteousness (or, I could be less fat and in better shape)

a bus, or a bike/bus multimodal method of movement is a good way to get around in an urban area

I don't regret purchasing the Big Dummy one bit. An Xtracycle is really a useful option if you want to go carless or less-car.

a Big Dummy doesn't fit on a bus' bike rack

The biggest gains have been in my overall conditioning, big surprise that, and the money we've saved with only one car. Mrs. Yam has been without steady employment for many months now, so the loss of the extra expense of a second car has been a welcome relief from the financial pressure on the Yam household. Licenses, fuel, insurance and general upkeep are, or were, an unnoticed though steady drain of cash and the loss of the second car gained us some badly needed breathing room. Between the bikes and the rechargeable bus card, there are few places I can't go if I haven't access to a car.

Summer is here and this one has been quite a bit cooler than our normal summers and this is quite a relief to your humble narrator. I'm still a winter guy, but with days reaching into the mid 80's and nights pleasantly cool, I can live -- and bike -- with this. I just fear that the other shoe will drop and that shoe will be very cold indeed. I have a winter bike and I've been able to get the clothing mostly right, so our second winter with a single car will be possible.

So, now into my second year of single cardom, what do I expect to see? Hopefully more of the same and perhaps even more time on the bike during the deepest, darkest days of winter. Motivation is difficult to attain when you're biking in the dark most of the time, temps that freeze the water out of the air or snow so thick that walking is faster, but wrapped in my blanket of self-righteousness and donning my cone of smugness, I hope to survive the winter.

Don't consider this an exhortation to drop a car, but see this missive as an example that you can (possibly) get by better than you think and the benefits, though initially well hidden, are there. I'm not anti-car, I still have one after all, but cutting down is completely possible and you may even improve your life a little without the vehicle.

Empty (in a good way)

Part of my employment requires me to be On Call -- at the ready should something happen. I have to wear a pager and respond to whatever notifications I receive. That little pager is the heaviest four ounces anyone could ever carry. I swapped on-call shifts with a coworker the week prior to July 4th and that week was similar to the several previous on call weeks I've had (one weekend was destroyed by a non-stop 17 hour shift when one of our data center's power outages borked a sensitive network device) in that again, I was paged on a data center failure. These shifts tend to become a bit nerve-wracking but there was an added annoyance in that our group was short-handed besides.

All whining aside, dropping of the pager on Friday, July 3 was one of the most glorious feelings of relief I've felt in years. My friends from Chicago were on their way to visit for the weekend and then there was the promise of a week off, all of it spent in Northern Minnesota. My friends arrived, we delved into the the sights and flavors of Saint Paul (they had never seen it), we drank good beer and wine, we cooked and laughed and argued and had a marvelous time.

Seeing our friends off on Sunday with home made scones (I still can make 'em), we then packed the car and headed up to Cohasset for a short stay with my in-laws in a lake cabin. We played with nieces and nephews, we shared fine meals and cocktails, and generally enjoyed their company.

But I was still anxious. I was still under my obligations to others. I wanted MY vacation to start.

Tuesday, we finally made our escape. Mrs Yam and I headed north to hike, camp, do some 'cacheing and generally be away from phones and noise and, most of all, people. I am a people person -- sort of. I was a waiter and bartender, generally difficult employment for the terminally shy and reclusive, so I can handle crowds. But there are times when I need my quiet time. The goal was to hide from everyone at Franz Jevne State Park. It was as advertised, "secluded and peaceful."

No one was there, save The Intern. The DNR hired a student to live in a trailer there to look after the park and to help with jobs in the area, so he was away most of the time. He was like a roommate that lived with his girlfriend, leaving the place to yourself. We camped in a spot that was next to the sault (where water flows over rocks, a rapids) and the only sound was that set of rapids and the birds. It was precisely what I had hoped it would be.

We set up camp, fixed dinner and an exhausted Mrs. Yam curled up in the tent and dropped off in no time, leaving me with the fireflies, the river and the eternally setting sun. "Don't just do something, sit there!" was my mantra and I stared out at the water, I stared up at the sky, I followed the flies. I emptied my head and rinsed it in the rushing waters of the Rainy River. This is one evening will be one that will stay with me for a long, long time. I was At Peace.

It's funny how you can feel tension leave, the way it slowly, almost imperceptively starts like the sands in an hourglass, only to finally rush away down the bottom, leaving nothing.

I felt the quiet and peace soak into me. I had found A Happy Place.