The Lewis Grizzard and Catfish Memorial Ride....

Today's bike ride was in the hometown of Lewis Grizzard, a humorist and longtime writer for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. (Catfish was the name of his dog.)


One of my favorite stories about Lewis came from his (fourth) wife after his death in 1994 (I think). A huge UGA football fan, one of Lewis' final wishes was that his ashes be scattered on the 50-yard line in Sanford Stadium. His wife attempted to do so, but her efforts were blocked by UGA officials, citing concerns that they would be overrun with people wanting to do the same. I can just see the little piles of ashes accumulating on the 50.


Lewis' widow somehow managed to gain entrance to the stadium anyway, ashes in tow. I'm pretty sure someone simply turned a blind eye, thus skirting the rules and allowing Lewis' last wishes to be honored. It was the off-season, however, and there were no lines on the field. She couldn't tell where the 50-yard line WAS.


I'm not sure who her companion was (and I'm way too tired to look it up, but feel free to do my research FOR me if you're so inclined, and thank you), but he said to her, "Honey just scatter the ashes. Lewis will find the 50."


Katydid, Rozmo and I have done this ride a number of times, and it is in a BEAUTIFUL part of the state. It passes by numerous horse farms (in fact, a rest stop is at one of those farms) and features some very rural roads with scenery that makes you glad to be alive and on a bicycle.


A cold front came through yesterday, and this morning's temperatures were the lowest we've had since last spring. It was the first bike ride this fall where we had to wear layers, and we never unlayered the whole ride. Well, I did take off my ear warmers, but my jacket, jersey, and long-sleeved t-shirt stayed for the entire ride. It eventually warmed up to the 70's, but by that time I was wet with sweat underneath, and I still couldn't take any of my layers off for fear of becoming chilled in the wind.


Wind. There's a comforting thought on a bicycle. Not.


The winds were relentless. Brutal. Infuriating. Not even Lewis Grizzard could have found a nice or funny thing to say about the winds today.

The route map said the ride was 62 miles. I checked my cycling log from last year, and I KNEW it was more like 66. But still I got the idea in my head that we might be pleasantly surprised to finish at "only" 62 miles. Wrong.



I would love to post the four pictures I took on today's ride, including the one of the yellow and purple water tower. See, this ride overlaps some of the same roads we were on for the Wilson 100 in August. At the end of the Wilson, when a purple and yellow water tower comes into view, it means you have reached the end of the ride. The finish is in sight. You have survived again. On TODAY'S ride, however, the purple and yellow water tower that is usually such a comforting sight was an indication that you still had another 20 miles to ride. Oh, and please turn into the wind for those last 20 miles. Thank you.


Alas, in "transferring" the pictures from my camera to the computer, apparently DELETED them. No, they aren't still on the camera card. They aren't in the recycling bin. They aren't on the computer. They are lost in cyber space.

Trust me. They were very nice pictures. Not award-winning, but nice.


Lewis would have been proud. Catfish would have drooled.

One Can Never Have Too Much Heat.....

Hubby is headed for retirement, and I'm headed for menopause.

It might turn out to be a bad combination.

He bought a new room heater today to heat the downstairs. Because the wood burning stove that he obsessively keeps filled with wood probably won't be enough for wintertime here in the Deep South.

That bad boy (the heater, that is) has been going full blast since I got home from school.

It's 72 degrees OUTSIDE.

And about a hundred INSIDE.

I guess the good news is I won't KNOW when I'm having a hot flash.

Please, Mother Nature, Make Up Your Mind......

I don't mind cold weather....much.... Okay, I HATE cold weather.

But I especially hate it after we've had a little touch of spring. I should know by now after almost 48 years in the South that the weather is nothing if not unpredictable, particularly during the spring.

Once we turn the calendar to April, however, I refuse to participate in anything that even remotely resembles winter. I have already dug out the capris. I haven't sported sandals yet, but I was saving that for next week.

Then I heard on the news tonight that the high temperature Monday is supposed to be in the 40's, possibly as high as 50's, and we're going to have some temps in the 20's next week.

For Pete's sake, my birthday is next week, and I would like for it to be spring, if you don't mind. I've asked for a new motorcycle helmet for my birthday, and I would at least like to be able to wear it. I mean to actually ride on the motorcycle. [Actually, I only asked for half a helmet, since the one I want is so expensive, but I am married to the world's last perfect man after all.]

20's

20's!!!!

As in temperature just one degree above the teens.

That's just wrong in Georgia anytime, but particularly in April.

We're supposed to be going to baseball games in our shirt sleeves. [Why do we say that? I mean, we wear the whole shirt, don't we? Not just the sleeves?] And I just realized I say "I mean" way too often in my blog. Probably in my everyday speech as well.

We're supposed to be planning bicycle rides and putting the kayak in the lake and having picnics and getting ready to open the pool and riding the motorcycles without jackets and cleaning out the wood burning stove once and for all.

I'm not playing this game. I refuse to wear a sweater to school next week. I refuse to dig my boots back out of the closet. I refuse to cook a big pot of chili.

But if Hubby builds a fire in the stove, I won't complain.

It Just Ain't Right.....

The "high" temperature here today was still below the freezing point. That's just wrong. God did not put me in the South so I could endure temperatures below freezing. It was 60 in Billings, Montana today, for Pete's sake! (Who exactly is Pete, and why does he have his own sake?)

I was actually forced to take a coat with me today. But I left it in the car. I figure as long as I can make it from the car to the door.....

Dear Mr. Weatherman....

First of all, I know it's your job. You get paid to come on my television and tell me bad news. You are obligated to stand in front of your weather map with your isobars hanging out and inform me that the temperatures in the balmy South are going to dip into the teens toward the end of this week. You are required to inform me that in some parts of the state away from the metro area the temperatures may actually drop into the single digits. As if a degree or two one way or another makes any difference at that point. You feel compelled to inform me of the vicious winds that will whirl all day and all night, winds that I abhor with a passion that is second only to the loathing that I feel for cold temperatures. You are only doing your duty to remind me to bring tender plants and pets inside and check on the elderly.

I understand that. I really do. And I try not to resent the fact that you keep your job (and your make-up person and your hair person) even when you are wrong 50% of the time. I wish I could keep MY job based on guesswork.

I get that it is your job to tell me just how miserable I'm going to be later this week. You just don't have to look so damn happy doing it.

Hubby swears there's a reason they only show weather forecasters from the waist up, and it has to do with the pleasure you appear to derive from imparting such dire predictions on the mostly unsuspecting public. I'm beginning to think he may be right.

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**I apologize to those of you who live in parts of the country for which these temperatures are normal. God did not mean for me to be this cold; that's why He put me in Georgia.

If You Don't Like the Weather...

.....just wait 5 minutes and it will change.

Old and cliche, but especially true here in the South.

We turn on the heat in the morning and the air conditioner in the afternoon.

At our house, we like to heat mostly with the wood stove. Unfortunately, that's something you can't just turn on when you need it. So in order for the house to be warm tomorrow morning, we have to have a fire all the time. Presently it's approximately 127 degrees in the house. But I know I will appreciate it tomorrow morning. Hubby scolds me if I don't put another log on the fire before I go to bed. But it's hard to do with sweat dripping off the end of my nose.

Little Brutus, however, loves it. She would put wood in the stove herself if she had opposable thumbs.

It's pleasant to ride the motorcycle in the afternoons, but it's painfully cold to ride it in the morning. I COULD bundle up, but then I have way too many clothes to bring home in the afternoon. Dilemmas, dilemmas.

For the record, I do not complain when it's 98 degrees with 85% humidity in July and August. I reserve all my bitching rights for the winter.

I Have A Worse-Than-A-Cold........

There really ought to be a better name for this than a cold. When you tell people, "I have a cold," they cluck, say "Oh I'm sorry," and then when you aren't around, they go, "Wuss. Wimp. Pansy." I know this because it's what I say when someone ELSE has a cold.

Unless they are my world's-last-perfect-man hubby, who when I told him I wasn't feeling well, said, "Oh, my poor dear darling, please don't give it to me." Except without the "Oh, my poor dear darling" and "please" part. (Apologies to Pioneer Woman, from whom I shamelessly stole that line. She has thousands of readers; it's not like she's going to wander over here and see that I've plagiarized her.)

There really ought to be a more descriptive term for the way I feel, but not quite as annoying as the old Nyquil commercials about achy feeling, stuffy head, runny nose, scratchy throat, blah blah blah blah. I think it's why so many people say they have the flu when they don't. It just SOUNDS better and generates more sympathy that just a nasty old cold. I'll bet when we have than flu pandemic that they are predicting will hit the U.S. in a few years, it won't really be the flu at all. It'll just be a common cold pandemic. And bird flu? Just the common bird cold.

I felt guilty calling my friend Rozmo and telling her I wouldn't be riding my bicycle tomorrow after all. "I have a cold" just isn't excuse enough to get out of a 66-mile bike ride. I should have said, "I have the flu," but she would have wanted a doctor's note. "My nose is runny, I keep sneezing, my throat hurts, my eyes are swollen, I've been coughing, my sinuses hurt," all sound like poor excuses not to go ride. The coughing was the deal-breaker. It's nearly impossible to ride a bike and cough at the same time, at least without endangering the lives of everyone around me.

If I miraculously feel better at 5:30 tomorrow morning when hubby goes to work, I'll suck it up and go ride. But I hope no one wakes me up at 5:30 and asks if I'm feeling better. There is the distinct possibility that the cold will go downhill and I'll have to call in Monday morning with the flu. Cough, cough.