"Blood and Ironing"- motto of 19th century housewife Mrs. von Bismarck
It's been my dream to write a post as verse
but my commute does not suit that so well
instead I flee again to prose so terse
That doesn't rhyme.
They're not honking at you. They're honking with you.
Changes in the weather make it that I wanted my morning commute to be five miles shorter and my
evening afternoon commute to be five miles longer. I wore my winter coat on the way home and a guy in front of me was wearing orange athletic shorts. He was closer to correctly attired than I was, but it wasn't quite shorts weather yet. I think he jumped the gun. You oughn't go to shorts so soon. There's nothing quite so dispiriting as to having to resew the legs back on to your cutoffs. (Project Runway/Arrested Development crossover?)
Like basketball? Like road safety? Then I'm assuming you'll like this story about a former NBA great who is now a crossing guard in Silver Spring.
It's taken me far too long to accumulate even these few words, so I'm going to cut my losses and call it quits. In summation, the ride in got me to work and the ride home got me away from it. It's like the tides. Sometimes they go in, sometimes they go out and sometimes they remove even the toughest stains. Luckily, I don't have to rely on the gravitational pull of the moon to carry me home and instead I can use my bicycle, which proves itself tide in and tide out as the surest and most reliable mechanical contraption I own.
Spring is almost here. It's going to be huge for #bikeDC (but not Bike DC). I can feel it in my bones, which might mean a trip to the orthopedist is in order. Huge.