"Beauty confronts us with the requirement that we place ourselves among...the redeemers, the leaders in the protection of life. Once you have seen the bush on fire, you are not going to get out of the assignment unless you close your eyes to the beauty.... [You] either have to close your eyes or go back to Egypt and set the people free." - Rev. Dr. Rebecca Parker, "Rising to the Challenge of Our Times"

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Powered by pretzels

Yogurt pretzels, that is. By Sunday afternoon the remaining handful had melted and re-congealed together in a big crunchy ball (imagine this picture without the empty spaces), having been both in the truck for awhile in the sunshine, and in the back pocket of my bike jersey. I think they were trying to evolve into a new snack.

I found this yogurt pretzel image online and I'm a little disturbed by it, actually. The pretzels look unhappy. They remind me of the Edvard Munch painting, or that silly horror flick of the same name (only ever saw the first one), or of the Stay-Puff'd Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters. My pretzels had a less haunted look (at least before they melted).

I am sore in various places, but it's appropriate since I rode a total of 110 miles on Saturday and Sunday, climbing many a hill on the way. Both rides, Winters on Saturday and Sonoma County on Sunday, were graced with beautiful weather and scenery. My friend Lisa mapped out the Sonoma ride for me, having toured most of the back roads on her motorcycle, and she tried to pick a route that wasn't too hilly. The Winters ride was supposed to be the hilly one. However, I don't think it's possible to ride 67 flat miles in Sonoma unless you're dragging up and down the freeway, and even then I'm not sure you can do it. In fact that is one of the appealing features of riding in Sonoma County. Anyway, Lisa tried, and some might say she did not entirely succeed. But it was an awesome route that I would love to ride again (but not again tomorrow), up through the Alexander Valley from Santa Rosa to Cloverdale, and down through the Dry Creek Valley west of Highway 101, to River Road where my sag support (i.e. Lisa in her truck) came to get me since continuing to ride would have made the ride about 77 miles and most definitely quite hilly. Maybe sometime I'll try the whole loop when I have no interest in trying to find a not-too-hilly route.

I took my second rest stop around mile 50-something to eat a bagel (also in the back pocket of my jersey...I just love how you can put so many things in those pockets). I parked my bike in some landscaping outside the big gate to some or other winery, and happened to notice these among the woodchips. You might be saying to yourself, 'what's the big deal, those aren't even an edible variety of morels.' To which I would answer, 'I don't know what kind of morels they are, but I know they are the first morels of any kind that I have ever found in the wild (or at least in the landscaping) so, to me, it's a big deal.'


Bellabell said...

Unhappy pretzels. Yes, I see what you mean. When we moved into our present home, I was for some time unnerved by the wallpaper covering the bathroom walls. It sported a mass of large wild florals in violent colors, rather a decadent-jungle effect. Possibly useful for keeping one's bowels lively, but uncomfortable when one lay in bed and pondered the patterns appearing as anguished faces, the rosettes of purple flora clearly recreating two eyes and a screaming mouth, as though askance at what was going on in the bainoir. Not exactly calming at bedtime, but boy, does it get your eyes open in the morning!

wordsfromhome said...

Reminds me of the lions on the wallpaper in my grandparent's home when I was young. It was really a floral pattern, but in the dim light of the adjoining hall at night, any reasonable child would insist that there were lions. Right, E?

Emily said...

I couldn't sleep in that room for years due to the lions. Which is kind of funny because if it had been wallpaper with actual lions on it, I don't think it would have been very scary at all.