5,000 views to this ramshackle little corner of the inter-web as of today. Should I be proud? Is that a substantial number? A quick review shows views from every continent over the last 4 years or so. The most active month of views was last April after rolling out Thomas. The most popular post by far is the one about a guy taken into an ER by his pregnant wife, then meets a HOT nurse and a bottle of KY.

What started as a joke, became a place to journal childhood memories while in bed and house-bound after my 2nd major accident in 18 months. Then a way to leave updates on A as she recovered from likely the most messed up, life threatening baby delivery ever. A place for me to write down the moments I don't want to forget while trying to not remember many of the realities we've faced. 8 surgeries to get A through the last 4 years we've navigated. Rehab starts and stops for me and learning and relearning the boundaries of what activity level I can sustain. Geez, this blog is bad luck!

The good is so much more. I never anticipated getting home from a bike ride with a 3-year old and having to explain why we couldn't immediately go surfing. Or when he was 2, going to Builder Bear workshop and seeing that his only motivation to build a bear was the Skateboard accessory kit. Hearing praises of parenthood directed at A, then getting a pat on the back with, "Oh, and you're alright too."

A few 'real' writers have commented privately that I lack a focus of subject matter and that my blog could be so much more. Maybe flashing, annoying advertising in the side bars for rubber gloves or Fiber? I remember the early thought that this blog would help me write more. Like I did in college. Then I consider the fact that since it's my blog, I can do what I want. I think in hindsight, I chose poor, starving bike racer over poor, starving writer. Crafting words is pretty far down the priority list these days. Maybe when I retire this blog will have enough content to fuel a bigger writing fire. So 5,000 or 5,000,000 hits doesn't really mean much. But that's still a lot of people the world over reading mostly the one story about HOT nurse and her long, thin fingers helping me take a crap.

For now, it's all about the adventures and projects of a guy, his wife and kid. I hope that is enough for you. And leave a dollar on your way out. 5 large can make a lot of cool things to replace Thomas.

Watch my icy hot super slide

We've been in a weather conundrum lately. Since the 1st of the year G has found it too cold to ride in Thomas, and there has not been enough snow to XC Ski. I've managed to get some long weekend rides in with friends but G has been left to put out fires with his Emergency Response Play Mobile Team: Funston, Crunch, Rick and T.C. (who pilots the chopper) or watch cartoons.

Now, suddenly snow is plentiful in the forecast. But until the accumulation builds we have opted for ice skating. G's Palmares now include skuut bike down hilling, swimming, surfing, bowling, skiing and trolling the ice rink to pick up 'potential baby sitters' at the mall.

The build up to our first skating venture was increased when after lacing up in the arena basement we approached the rink and found 50 kids leaning against the chain gate waiting impatiently for the Zamboni to finish it's laps. Gavin asked me in a whisper if this was a race. The 10-year old standing next to us looked Gavin down, head to toe and asked me, "is he any good?" I replied, "Yeah, he's kick-ass." Then Gavin asked if the kid was a girl. He was not, and turned away after saying so much.

After a half hour of steady left turns, G's grip on my hand was merely a light contact of a single digit for security. He was still doing more stepping than skating, but was finding his balance. His ankles never pronated nor did he hang onto the wall for security. Adrienne stood at the exit of the ice holding our coats and boots and hoped to take a zillion pictures. Some random little girl tasked her with holding her 20 oz. soda, so pictures didn't materialize quite so easy. Every lap or two the girl would skate up to the wall, "Lady, I need my drink." then try to set it down on the slanted railing to which A would save from sliding off and landing on the ice.

We were 45 minutes in before one of us landed on the ice. Every lap when passing the parked Zamboni, G looked over and called to it by name. Finally as fatigue began to set in, he slipped straight across my line and in an effort to save him from a fall, or from skating over the top of him, I gave him a spin worthy of Blades of Glory but landed square on my ass while holding him up. Scared by the suddenness of it all, he cried a pathetic cry to a high school girl who consoled him while I got myself up.

Look Dad, a Zamboni just like on the last lap!

For Markie

So a number of years ago, this friend bought an RV for something like $50 and some trade. He was really excited for his purchase but he had two problems: He's no 'wrench' and he had no where to park it. Like showing up to a Toga party and being the only one in a Toga, he realized about 10 minutes into proud ownership that the neighbors weren't happy to wake up every morning and look at a Randy Quaid-esque motor lodge out their window.

Years passed. Various friends' driveways, alleys, backyards and parking lots allowed temporary solice to the aboration of adventure. I rode in it once. We had to move it from one lodging to another and leave quietly. Call it driving to the start of our Saturday morning bike ride. While crossing the Ross Island Bridge and contemplating the roadway passing under foot, (literally, I could see the ground under my dangling feet from the passenger seat!) Markie told me about driving it to Burning Man, or rather driving it 20-miles to the edge of town where it asphyxiated itself in an attempt at an automotive hara kiri and he and his band of desert loving friends had to rent an actual RV to merely pass the county line.

Bottom line, the RV was a piece of crap. Old, abused, needing much work, its endearment was that for years, (i.e. Two presidents') full terms Markie couldn't unload it or justify fixing it. I always smiled to read posts on chat boards and facebook about its adventures. Travails like trying to donate it to various groups and organizations but being denied. Here's a tip when considering a used automobile: if college kids won't take it for free to drink in, (even if you fill it with kegs) don't buy it. Homeless advocate groups weren't interested. Offers on Craigslist; "Great running V8 complete with attached shelter" brought no interest. I was convinced it was meant to be with my friend forever. Like Johnny Depp's Winona tattoo. Or a disease.

Alas, I read in the below email tonight that the RV has gone to younger men full of grace. May their humor never wear thin or fever fall on their spirit.




To some the Hobbit is the end, but there is Lord of the Rings
To others Ketuvim is the end, but there is Mathew (Bible references, folks, look 'em up)
To some there was the 1918 world series, but others know of 2004 (they got lucky-go Yanks!)

And so there is a man, he is mortal.

If you prick him, he will bleed
If you tickle him, he will laugh
If you poison him, he will die
And if you wrong him, shall he not revenge?
(apologies for the liberties with grammar Will)

That man in Jens Voigt.
He is even my age, but yet he is ageless. He is two score with seven children.
A modern hardman in the tradition of many before him.

He has even influenced those who live 5,211.14 miles away from him (or 8,386.29 K for your euro-geeks)

A Team with vision, a team with verve and elan, and free Mohawks to all who wish them
Yea Verily, I speak of Jens Voigt's Army, the JVA from beloved Portland. Viz: http://teamjva.com/

Today, 1/5/12 is the end and the beginning (though not quite the Alpha and Omega- I used up my bible reference above)
Today, 1/5/12 a dawning of a new era is upon us
Today 1/5/12 a rebirth, as the mighty Phoenix, born from the ashes of it's own nest (Or leaky oil pan, dealer's choice)

Today JVA took possession of the Cross Crusade RV. It is now theirs to use as they see fit, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent owner may of right do (Apologies for the liberties with the grammar Thom).

They say they will fix her,
They say they will make her run well again
They say they will cover her in Paisley (as a fan of the Dead Milkmen, I wish they'd cover her with a Big Lizard, but she's theirs now, not mine, Eat Your Paisley was 1/2 the Album Big Lizard was)

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, I come to bury you all not to praise you, unless you are part of the JVA, in which case I salute you!

I can't wait to see what happens next, I've already bookmarked, "JVA, RV Injury, I told him not to do that" on youtube!