2001-09-25 - 9:00 p.m.

On the internal soundtrack: Can't tell.

Thanks so much to all of you -- Kevin, Teri, Renee -- who wrote kind words about my last entry. Gnomie, I'm sorry I made you cry, but I think I know what you mean. :)

I explained to Kevin that I was very unhappy with the entry when I first put it up. I decided to do it anyway because I figured an effort I'm not 100% happy with is better than no effort at all, and it was in danger of never getting posted at all. In retrospect the entry reflects my feelings better than I thought it did at the time -- and I might even venture to say it's not that corny ;). I do know I stand by everything I said.

So, the in-laws are coming this weekend. Papa stays 'til Sunday, and MIL stays another week. I'm very excited. So far there's nothing on the agenda but plinking. Now THERE'S a red-blooded American activity.

Speaking of plinking, we joined the NRA today. I figure I can put a sticker on my car and shatter a few stereotypes. Think of what image pops to your mind when you hear the words "gun owner", huh? What do you see? Tattoos? Beard? Flannel? Even I fall into that trap. I'm constantly surprised by the people I see at the range. I keep expecting more people with tattoos -- such as the two guys who run the place -- but I keep seeing typical DC folks. Preppy, borderline nerdy, obviously upper-middle-class. One that I've met is even a female liberal lawyer. Go figure.

Speaking of guns in general, so far arming the pilots is the best idea I've heard regarding combating terrorism in the skies. I have not yet heard a good argument against it. Anybody got one? In fact, the only argument I've heard against it is the one that says a hotheaded pilot might use the gun irresponsibly. But if you're gonna be nervous about that, shouldn't we be nervous about him flying the plane in the first place?

So, on Friday I watched the horrible celebrity-studded tribute to heroes. It was just awful. It wasn't so much a tribute as it was a funeral. I suppose this sort of thing has its place, but on Friday night I was more ready for a celebration of these people's lives, and of the bravery and hard work by the rescue workers, and of the American spirit. Happily I got something like that at the seventh inning stretch at the Mets game. My brother saw it too. I want a recording of that so I can see it again.

A few catty comments, because it's fun to be evil like that:

Mariah Carey looked a little, uh, wobbly. Is she always like that?

Why in GOD'S NAME did Celine Dion have to butcher "God Bless America" like that? God, I hate it when people do that. They start altering the rhythm of the song to make it more "theirs" or something, I don't know. Just sing the fucking song. Not to mention it looked like she had a gospel choir behind her who would have done a much better job singing it without her.

My lands, didn't Tom Petty look awful? Michelle tells me he doesn't sound good either.

Speaking of altering songs, at the Packers game last night, the woman singing the national anthem had to take a breath before she sang the high-note "free" (which Poindexter ridiculed mercilessly), and tacked on a "yeah" after that, and turned "brave" into two syllables.

That last might be an accent thing; I don't know. I knew a woman once, from the South somewhere, who could turn "floor" into three syllables. Fuh-loor-uh. It was cute.

So, Saturday and Sunday we were at Tower City. The site is actually a coal mining site (anthracite coal), but only certain parts of it are used for mining and the rest is basically wilderness and trails.

Guess what the first thing I did was, on our first ride?

Yep. Fell off.

The front brake and the throttle are operated with the same hand, and I was on a loose rocky downhill, and I couldn't control the throttle and brake simultaneously. After one really scary moment where I accidentally accelerated the bike, I finally managed to brake real hard, the front wheel locked, and I went flying and did a face plant in the dirt. Joy.

Thank god for the face guard on my helmet. Otherwise I would have had a mouthful of dirt. As it was, I merely had a yucky scrape on my elbow filled with coal-y dirt, a sore shoulder, and a few bruises on my left leg. My glasses got bent a bit, so I was staggering around and trying to figure out why I couldn't see properly even though I hadn't hurt my head or eyes.

Key lessons learned:

1. The clutch is your friend. Pull it in.
2. Rear brake on downhills.
3. Bring your skate knee and elbow pads next time.

So, after whimpering a bit and clinging to Poindexter, I tried to clean out my scrape with water and his shirt, then decided we would just keep going. Some guy in his 40s came by on an ATV and, once ascertaining that I was all right and didn't need any first aid, said, "Aw, suck it up!" with a grin. Poindexter kept asking me if I wanted to go back to our campsite, but I declined.

After that it was fun. The trail we were on -- which we finally settled on calling "the fall-down trail" while trying to distinguish among the many trails there -- went up the mountain and through the woods. It's gorgeous up there. The trail is pretty narrow -- like a sidewalk -- and the woods surrounding are so thick there's almost no sunlight coming through. On Sunday we went a little higher up the mountain to a space at the top that had a huge open hole in the ground, lined with rock, tapering down to what was either a cave or a mine shaft. I wasn't feeling adventurous enough to find out.

Another trail was more like a fire road. It went way out along the side of a mountain and around an open mining area. There were gorgeous views of the mountains nearby and in the distance. I think the open pits are cool. I like industry, I like the coal. I like how in the abandoned pits, nature is coming back, with trees and wildflowers growing in the bottom. I like the big abandoned rusty wheels. I like the abandoned buildings. Some were like wooden shacks, others were actually made of concrete, with a foundation and walls with window openings, but no sign of what they might have been.

We stopped to discuss something, and a butterfly landed on Poindexter's rear fender. We waited for it to fly away before we continued.

On Sunday, I was feeling really stiff and sore, and let Poindexter go off by himself for a couple hours while I sat and read my romance novel in the sun. After peanut butter sandwiches for lunch, we went out riding together.

Guess what I did?

Yep. Fell off. Again. This time it was on some kind of sandy stuff, like dunes of black sand. This time I wasn't having the throttle problem (I'd learned my lesson the day before), but I was braking too much, which is a bad thing to do on that kind of surface. So the bike mires down in the sand, bike stops, Evelynne goes flying. This time, at least, I wasn't hurt at all except for having twisted my knee a bit. I wasn't scared or anything, just mad, and started cussing and stomping around.

So, this camping thing.

I've "camped" twice before, both times in a VW bus. One was on a cot in a 1971 camper, the other on the double bed in a 1976 camper. All I remember is I was cold.

Other than that, I never had much interest in camping. I think I still don't -- all things considered I'd rather be home in my own bed -- but there are definitely things that I appreciate about it.

One thing, for certain, is that time slows waaaaaaaay down when I'm camping. Time is something that is determined by looking at the position of the sun in the sky. Since there is no TV and no internet and the rest of the world feels very far away when I'm sitting between a bunch of mountains covered with just-barely-turning trees, and we're concerned primarily with physical activities like riding and setting up the tent, my mind seems to go blank. It's nice. You've all seen the kind of convoluted, hyper thought processes I have ordinarily. This weekend, the times I was alone, they went like this:

(At sunset) "Wow, it's getting cold really fast."

[...]

"It doesn't cool off this fast at home."

Next morning:

"Hm, the sun feels hot on my head, but the air is still cool."

[...]

"Boy that dew is taking a long time to evaporate off the truck."

All those blank spots. The thing is, these thoughts were interesting to me at the time, every bit as absorbing as the convoluted thought processes I'm normally engaged in. It was kinda funny. I was also fascinated to discover, at sunset, that the sun actually moves pretty quickly in the sky. I watched it clearly move below the mountaintop. I was under the impression that it happened more slowly, like trying to watch a clock's minute hand.

When Poindexter was around I was slightly more engaged. As we snuggled under the blankets in our truck tent (which kicks ass, btw):

Evelynne: Oooo, this is nice [wiggles toes]
Poindexter: Mmmmm.
Evelynne: Hey, I don't think I've ever done this before.
Poindexter: What, camping? I thought--
Evelynne: No, camping with someone I love.
Poindexter: Really. Hm.
Evelynne: So you're my first.
Poindexter: Hm ... I don't think I've ever done this either. So you're my first, too.
Evelynne: Isn't that romantic!

What I miss when I'm camping:

1. Ethnic restaurants
2. Showers

On the way home, I got myself a migraine aura. I hadn't had one of those in a very long time, like 15 years at least. I was looking at a truck on the highway ahead of us and realized I had a blind spot. Eventually I could see the little blinking zigzaggy thing, which behaved exactly as the online texts describe it: it started in the middle, got bigger, moved over to the side. My dad and his mother have gotten these auras without ever getting the headache, but I took an ibuprofen just in case. I got a small headache right behind my forehead, nothing too bad.

Speaking of ibuprofen, that stuff is wonderful. Yesterday at work I was completely miserable -- painful neck (like whiplash), my elbow scrape was throbbing, and my twisted knee made it difficult to bend the leg. Had a weather headache, too. I took one ibuprofen pill and had a little coffee and about an hour later I caught myself swinging my feet under the desk, which wouldn't have been possible earlier because of my knee.

So, in case you're wondering, yes, I'm questioning my sanity. All this falling off and bumps and bruises is not really what I had in mind when I started this. At this point, though, I am getting better, and the fact is I really do enjoy riding when I'm not falling off. It's something I enjoy just on my own, and also as something I can do with Poindexter. So I'm kind of torn. Right now I'm just going to wear my skate pads when I ride, and see if I continue to improve.

I do know that I'm not real interested in the daredevil stuff -- Poindexter showed me some hills he went up that honestly looked nearly vertical -- but more in the bike as a means to explore large stretches of land. I think I would really enjoy Trails Heaven, out in West Virginia, which has hundreds of miles of trails. I could hike, I guess, but the motorcycle is fun to ride.

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