Biking from DUMBO to home after lunch with a friend I was reminded of a headline I wanted to post:

Brooklyn: where double-parking still runs wild!

Also: I think street vendors are a lot like artists and entrepeneurs.

Some people simply CAN handle having a "job" and a separate (and optional) creative outlet. Others, like me, can NOT. Simply Can't. Have tried. No can do fu man chu. Must do my own thing even if it's harder, more work, etc.

99% of people CAN make the job thing work and that is why our system is still around today. That's why you saw people picketing during the depression saying "give us work". It's crazy -- they wanted to work for someone else, not themselves. Their own motivation was to centralize power, despite possibly resenting the money that those leaders and business owners would make.

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 05:47 PM | Permalink

The Democrats called this am. Since I've been expecting a call from "unknown" (aka Cingular) I took it. They asked for money. Lots of money. Their script is pretty tight these days -- it allows for lots of twists and turns and their writer is to be commended for that.

While I empathize with telemarketers (to a very small extent) and try to disengage from them gracefully and with no hard feelings I had to hang up on this one. They could be alienating some of their friends with this campaign if their call list is big enough.

For the record, I guess the standard donations for the dems is $100 and "modest" donations are $50 these days.

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 05:43 PM | Permalink

Here are some random notes from the day of my failed US Open visit:

- The light rain mist looked like Star Wars or the HBO television intro when looking up a light pole to it. Thousands of whispy floating dots of light.
- Saw a pretty impressive red spider with black stripes on it's legs weaving a web. We took pictures with our cameraphones and a small crowd gathered.
- There was a gaggle of teen girls that piled into a subway car across the tracks from us on the way home. I think they may have mistaken me for someone famous or were pulling a prank of some sort. They were waving and blowing kisses at me. I looked around (to make sure it was me), acknowledged them with a nod, and the train was off.
- For no apparent reason I got to thinking about people who travel our country (and the world) and are so intersted in the people they meet, and who are so liked by the people everywhere they go. You know, you just can't fake that kind of thing. The only way to be genuinely interested in something/someone is to be genuinely interested.

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 04:29 PM | Permalink

While sports commentators recount with joy the wonderful moments on court, there is another untold drama of the sports fans and the Flushing Meadows ground crews.

You see, the US Open, for some reason, is always scheduled for the most volatile week of weather in New York. In three years of going to the US open I am 1/3 for 3.

The day of our first visit had weather forecast for storms. As one might have predicted it did, indeed, rain most of the evening. Apparently (we didn't actually go to the stadium), the grounds crew were able to fight off the wet and allow tennis players to play something like 15 minutes of tennis, which was just enough to prevent the USTA from being obligated to exchange or refund our tickets, according to the fine print on their website.

Our second visit the following year was mostly rained out, but they got the courts dry in time to be able to watch a full match with Federer and somebody else. It was ok, but an early round so not a lot of action and the stands were nearly empty.

This year rain was forecasted again but we were watching the radar all day long and predicted it would pass and at least one full match would be played. We wanted to get *some* form of tennis for our money so we went to the stadium where it misted straight through the evening. The USTA would NOT consider play rained out until 9:45pm so we had to wait. My friends bailed a half hour early and I stuck it out. Of my predictions one of two came true.

Prediction one, true: USTA worked extremely hard, especially from 9:30 to 9:45, to do anything in their power to get at least one serve performed by a tennis player. They had dryers, squeegies, AND young kids with bath towels on the court to make it playable.

Prediction two, untrue: Just as dry spots were beginning to appear on the court the efforts of the grounds crew collided with nature and the clock. They had finally run out of time and game play was officially suspended.

In the end I spent $60 to take a train out to the end of Queens, have a beer and hamburger in the rain, and generally be damp for five hours -- all of this just to be sure that I wasn't going to get robbed again by the USTA.

Not that they will make it easy for you. Oh no. The box office at the stadium conveniently closes at 9:00pm so by the time you could get an exchange everyone has gone home. You must come back to the stadium to get an exchange. If you do come back you will NOT be issued a ticket for that day, it will be another day later this year or next year so you'll have to come back a THIRD time to actually watch tennis, which as far as I knew, was the reason that people buy tickets to watch tennis.

Clockwise from top: crews work frantically to dry the courts so the USTA can steal our money (or charge us for the "entertainment" of court cleaning, which clearly is worth a $40 ticket price, fans in rain panchos watching the action, a giant spider on the grounds (red arrow)

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 02:20 PM | Permalink

Observed bike resting on loft support at CL's apartment (where it was left after the Ramapo Rally). Decided that I should ride it home soon and get back in the saddle. Legs and arms have shrunk back down to normal size and are feeling strong. (They are also hard as rocks, yeah!)

Plates and bowls of deliciousness for dinner with CL:
- homemade creamy pumpkin soup with sage
- olive bread

- havarti cheese with
- darting reisling and
- strawberries

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 05:40 PM | Permalink

Strange cast of characters ringing my buzzer this am. Group of 3 or 4 young cops at 7am, then Keyspan Energy at 8 trying to get in basement to read meter (didn't know we have a super).

Then chorus of beeping horns on Flatbush Ave -- literally dozens of gypsy cabs and vans at lunch driving in circles, beeping their horns about 4 times per block to attract fares.

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 05:38 PM | Permalink

Day two of recovery. Advil. Pitchers of gatoraide.

Discovered I've used 2400 minutes on my "landline" since last month -- that is one solid work week on the phone. That is madness. Switching to cable for phone was definitely the right call. Verizon and my long distance carrier would have had a field day with me under the old regime. They would have dressed me up in a schoolgirl outfit and done unspeakable things. As it stands now, my monthly phone bill WITH long distance and WITH conferencing is less than just my local phone bill with Verizon. I am surprised almost daily that people allow Verizon to exist.

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 05:36 PM | Permalink

I have been having a hard time keeping up with my journal entries, but I feel like I must find a way to keep doing it. I may adopt an approach of shorter entries just to keep up, and in-depth when I have time.

Today my entire body is a single, unified, dull ache. Drank 4 pitchers of Gatoraide, many glasses of water. Quads swollen. Slight stiffness. Unsure if leg swelling is from shredding my muscles to pieces yesterday or my body not managing this water intake correctly.

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 05:30 PM | Permalink

So here it is, the day of the "improved" Ramapo Rally. This year's route was to be better marked, and not as wickedly mountainous as last year (to encourage more riders to participate).

Generally speaking, if you're a visitor to an area and you want to take a tour like this it helps a lot to have proper markings spray-painted on the road so you don't spend all day leafing through your printed instructions, which were 4 2-sided pages that you fold into 4ths for clipping onto your handlebars and viewing. This means that unless you have good road markings or are from the area and know generally where to go, you have thirty two little pages to flip to follow all of the twists and turns.

I didn't start with a formal group and when I got out to the very first turn I saw the red "century" arrow pointing right and began following it. So did a handful of others near me. About a half mile in we realized it was a wrong turn. Not only was it a wrong turn, but there was a traffic director right there at the turn waving cars into the parking lot who did not call out to us to tell us we were going the wrong way. Just perfect.

Shortly into the ride as I was getting into a groove a packed formed and all of the characters and roles started getting sorted. We had the tall (bald) racing enthusiast who wanted to get a nice even draft line going, a small race team of about 4 (others on their team were elsewhere on the course, all the members near us were chinese, one of whom was a 60 year old in perfect shape and condition), the NJ locals one of whom looked like a body builder with a tanktop jersey, and a pair of short guys who were former mountain bike racers. One of these guys looked just like John Leguizamo. We all called him "Magellan" as he had the turns marked on his handlebar and were calling them out before we got to each one. This smoothed things out considerably. I was referred to as "Brooklyn" for my jersey.

One of the first things you notice about this years Ramapo Rally is the staggering lack of scenery compared to last year. They probably should have called this the "New Jersey Real Estate Tour" instead -- it was mostly ridiculous (and boring) New Jersey suburbs and housing developments.

As the day before, the weather forecast predicted thunderstorms, which I would have welcomed to last year's heat wave. The reality also looked quite a bit like the day before: sunny with growing heat.

The first 83 miles were great. The entire group rode strong and we even found a few roads where we could bike three miles without a turn interrupting us. We talked and joked and I don't think anyone was straining to keep the pace (I'd look at the speedometer while at the front of the pack and kept it around 21mph).

Then the early afternoon sun set in.

People started peeling off the back of the group. We lost the 60-year-old first, then a group of three (including myself), then I'm not quite sure what happened. Felt a little like sun poisoning. The energy disappeared from my legs and I watched helplessly as the spedometer gradually slouched from 21-24mph to about 14. I started needing more and more water.

This was a strange and surprising thing to me as I was doing a very good job keeping up on calories and hydration up to this point and the transition was dramatic. Riding in the shade I was at full speed, in the sun, barely moving.

The sun cracked me like an egg over a frying pan. I dropped off our group of three and found myself about two pages behind in our directions and lost at a ridiculous intersection in the sun. It was like watching a national geographic special where the weak buffalo gets separated from the pack and is exposed to predators, though I'm not sure what those would have been at this point -- SUV's I guess. I was angry and confused and had to flip through the directions three times to find out where I was.

When I finally reached the next (and last) rest stop I had goose bumps. Met a very nice woman who volunteered not only for the Ramapo Rally, but also for RAM (the Race Across America). I talked with her about that event for a while with a few other riders. I learned a lot about the race including a few staggering facts; the "traditional" class of riders do not have any sleep requirements. At all. One of the top riders was over 60 years old and finished in 8 days. Yes. Eight days.

I also learned a little more about the acclimation required for the altitude that the Leadville 100 is raced at and have decided to abandon that as a goal. I'm not sure I would be able to take 3-4 weeks off to train up there to attempt to finish 100 miles off road in 8-12 hours...

After 3 bottles of gatoraide, some water on the head, a few packs of salted peanuts, cookies, a banana and brownie I was back on the road and finished out the ride.

Final ride time distance: 121 miles, 6:50:02

Epilogue: Ran into two of our racers in the parking lot when I got back. They had mentioned that their final group ended up being 4 people and were surprised that they lost me. So was I. Had a few sips of some of their homemade iced tea which was a blend black tea, green tea and chai. It was pretty good.

Just as last year, none of the volunteers cared that we made it (after getting lost twice even with half of our group being locals due to mismarkings and construction that actually destroyed the roads and paint for about a half-page of instructions) and were all going home even with many riders on the road.

That night CL put some aloe gel on my sun burns and it felt very good upon application, then later it collected dust while I walked around the city. When I wiped my face off after rinsing it left a big dirt streak on my white bath towel.

I said this after last year, but I think I'm going to say it with more conviction this year: never again.

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 03:43 PM | Permalink

For some reason I thought it would be a "nice little warmup" to ride my bike, with supplies, from Brooklyn to Mahwah NJ the day before the Ramapo Rally. It worked, but didn't go exactly according to plan.

It was supposed to be cloudy and cool and a "leisurely" ride.

As it turned out it was sunny and warm and 45 miles with a backpack full of supplies: change of clothes, reading materials, extra cycling clothes.

Ran out of water about 20 minutes from my goal. As I was scanning the road for beverages or parks I happened upon many; about 3 parks with NO public drinking fountains and about 4 gas stations that were CLOSED and had Coca Cola machines that would dispense for $1.25 -- I had $1 or $20 on me, both in bills.

Spent the evening hydrating with powdered gatoraide (fruit punch) and a nice carb-heavy dinner of pasta with homemade (by CL) vodka sauce, garlic bread, and the family's own wine.

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 02:55 PM | Permalink

Cara was just about to walk out the door and take the subway back to Manhattan when we got a call from EZD with free tickets ($100 value each) to the night's Yankee's game. Made a few frantic calls and determined that it was just the three of us, and that we should take EZD's Jeep. At first it was unclear as to why I suggested that as anyone who thinks they're going to fight rush hour traffic against a subway train and win is downright crazy.

The answer to this came a quarter of the way into the trip when we made it over the crest of the hill on Flatbush avenue and saw the Manhattan bridge "twinkling". There were so many emergency vehicles and helicopters that it went well beyond "blink".

A quick lookup of ny1.com on the Treo 700p revealed that there was a two-alarm fire at the Dekalb avenue station and that some people were seen being carried out of the station on stretchers. We had missed the thick black plumes of smoke. Cause of fire: unknown, though they believed there were no fatalities.

Crazy.

Speaking of fumes, the Jeep was a model from the 60s in fairly good shape and with all windows open with the exception of the windshield (which did fold down if desired). Due to the shape of the vehicle the exhaust out the back got recycled into the cabin. The engine was from an old gremlin and the lack of a catalytic converter was apparent. EZD was used to the fumes, which was good -- I told him to wake me up when we get there if I pass out during the ride. After returning home my clothes smelled like unleaded gasoline.

Our seats were about 10 rows off of third base. While the view was great, agreeing to walk into this chained off section of seats is to also accept the way that the game is watched here. Our section mostly consisted of two groups: Die hard Yankee fans who spent the entire game standing, hooting, cheering, and giving everyone around them high-fives when the Yankees did anything remotely good and Jewish families with spoiled kids, many of whom spent the entire game complaining out loud that they couldn't see because someone was in their way or whatever.

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 10:38 AM | Permalink

Almost nobody in the park today. Most racers are just taking it easy because of the race tomorrow. Ran into another Brooklyn Velo Force (BVF) rider and had a nice multi-lap race on the hills. On the third one we were joined by another one of these tough guys.

I was making a move on the left to take the lead of our group of three (for helpful drafting purposes, of course) and I think he took it as a challenge and sped up to my pace. I put a little heat on the pedals as we hit the first incline -- somewhere between 19 and 21 mph uphill and he was insistent and kept the pressure on. Felt like he was holding back just a little so he could make a move so on the short 20 meter break between the two climbing sections I popped my chain down two sprokets, stood, and laid it out, sprinting in the drops. Glancing down at the speedometer I was doing almost 28mph on the steepest climb in the park, a scale of magnitude better than any other climb this year. A short stretch later and I was rejoined by BVF, but not our challenger.

My perverse love for hills continues strong.

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 10:30 AM | Permalink

I was thinking a bit today about economics and what a thin, frail line we have between order and chaos here. While I take the slant of "we are an organized society. since we expect everyone who lives here to play by the rules and not fuck shit up we should provide basic services if they find it hard to do so themselves". No this doesn't mean giving them a free ride, but it does mean food, shelter, health care.

My concern is about how close to the "end of the rope" we let large populations go. I mean, I am white, come from a loving middle class family and grew up with trees. After leaving school I had a very hard time making ends meet for a few years. I was working two, and at one point, three jobs. Due to my good job experience I was able to get a credit card and a "reserve line" on my bank account. If I did not have those I would have hit 0 balance before the end of each month and I might have seriously considered stealing, coercing, selling drugs.

Now think about all the minorities that get turned down for bank loans, are passed over for good jobs, grow up in semi (to fully) violent families, and only see hot, sweltering pavement.

As crazy as this sounds, I think that one of our most loathed and predatorial industries (no, not the government) may be what is holding our down-and-out population at bay (if not captive): the credit card industry.

They will give credit to anyone with a pulse and these people may legitimately use these cards to float between paychecks (but also, sadly, like I did, buy a few too many things with it over time. How I finally dug myself out of that one is another story altogether).

Screen shots from ironic commercials run by Capital One (as lifted from youtube.com). In this series of ads Capital One imples, essentially, that their competitors rape and pillage their customers with outrageous interest rates when in fact, they target some of the heaviest-risk customers due to their increased likelihood of missing payments and incurring this very interest.

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 10:28 AM | Permalink

Not sure how this will come off, but there are a handful of Jamaican girls who are also pretty serious cyclists in Brooklyn. I have observed an interesting thing about them and that is: while they are very thin and fit, they still have "jelly".

Not sure if it's a genetic thing or diet. I was reminded of a vegetarian that I dated years ago who was also quite thin and fit, but unusually soft and fluffy.

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 10:25 AM | Permalink

Beeeautiful weather today. Now that I'm actually typing this entry a week after the post date of the 9th I can say this may end up being the best day of this summer (of course it will have to compete with autumn, my favorite time of the year, but that's another story).

Started out the day with the feeling that I pulled something just above my quad on my left leg. It eventually warmed up and was fine.

Plenty of fast groups today. As a matter of fact I'd go so far as to say it's a "day of packs". I drifted from one to another and really only let one group of three riders get away from me, all of whom I pulled back in, though it took almost four laps and 18k to do so.

I remember seeing enormous groups last year that resembled the Tour De France Peleton and wondering if they were some formal group of riders like a club or team. Today I discovered that they are an informal "every Wednesday evening" thing. No craigslist postings. No bike club. If you're here and it's happening you've got an open invite. One guy has taken it upon himself to be the drill sergeant of a peleton for anyone who wants to be a part. It collects riders from every walk of life including couples with hybrids, track bikes, mountain bike riders, road racers -- you name it.

The only rule: you have to follow the sergeant's rules, which can seem like they change on a whim, but if they do, it's only to protect the beauty and integrity of his line:

• The pack is to be two riders wide.
• Riders must stay an equal distance from their partner and the riders in front of and behind them
• When the sergeant says "off the front" the two riders in the front are to peel off the front to the left and right to allow the group to proceed from behind them
• Keep it neat, people!
• Nobody is to get all crazy.
• Nobody is to mess with the sergeant's draft line/

The sergeant is one of those kinds of people that lives for the perfect lines. He spends the entire time riding up and down the line barking out commands.

"Get up in there, get up in there! Don't let them get away from you like that!"
"If you're going to take off do it now -- once you're gone you can't come back!"
"Stay together!"
"Hey Rocky, either you're in the line or you're not!"
To a pedestrian: "Oh don't hurry or anything, it's only 40 bikes!"
To another fixed gear rider: "Heeeey, don't mess with our pack - go on, go ride somewhere else!"
To another rider in the pack: "I sleep here, why you think I'm like this? (turns his head towards the front of the line) "HEY! Pull up that space!"

All in all the group did strikingly well, especially considering how many people were novices at this kind of thing. From the sky (or the road, obviously) we were a sight to behold, 40+ strangers, many of whom who have just met, riding in perfect unison, snaking through traffic in Prospect Park after work on any given Wednesday.

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 10:23 AM | Permalink

If I were a cheesy parody singer and I wrote songs for cyclists I might have one titled "what a difference a chain makes." because to a cyclist this could be kind of funny, if not 100% true. 1800 miles into the new bike and I had neglected to keep tabs on chain wear and stretch. While I cleaned it regularly and applied liberal amounts of white lightning the shifting between gears had started to lag and I could hear it stretch with each big pedal stroke.

Gotham bikes, who are a pretty smart group of fellows/chicks gave me a Dura Ace/XTR chain even though I said I had an Ultegra gruppo (one step down and less expensive). In the grand scheme of things it's fine as the the chain is compatible and is a sexy silver (instead of the dull gray of the old one). It felt strong, gave good power conversion and shifting is now fast and reliable again. Note to self: replace chains every 1000 miles.

Today's ride comes after a week off in Buffalo, NY with no riding and consumption of an awful lot of carbohydrates. As it often does, my body fought the idea of working out when it was shown the alternative: fat and muscle atrophy. I felt like a blob for the first three laps, then my cardio system finally woke up and we were back in business.

Had to be patient with both myself and other riders today; there was a lot of erratic chasing and slowing, but everything evened out in the end. One guy was really pulling some big gears and I was trying to hang on from a distance. When we reached the hill I started counting the gap at various intervals to see what we were really dealing with. 12 seconds at the base of the hill...9 seconds half way up (hmm, not gaining quick enough...), 12 seconds at the top... fine, we'll let him go, this time...

Later on there was another large dude smothering a skinny guy with long hair on a yellow bike. He was right up against the guy's wheel, not only taking advantage of his draft, but putting pressure on him to go faster, it seemed. After a few laps the skinny guy cracked and the large dude continued on -- looking for his next victim (I didn't see him alternate pulls once). I passed the yellow guy within a few moments and the larger dude before the hill.

By my last lap there was a group of about six of us that formed and were barreling up the hill at high speed. Since the group had just formed there was no clear leader and after we raced over the crest of the hill everyone fanned out to the sides of the road like I've seen small flocks of birds do. Not sure what everyone else was feeling (other than "go ahead and take it, dude") but I thought it was kind of fun, and funny.

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 10:02 AM | Permalink

Had an opportunity to tour Buffalo, NY with CL August 2nd through 7th and here are some notes about this fine city:

While many speak of the "lake effect" snow in the winter (we passed a "Lake Effect Diner" in the artsy part of town, the cooler summer weather was much appreciated. When we left New York City it was 104 degrees outside. It was comfortably in the 80s when we arrived in Buffalo.

The food here is absolutely, positively, 100% carbs. They even manage to get carbs into salads here. Resistance is futile. Here are some of the fine carb-laiden foods we were able to enjoy:

SPONGE CANDY:
Our friends at Fowler's make this thing called "Sponge Candy". It has a few mysterious qualities about it. To visualize it, imagine spray-on wall insulation dipped in chocolate. It's light, crispy, and has a subtle takes-a-backseat-to-the-chocolate-but-you-can-still-kindof-taste-the-essence flavor and a firm, dry crunch to it. The experience of eating sponge candy goes something like this:

1) Address the little cube and bite it in half to see the insides.
2) Eat the rest of the cube to get the flavor.
3) Try another one
4) Acknowledge that it's not bursting with chocoloately goodness like other candy you've had, but feel compelled to try another, just to be sure
5) Eat a half a bag before you realize it. Put the bag away after having "just a few more"
6) Deny to the person you're sharing the bag any idea that you could have possibly eaten that much of it -- or any at all, really. Three pieces. Tops.

BEEF ON WECK:
Though not impossible to find in NYC, the German Kimmelweck is much more abundant and was quite tasty.

BUFFALO WINGS:
No trip to buffalo is complete without buffalo wings. The four of us got a bucket of 50 spicy wings with blue cheese dressing from the Anchor Bar. It appears that my years of training with CL eating various forms of hot peppers has paid off as this, their most spicy version, didn't even produce a slight sweat on my brow.

MOJITOS:
Our hostess grows herbs in her back yard. They seem to be both for landscaping and for eating so a casual glance might have you miss a few giant mint stalks just off of the porch. We gathered up the rest of the ingredients (as fresh and natural as we could find) and made homemade mojitos and had them at dinner. It reminded me of a bar on the LES that CL and I went to a few months back where they made the margaritas from scratch (no simple syrup, no premix -- turbino sugar, slices of fruit, top shelf tequilla, etc). Nothing beats fresh.

So Buffalo is considered part of the midwest and it shows in many ways:
- There is always a response to something you have said even if the response must be "don't you know it"
- Silence is generally regarded as uncomfortable. As such, the weather is a topic of conversation brought up many times a day
- The pace is much slower and oddly, as advertised, almost everything is "just a five minute drive" away
- The things that are maintained are done so with an excruciating level of detail and done as if there is no other way to do it. The home we were staying in has been perfectly maintained and has many original art-deco pieces of hardware and furniture including light fixtures, hand railings, doorknobs, and end tables. Buffalo, like Minnesota, is an excellent place for antiquing and I am now beginning to see that the Midwest doesn't import and sell antiques -- they actually originate here.
- Odd taste in fashion. There are still mullet sightings. People own denim sofas. I don't think I counted a single button-down shirt during our six day stay.

Buffalo is as I remember it from my one short afternoon passing through en route to moving to NYC -- it's kind of a combinatin of Milwaukee, WI and Duluth, MN in size and general makeup. Buffalo is a port city that has a great history of industry, most of which has left. What remains is being choked to death by their local politicians. Instead of giving tax breaks to encourage big businesses to move to Buffalo, they are raising them causing not only normal businesses to look elsewhere, but their very own football team, The Buffalo Bills to pick up and move as well. I guess this will be their last season in the city.

We took a driving tour of old 'hoods where CL's parents and their relatives grew up and lived. Most had experienced "white flight" and had digressed to absolute ghetto. I felt really odd eating a gourmet box of chocolate treats while observing families too poor to buy plastic garden chairs sit around on the ledges and floors of porches attached to their dilapitated houses. We got a lot of strange looks.

On the flip side, there were very charming waterfront townhouses complete with sailboat marinas on the penninsula on Lake Eerie on the opposite side of town, and glorious victorian homes just off from the park and modern art gallery where free jazz music was playing on Sunday.

Discovered that our hostesses' last name is Cinelli, which is a very expensive brand of racing bike. I did not get to find out if there was any relation. She also has 12 grandchildren. Over the course of the first few days I think we saw about half of them plus their parents. It was enough to completely exhaust me.

Posted by Aaron R. Deutsch at 12:49 PM | Permalink