A Lizard In The Flowers

 I have one friend in particular Up North.  You know, anyone who I have to drive, say, more than an hour to be with is Up North.

In this case, she's way Up North.  Well above the Freeze Line in Boca Raton.  Up above the Mason Dixon Line.  In New Jersey.

When I tell her that one of my first memories of living in South Florida was when a Cuban Anole ran to hide.  It ran up my pant leg and ended up nestled in my shorts.  I had to kick my shoes off and "Drop Trou" right there to get the little critter out.  Yes, it was fine, my backyard is completely secluded and secure, I did not scare the horses or the neighbor.

No, it didn't bite.  And no, it survived the trip.  I let it loose in the flowers of the Bougainvillea right next to the pool.  

They're all over the place.  I hardly notice them any longer.  

I'm not fanatic about it, but I have been known to avoid stepping on one because they are harmless and have their own lizardly life to live.  For the most part, they are even beneficial to our environment eating insects that try to eat, well, me.

Me, or you, or that Buick.  Some of these insects here look like they can carry off a  Truck.  

 I do tend to plant things that are beneficial to the Monarch Butterflies here.  That creates plenty of cover for the other creatures that share my yard with me.  In fact, we have so many Monarchs here at any given time that it is possible to be a "Disney Princess" or "Disney Prince" just by walking into my yard.  More than once I have been told to stand still as there is a butterfly that has landed on my shoulder.

We were going to a garden center.  I like these places because they give me ideas.  I am constantly propagating plants here from cuttings, and we have needed to put some into the ground for quite a while.  If anything I am being slowed down because my own normal tendency would be to turn the property into a forest.  

I am working on building a Hibiscus Hedge under a window and we need some ground cover.  This is the issue.  In Florida, we have termites.  You either have them in your house now, or will have them.  It's a matter of time.  In fact I have come into the house and spotted one climbing my shirt on more than one occasion.  

You don't want wood based mulch against the house.  If so you are inviting them to dine on your biggest investment.  We went there looking for some stones and some ideas.  The garden already has the plants started and the landscape cloth in place, but mulch in a place where you have watering happen through irrigation is inviting problems.

So Stones.  Against the house.  Another one of those adjustments you make when you get here, you realize the way you were doing things Up North before you migrated here, you former Snowbird, do not work in the Tropics Adjacent Florida Sun.  

You had no idea there were more than one type, you started looking into it and your mind fogged up.  You don't want anything dark, because Dark Brown, Black Polished, and Charcoal would retain heat.  You are already running air conditioning 11 months of the year, and what passes for our "Winter" is about two weeks long.

If you ever want to see someone miserable, find a South Floridian where the high will be in (gasp!) the upper 60s like it was here in February.

We know!  We know who are tourists here because in February you are in Shorts and a T Shirt and don't have enough sense to cover up because damnit 65 is cold!

Snowbirds without a lick of sense... I'll tell you.  And get off my lawn!

When it gets that cold  the Iguanas can fall from the trees.  You haven't lived until you find a cold temperature stunned Iguana wake up in your trash can because that dark blue plastic box warms up fast and the creatures are cold blooded and their muscles don't work below 45.  

Don't put them in the trash can, you will only have to let them back out and that creates other problems.

But them and the snowbirds are best left to their own devices.  The other lizards?  They tend to be harmless as long as they aren't elected to office and head to the state capitol.

Those are the most toxic lizards of all.

Rack, After a workout I am not really inclined to pay a cheese tax.

I train, hard.

My doctor is amazed at what I do "for entertainment" on the trails.  I suppose that I could "dial it back" and still get enough exercise.

Or not.

I have been training hard since I was a teenager, and I am not about to stop now.

By that I mean I have been cycling a marathon three times a week, steadily, for more than a year.  

I keep records.  On a spreadsheet.  Because, of course I would.  It's my IT training.

The spreadsheet has areas for all sorts of information including Weight, BMI, conditions, Distances in two sports, and so forth.  

Start out slow and add columns when you need them.  After all, Libre Office wants you to use their software and I would prefer do as they say.

It would be "untowards" if I didn't.

But after training, hard, for just more than two hours, and coming home, I want to shower and then lunch.

We have a routine.  I get my odds and ends inside the house, then the bike, then I can take Rack the McNab SuperDog(TM) out back.  

Lately he has decided that I am too slow and he lets himself out.  The front door.  And goes next door and waters their flower box for them.  Leg in the air, wave it round like you just don't care.

I am able to unstrap the bike from the Jeep in that time and typically get it inside the house while Rack is "visiting".  The block is quiet in the pre-lunch hour so I don't have to worry.

But today, wet nose was insistent.  This isn't new.

If my feet hit the floor, my 14 year old dog wants outside.  If I am in the kitchen, he follows me in.

Today was a cheese pizza with toasted Shallots on top.  It makes for a fragrant lunch, sweet and savory at the same time.  Trust me on this one, Shallots on top of a Pizza are an interesting treat.

Since I am constantly training, I am on a training diet.  I may have "Cheat Days" here and there, I am too good of a baker not to.  I do know exactly what goes into these personal pizzas so that I am not overdoing calories and so that I hit the Protein count that my Macros demand.  30g per meal.

While I am slicing cheeses to go on top of the prefab crust, AKA a Pita, I am being stared down.  Of course I am, because I am in the kitchen.  

The thing is that with an Old Dog, you really don't want to push a lot of protein into them.  They may love cheese, and this one is a good low moisture Mozzarella, but since it is relatively high in protein, it is difficult for a dog to process with Old Kidneys.

He is on a training diet too, or rather one I developed with the Vet so that he may last a couple more years.  He's got a long list of Old Boy issues, and about 7 different medicines to support all of that.

It used to be that I could say "Not For Dogs" and he'd hear it.  Then he'd slink away and let me finish the task at hand.  Now, he is either deaf or selectively deaf and I don't trust that he will hear that.  

The solution is to shave a thin piece of cheese and let him have just that morsel while I am preparing my own lunch.

It usually does the trick.

Usually.  

I am his job.  He watches for me.  He watches me.  He is my shadow.  He is at my right elbow now, and most of the day when I am home and settled in.

I hear the ring on the oven, and bring the pizza out to the coffee table.  It has a hinge on the top so that it can be raised just enough that Rack can't get his muzzle onto the table.  I am safe because if I walked off, that pizza would vanish.

Good stuff because the sauce is a 1970s reverse engineered Pizza Sauce.  As good as the best pizza parlor would have had anywhere.  None of that canned or jarred garbage for us!

After finishing the lunch, I have to remember to block off the front door.  There is a floor to ceiling (nearly) window in the door.  Hurricane Impact Glass.  It gives me a great view to the street and people coming and going.  

The problem there is that Mr Cheese Hound sees it too.  He's decided that anyone walking or driving down my block deserves commentary.  Loud Commentary.  

I have a fabric gate that I made about 25 years ago that I place in front of the lower half of the window so that Rack can't see out.  If he did any delivery truck would be yelled at, and if the driver dared to come up the driveway, hilarity would ensue.

Since everyone has deliveries these days from multiple web sites and multiple shipping companies, it means that we are greeted with announcements in Dog.

"Rack you don't have to do that.  Go in your corner."

I'm ignored

"Rack Stop."

I'm ignored with a fusillade of barking.

"Rack STOP!"

He is greeted with a flying hedgehog soft plush.  My aim is purposely rubbish.  It never hits him but comes close enough to break his concentration.  It sometimes comes close enough to break some odds and ends on the tables.

I have to stop tossing the Hedgehog.  The last time it bounced off the Hurricane Window and fell behind the TV Coffin.

The TV Coffin is a large dark cabinet that reminds me of my credenza from my office in the working days.  It has an elevator that never works right because power here is so dirty here and full of power pops.  It confuses the electronics.

"RACK STOP!"  Hedgehog flies again.  Rack scrambles out of the room.  Hedgehog gets wedged under the couch.

I give up, 

At least I am able to have the rest of that glass of Iced Tea.

"No Rack, not for dogs".

No more cheese on the plate anyway.  Since the carbo crash hour is happening.  I'm resting after burning 2000 calories going round in big circles around the gas bag in the barn in the park.

But that delivered package?  A big bag of Root Beer Barrels.  

"No, Rack, that's not for dogs.  Here, sniff."

Annoying furry little idiot and I wouldn't have it any other way.

April Fools Day - Or Amateur Day. You Decide.

I mean really.

This is a day where everyone thinks up little jokes to play on friends.  They usually fall flat and someone gets their feelings hurt.

I usually do a lot of jokes myself.  In fact I drop a lot of what can be called "Dad Jokes" on the weekend.  All could be told in a high school class, most in an elementary school with some explanation I am sure. 

Hey! what can I say.   I do have a little story though.

I used to work with someone, Sam.  It was the nick he went by so I guess no real names were used.  Nice enough guy but he was an intense one.

Sam had a rapport with the five Ukrainian programmers we had on staff.  The ladies were all excellent and some were struggling with English.  

One, Inna, came to me completely frustrated with her English.  Flailing her hands around I waited for her to calm down.  Grasping those now still hands, I merely told her "Inna, No matter what, I will help you".  

She said that Sam was learning Russian Language obscenities and swearing all over the office.  She was deeply uncomfortable with it.  When I asked what he was saying, she blushed and insisted that she could not say it because it was so bad.

I said "Inna, I have an idea".  

"Teach me a word.  Something sounding rude in English but it should be very common or 'nice' for all audiences."  

I then explained that I will use this word at him, publicly and really get him all worked up, but she had to explain to the other ladies what is happening and since the one who is teaching him the rude words is out of the office for two weeks, we were going to play a prank on him.

I think I made a friend and an ally then with the plan.

For the next two weeks I was calling old Sammy a "Tsviatok".  That is what I remember the transliteration to be.  It means "Flower", and if spat out by an American, it sounded really rude.

The whole office did not know what was going on and any time Sammy started up, I would sound off "What is that little Tsviatok getting into now?!".

Everyone was aware that something was up.  

When asked, I would simply say "I like you too much to tell you, let's just keep it a secret."  That usually did enough to quiet the flames.

Eventually "Management" got involved.  I was called into a Closed Door Meeting.  I have caused Closed Door Meetings many times myself, I had a privileged place in the organization and was treated as Someone Who Will Be Promoted As Soon As We Can.

My direct managers asked me point blank and said this is becoming a problem.

When I told them the story and that it meant "Flower" the laugh was loud enough to be heard outside the closed doors.

The next day, I was in front of both managers, their boss, and Sammy.  Sammy said I know what that means!

I said "Sammy stop swearing, especially in front of the bosses!".

"It isn't a swear, it means Flower!" said Sammy.

I simply repeated what I said to the bosses in that closed door meeting.  I liked Sammy but I could see that he was really embarrassed at what happened and that most of the office was in on the joke by that point.  

It turned out that the person who he was most friendly in the five Ukrainian ladies, Slava, had clued him in that morning what was going on.  

So the trap got sprung and everyone knew what was up.

Remember though, keep it light.  Someone may be uncomfortable with your little prank.

I know Sammy was.

Do I Wait For Bike Parts Or Do I Tear It Down Yet Again? Both. A Sarcastic Look At Bike Repair.

I'm learning.  Some of the tech in my bicycle are truly old school for me.  I am used to a certain way of rebuilding a wheel bearing - you don't.  You clean the thing and when it gets noisy or slow, you pop the thing out and pop in a new one.

That is how it is done on an inline skate.  Bearings are a known quantity, and you can get them for about $1 a piece or less in bulk these days.  While you get what you pay for, the little steel donuts snap into the plastic wheel easily.

A bicycle wheel hub bearing, in my case, is a Cup And Ball affair.  You have to have specialized tools to get at the bearing because the whole thing is held in place by a washer against the balls.  A nut that is tightened against a second nut will brace it all together.

There are other variations on this theme that are more like my inline skates, and if these wheels did use those "608RS" bearings, I would know how to manage it.

I was warned to make sure that the wheel had an axle that was straight by rolling across a flat surface and make sure that I knew how far down the threads the two nuts were on the axle.  

Luckily I did have the presence of mind to count the number of turns to remove the one side.  

The whole two nut method seems a bit janky to me.  First a washer is threaded on the axle.  Then the first nut is spun onto the threads on the axle to a specific depth (hence the measurements in what had to be millimeters).  A second nut is spun on the axle until it makes contact to the first one.  The affair will work but you have to tighten the second nut with one wrench while the first one is held in place with a "Cup Wrench".  That wrench is a thinner one, in my case it was a 15 MM wrench from pressed steel.

Now to remove all of this, you have to use that Cup Wrench to hold the first nut and loosen the second (outer) nut.  This is all done with the wheel off of the bike preferably on a workbench and not in my kitchen sink.  Like I did.  

Because once you remove that first pair, your axle will drop into the sink and the old balls will disappear down the drains.  Luckily I was smart enough to line the sink with parchment paper and place a screen in the drain to catch the errant bearings.

Now that you lost one or two of the balls, or more, you are swearing at the Gods of the Sport that you hate this process and you understand why your local trusted Bike Shop charges you a $35 "Inspection charge". 

Get that paper towel you have over in the corner by the toaster oven, since you did decide that you didn't want to clear off the workbench when you used it to rebuild the sprinkler heads back in 2019, and are using the kitchen sink.

We did warn you not to do that didn't we?  Oh well, make the best of it just don't let anyone know you are using up the parchment paper.  If you do, you will have to get more if you ever want any more home baked goods.

While you are at it make sure you have your rubber gloves on.  The ones that you had during Lockdown from a couple years back will work if they haven't melted into a blue gummy mess.

Wipe out all the old balls from the cup.  Squirt the grease into the cup when it is cleaned with new lithium grease.  No, not the same ones you used in 2009 to grease the jalousie windows on the house, that stuff is dried out or spoiled.  Go to the auto parts store and get the new tube.  It's under $20 and will last forever.  Look for the NGLI #2 rating.

Don't put too much of the stuff on because you really only need enough to line the cup and hold the new balls in place.  Oh right, you did get new balls didn't you?  You didn't? Too bad.  Go online, you will probably want 1/4 inch balls to go in the wheel but luckily all this stuff is cheap.  If you can't wait, go to the nearest big Bike Shop and beg for at least 20 bearings per wheel.

Now that your bike is unusable because you don't have all the crap you need to put it back together, go have a beer and wait for the delivery truck.  Those Sports Gods?  They are really ticking you off by now.

Ok, so days later the truck arrives with your balls.  All 200 of them for cheap.  You will need about 9 of them per side.  The ones that fell down your sink trap are not needed except since you're replacing the darn things you need to count all that stuff out.

Your axle has the two nuts in place retaining the washer.  Squirt a moderate amount of grease into the cup.  Place the 9 (or so) balls into the grease.  Swear at the Sport Gods since you dropped one or more into an inaccessible place in the wheel or down the drain.  You didn't clean off your workbench again, and you are annoyed because you are running low on parchment paper.  Use an old shopping bag for now.

You do need a lot of help don't you?

Once you get the balls in place, and there are a lot of them, gingerly thread that axle through to the opposite side keeping the balls from falling down the sink or into your wheel hub.  Pull the axle through to make contact with the balls and you can safely flip the wheel to begin the process on the other side.  At this point I set the bike on the paper on the counter to hold the balls in the wheel.  It made it easier to do the second side.

Repeat your work squirting the lithium grease in the cup, and setting the new bearings in place.  Once all that is done, you can put the washer down the axle and then the two nuts.

You remember going nuts, right?  Spin the first one against the washer but not too tight because you will bind your wheel up.  If it is too loose it will rattle against the axle and you will not have a smooth ride - or worse.  Catastrophic failure of a wheel hub will give you a bad time.  Just ask my Orthopedic Surgeon.  He said my shoulders paid for his new BMW.

After all this is done you put the second nut on that side.  Using the famed Cup wrench, hold the first nut in place, then tighten the second nut in to hold the first one.  

Mind you, all of this has to be done to the same measurements you had before.  You wrote all this information down as you were working on it right?

I didn't think so.  

Now you are considering why you ride a bike in your adulthood in the first place, have grease all over your good T-Shirt and pants, and are swearing that the Sport Gods are really just out to get you.

But if you have done all this work correctly, the axle will not be too tight, it will not rattle when moved up and down or in and out, and you can spin the whole wheel like a gyroscope.

Now that you have done all of this, you have to realize I was talking about the front wheel.  The back one?  Let me tell you, Friend, you need a specialized tool to take the gearset off the back wheel.  You use a crescent wrench with a breaker bar and a hammer to loosen the thing as well as that tool.

Just button the stuff up and take it to the bike shop if you aren't feeling confident. 

In my case I am still waiting for the delivery truck.  There is a new gearset coming since the first one was a "Freehub" and not a "Freewheel" like I need.

Oh?  You are asking what is the difference?  Well that is the $14 question since I got the wrong type for the bike I have.

Freewheel has a ratchet on the inside of the gearset.  If you spin it it will make that ticking sound but it will not come off the gearset once you remove that from the bike.  Or, at least it didn't when I tried.  I did not have the best luck with this.

Freehub has the ratchet assembly on the hub of the wheel.  Your gearset will not have any moving parts.

So have I convinced you not to do this work?  I will say that after all is said and done, my parts are arriving tomorrow after my three time a week marathon on the bike.  I'll be installing it this weekend while my "Support Team" is in Sarasota Florida.  Lucky Them.

You have a decision to make.  It really isn't as bad as it sounds, and I am just a little bit cynical about it all.  I am very picky about having wheels that will swing like a pendulum when they are hanging on a bike rack.  A very light touch and they should spin freely like that.  Any noises mean it is energy that you are putting into the sport that is going to waste.

So yes, I'm a bit of a perfectionist.  Why not?  

If you will excuse me, I have a workout to squeeze in before the trials of the day begin.  Do what you have to to get a good workout on the trails, no matter your sport.

Honeybells in the Driveway. A Very Florida Way To Have An Orange

Once upon a time, I was a Snowbird.  

Yes, I am sorry, one of those people.  I would fly to Florida and bask in the sun for a few weeks.  Then I would fly back and have stories to tell about a vacation.

I did that for years before I moved here.  I never really did like the cold weather.  Cold Weather went from being something that happened, to something that I dreaded.  The day I left Pennsylvania, April 11 2006, there was still snow on the ground.  A late snow for Philadelphia, but still snow.

I hope never to live in a place with snow on the ground.

My preferred way of getting there was driving the car.  It gave me freedom of motion, and freedom from planning.

Plus flying meant airports, airports and the whole ritual of getting in the air is about as close to hell on earth as I can conceive of.  Even being in rush hour traffic is preferable.

It also allowed me to stop and look around.  After all, the drive for me was a two day affair.  I'm good with long drives, but you do have to get out from time to time.

Stopping midway down the coast one time I discovered a distinctly Florida fruit.  Honeybells.  Specifically Honeybell Oranges.  They were similar to a Tangelo, but those were nowhere near as sweet.  A leathery skin, very moist, very sweet.  Candy like, the name Honeybell fit well.  

The locals turned me onto the things.  They would speak in loving terms about these with pride.  Good Years they were everywhere.  There was a farmer's market on the way that I would always stop at and get a big bag of them.  Both directions actually, one for while I was in Florida, one for home.  

My family and friends got wind of them and insisted on my getting them some when I could.

One of the first things I did when I moved here, and into my house, was to find a Honeybell tree and plant it in a bad spot near the car port.  It's too hot there, too dry, and the tree struggled to put any fruit out, usually giving up at about 3 oranges.

A couple years back, news came out that Florida Citrus had Canker.  I didn't know it, but that was the end of finding these fruit widely.  My own tree did not have the canker, as that picture is about as perfect an Orange as I could find at any point.

But the days of wedging a heavy half bushel bag on each side of the Jeep's wheel well was done.  I wasn't driving, and the fruit just wasn't available.

This year's three little oranges was about as much as I could find.  I have had two of three and they were wonderful.  Since Citrus does not ripen off the trees, as my Mangoes do, I am allowing the last one a little more time.

My mistreated tree was doing me well.  I picked the first, and walked to the driveway.  Peeling the leathery skin and setting bits on the bumper of the Jeep, I was able to taste that same wonderful taste from days gone by.

They just are not available, you just won't be able to have one unless you know someone with a tree.  When canker swept Florida, "They" - the state or the USDA or both, paid the owners to cut down their trees.  Mine was planted after the canker.  

There is just one orange left.  I'll have it sitting on the bumper of the Jeep, leaving a sloppy puddle of juice on the cement behind the car.  Or maybe, better, indoors on a plate.  That way I can catch that sweet nectar.

They really are that good.  Too bad you will probably never have one.
You see, I used to have a place I could go.  I knew a guy who could get me "B" fruit.  Oh it ate well but was not "Gift" quality.

But no longer.  That is quite the shame.  A bit of old Florida sweetness gone by the wayside.

Let me tell you, one year, I made the trip on a big old motorcycle.  Honda Goldwing Interstate.  When you get to middle of the coast, say Indian River county, and the trees were in bloom, your ride would be perfumed by millions of Orange Blossoms.  Having a big bag of oranges strapped to the back of that bike added some weight but the pay off of the snack on the road was worth it.

After 8100 miles on my bike, I have worn the thing out. Information to rebuild the bearings.

Get a bike they said.

Ok, well I did.  I think "They" said for me to get a bike because they knew that I never do things half way.  

It's also possible after breaking my clavicles, both, and carrying titanium with me to my last breath, that "They" were trying to save my hide.

As best as I can figure, I have put 8100 miles on that bike.  Going around in big lazy circles.

I tell myself that I am an intermediate cyclist.  Elite inline skater, but intermediate cyclist.  My "Base Workout" is a marathon.  Literally I watch the cycle computer and make sure that it is at least 26.2 miles or 42 km per workout.  Humble Brag aside, it's just that I'm trying to keep myself fit.  

Resting heart rate in the low 50s, fit.

I have come to the conclusion that I have, indeed, worn out the bike.  I have video proof.

On the handlebars of the bike I have a mount for what I call a Trail Camera.  It is a little water proof box that records what is going on for later viewing.  It tends to do strange things to the sound like muffle the microphone and transmit road noises to the recordings.

That's the thing that clued me in.  I wanted to watch the video from the other day.  It had the Goodyear Blimp in a shot and I thought it might be amusing to see.  It wasn't all that exciting, I have seen the airship many times and it was only up in one corner of the video.  Not worth sharing.

But as I was riding I noticed that there were some strange noises.  The sides of the tires were rubbing against the frame of the bicycle.  Why would that happen?  If you are "under power" and your back wheel was rubbing during acceleration it means the wheel is being moved to the left.  Chain drive on the right.  How does that happen?  The bearings in the rear wheel were worn.

I got up and pushed the wheel to the left and was able to get it to go all the way to the frame.

Not. Good. At. All.

Listening further to the video I heard the bearings.  Literally heard the bearings.  From what I can tell both wheels and the crankshaft need new bearings.  Crankshaft is where you have the pedals.

I'm a big guy, powerful on the bike.  I average 14 MPH plus for the first hour.  I have ridden the mountain bike faster than 22 MPH up hill.  I know many people have ridden faster, this is my statistic.  I ride as an endurance sport.  Get out and listen to a 2 hour DJ set and still have to find more music on the phone.

That sort of thing.

I started reviewing videos online for how to solve this thing.  I came to the conclusion that I could do the repair, or I could take it to the shop.  Taking it to the shop is about as much as I could find a middle of the road mountain bike - about $300 to $350.  New wheelset, new bearings, brake discs, crankshaft bearings, labor, diagnosis charge, new chain...

Or I could buy the parts online.  I did that.  I enjoy repairing mechanical things.  I drive a 24 year old Jeep Wrangler so I could do that.  

The parts have cost me about $30.  I could have tossed cash at a friend who has Amazon Prime and have the parts here "yesterday", but that is not my style.  It wasn't an emergency.

The parts are on the slow boat from China.  I know that they have been accepted through  customs and are on their way here.  I purposely bought too many bearings so as to make absolutely certain I could fix and or upgrade the bike.

Loose bearings for the Cup and Ball bearings.  Caged Ball Bearings for a second "drop in" try at the wheels.  6000 type bearings if none of that worked.  

I am loaded for bear.

When everything gets here, I will see how far I can go.  I will need a specialized tool to remove the gear set on the back wheel.  I did lean on someone to get them here faster.  He has Prime.  It will be here today or tomorrow.

Replace everything else and see where I am.

Once this is all said and done, I will basically have a new bike.  This one fits me.  I've used it for 4 years and it is comfortable now that I have set everything to my liking.

Going around in those circles, I have noticed that my speed has dropped on that same first hour to 12.5 MPH from my 14 to 14.5 MPH.  That is the bearings being worn out.  At least that is what I tell myself.  

In the meanwhile, I have to watch these shipping sites.  Shopper's OCD.  Wait an hour and refresh the browser.  

All my parts are in Miami now and out for delivery.

I could spend the ridiculous charge per year for Amazon Prime, as well as buy the parts there but Amazon is a middleman.  I can't really afford having middlemen putting their hand in my pockets looking for loose change.  

So, I will wait.  Amazon makes me uncomfortable anyway and if you can find the vendor outside of that site, you may be able to find them cheaper.

In the interim, I'm going to do some more research.  The loose bearings for the Cup and Ball bearings are sized differently for the rear wheel than the front.  I just want to confirm what they are.

• 3.969 mm (5/32″) – steerer (fork) bearings and many pedals.
• 4.762 mm (3/16″) – front wheel hubs (2 times 10 balls – i.e. 10 balls at each side most often – this includes all the Shimano dynamo hubs, except models DH-UR705, and DH-UR700).
• 6.35 mm (1/4″) – rear wheel hubs (usually 2 times 9 balls) and cup and cone bottom brackets (2 times 11).
• 5.556 mm (7/32″) Campagnolo Record front hubs and some exotic hubs of other manufacturers (2 times 9 balls).
• 2.381 mm (3/32″) – most Shimano pedals bearing balls.

Info courtesy of https://bike.bikegremlin.com/2255/standard-bicycle-bearing-ball-sizes/


According to a different page on that site, they say old school white lithium grease is good for lubing up the new bearings.  I am fairly certain I have all of that, lube and ball bearings.  I did over-buy.  On top of it all I did get a few things for the house and someone's birthday.  I needed to make the minimum purchase.

So "F5" the browser and it will probable get here when I drop off mid afternoon after the Carbo Crash.  I will allow that since I am up at 5AM and the dog will let me know when they are on the property.

Won't you Rack?  Good Boy, now stop barking!  I know.  They're here and bringing me stuff.  And a New Duck for the Jeep too!

Rack, Two Years Later, Time Is Getting Shorter.

 So far so normal but appearances can be deceiving.

I'm in the house, it's quiet.  The internet radio is refusing to connect to a stream, so I will try again.  I hear an overhead airplane and the steady ticking of the clocks.

Also over that way on the doormat is Rack, the McNab SuperDog(TM).  Lick, Lick, Lick, Lick.

He's usually right at my elbow keeping an eye on me.

We have been on the Bonus Years for two years now.  Rack had a cancerous spot removed from his Anal Gland.  Go ahead, I have giggled at the term Anal Gland before myself.  

A little absurd, but I suppose those get into trouble as well.

We had that removed and were warned that he may last 3 months or he may last a few more.

It has been two years that we have been blessed.

When I call him the SuperDog(TM) I may be onto something.  14 years old and still with the energy of a much younger dog.  The vet is surprised.  She does not know how he could be putting on weight with resurgent cancer at "his age".

She doesn't know how stubborn I am.  The extra weight will help him survive at any rate.  If your dog is having problems putting on weight, a tablespoon of potato powder per meal will help if it is salt free.

He's now got cancerous lesions on his liver and his lymph nodes.  Gall bladder is showing abnormalities.  

I am being a little inexact but someone here is chopping onions and I can't really see what I am saying.

I have had the privilege of having him in our lives for 13 of those 14 years.  I'd do it over in a heartbeat.  At least his heart and lungs are strong, they did mention that.

I suspect the 3 to 6 miles of walking per day help.  I have an athletic life, so he will too by default.  At least I do when I don't have this blasted head cold.

I have had more than one tell me to make his last year excellent.  About all I can do differently is to walk him through the parking lot with the bars in it and let people fuss over him more than usual.  

Past that, we're just going let things happen.  Not much more I can do.  He's enjoying life so far.  If we're here in two more years, it's success.  If Summer?  Still good.  

I have to keep in mind that Dogs are here to teach us to love, and that they are here for a short time because they already know how.  

I know he has helped me heal.

Technology and I are Fighting. The Story of Why I Have Two Microwave Ovens.

Technology and I are going through a rough patch lately.

I have always got on well with things that way.  I'm the kind of person who took the old war time ethos of "Make Do And Mend" to heart.  

In that way, I've been able to learn quite a lot.  Replaced my own Oxygen Sensors on the Jeep when I needed to, for example.  Oil Changes are simple, and I do most of the maintenance on the car.  23 years old and runs like a "Swiss Watch".

>I was a Financial Project Manager for a major university on the East Coast.  "Req To Check" was my thing.  Requisitions through the posting of the Purchase Orders against the accounts on the General Ledger.  I was the strongest programmer in the department, the "Programmer of Last Resort" and the one who got the "meatiest problems".

My own favorite computer is about 6 years old.  It started out in corporate life as a Windows computer, and when it got to me, I immediately opened it up and upgraded the components.  One of the upgrades was to install Debian Linux, again, immediately.

To say that I am a Do It Yourself kind of tech guy is minimizing things here.

But lately, I'm about to toss most of it out the window.

You see, touch screens are the bane of my existence.  The things are everywhere.

Smart phones have them.  Cars have them.  Even my oven has a touch screen.

I don't see that they are being used properly.  I mean an oven?  With a Touch Screen?  Give me a break!

So as I am riding along, happily playing music, something happens and I need to control the phone.

Have I said yet that I hate iPhone for this sort of thing?  

Ok, I despise the little gadgets.  My big hands reach down to work on the phone and I almost always have to stop moving and pay attention.  It would be like a smaller person using the phone with their elbow and throwing it into traffic in disgust.

I don't know which tiny person designed these things but whoever you are, I hate you.

The latest thing to become "quirky" was my microwave oven.  Of all things to flake out, a microwave.  

In the kitchen there is very little with food that I won't attempt.  I have churned butter in the food processor - that takes about 5 minutes.  I also make the dog's food from scratch.  The ingredients that are raw have to be cooked to a minimum of 165F/74C so that the bacteria is killed.  Frozen Peas and Fresh Carrots are the two ingredients that go into the microwave.  I demand that they are cooked at full power uninterrupted.

Lately the microwave has decided that at random moments it will cycle, go to low power mode.  When it does that, the cooking cycle is ruined and I have to throw out what I am doing and restart the process.  There is no pattern with this, and I believe that an internal part is overheating.

Since I demand the thing to work without interruption, the microwave is useless to me.  This one is going into the trash.  But I have a second one.  That is a story in itself.

About 6 or more years ago, someone left a perfectly good microwave on the curb of my block.  It was left in the box, sealed.  Taped up from the factory.  Sitting pretty under a street lamp.  I walked Rack The McNab SuperDog past the box at the 5PM walk.  I walked him past it at 9PM.  The next morning, the box was still sitting there.  5AM.  Under the street lamp.

Yoink!  You are mine.

At that point the older microwave was still working well and I didn't believe that I needed this new one so I put it in the shed.  

This week I had had enough of flaky kitchen appliances.  I went to my shed, got the box, cutting my left wrist in the process.  Opening the box I brought the new microwave in and put it on the kitchen counter.  Doing so I said to the old microwave "If you fail again, I'm stripping you for parts, and you go out in the trash!".

Yes, I threatened my old microwave with a new microwave.

It has only been a few days and the old microwave is working correctly.  I think it took the hint.  

Cross me, and out you go old microwave!  

I have done that with iPhones as well.  I have a very good friend who hands me down old electronic hardware.  This computer that I put Linux on is not the first, and I have taken broken computers and recycled and up-cycled them into working useful equipment before.  I get old iPhones and have never bought one.  

But those iPhones?  I hate them and hate the entire ecosystem.  The idea that Apple has a walled garden to keep you safe has been dis-proven, and they are harvesting information for nefarious purposes, or so it has been said in the last few years.

Personally I think that Apple's Walled Garden has poison ivy in it.  I don't want to use their hardware the way that they want me to.  If I want to put music on the blasted thing, I should be able to plug it in and move data back and forth at will.  Pictures, and Documents as well.    I should be able to do a backup of the stupid thing to a network drive or attached memory stick but I have not found a way to do that.  On top of it all, that screen is too small.  Tiny for me.  I have to jump through hoops in order to get any of that done.

Pretty hardware that is dumbed down for some pointless exercise in minimalism.

So when I look at videos with "Shiny New Objects" with sparkly touch screens, I lose interest.  I'll stick with my 23 year old Jeep Wrangler, and my 6 year old laptop as much as possible.  

How exactly will I be able to use a touch screen on a car to adjust the air conditioning in traffic at 60 MPH with my elbow, again?

I am forced to use that confounded iPhone since I am a competition class dual sport athlete and my sport watch requires it.  Sport watch with a touch screen and Bluetooth.  To talk to the iPhone.  

It has a sealed battery in it that I have to recharge every 10 days too.  Eventually it will get flaky and I'll have to buy a new watch because nobody repairs things any longer.

Can someone please, find me a Tube Tester and a set of All American Five tubes?  I have a radio from 1956 that could use some refreshing.  I hear they have this new music called Rock and or Roll that might be fun, but R&B is much more my style.  Meanwhile, I will find a swing music or classical orchestral program.  Just to relax to.

Oh and Apple should get off my damn lawn.  I think they're drunk anyway.

Rack, you are being a little furry idiot. Well, That is New.

In the 80's show Mad About You, Paul Reiser said that having a dog is all about saying "Well, that is new." when looking at his dog Murray standing on top of an empty dining area table looking pleased at himself.

It really is like that.  The latest thing is that Rack, my elderly McNab SuperDog (TM) wants out.  Every hour.  It wouldn't be so bad if he did something but, well this is new, he walks out to the yard and stops.  That's about all of it.  Just stops.  He notices that I am waving to him and telling him to go on about his business, and sometimes that works.

Mind you, I am doing this sort of thing all day long.  Up at 5AM, I walk out in boxer shorts and trying to get CBC radio working on Sirius. I look up and he's looking off into the distance.  I would rather be inside because this morning Your Weather Was Drunk On My Lawn at 44 degrees freakin' Fahrenheit.  That being the devil's temperature of 6.66 degrees Celsius for the imperially impaired.

I am a good 8 miles south of the freeze line.  It never gets cold enough to freeze here, and it will warm enough to be merely annoying later.

With him being elderly, I am never quite sure if he can hear me.  Some may say it is "Selective Hearing", so I get the idea to test it.  When my prior dog, Lettie, was still alive, she lost her hearing around 9 or 10.  She still had enough that I could bend down and talk in her ear and she might just get it.  At 14, that is where Rack is at, although there are exceptions like Chip Bags, and Refrigerator Doors. 

That selective hearing does extend to deliveries, so the dreaded truck driving by gets a pass if he doesn't notice.  Seeing that the front door is his job to watch through the glass, if he sees the evil brown truck, he will bark at it like he's auditioning for the Yodeling Society of South Florida.  

Well, that is new.

Since the other delivery companies come in all sorts of trucks and personal cars, Amazon gets a grumble like Fed(arrow)Ex, and he has to see them hit the porch to make any effect. 

Every dog gets to make themselves comfortable, I suppose, but digging a hole in the mat at the front door is a new thing.   It's been through the washer enough times that is getting a little frayed at the corners, so it's not terrible that he is helping things along.  In the evening the silence is broken by white footed paws dragging across the little gold rectangle there.  Scrape! Scrape! Scrape!

Well, that is new, as well.  Dogs don't normally dig to China through the doormat, do they?

That business with hearing though shows up at strange moments.  If I am watching TV, and it gets too loud, he will get up and go into the bedroom and put some distance between it and him.   If I laugh too loudly, same thing, he's off to the bedroom.  I'm big and loud anyway, so it happens frequently, sometimes more than once in a night.  I also possess access to his cookie jar so he comes back eventually, especially if I am in the kitchen looking through my own cookie jar.

Well, that is new, Hi Rack!

I have been told that hearing loss is a gradual muting of sounds until the tinnitus and ringing gets louder than what you really want to hear.  The Crickets are Loud Tonight might be something he would say.

The way to get around that is to talk at him in a high and squeaky voice.  I try not to do that in public because the sight of a fit 6 foot 4 inch tall man talking like a cartoon character might be a bit too much for others to handle.

Right now, the furry little idiot is sitting near the back room staring me down.  That wouldn't be the first time that happened this morning, so I have to let someone out.  Yet again.  But staring at the sky is new as well.  

Coming back into the house after being there long enough to stare at the back door, sometimes he will just sit down and stare as if to say that he wants out.  Immediately after coming in.  I've taken to ignoring that and putting a 90 minute time limit on all of that nonsense.

I guess that's part of the charm of having an elderly dog.  Scratching your head and saying to yourself "Well, that is new."

I have a photography joke, but it's not getting enough exposure due to a lack of focus.

On my property, I have a couple of security cameras.  We are working on the placement, and one of them imperfectly views the porch.  

Rack, the McNab SuperDog (TM) that I have shared the last 13 and a bit years with at 14 years old is getting a bit deaf.  

The other morning before dawn, we got to the house and on the porch, I leaned over and said into his ear "Show me what you want, do you want to go in, or go for a walk?".  

He looked at the door, then me, then smiled and took me out for another mile walk.

Good boy.  If you could see it clearly on the cameras, I'd put it here.  Got to work on that, don't we?



 Just because you can teach a good dog just about anything, it doesn't mean it's a good idea.

 There's a traveling salesman who loves to play poker. Every town he visits, he tries to find a game.

One night he's led to the back of a saloon, and seated among the locals is a German Shepherd. The salesman is surprised to see a dog at a poker table, but the dog appears to be very well behaved, so the guy sits down to play.

Well, after a couple of hours the salesman and the dog are in a showdown. The salesman raises, the dog raises back, the salesman raises again, and the dog calls.

The salesman shows his hand: three queens.

The dog turns over his hand: a flush.

The salesman is so impressed, he isn't even mad that he lost the hand.

"You know," he says to the one of the locals, "Not only can that dog play, but he's really pretty good."

"I guess he plays okay," says the local, "but we usually beat him."

"Is that right?" says the salesman.

"Yeah," says the local. "Whenever he has a good hand, he wags his tail."

Happy Holiday You Choose To Celebrate! From Ramblingmoose!

I know it sounds like ThA CuLtUrE WaRZ! but not really.  I have friends of all races and religions.  Some are not of any religion. 

Happy Holidays.  "Whichever Holiday you choose to celebrate" is what a friend of mine has been saying lately, and I'm amused at it.  The complexity you have to go through in order not to offend these days.

Meh!  I even had a Festivus pole in the yard and I find the show it came from at best, tiresome.  The story is amusing at least.

Anyone who wants to celebrate whatever holiday, and I'm in.  Tell me the rules, it's all about making others and yourself happy.

Personally, I'm looking forward to January 2 so we can all stand down.

My kitchen is chock full of cookies, candy, chocolate.  At 4:45AM I was beginning to wake and was debating what to do with the day.  It is an "off" day for me.  Non Workout day, if I can keep the schedule going.  I thought it a good day to bake some cookies like the ones I sent off to my Sister the other day.

Walked out to that full kitchen to feed Mr Dog, and nope, that idea flew right through the Hurricane Glass.  Making more cookies would be pointless, I stopped myself from setting out some butter.

On the other hand, I'll get some bread made since if I do it today, I won't have to do it tomorrow when we settle down to make some Boeuf Bourgignon.  That's our own holiday ritual here.  I don't know how we got into that particular recipe and dish, but for the holidays, it's warming and rich of flavor.  There will be plenty for the week and extra for the freezer.  It makes a lot and uses the pressure cooker well.

Oops, that Pork that I barbecued earlier went into the freezer.

There is a neighbor who may be home alone, so we will check in on him, perhaps with a bit of the Boeuf.  I'll have to see how the cook feels about that particular idea.

Tomorrow is Xmas, can't really go to the park then, and Friday is a Vet appointment so I'm off the workouts for the week.  Can't really eat more cookies, can I.

That seems to be my plans for the holiday.  My feet are up on the coffee table, and I have my "Save The Manuals" bumper stickers for the 23 year old Jeep.  I vastly prefer driving a stick shift, much to everyone's disdain around me.  It keeps me honest, can't have a four course dinner driving a stick shift, can we?

So do have a good holiday.  However you choose to celebrate, whichever you choose to celebrate.

Coffee Is Subjective. It Also Can Help My Performance.

I am one of those people who when I get into something, I tend to go "deep".  

I was having a conversation with someone saying how I wanted a second cup of coffee and I joked "The World Does Not Need Me On Caffeine".

The strength of the response of "No the World certainly does not!" surprised me.  

I think it is how I make coffee and how I "use" the stuff.

I purposely don't drink a lot of caffeine.  Coffee, Tea, and Cola all have caffeine in it.  If you moderate your caffeine and then have a burst of it just before doing something physical, I have noticed, that there is a definite feedback loop happening.

I always train with sport watch and software.  I know exactly how fast I am going in either of my two sports.  Both how fast I am propelling myself on inline skates or on a bicycle, as well as my metabolism as reported by heart rate.  There is about a 10 percent boost in my speed and/or distance if I have my mug of coffee before the workout.

Yes, it is significant, and yes, I have measured it.

Otherwise, it's a lot of half caff and decaf and so forth.

The thing is that while I have friends who know that I roast my coffee at home, they also bring me some coffees that I can't readily get here.  Since the raw "Green Coffee" that I need is uncommon, these gifts are always roasted.

It gives me an opportunity to critique roasters and commercially available coffees from many places.  

I will say that I have never had a coffee as good as the stuff I roast at home, in a 15 year old, well used, popcorn popper in my own kitchen.

Obviously, that is subjective.  It's my experience.  I get beans from a very specific part of Guatemala, and roast them in a fashion to my own liking.  I have had others who have had my own roast and truly enjoyed them.  And some have not necessarily.  

Their loss, more for me, right?

That whole process of Co-Evolution is why it is subjective.  I am very particular of how it tastes.  The brew is very specific.  I place the French Press Mug on the digital scale, add 21 grams of espresso grind, 3 packets of saccharine (Sweet N Low), and no more than 10 grams of non dairy creamer to the mug.  Add 430 grams/14.5 Oz. of filtered water at 200F/93C, and stir.  Allow to steep for about a minute, stir again.  Add an ounce/30 grams of ice to cool it down.  Push the plunger into the mug and enjoy.

Others will clutch their pearls and screech about the creamer, the saccharine, or the ice.  I do all of that so I get the same mug, every time.  I know precisely what to expect.  Even with Half-Caff on the sports recovery days, it is excellent.

Oh, and it is better than that giant corporate coffee shop that sometimes is on two corners of the same block in Manhattan or London.

But since I love a challenge, don't be afraid to bring me a new coffee.  I will enjoy the thought and the brew.  

Especially if it is something that I can't find here.  Freshly roasted and ground coffee has a flavor profile much different than something shipped in a vacuum packed bag or can that was roasted weeks or even months ago no matter how expertly done it was.

Right now, my own blend of coffee is in a bright yellow can from Selfridge's Department Store in London even though I have never been there.  It looks like a wonderful place, both from pictures, and from the dramatic TV show produced about the founding of the place.

So tomorrow, an hour before sunrise, I will be back in the kitchen.  Repeating my ritual.  I have a training session scheduled.  The intent is to be on the bicycle for at least 26.2 miles, a marathon.  42.16 km in New Money.  The caffeine will be coursing through my veins because I will have had that full caff coffee, my own roast of course.  

Oh and it does make me a bit more of an, ahem, Assertive Driver, as well, in the car as on the trails.

If you hear "On Yer Left!", that blur might just be me.

On the other hand, since today is not a training day, I'll stick to half decaf.  The world might appreciate it.