Chocolate Milk is Good for Me? Sweet!

Oscar and I went to the farmers' market again today. I came home with a pound of lamb, 16 oz (which is a pound too) of honey, a little bouquet of flowers, and most of a quart of chocolate milk. The dairy gave me. GAVE me. what was left of their sample bottle of chocolate milk. There is a study that says chocolate milk is a super thing to drink after excercising. The fats and sugars help refuel you. I keep messing up little things at work. But I also do some really awesome stuff too. Oh well. Hopefully it'll balance out. I drank my first redbull since moving. Oh boy was it awesome. I should drink one a day as some sort of anti-depressant. I'd need to figure out some way of toning down the hyperness though. Holycowitmakesmetalkamileaminute. Ijustcan'tshutup. Goingoingoingoingoingoingoingoingoingoingoingoing. pantpant. pant.

Gimme juice

Time is moving way too fast. Days keep fluttering away. Boring, blah, blah. I'm tired. But if I'd get up and do something I'd be better. I'm like a friction charged battery.

Oscar and I rode 15 miles today. He's so much faster than me. In the parking lot of the trail, as we were loading our bikes into their orgy, an older gentleman in velcro shoes and a trucker hat asked us how much we'd ridden. He walked about two miles to keep his sugar down. It's been all out of whack lately because he stopped walking. But Oscar and I must have passed him about six times, which we probably did, depending on how long he'd been out there. It was really, really heartening for him to have noticed how much we'd ridden. Of course, 15 miles is nothing for Oscar who without me would ride 50 in a heartbeat.

Saturday, we went to the Farmer's Market. Heaven. So quaint and uplifting. I bought cheese and yogurt. They don't put geletin in the yogurt so it's "drinkable." I also bought a $3 bouquet of wildflowers, a pot of mums, and a bag of kettle corn. Now that's fall. I'll have to bring my camera next weekend. One of the high schools sends its drama club to do live sculptures. I love this town. It's got such a big heart. Much more concentrated than Columbia. Not to say it doesn't have its drawbacks (a two lane 'by-pass').

I'm purging. I'm taking small loads of stuff to Goodwill. I want an inherintly clean existence. But will it stick?

I was sitting at work today thinking about screen printing. More specifically, the time I screen printed snowflakes onto the floor of McMaster (USC's art building). That's pretty fuckin' cool, but wouldn't have mattered a month ago. But now that I have a job, and actual interaction with people I realize what a cool snippet of my life that tiny event is.

I obviously can't say for sure, but I think I like the weather in Bloomington. From June until August 1st (almost exactly) it was comfortably warm. August was too warm, but not like Columbia. And now, early September, and it's beautiful. Makes me want to listen to early Decemberists and drive through Kentucky on I-75 with my Gran. It's a thing. We're almost to 24-hour sweater weather. And the air, the world, smells big. It's weird: I tend to have a bipolar personality. I obsess and unobsess all the time, and yet, I'm happiest in the moderate seasons. Maybe I'm just too affected by weather and the extremes. Work is wonderful, except without school, I have no perception of the elapse of time.

You people make my ass twitch. My ass is twitching

Oscar and I rode our bikes to dinner on Saturday. We tried Limestone Grille, which came highly recommended. At first glance, it was lovely. My wine was delicious. Oscar's was a little tangy. Then, because we were outside, a moth flew into Oscar's glass. They replaced it no problem. But the food was lacking. Mine was a B. Not bad. Almost pleasant, but lacking in flavor. Oscar's was really boring. Any chance at conversation was sucked up by the next table over. They were loud and snobby and didn't know what grits were. Actually, the head of the table knew what grits were. He asked the other's as though they were some exotic food. Holding it over them that he'd had them with *gasp* shrimp. As it turns out, the grit-knower was the executive chef of the restaurant. They were also very annoyed at some absent friend's assertion that a Cowboy Mouth concert was better than a Rolling Stones concert. Now, I won't ever argue the supremacy of the Stones despite the fact that I don't love them, but comparing the concerts of Cowboy Mouth and the Rolling Stones would be like comparing camping with staying in a luxury suite. Some people prefer the outdoors. A Cowboy Mouth concert will be much smaller and much more enjoyable if you like to get involved with the band. There's some interaction with them. Plus, the drummer/singer is like Animal...


Back to bikes, Oscar and I rode on the Clear Creek Trail yesterday. We rode it twice so we got in just over nine miles. And that's where the title of this post comes from. My ass hurts. Cycling is hard on the butt. But it's a very light pain. It's more like a heightened awareness of my ass. After the trail, we hit the IU v. UCLA soccer game. I wussed out and we had to leave at half-time. It was just too hot and I forgot sunscreen. I would have been in bad shape if we'd stayed. As it was, I passed out for two hours when we got home. I have this hopeful paranoia that all my insecurities and emotional problems are due to a chronic, mild dehydration.

Click Click Click Click Camera

I have art and I have bike. Mine Mine Mine. Well, the art is half Oscar's. Our first "major" joint purchase.

The bike was also a joint purchase, as my birthday gift. Unlike my old Huffy, I can actually pick this bike up.

This weekend is the 4th Street Festival. It's basically a craft show. On crack! Martina Celerin may have been my favorite. Online photos don't really show how friggin awesome her work is. It's so dimensional. Although, the subject matter is a little undimensional. But I think there is definitely a place for redeemably awesome process and aesthetic. Despite her use of the font 'papyrus,' her website is okay. I love that you can click the banner to get home. I don't know why ALL webpages don't do that. Poor web design. Tsk tsk.