Hell Freezes Over

Well, not exactly. I'm downloading a bunch of old cd's and among them was The Eagles, "Hell Freezes Over". It's 92 and 82%humidity this morning, I think hell is fighting back.

I left The Tribe last evening with two 25 gallon tubs, one in the front yard, one back, and an arsenal of cups, pitchers and bowls and neighborhood water war II was on. I had a bike ride to log, so I left Trihubby in charge and rode off into the heat of the evening. It's the dog days of summer where even the rain smells like wet shag. The last I saw, Trihubby was down, taking a dousing-I hope he makes it.

It was a straighforward, 22 mile ride on the local bike path, but then at mile 11 I came upon this



It was a Bastille Day celebration with live music, cold beer and a crowd of about 1000, I was in my local tri club kit, so I stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the extremely colorful, earthy sort of group that had gathered. But the music was great, so I called Trihubby and he motored down on the Stella so we could share a cold beer (we had to do Newcastle Brown ale because the American swill beer was sold out go figure-what would a Bastille Day be without essential British and American support? :) It occured to me as we watched the bands that I still had to ride home, and it was getting dark, meaning my dark shaded glasses would be utterly ineffective on the ride. So, I handed them off to hubby and enjoyed the beauty of the last pink of sunset on the lakes.

Until the first cloud of gnats. and the second. and the third. You get the picture. and it was getting darker.

Suddenly, every schizophrenic, homeless guy I knew to live along that path filtered into my brain and the path suddenly became darker. And the trees grew larger and encrouched more. It was Sleepy Hollow all over again and the headless horseman was out there somewhere. I had a need for speed, but every time I'd hammer down, I'd fly through another swarm of gnats. My eyes became a veritable graveyard for the little buggers. That's when it occured to me that it wouldn't be the headless horseman that caught me but the mother of all bugs. I was suddenly repentant of every bug I'd ever squashed. Like they say, karma is a be-otch.

I arrived home, eyes in tact, the kids were clean, the grass was watered, training goes on and life is good