Bad Ideas Make Good Stories

Recently I was talking with a friend of mine and the conversation turned to relationships. He wanted my opinion regarding a certain lady that piqued his interest. At this point I informed him that I was probably the absolute worst person to talk to about relationships (as evidenced by my lack of female companionship). To further emphasize my point I decided to tell a story about a girl that I was quite taken with when I lived in Georgia. It goes a little something like this (hit it):

There was this girl I met through a work related project. She lived in Athens (Georgia) and worked for the University of Georgia in their historic resources department. Our paths crossed because my friend and co-worker Andrea submitted an application for the University to survey our little portion of the state in order to accurately document the vast historic resources that existed. After the application was accepted but before the survey work began, Andrea decided she wanted to leave the south and therefore I became the local contact for the project.

The University’s coordinator of the survey project was a very petite woman that wore very tall shoes. I immediately had a bit of a crush on her. The survey team spent an entire summer documenting the local resources and over the duration I got to know her and the team of students performing the work. One particular conversation we had was about her affinity for cooking and the fact that she wasn’t very good at it even though she tried very hard. This was a tidbit of information that I chose to hold on to and file away.

We stayed in touch for the next year or so even after the project was finished. It wasn’t a regular correspondence but still, there was continued communication. As my career path was floundering, I decided it was time for me to relocate. Before I left Georgia, however, I thought it would be a good idea to send her a little something to remember me by.

A friend of mine had a son who lived in Alaska and made wooden utensils. They were very unique and interesting so I decided that, since my far away crush was into cooking (as I remembered), I would send her a handmade spatula. That’s right, a spatula. I thought this would be a great idea and it would show her that I was paying attention to our previous conversations. I figured she would think it was a grand gesture and might find it a bit endearing. I boxed everything up, dropped the package in the mail (including my new information in Pennsylvania) and waited for her to contact me. Needless to say, I never heard from her again. It was at this point my friend realized the error of his ways in asking me for advice on the lady front.

I consider myself very mediocre at a lot of things and I’m kinda proud of that. Having the slightest clue about women is clearly not one of them.

Fun With Homes

This weekend, all of my friends were off being extreme at various races in different states. iScott finished an ultra marathon in Vermont (congratulations Scott!) while everyone else was in New York doing a mountain bike race (Six Hours of Power) and getting podium spots. While I had the option to go to New York, I (reluctantly) decided to stay in State College.

What did I do this weekend you ask? I mowed grass, cleaned gutters, took down part of a split rail fence, filled in the holes from the posts of said fence, unpacked some of my belongings and moved stuff from one house to another. Fortunately the owners of the home I was moving things from weren’t home so that made things a lot easier. Okay that wasn’t funny but still, this weekend was a lot of work to say the least.

People keep telling me that owning a home is a great idea. I’m not sure if I’m ready to fully accept that notion. I’ve owned a home for about three weeks now and all I’ve done is yard work, moved stuff, and spent money. It hasn’t been all that much fun. In fact, I haven’t even spent a night in the house yet. It’s a little slow going now, but I really do think it’s going to be fun and I’m looking forward to that point. I’ll keep you posted on when it happens.

A First Time For Everything

The weather this weekend was beautiful. It brought the perfect mix of sunshine and low humidity which made for ideal road biking conditions. I decided to do some hills. The climbs provide the right amount of suffering and the downhills make it all worth it.

When I go downhill I like to go fast; as fast as I possibly can. It’s not uncommon for me to use both lanes on a decent in order to maximize speed while minimizing braking. One of my favorite descents is off the back side of Black Mo down into Julian and that’s where I was at this weekend.

So there I was, bombing down the hill. At one point I glanced down at my computer and I was flirting with 50 miles per hour. It’s also important to note that the posted speed limit on the road I was riding is 35. This is a key factor in the story. As I negotiated a turn I noted a state trooper coming up the hill. I didn’t think much about it and continued to stay tucked in to gain as much speed as I could. A few moments later, I heard the too familiar sound of a siren. I glanced over my shoulder and noticed that same trooper behind me and he wasn’t looking to pass. He was there to pull me over.

That’s right; I was pulled over by a state trooper while riding a bicycle. As I stood on the side of the road in utter disbelief and befuddlement I was issued a ticket for speeding. At first I was pretty jacked about what was happening but after I thought about it, the whole scenario became quite humorous. I asked the trooper if he often pulled over cyclists and he wasn’t amused. I reluctantly accepted my ticket and told the trooper I would slow down in the future.

While the above tale makes for a good story, it didn’t actually happen. I actually spent this weekend cleaning my new house and moving. That didn’t seem like it would be very exciting to talk about so I made something up. Sorry.

Expensive Pain

This past week marked a significant milestone in my life. I finally purchased my very own house. Everything was made official on Tuesday. While this is an exciting time for me, it’s also causing me a lot of pain.

The house has hardwood floors in a majority of the rooms so I decided to have them refinished. I thought this would be a good time to do it because the house is empty (obviously). Since I can’t really move anything in yet, I’ve been doing a lot of work in the yard.

I first looked at the house in early spring before anything had really started to grow. Now that we’re fully into summer and we’ve had more rain than I care for, the plants, weeds, shrubs, grass, and bushes have been growing like gangbusters. Over the past three days I’ve been trying to get a handle on the landscaping. All I’ve seemed to do is spend a lot of money on yard tools and wear myself down to the point where all of me hurts.

While I have a lot of work left to do both inside and outside of the place I wouldn’t want it any other way. I’ll probably spend a lot of time worrying about insignificant aspects of the house and that’s okay because at the end of the day I get to call it mine. Eventually the sore muscles and overwhelming amounts of work will give way to general maintenance and minor upkeep. It will be nice, however, to move my stuff in and start living there.