a kick ass weekend

sometimes we rock out

a few photos from the Weaverville track. it is more than fun...

sometimes we rock out

a few photos from the Weaverville track. it is more than fun...

state champ

Today was the North Carolina and South Carolina state finals in Lexington SC. It wasn't a race series that I was really into until Jamie pointed out to me that we both had a chance at getting #1 finishes if we raced the final.
This morning I packed my stuff into Jamie's car and I hit the road with him and his two kids, Josie and Jack whom, I am convinced, are angels in disguise. I had to drive the 2 1/2 hours since Jamie recently broke his collar bone at the Hendersonville race last weekend.
We get to the track and my god it is beautiful. The entire thing is very well kept and is smooth as all gid-up since it was made of truck loads of dirt that are of the same consistency as baseball fields. Practice starts at noon and it turns out that the track is just as fun to ride as it is to look at. We all find our lines that suit our respective riding styles best and the races start.
It turns out that I am in the running for #1 with another guy named Brian who is a really nice guy. We spent a lot of today talking about bikes and family and all of the good and bad things in life. For example, he told me about some very bad burns that he got on his legs while trying to start a fire with gasoline. He hasn't been able to ride for the past four weeks because of the burns. Just another example that the easiest way to do things sometimes isn't the best way to do things.
But anyway, we are racing each other for the state #1 plate and the first moto starts off very heated. Into the first turn I am a wheel ahead of him and he pushes me way up and out almost off the track. But I stay on the pedals and focus on being smooth and pull past him into the second turn and hold the lead all of the way to the end.
The rest of our motos are actually pretty anti-climatic in that he didn't have enough gas to stay fresh for his motos and I pull ahead by sizable leads in every moto and take the W for the day.
So I am the state champion in the 25-29 cruiser class. cool, eh?

big daddy oaks?

Conor and I have been playing music together for years... and every time we have talked about being in a band. a serious band.
We both graduated this year and now we are living about a half mile from each other in West Asheville. This gives has given us the opportunity to actually be able to play with each other consistently. and we have. a couple a week (and some times more) we get together in the basement of 17 Nebraska and just go at it. Conor generally brings the new song sounds and I lay a quick bass line to it so that we can play it on repeat until we like the sound.
And the past few nights that we have played, regardless of how much beer is in us, we have been on it... playing almost exactly what the other wants to hear and bringing something to the table that gets the other one giddy... (yes, we do get giddy about songs... but then quickly affirm that we are men).
So far we suck at getting lyrics nailed, but the sounds coming out of Conor's guitar and my bass are starting to work really well together. by now I think we are up to 9 pieces that we can play, know where the other is going and lock it down solid.
Tonight as we were taking a break from playing to step outside and get some fresh air Conor mumbled something that sounded like "Big Daddy Oats" and I joked about how good of a named "Big Daddy Oaks" would be for a band. "Well that is what I thought I was saying," said Conor... and now I think we have name for the band. It encompasses quite a bit of what we like to do and also plays into the sounds that we both like to hear.

Saturday race report

I am a bike dork.

But yesterday was an awesome race between me and Devin in our second moto. He was gate 3 and i was gate 8. He had the inside line into the first berm and we both rode really hard. He got ahead of me with a low move in the first turn. We both came out of the first turn with equal speed and he had the inside line again (little did he know about riding high in the second berm and being able to shoot out of it into the thrid straight). So we rode the second straight going as fast as we could... second berm, I pedal around the top and he takes the low inside line. I cut down early in the berm so I am coming out with a ton of speed.. we drag race down the third straight which is huge and super fast now... Devin still on the inside, me riding the outside and trying to focus on the next berm because that is where the race will be won and lost. we come over the doudle into the third turn and Devin cuts way below me and rides to the end of the berm. I am caught above him in the berm and have to brake check super hard in order to avoid making contact with him. We both almost come to a stop and from there it is another drag race down the last straight. super rhythm and super flowly. Way fast too. So we hit it hard, Devin on the outside this time and me on the inside. We are pedaling like crazy bastards out of the last turn and we hit the first three rollers with Devin a bike length ahead of me... we blast over the table top and I am catching up and almost passing him. roller step... we are even... step down... over the step down I pedal and throw my momentum forward as we both manual over the last two rollers. as we are crossing the line both throwing our bikes I hear one of the line judges call out "Lexy" and bam! race over. I had beat Devon by no more than 6 inches. I am not kidding six inches. fucking awesome! and then we all go out for mexican after an awesome photo shoot.
I am a bike dork.

drizzly day check up

So Asheville is out of gas. Which is the catalyst for this blogin.
I woke up this morning at 6:30 knowing that I might have the day off from tree work due to rainy weather. The sky looked like it could go either way, so I packed my lunch, pumped up my tires and took off out of the door.
Since Asheville has been out of gas and there is a 2 to 3 hour wait for 10 gallons of dead dinosaur juice, I have been riding my bike to work which has been a good eye opener. But this morning ride was a little warmer than the past rides I have done and so my spirits were high as i pedaled down the long hill of State St. I was just getting passed by a trash truck and flying the bird when i heard the fun little jingle of my cell phone going off in my backpack. I pulled over and got the call from ym boss that it was raining like hell in Swannanoa... no work today.
So I turn around and start heading back home in even higher spirits. The whole day to myself and a great ride ahead of me in order to think out what I might do today.

The Family

The Evolving Door of 17 Nebraska

Today our new housemate, Sarah, arrived. She is awesome. Lexy, Conor (who has recently replaced Phil and our new Kimmy Gibler apparently...), Sarah and I told stories on the porch until we all made our individual excuses for going inside (bedtime, unpacking, Harry Potter reading, the need to Blog, etc.)

Like Mike "Who?!" Viertel, I also have my own blog now. In that context, I call it my blahg. It is mainly about bicycles, but also some other embarassing stuff thrown in: www.lost-in-pisgah.blogspot.com.

Lexy accidentally broke himself. That, or he was just trying to be like Geoffrey Fryer. Either way, I hope he heals well.

The lettuce in our garden looks beautiful, but everything else either looks sad or is non-existant. Oh well, there's always Ingles.

That's all for now.

farewell

I'm no longer a resident of the famed 17 Nebraska/Viertel.  Now I reside in Chattanooga, TN.  I could go into a long drawn out explanation and write a bunch of mushy stuff but I'm not.  Asheville is a cool town but it didn't "feel" right and I'll miss parts of it and the friends I made, I'll leave it at that.

I have my own blog, michaelviertel.blogspot.com, for those that have an interest in following my life.

-Michael

gleedle gleedle dee

All members of the house are home after a long weekend of biking, working and hotel staying. Kylie, Mike, Tina and Kim went somewhere in Georgia to race their bigger bikes (well, bigger than mine) and it seems as if they did well. Mike finished second and Tina was leading her race until her pdeal came off four miles into the course. Bummer, but at the same time a confidence booster I am sure.
This weeknd for me started off with a long night of sitting in Conor's house playing guitar and listening to the Shins way too loud (so loud that the neighbors came up and told to chill out). We went out to the Admirable after playing at his house and continued to buy tequilla shots until we couldn't remember out names. We split up from there and rode our wobbly bikes to our own homes.
Saturday morning didn't exist for me and I got up around 12:30 completely groggy and wondering if I would be able to do well in my races later on in the day. A subway sandwich and two hours of practice later the races started at my new home (aka the Weaverville BMX track) . My races were fun since I was racing a few of my new buddies and we were able to talk smack to each other through out the afternoon. The last of my motos ended up with a full gate (8 people) and we all had a blast jumping the second jump on the course heading towards the first turn which almost ended in a pile up due to everyone going for passing moves. It was a fun race and I came out ahead of the carnage.
But tommorow is my first day at Pro Tree Care and it must be time for me to head to bed.

I have recently decided to move to another tree company. It was a bit of a tough decision in that I was really excited to stay with Above All Trees for a while and see the business grow and potentially move up myself. But after three months of being the only consitent employee and a number of other griping points, I started to get a little fed up and needed to move on. So now I am going to be starting with Pro Tree Care on the 23rd of June. It seems as if Pro Tree is going to be more in my vein of arboristing (yes, I did just create a new verb) in that the climbing and rigging systems I am going to be using are not old school climbing and rigging techniques. So i will be learning a lot of new things and dusting out my cob webs and bad habits that I have formed with Above All Tree.

The summer rains have started. Not as consistenly as I remember them out in Black Mountain, but there are "predicted" thunder storms in the afternoon every day this week. After the past few 90 degree days it is nice to have a cool afternoon rainstorm that soaks everything.

Before it all dwindles away...

Lexy made the comment the other day that no one had been writing on the blog. It was dying. Mike came back, racing resumed,(unofficial) summer came around and I took up a 40 hr/week job (whine, whine, whine) and suddenly, writing on this silly little thing didn't seem all that important.

And then I got sad and my friend Christine asked how I was doing and I said, "not too well" and she said, "well, are you writing?" Then I remembered how I used to write a ton as a little kid and as an emo high schooler, but then sort of fell out of the habit once college and bikes took over. I try every once in awhile to write, but usually it's just poems in German that I quickly read over then crumple up less someone who knows German and can recognize terribly written poetry finds it. I hadn't actually written, pen-to-paper style, in far too long. So it's about time. Only, I suppose saving the blog isn't saving my pen-to-paper draught. Oh well. You can't win at everyting.

Sometime last week I was bombing down some trail within the Ledford Maze at Bent Creek, not really paying attention to anything apparently, because suddenly, my handlebars clipped a tree and I went flying off my bike. I tumbled to the ground, my bike a few feet beyond the tree and me a few feet beyond that. I was only a little scrated up, but I sat there for a while, feeling really disappointed with myself and hurt, and I realized that that pretty much summed up my mental state of the past few weeks.

I've been agonizing over a boy. And basically, it feels like getting tossed off my bike and laying in a sorry pile of pain where no one else is aware of what's going on because I'm half-lost somewhere in some maze, alone and pissed at myself. And not wanting to get up at all.

That's been going on for too long now, and the other night, I rejected my friends' offer to go see the Sex and the City movie with them (I'm admitting right here, and here only, that I actually kind of like that show. Please don't tell anyone.) I couldn't do it. I couldn't see people run around being all happy and dumb and having their stupid little love lives work out for them in the end. So instead I did my favorite 2 hour road loop from my house and sat at some overlook on the Parkway, feeling very much like I did the other day after getting tossed, only this time there was no literal tossing. I then got a call from the very same Christine mentioned earlier (I'm admitting right here and here only that I do, also, carry a cellphone with me when I ride. Please don't tell anyone else that, either. My reputation is going down the drain...) and she said the group of girls were instead coming over to my house to make dinner. Friends. Sigh. They're there for you, sometimes, usually at key times. And I love them for that.

And today, when I frantically called Lexy to see if he could pick me up a case of Sierra Nevada Pale Ales from Ingles (because the West Asheville Ingles were plumb out, and I needed a case, NOW)...he said, "sure" with no questions asked. I'll let you know what the case is for if it winds up working out for me. The case is an integral part to a huge masterplan. Which probably won't work out at all, because I later got a call from Lexy saying the Swanannoa (or Oteen, who knows?) Ingles was also out of cases. Bad sign. I'll have to get one on the way to work tomorrow. But I'm determined to see this plan carried out, whether it works or not.

So anyway, I'm here, drinking a Keystone Light because since the end of my ride today til now, two hours later, I couldn't wait for a beer. But the Yuenglings and ESB's were gone. And who the hell else would drink the last Keystone Light? Kind of like my Banana popsicles in the freezer---there's no point in calling dibs on shit no one else likes, I guess.

I'm supposed to go meet Christine (yup, same one, props to that girl for being awesome) and Chelsea at the Admiral, my favorite bar in West Asheville because its a perfect sqaure and the name reminds me of pirates. I really just want to shower and go to bed, but I might learn something from these girls tonight. Plus, I appreciate the hell out of them.

Which is what the point of this post was, in case you missed it. I wouldn't blame you. My head's not here right now, I'm in a perpetual state of being about to crash into trees lately, becuase of this boy and my desire to make it up to him, somehow. But in the meantime...all my friends that do talk to me--I love you guys. A lot. Thanks for being there.

have you ever had fun before?

Thanks to Susan (Adam's mom) for takign this photo and sending it to me. but no, really... have you ever had fun befire?

...and some catching up....

Since the last entry there has been a lot of things that have occured at 17 Nebraska. Two of the residents, Kylie and I, graduated from the esteemed Warren Wilson College on May 17th. The weekend that surrounded the graduation ceremony was filled with friends and family and a lot of good byes to college mates who have left the nest in order to pursue "careers" or travel to different parts of the world. The graduation ceremony was quite fun with the exception of the speaker who rambled his way through fifteen minutes of tangents that didn't really link up to anything. Later on that night was a gathering of graduates and alumni at 17 Nebraska in which everyone brought beer but was to knackered from the busy weekend to drink whole heartedly. So the fridge was full for about half a week until some one drank most of them.... The weekend ended and left many a graduate wondering "What the hell hanppened?" as they tried to wrap their heads around four years (and some times more) coming to a close. But in order to uphold the Wilson tradition of being "heady dank" and "local" many graduates have moved into different parts of West Asheville. For example, Wee Dan lives about a two minute bicycle ride away and Conor, Mary and Christine live a 7 minute bicycle ride away. So when we get low on sugar we will have good neighbors to borrow some from (even though Ingles is closer... a lot closer).

MIKEY'S BACK! Plus a few other additions to the Homestead

Pictured above is the dapper young man who showed up on our front porch this past Monday.  Turns out the stranger was Mikey! Oh, how we had forgotten!
This is the fighter jet that is now parked under our car port. Performs well, but still needs to be jumped each time.

This is our friend from Warren Wilson College. His name is Conor MacGheehan and he was the previous owner of the Fighter Jet, as well as the one who saved the day for Krauss and then made fun of her for not moving her truck for 6 months when all it needed was a jump.

This past Monday, a tall, blond, dapperly-dressed young man walked into 17 Nebraska carrying a bike box, a couple pieces of luggage, and a stack of Stripper Trading Cards (Upper Deck, no doubt) that he picked up in Vegas.  Not being the type to turn away shiftless hobos or even prim-looking Yuppies, the three perma-residents (Lexy, Lateef, and Krauss) welcomed this nice young man into their house.  It wasn't until a couple hours later that they realized that this kid was, indeed, Mikey--their old housemate from three weeks back that left sometime mid-March for a trip "out west" to fit some adventures in-between a couple NMBS bike races.  With the house complete again, the four ate dinner with Phil "The Fifth Beatle So-to-Speak" Shaw and Marshall "What's Wrong with this Picture?" Hance.  It was an attempt to bring back the family dinner. One day at a time.  Either way, Mikey moved his stuff back in and promptly began looking up future races, to see when he could get the hell out of here again.

In other exciting additions, Lateef picked up a Foosball table. It's so janky and therefore amazing. Plus it can be turned into not-air-but-still-hockey, pool, table tennis, and shuffleboard (Tell that to the Flawda boys!)  Then there's the return of the fighter jet, which is Kylie's truck: a 1990 Ford Ranger, standard, no power-steering, but one hell of a paint job done by previous owner Conor MacGheehan.  It had been sitting at WWC since September, needing nothing but to be jumped, which I finally got around to this past Friday.  Now we have a truck that won't start without being jumped taking up one-half of the car port.  We could've put the foosball table there, but darn...

the good life

Below is a picture of our basement. Well, part of our basement. The main room is essentially an indoor hockey rink, a beer pong table, a party couch, and a washer and dryer.  The back room however, pictured below, is worth a few thousands of dollars, apparently.  This masterpiece-worthy beauty of a cluster fuck resulted from the residential bikes (Mike, Kylie and Lexy's 3-5 bikes each) plus the Flawda boys' traveling arsenal of rides. All crammed into this little space, providing a nice geometric challenge and one awesome picture, courtesy of Mikey.
In a week-long shopping spree, our friend Dan wound up with two more bikes, making his total somewhere around 3800. Pictured above are a few of his bikes that he brought up with him from Florida.

Party caravan makes it way to the Panhandle of Paradise. Or makes it back up to the sliver of a state that is NC. Who knows? Gas stations all look the same, and I can't tell which direction the car is pointing.  

Blitzkrieg Tour of Central Florida--Without Even a Single Gator Sighting. Dang.

After a week of shuffle-board tournaments, Jimmy Buffet dance parties, and eating deep-fried snickers for dinner every night, the Florida-inspired Spring Break '08 (Asheville Edition) ended with a caravan of sorts back to the State that is South of the South--Flawda.

Ryan and Ian left at a rediculously early hour (eight or something nuts like that), then Dan and Joe took off an hour later, followed about another hour later by Kylie and Mike, plus a special guest, Lexy Lewis.  The latter made his decision at the very last minute with the words, "hey, you think I still have time to pack?" Kylie and Mike rejoiced with a "Hell yeah, get your stuff...we're going to Florida!"  And so it became three Ashevillians setting out to invade the Swamplands for a weekend of shenaniganning and bike riding.

And this is where it becomes everything that I love about America: the disgusting yet wonderful waste that is the road trip. Who the hell besides our dumb-fuck nation would enjoy--take pride in, even--driving 18 hours round trip in three days for the chance to ride a bike somewhere else, sleep in someone else's house, and shop at a different grocery store chain? In the words of the Great Kevin Arthur Biggs, "'Tevs yo." (That's short for "whatever, yo.")

I think the perfect symbolism for the Road Trip is the amount of coffee and sugar that is generally consumed while driving.  It creates a very surreal and dangerous contentment mixed with a uncontrollable cracked out feeling of invincibility and relentless energy (which isn't exactly needed within the confines of an automobile, but 'tevs yo.)  This creates the paradoxical state of feeling simultaneously amazing and sick to your stomach with disgust of yourself.  That, my fellow Americans, is the road trip.

But on the flip side, its fun to spend hours with your close friends, starring out the window, talking only every once in awhile--whenever a random thought presents itself and interesting enough to share with the others.  And in a single day you can go from late winter in the Blue Ridge Mountains to the dinosaur-era, malaria-infested, 80-degree forests of central Florida. It's magical, to say the least.

Two days and two bike races later (one wasn't really a race--it was more just cruising alongside other goons, peddling through hub-deep puddles, sand, mud pits, and sometmes even amazingly fun singletrack in the fragmented woods of downtown Gainesville--friggen awesome!!) The other race was more serious and expensive, so we don't want to talk about that.

Then we went home, back to 17 Nebraska, which at some point over the past week was re-Christianed by Ian Knabe as "17 Viertel" with an official sign post and everything. So basically, Mikey owns us. 'Tevs yo.

Florida boys travel upstream for Spring Break '08 and once again, no one knows where Ian is...

Since, well it was supposed to be around 3 pm, but then it was more like 4:30, probably, but then actually wound up being after 6 on Friday that the first installment of the Guys from Flawda came up for Spring Break '08. Originally known only as "The Monosyllables" Dan and Joe are actually two great, personality-full, young men with secret talents ranging from stylish bicycle riding to steller beer-pong abilities to suave Jack Johnson impersonations.  Two days later, another couple of Flawidians came up: Ian "No, Stop! Please but that down!" Knabe and (the future) Dr. Ryan Fisher, Ph.D.  Since then, the house has been full of Mortal Kombat tournaments, rediculously non-sensical conversations, basement hockey, and other random mini-adventures.  

An example of the latter is the dare that Mike imposed on and took up by himself: the eating of 10 Festino's frozen pizzas. Ingles was having a deal--ten pizzas for $10, so Mikey figured he could prove his manhood and thrifty grocery shopping skills by eating 10 in one sitting. Too bad he pussed out after 6 1/2 or something, though. In the words of Brent Brookwalter, "You're so weak you disgust me."

Besides that, the Caravan of Disaster, otherwise know as Joe's Pathfinder has taken the group of hardcores (i.e. the Florida boys plus some random girl from Ohio) has taken Joe, Dan, Ian, Dr. Fisher, Mike and me on some very Pisgahwesome mountain bike rides. The weather has been pseudo-spring/Florida style, so the riding has been exceptionally nice--and this week by far makes up for last week's five days straight of road riding.

To explain myself about that last comment, I just got this bling-bling road bike from C.S.M from Ski Country: "Seven Bills" as the Flawda boys say for this titanium wonder with a darn-good build (or Gruppo, as the snob-ass roadies say).  Ever since first laying eyes on Timmy-from-Flagstaff's Rigor Mootis with the dented top-tube, my ultimate final fantasy four has been to own a Ti bike. Titanium is an obscure element that is found only in bicycles and robots, and its exceptionally great for the former because 1) its uber-lightweight and feels oh-so-good 2) it can be melted down into a wedding ring whenever the time comes, and 3) as Art Shuster says, "You could leave it in the bed of your truck and piss on it for a year and it'd still be rideable." In conclusion, this bike is a dreamboat. But enough of this Ode to My Bike...I was terrified that I might be turning into a roadie, so this week of amazing mountain bike rides in the Pisgah area with the Flawda boys has been reassuringly amazing. 

And tomorrow we're traveling back to their Native Panhandle for SERC #1 and the Tour of Gainesville. I have four goals, of which I'm hoping to fulfill at least three: Punch a gator, podium at the SERC, play shuffle-board with a retiree, and drink mojitos on the beach.  I also want to play kickball and watch Mike eat another 6 1/2 frozen pizzas. 

That's all. Now get back to doing something worthwhile, you loser.

Cheers,

Kylie

man cookies

The past couple days have been quite calm and relaxing at 17 Nebraska. Last night Mike taught me how to make cookies which was quite fun. But when I put the dough on the baking sheets to bake them he didn't tell me how huge my mounds of dough really were, so when I pulled them out of the oven there was one large cookie that Mike and I deemed a "man cookie". Mike actually did the same thing with his cookies 15 minutes later. I guess this means that we are both real men.

I have recently started a new job for a new tree compnay called Above All Tree Service. A catchy name with a catchy slogan. "We trim your trees, not your wallet". It is all about the sales pitch, right? But working outside again all day has been a breath of fresh air for a number of different reasons. It is great to be able to use skills that I have for good and not for evil. For example, today I spent 3 hours in a large oak tree removing it so that it wouldn't pose as a potential roof remover. I smell like sawdust and gasoline, and the ladies love it... well, one REALLY likes it.

This weekend and the following week are going ot be ridiculous cause we have got some really good people coming up to the house. Tons of bike riding to be done. Tons of beer to be drank, and hopefully not too many wrestling matches, but with Ian coming up, who the hell knows?

-Lexy

Palentines Day Recap and Visual Introductions

Palentines Day is a tradition I picked in Tallahassee, where, traditionally, those who are single (and don't feel like wasting money on a random date) spend the evening dinning, dancing, and laughing with your "pals".  Traditionally couples weren't allowed but we decided to make an exception for Lexy and Christine - plus we thought it would be a great chance to try and make them feel awkward and they both brought some good beer.

The menu consisted of: Baquettes, Butternut Squash Bisque, Savory Marinated Tofu, Kale, Long Grain Wild Rice, Texas Style Pork Ribs with a Ginger Sauce, Lemon Vanilla Angle Food Cake with a Raspberry and Blueberry Glaze, Ice Cream, and Wine. (all home made except the wine and ice cream)

Busted!  Teef thought he could hide the wine.

Phil couldn't decide between wine or the high life.

We made Lexy and Christine sit at the head of the table.

Alexis/Alex/Tina and Kylie.

Did you see Tina's hair?  Damn Kylie looks good in that dress!

Desert was served.

Apparently Lint doesn't apply on Palentines day.

Phil and Tina danced among the boxes of records and wowed us with their moves.

D.A. Maximus Wins Primary in a Landslide

With the return of cold nights and mornings the electric blankets that Lexy's dad graciously bought have once again become the favorite item of them house. For a while we had a taste of what people were calling "springy" weather or what I like to call "Florida Winter" weather. Either way it was a nice change from the back to back days of below freezing lows. I can't wait for spring - not just for the warmer weather but for the beauty that it brings. 

Last night Kylie, Megs, and I went to Lowes and bought some seeds to start a garden with. I also bought five differnt varieties of sunflowers, some of which are suppose to reach a height of sixteen feet!  Now when we give people directions to the house we can tell them to look for the giant sunflowers.
I also purchased some smaller, and colored, varieties so that we can have cut flowers for our house and friends.  Plus we always had sunflowers in our garden(s) when I was growing up, so it just seemed like an essential item to purchase.  In addition we picked up several packets of vegetable and herb seed.  So far for herbs we have - dill, mint, tarragon, basil, thyme, and there's already a hedge of rosemary growing next to the carport.  On the veggie side we have - cherrie, roma, and early girl tomatoes, black beauty eggplant, red onion, a mixture of bell peppers, mesclun greens, plus bibb and grand rapids lettuce -  yellow squash, zucchini, some form of (green) pole beens, potatoes and a few others still need to be purchased.

"There's just something about the perfect spiral of a well-tossed football"--Lexy

The past couple of days have been rediculously pleasant and spring-like, so the past few evenings Lexy, Lateef and I tossed either a football, a baseball, the shit, or all three at once as the daylight faded into the smell of Mike's wonderful cooking. And of course the bike riding has been so far off the proverbial hook--yesterday Mike and I rode the Black Mountain trail with some locals goons, and it reminded me of how friggen incredible the riding is in Pisgah. Somewhat worldly for a 21 year old, I've ridden my fair share of epic rides out west--Wasatch Crest Trail, the 401 trail in Crested Butte, crap like that....but nothing, and I mean nothing, compares to the wonder that is Pisgah National Forest. I mean, the mandatory hike-a-bike up rock faces (even if you're an incredible badass, just plain nuts, or Marshall Hance) followed by gnar-gnar descents that drop you through rhodo forests, creek crossings, and the realization that this is the best fucking place ever.

I'm also currently very content with the length of day: the sun rises as I go for my morning run and is setting by the time I'm finishing my day's ride, which means I get to see, twice daily, the amazing sky patterns that result from VOC's, HC's and other air pollutants that hover over the Blue Ridge Mountains and make for stunning views. I mean, crazy pinks over amazing blues--a swath of pastels over the bold blueish-gray outline of the mountains. It's beautiful, but it kinda stinks that the sprawl of West Asheville sorta gets in the way. I wish I were deeper in the woods, but I suppose that would just mean a farther walk to Ingles. So it's a give-and-take, I guess.

And then there was last night: Megs and Mike came up with the idea of having a Hipster party, which would give Mike an excuse to wear tight jeans and Megs and excuse to oggle boys in tight jeans--but this idea exploded into one hell of a house party. An incredible all-star cast of characters showed up and a series of micro-parties formed throughout the house, resulting in a several forums of crazy antics, good conversations, half-assed dance parties, flip-cup, Pat wrenching on bikes (as would be expected), hook-ups, new friendships, two random dogs running amok, people crashing on couches, people crashing on Mike's bed so that he had to sleep on the floor in his own house, and so on...The party ended at about 3 am, and the house was cleaned (except for the sticky-ass disgusting kitchen floor, but whatever...) by 9:30 the next morning, so it was awesome. But of course we didn't take any pictures, and apparently no quotes resulted (as nothing was added to our quote board, sigh) so we really don't have any proof that this ever happened. And now we're sitting here, about as groggy as the grey, rain-filled sky, ears still ringing, contemplating a road ride, appreciating the lack of earnest that is a Sunday afternoon.

The moral of this story, or "post" as blogspot would have it, is that adult life isn't too bad. It's awesome, in fact. And spring is going to make it even better...especially once we get a basketball and start poaching the hoop down the street from us. It's going to be non-stop pick-up sports, and we can have social gatherings outside so that our kitchen floor doesn't get so sticky. I can't wait.

And a certain someone will be here in three weeks, which has created a sort of perma-grin on my face, and the segmentation of my life into "this weekend, then next, which will be tree work, then the next weekend, which is when I go to Cleveland, then that next weekend, when he gets here!!!" Also, race season starts in a month, which is super, and I registered for the GRE's today too, so its time to get serious. Well, more or less.

Poetry Class

I wrote some haikus because I get bored at work. They go like this:

Lexy likes a girl
so he drives to dub-dub-c
and is never home.

You ate all my bread
so go me a six-pack
God fucking dammit!

Lexy's dad David
bought us electric blankets
now we sleep better.

Mike went for a ride
four hours all over, then
crashed in the driveway.

Lateef has a cane
and the adoration of
sorority girls.

Phil is our "Kimmy"
He doesn't live here but he
kinda sorta does.

Our recycling bins
are always overflowing--
we drink too much beer.

Megs, shut up, don't go
home yet, its only eight and
too early for bed.

Bikes bikes bikes bikes bikes
bikes bikes bikes bikes bikes bikes bikes
bikes bikes bikes bikes bikes.

Kylie thinks of Dan
and Lexy thinks of Christine
while Phil and Mike spoon.

Ahh, every morning
New York Times, eight cups coffee
all to myself. Nice.

Alex is Tina
also known as Alexis
she also lives here.

Alex is Tina
also know as Alexis
she wears micro clothes.
--(coutesty of Phil)

In the living room
A beer in my hand, I think
Dang, this ain't too bad.
--(also courtesy of Phil)

Sqeezing into pants
Holding my breath I zip up
on the town we go!
--(also courtesy of Phil, again)

The last two is in reference to Phil and Mike spending the evening trying on Tina and Kylie's jeans in preparation for this weekend's Hipster party. Which reminds me of one of my favorite quotes ever, from one of the best books ever:
"I'm so unhip its a wonder my bum stays on."
Last weekend the Floriduh kids came up for the Icycle. It was awesome. You should have been there.

Touchy-Feely: Crawl Space

Today was a day of relatively pleasant weather (which itself followed a night of temperatures in the teens and the decision to turn the heat down to 54 less our gas bill get to be too big...which is a very uncomfortable combination, even with a stack of 6 blankets on top of you.)  I rode for 2 1/2 hours, then found out I was going to be late to meet Lexy for a bid on a tree/landscaping job--so I had to sprint (on my bicycle) across town during rush hour, which is really good training, I think, but it makes me realize how fucking stupid drivers are--though it does reconfirm how much more convenient and awesome it is to be on a bike on busy, gross roads. Lexy and I spent the last few moments of daylight checking out this landscaping job, which will bring in necessary money for what should go toward gas bills, but will probably wind up being spent on bike parts, beer, ginger snap cookies from Amazing Savings, DVD's from Orbit, or a dozen roses for our respective sweethearts.  Ah well. Such is being a dumb kid.

A group of current Wilson kids and fellow Wilson graduates came over tonight, which was awesome. I was hoping to have some time to have some heart-to-hearts with my bff's Chelsea, Christine, Meredith, and Megs (the original crew of awesomeness, dating all the way back to '04.) But I suppose we'll have to try again with a ladies' night out to Old Europe (which I personally hate because fancy dessert is for wienies and their coffee is so fucking expensive) or the French Bar, or somewhere else where Ladies' Night seems appropriate. Because here at home we get distracted by the other people that live here, none of whom are girls.  But that's ok, too.  

Mike cooked another incredible meal, as he does, and we laughed our asses off and had a good ol' time. And Tina/Alexis/Alex finally brought over Chan the Superstar, after accusations that she was embarrassed of the family and would never bring him over.  He fit right in, and we think he should come back more often. But of course they left right after dinner too, so maybe she is really embarrassed by the family. Dang.

The eight of us, or however many it was at that point, began playing Apples to Apples, which is a great game that I personally suck at, which sort of epitomizes my sense of humor, I think:  So what if it doesn't really make sense--or maybe it makes too much sense...  For example: the word "machine gun" should win hands down, no matter what the adjective is because machine guns are amazing, and hilarious and remind me of childhood, which--if I remember correctly--was awesome. Same with Fire Storm. These words are winners. But no one else thinks so, so I never get green cards. But that's ok. I'm over it. 

And then Charlie, Matthew, and Icky showed up--a great surprise, as the former two especially tend not to hang out much, despite them being cool as hell and living right down the street.  A group this size shouldn't be playing apples to apples in a living room, so things were moved to the basement, and more basement-oriented games started taking place, like darts (half-assed) and flip-cup (short-lived, but great nonetheless.)

Good friendly conversations continued throughout the evening, and it was generally a very good night. Then everyone went home kinda early (everyone being Wilson kids, and Mike having to get up at 5 for a cyclocross race...this is what would be expected.)  So I played some more Avett Brothers, cleaned the house, then started writing this little thing.  Our recycling bin is over-flowing, which annoys me right now, but tomorrow is supposed to be warmish, so I'm excited. I love weekends because I wake up whenever the heck I want, then I have all the time I need to read the entire New York Times (unlike just select articles like how it is during the work week), and I can drink 7 cups of coffee then run for an hour and half and feel like a million bucks because I'm all jacked up on stimulants, then I can ride all afternoon until it gets dark.  I love it. Hell yeah weekends. Too bad Mike's always gone. He's my sunshine. Lexy and Lateef are my Rainbow and Flower Petal, though, respectively.  

And Phil is currently passed out on our couch, so I'm going to go put a blanket over him and get to bed myself. Maybe I'll draw some doodles of kids on BMX bikes, because that's kind of in my head right now. Then sleep.

 Cheers,

Kylie

"Live pimp, that's my motto" - Teef

saturday night

it is almost one in the morning and things are dwindling down here in our neck of the woods. Phil just left after watching a wee bit of a biking video with me while the Krauss was typing away on what I can only guess is Facebook.... I wonder whom she is typing to... the house feels empty without our fourth member here... hopefully he is out having fun and kicking ass on a bicycle in some far distant land...
beer tastes too good right now and no one is here to enjoy the flavor with cause we all have got things to do tommorow (like ride bikes and cut down trees)...
there aint really nothing to report... which is good and bad news.
-Lexy

The Homestead: An Introduction

Although considered nerdy by some, Blogs are an important medium through which to display news, opinions, and random bits of day-to-day adventures. Hence this stupid little website: a place where the four residents of 17 Nebraska can write about the happenings within, outside of, and in the general area surrounding the homestead. That, and perhaps serve as a place where passive-aggressive rants will occur and personal secrets will be exposed. Uh-oh.

The cast consists of:
Mike, Lexy, Kylie, and Lateef -- four names that, if you will notice, form a nice sequential list of letters in the middle of the alphabet: K, L, and M. This goes to show that this group was meant to be together. That's all.

Thus far, several dinner parties, some more traditional 20-somethings-style parties (i.e. beer, loud music, and babes), and even a few quiet evenings have taken place, serving to break in this little house. Last night for instance, several friends from the somewhat nearby Warren Wilson College stopped by to make Southern homestyle cooking, followed by a desperate attempt to learn the Soulja Boy dance, and Lexy and Kylie cleaning up afterwards, saying to eachother that tomorrow night is going to be sad because Mike will be out of town for a race, again. Their separation anxiety was acutely noticed just then, not to mention the tightness (or perhaps neediness? We hope not...) that has already formed amongst the crew.

Currently, the Kimmy Gibler of the house, Phil, is over, while Kylie and Lexy are singing some Avett Brother lyrics to eachother, having had these songs stuck in their heads for the past week. They're just so f-ing good, they'll have you know. That and the two are hopeless romantics at heart, each thinking of their respective dreamboats of the moment as they croon out sappy-ass love songs with a bluegrass tinge.

Anyway, this particular day was spent, as per usual, with the riding of bikes by half the house members. The local riding paradise was covered with either a snow/ice or mud/water mix, depending on what side of the mountain that section of trail was on--which Kylie and Phil enjoyed thoroughly amongst the company of a scattering of kick-ass 50 year olds whose riding abilities demand respect, whose bikes display their access to steady, substantial incomes (unlike the two recent college grads), and whose sense of humor resembles any boy under the age of 18...creating an enjoyable presence and a tendancy toward epic rides.

While the three (Lexy, Kylie, and Phil) sit around drinking their 47th cup of hot chocolate and wash it down with a slice or three of Lexy's homemade bread, they mourn the absence of Mike for this weekend, wonder where the heck Lateef went, and wait to figure out the hell they should get into this evening. Maybe we'll tell you what happened later.