Pickleball for Paws Tournament

Today we drove down to Peace River TT's in Wauchula to participate in a tournament. This was a special one because it was a charity fundraiser. Rich and Donna Donald are the ones who put this tournament on. They did a wonderful job and raised a lot of money and supplies for a local animal shelter.

Lazy game cam

The game cam is triggered by heat, so when the air is warm there's not much action. These photos are from the last two months.



We thought this was a fox at first, but it's a reddish coyote instead. Here's how you tell the difference: Foxes have black "leggings" and ear tips, and white tips on their tails.¹



Other than bobcats, I think turkeys are my favorite game cam find. We get most pictures of them on dark cloudy days.



I love this photo of their tailfeathers! I'm always excited to find turkey feathers on the ground, but finding them still attached to the turkey is even better.



The weeds might be getting too tall for good critter pictures.



It looks like this deer has a tick in her ear.



The weeds are definitely getting too tall for good critter pictures.



Extreme close-up... the deer can evidently hear the trigger mechanism, and are more curious than you'd think.



Dang. The only spotted fawn game-cam picture ever, and he's already exited the frame.



Not-so-wild Deere and Bush Hog.

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¹You can look at the Red Fox wiki if you don't believe me.

Fall Roses

Chicken chronicles

The hens have decided to shun their handmade nesting boxes. The only place to lay an egg is in the kitty litter box. It's where all the best chickens go, you know.

I've decided to publish some overly grainy (a.k.a. Enquirer-quality) photographs, since the public deserves to know the full story.


Your reporter arrived late to the scene.
A Leghorn was already in the box, when interlopers appeared.


Ms. Lakenvelder scoops Ms. Dominique.
A recycling flash prevented blow by blow photographic evidence, but proof is visible in the tell-tale tail.


Room for one more?


Why not.
Ms. Lakenvelder's twin sister also arrives on the scene,


and is joined by Ms. Americauna.


No room at the enclosed kitty litter box.
Forced to wait in line.
Nothing to prevent a chorus of vociferous sqawking the whole time though.


The chicken version of "how many people can you cram in a phone booth"?
This week's answer: three.


You're kind of in my way.

GreeK Easter

Easter-another big event in our family- at least on the Greek side. When I was growing up, I always got an Easter basket on American Easter Day because my mom is not Greek, but usually Greek Easter falls on a later Sunday. The Orthodox calender follows a different schedule, but what it usually means is that the Greek Easter bunny gets to hit the half price candy. This year, however, much to the dismay of cheap Greeks everywhere, both fall on the same day.

My father recalls the fasting which lasted until the Saturday night before Easter Sunday, then everyone went to church- a midnight mass of sorts, and the fast ended with a huge meal in the middle of the night. A lot of people think of lambs turning on spits when they think of Greek celebrations, and I did, too, but I was lately informed that our Yiya always did a leg of lamb, and the lamb thing wasn’t done until my Uncle Mimi moved to Chevy Chase in the late forties. Yes, as Thanksgiving is my parents’ holiday, and Christmas falls to my Uncle Nick, Easter was my Aunt Catherine and Uncle Mimi’s event. Baseball in the side yard, and tables set up outside on the back terrace. I remember doing the Twist for the first time in their basement, and watching the Wizard of Oz on TV. (It must have rained that year) But the biggest kick for kids at our Easter has always been the tradition of the Egg War.

All Greek Easter eggs are dyed a deep red for Christ’s blood. Some use food coloring. My Yiya used to use red crepe paper. (Go figure- but it worked better than anything these days.) All symbolism aside, the seemingly sole purpose that I, the torch bearer, boil up a vat of red dye each year to color a gazillion eggs is to destroy them. The point is you take your egg, hold it in your fist with one end showing, and hit your opponent or be hit. The egg that cracks is the loser, and the victor goes on until all eggs are broken- usually on both ends- and only one champion egg is left. If you cheat like my father and uncle, you might slip in your thumb or, if really prepared, a marble substitute.

These days my cousins, Dean and Ann have taken on the daunting task of having the hoopla at their house which is a frightful distance from Washington. They keep moving farther away, but it does no good. Many of us are well known for not missing a meal. Some of my family can’t find their way out of a paper bag so they tend to travel in tribes with those that can. The number of children attending this party is alarmingly high,almost out numbering the adults. Egg count this year is up to about 45, and the forecast must have my poor cousins contemplating moving out of state...but until that happens we will persevere. I’ve got to go hit the Safeway and get the eggs. Cronya Polla, y'all.

Sunset & Bulls Skull

I'm Not in Kansas Anymore!

Tuesday, May 10th - - It never crossed my mind that I'd spend nearly six days in Kansas, much less enjoy most of it! Crossing over into southeastern Colorado the countryside looked much the same as it had in western Kansas. Fields were under cultivation to begin with but as I ventured further south and west there were more vast expanses of prairie.



However, within a few hours, the view changed dramatically. Mountain peaks touched with a dusting of snow could be seen off in the distance. It wasn't long before they loomed much larger and closer. With the change in view came a dramatic change in daytime temperature – from a high in the upper 90s to a high in the mid 50s. Thank goodness that, unlike the air conditioner, the heater in the van works!





West of Walsenburg, Colorado on U.S. Highway 160/285.

My destination for the night was the Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve, near Alamosa. I had visited there once before, way back in May of 1979.





This time, Mother Nature was definitely not cooperating with me. The further west I traveled, the cloudier it got. Once at The Dunes, the sun would occasionally peek out from behind the clouds, but even then the lighting wasn't that great. This is the view from my campsite. The base of The Dunes is about a mile and a half distant.





The image above and those following have been modified. I was going to say “enhanced” but that is entirely dependent upon who is viewing the images. Since you aren't going to see the originals, suffice to say that I think these are an improvement over the originals, considering the lighting conditions at the time.





Human figures add a little perspective on the size of these dunes. They (The Dunes) truly are magnificent.



And from what I remember from back in 1979, they are extremely difficult to walk on. I did go out to the base of The Dunes but simply did not have the energy or stamina to go any further. Besides, it was getting late in the evening, a strong wind was blowing, and it was cold!





The quality of light was pitiful, and it was nearly gone, but the views were still awesome even though they can't truly be captured by the camera.

Cork It or Cloth It?

When it comes to wrapping handlebars, the typical options are cloth tape and cork tape. And my impression is that many, if not most, cyclists today consider cork tape to be more comfortable. On the surface this makes sense: cork is softer, and gripping something soft ought to feel better than gripping something hard.

However, I generally prefer cloth tape. This tends to surprise people, but here is my reasoning: I feel that the softness of cork tape can be counterproductive, because it necessitates a tighter grip. When I ride a bike with cork handlebar tape it initially feels cushy, but over time I notice that the cushiness is making me grip tighter and my hands grow tired from the exertion. Because cloth tape is firmer, it allows my hands to relax and I am not perpetually squeezing.



Of course, in order for the firmness of cloth tape to work in one's favour, the handlebars must feel comfortable to begin with. The handlebars on my vintage Trek(first picture) have a weird squared-off (rather than tubular) shape to them, which my hands refuse to conform to. So until I can afford better handlebars on that bike, I am using cork tape to disguise the square shape.



Similarly, I always had some form of cork tape or grips on the vintage Motobecane mixte I used to own, because its aggressive geometry would place too much pressure on my hands.



But once I managed to slacken the seat tube angle (with the help of a swept back seat post) and improve the hand position with the Belleville handlebars, holding the bars finally became comfortable and cloth tape felt better than cork.



This makes me wonder whether the prevalence of cork tape we see today could generally be a symptom of uncomfortable positioning. Are more cyclists choosing cork tape because their position places too much weight on their hands? And furthermore, has this somehow become normalised in what is now considered "proper bike fit"?



A number of times now, I have been approached by other cyclists and asked how I "can stand" having my handlebars wrapped in cloth tape, as well as how I manage to cycle without padded gloves. Don't my hands hurt? Well, no. I feel no pressure on my hands, so the bar tape is really just there to provide a pleasant surface texture to the handlebars, rather than to "fix" any discomfort issues. Since cork tape is fairly new, I wonder what those who have been cycling since "back in the day" think about the cloth vs cork issue.

Foothills

Foothills, originally uploaded by ParsecTraveller.

A view from Diablo Foothills Regional Park. The hills remind me of Ireland around this time of the year.

Beta alert.

Look away if you ever plan on on-siting "Spoonman" at Coolum Cave.



Pay attention if you want to see a big Frenchman running out the crux.That's all I have to say. Enjoy.































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