Recovering from Food Poisoning

This week has been long and I'm finally feeling better after last weekend. Ricky and I ate out at Pizza Hut, of all places, and shortly thereafter, I started to phase out--Rico didn't have any of the original crust supreme--just pepperoni. Saturday I was very ill, and was only able to get up and out of bed such that Ricky could drive me to the Urgent Care.

Instead of getting an IV to get me some fluids, the doc gave me an anti-nausea pill, and soon I was coming back to to life--dang, where had I been for what seemed like days?

Recovery was slow, and then the weather here in Tucson turned windy and the air dusty. Wednesday I made it the the pool and swam laps for my lunch hour--that has been the only nice day this week. The sun was hot, the sky was beautiful blue.

Some young women appeared to swim laps as well. They were all very svelte, glowing bronzed tan, and wore tiny bikinis. The three of them were all quite strikingly beautiful--but as I was hauling my fat self out of the pool, they seemed to try real hard to make me feel invisible. I wasn't staring or being rude or anything--it was just an uneasy feeling. They were super model stock and I would say that most humans don't have this kind of god-like beauty.

I went to ride my old campus bike back to the San feeling like some kind of big hairy ape.

So I've got off what I was wanting to write about, its just that when I see and meet young men and women these days (even while riding my bike and meeting other cyclists) they seem so smug and ill-mannered. I used to think that bad manners, or lack of manners, meant a person was not raised right--had a bad up-bringing. Now I believe its a matter of self confidence.

The Mighty Trek is now in the good hands of Pima Street Bikes. I'll have a new drive train by next week, and Phil and Judy will address the other issues the bike presented when I dropped it by the shop today.

Driving the car has been painful for me, Gentle Readers of This Blog. So much congestion, everyone is texting, or on the cell. I had to crawl behind a woman in a beat-to-crap mommy van, that was talking on her cell phone, while smoking a cigarette--and she had on those tubes on her face which lead to an oxygen tank. I saw a chance to get around her, and I did, rather quickly and swiftly, and sped up the left-hand lane that she had been blocking all of us for miles--the fat piece of shit gave me a fat finger as I zipped away.

I seemed to have evolved from a big hairy ape riding a beater bike, to a impatient up-tight motorist rippin' down the road to be first at the next red light...

More biking and photos this weekend--I promise mes amis!

Cheers! Bruce