The weekend

No biking this weekend - coach's orders (rest and recovery) - so I got to sleep in and take some long walks with Jack, as well indulge myself a bit, as well.

How beautiful was the weather? See for yourself, if you were snowed-in in Colorado or something:




That night was a fundraiser for the Greater Independence Park Neighborhood Association (GIPNA), a wine and cheese tasting to benefit the renovation of the historic bungalow at the southeast corner of the park. Note that my name is much prettier than my friend Tina's:



Why would anyone go to a wine-tasting and not taste each of the nine Cotes Du Rhone labels offered? By time we had worked our way down the list to the last wine, a Chateauneuf Du Pape, it was gone. People had been skipping all the rest, including three labels of white, plus a rose, instead tasting - no, drinking - all of the big, spicy wine for themselves.

Oh well. It was a fun time, still. Here's a rare view from the balcony of the Independence Park fieldhouse:




And inside the upstairs level, filled with neighbors drinking all that CDP while listening to some smooth, loungy piano jazz:



The rest of the evening saw us moving from another fun raiser at St. Edward's Catholic school - "Red Rock" - where parents' bands entertained friends and family in the school's gym. The place was right around the corner from the Irish-American Heritage center - basically a bar within an old elementary school - so, naturally:



We ended up at Queen Albert's, a Filipino restaurant and kareoke bar just around the corner from home. Serving great food until well after midnight, it was packed with natives from all over Chicago singing to robotic, MIDI accompaniment to generic white girls in bikinis in various states of pastoral beauty behind the words on the screen. Tina sang "The Gambler," Rob gave us an Elvis ballad, and I struggled horribly with a Sinatra tune. I learned the hard way that "Luck Be A Lady" must only be sung in front of a live band.

Sunday I took Jack on a long stroll through the Old Irving neighborhood, west of Pulaski, on our way to the Starbucks at Kostner and Irving to chill with a book for a bit. I was amazed at the houses over there, it was as though I were in Oak Park. Beautiful two- and three story single family homes along sunny tree-lined streets, fall color spilled everywhere. I was suddenly wistful - for what, I'm not sure - but I wanted to see Packards and Studebakers along the curbsides. These are from a stretch of Byron between Avondale and Kostner:









The rest of the day was spent in Greg's backyard, drinking cold beers over the fire and listening to the Bears game. Even a shitty performance like theirs couldn't ruin such a perfect day as this.

Conrads in Chicago, Part 1: Charm City to the Windy City

Now that I've finally detoxed from the weekend and gotten back to my regularly scheduled homebodyness, I can finally give a wrap up from my cousins' visit from Baltimore. This morning I was pedaling Jack home from Maggie's at 5:30 after a brief but efficient 5 hours sleep when I first realized I felt pretty good. I think he did too. Jack really enjoys it down there in Lincoln Park, save for the constant El traffic outside her apartment.

As Matthew, Andrew, and Philip were arriving at Midway on Southwest last Friday, I was riding home from Northbrook to meet them at my apartment in Old Irving. Their first text came as I waited for the train through the Morton Grove station to pass, about 20 minutes from home. They'd landed safely.

Upon arriving home, I had another text that they were waiting for the train, and a warning:

"I hope you have LOTS of toilet paper."

They seemed to be having one of those magical El rides where everything syncs up, with no waiting. After less than 15 minutes, drinking a glass of Gatorade, I saw this picture pop up on Facebook:



That was just south of the Roosevelt Station. They were really moving.

I put a leash on the boy and grabbed a plastic bag and headed out to Athletic Field, just west of the Addison Blue Line to await they're arrival. I wasn't there long. Like three Sasquatch carrying overnight bags for a vacation from the woods, they came lumbering up Central Park.

Game time.

We dropped the bags off in the apartment and immediately left for Comisky Park. The Orioles were in town, and we'd been planning this weekend since my visit out to Baltimore in late April.

The rain held off and the game started on time; we arrived just after the 3rd inning started. We managed to get three rounds in, starting with four 20 oz Leinenkugel's that I spent $28 on. That always makes me feel like an asshole, but these days, that's relatively cheap. By comparison, at Camden Yards, a 24 oz Molsen Ice costs you $10.

If you can get over the vertigo from the angle of Comisky's upperdeck, they're really not bad seats at all; you get a very good view of all the action.



Philip and Andrew:



After the game we decided to keep it a relatively tame evening, as I had a 7am departure for the XXX Saturday ride the next morning. The Blue line was down between Clark/Lake and Western, so we opted to see a little extra of the city, via the Red Line to Irving, where we rode the 80 bus to a divy little Italian place at Kedzie most people don't even know is still open, Manzo's.

Two or three years ago I'd taken my dad to this place, and we were pleasantly surprised. Very cheap, and the food was better than you'd expect at that price. Very retro, with lots of berber and tinsel, but obviously not on purpose, it wasn't full. In fact, there only two other tables in there. Not caring how the place stayed in business, we loved the calamari, tolerated the steak, and were happy to pay less than $30 for a bottle of Mondavi. I figured we'd save Resi's for the next night, and take advantage of the best part of Manzo's, the ridiculously cheap bar.

I'm taking $5 top shelf cocktails here, people. We walked in, dialed Willy Nelson, Led Zepplin, and the Beatles on the jukebox, and enjoyed a few martinis and some calamari, while watching the Cubs lose to L.A.

These guys are some of the funniest people I know. Matthew, the oldest, is generally pretty quiet until he drops some heavy observation on you - about sex, alcohol, politics, philosophy, or some mix of them. Andrew's sense of humor is to generally make you look at him funny, mispronouncing common words or telling you long, rambling stories about how he twisted his elbow cleaning the toilet. And Philip spends most of his time making fun of things you say, and trying to knock your hat off. They all make fun of each other, and are probably the three closest siblings I know, in my family and out. Andrew and Matthew own a condo together, and all three of them play on several softball teams together.

I can't think of a better picture to sum up their relationship than this one I found on Matthew's facebook page:




At Manzo's:



We said goodbye to our gracious bartender, and shuffled outside. Our luck with the CTA was continuing, as almost immediately another 80 bus rolled right up taking us home.

5 Things

Five things I learned this weekend:

1. Chiropractors are not quacks. Apparently. At least the one I began seeing on Friday, when I found out that my insurance covers the treatment. I went in and had my neck - which has been stiff and painful since high school football, but much more so since the car-hit, and shoulders looked at. The numbness in my right hand hasn't entirely gone away, and I've aggravated the left shoulder pain by crashing head-over-heels during the Evanston Criterium last Sunday. He did all those "chiro-type" things - spine twisting, neck jerking, shoulder popping, pressure point massaging. Then followed that up with electro-stimulation and ice-pack therapy (the electro-stim was eerily cool - it felt as though my shoulder blade muscles were being scrubbed pleasantly with a wire brush, and they kinda spazzed out, contracting gently). And maybe it's just psychosomatic but my neck has more maneuverability than it has in years and the numbness is a little bit less. Maybe?

2. Sleep is a good thing. I don't know why I resist going to bed at a reasonable time. Actually, I do know why, and it's because I have to little time to myself during the day. I'm up and out the door to work by 8, and Sunday through Wednesday I'm in rehearsal until 10pm. Then Saturday and Sunday I am usually riding by 7am. So by time I get home from rehearsal, I need to wind down with a glass of wine and some TV. Do some stretching, catch up on emails, and wha?!...it's midnight. "D'oh!" This was a full-on rest week, however, as I was trying to heal up as best as possible from Sunday's crash. And even though I didn't make it to sleep before 1am either Friday or Saturday (more on that below), I did get to sleep in, and last night I made sure I was in bed at 10:30, drifting away to dreamland on the whispery tones of Harry Shearer's voice.

3. Ted Nugent is completely insane. Or a bigot. Or maybe he's just the most open minded person on the entire planet. In one performance at Ridgefest, the man played a song called "The Immigration Dance," sprinkled liberally with words like, "Mamacita" and "Aye aye aye!", told the audience he grew up in Detroit as a black kid, waved two machine guns in the air while screaming, "Guns for Kids!" "Kill and Grill Bambi!" "Fuck Mayor Daley!" and finished his set wearing a full Native American headdress and shot a flaming arrow into a fireworks rigged guitar after performing a song called, "Home of the Buffalo." But no matter. Just as Daniel Baremboim told Tel Aviv to get over it, your views on gun control or immigration should have no bearing on the realization that The Motor City Madman is one of the best musicians alive. That he could pull off a song as monumentally awful as one "Girl Scout Cookie" and then melt our faces off with "Stranglehold" (the solo was note for note off the album, I might add) and that we could love each equally is a testament to the man's conviction, character, and musicianship. And all this was in the setting of one of the bigger collections of white trash and biker culture South Chicagoland has to offer. We actually ended the night at a Midget Bar, for Christ's sake. The Nuge in Chicago Ridge, baby. It doesn't get any better.

4. The Simspons is still funny. On the way down to Ridgefest we stopped at the 7-Eleven "Kwik-E Mart" at 63rd and Harlem. I ate a pink donut with sprinkles and had a Buzz Cola. We saw the movie yesterday. It was kinda surreal, witnessing the penultimate moment of arguably one of the top cultural icons of the '90s. I've been watching that show since my junior year of high school. And people forget that at the time, it was pretty groundbreaking. I haven't watched many episodes in the last 3 years as the show has been sagging. But this movie brought out the best in it's creators and it was fully worth the wait.

5. That nothing is better than good friends. Went to a bar-b-q on Saturday night in Logan Square and was able to indulge like I haven't in months and months. And by indulge I mean more than just beer and spinach dip and pot. Floating from conversation to conversation, kissing JB on the cheek and saying "I love you!" and realizing how much all of your friendships have grown in the past year is far more fulfilling than any 6-pack of Old Style. Rudy and Loren (and Mat, and Loe, and Joe - who were not there but should've been): I will go to the end of the Earth with you two.

The Weekend - in bullet points

Good: My first bottle of Accelerade, Fruit Punch flavor. Not that I really feel the difference of the "patented 4 to 1 carb/protein ratio" but I did feel very strong at the end of my 65 mile ride, the drink had some weight to it...

Bad: Not going long. I wanted to get more miles in this weekend (see Judson, below) but I also had a friend coming over to watch the Tour Prologue at 11 - so I needed to do the Old School Route (again) and get home. After my only pull with the main group I yelled, "Old School!" and only Alberto pulled off...I wanted to keep going, but I couldn't leave him by himself.

Good: So Alberto and I had a great ride together, and I'm certainly glad I got to know him better. Strong rider.

Bad: The Goddamn heat. I just read something this weekend about it being more humid, sticky, and muggy because the warmer air allows it to retain more moisture. Ironically, this makes the ground much dryer, via the evaporation increasing - look at all the fires out west and in the Southeast (?!?) this year. I must've sweat off 15 pounds this weekend. I look like one of the victims from that cheesy 1985 sci-fi thriller, "Lifeforce."

Good: Le Tour De France so far this year. Fabian Cancellara absolutely blew Andreas Kloden's time away - by 13 seconds. And that it happened so late in the day really added to the suspense of seeing if Andreas' time would hold up. Cancellara was f***ing flying. So fast, fact, he nearly ran into the motorcycles in front of him as he approached Buckingham Palace. Sunday's first mass start was even better. Robbie McEwan, one of the world's fastest riders, came from out of nowhere after getting caught up in a crash and fell of the back. His entire team stayed behind to tow him back into the group just before the sprint, and unbelievably, he worked his way through nearly 150 riders to blow past the leaders with about 200 meters to go. It was just amazing to watch as the leader completely deflated as he saw Robbie come flying past him...he just bailed off like he was leading a train, and the 10 or so guys behind him flew past as well.

Bad: Having my cyclocomputer break again for the second time in about 6 weeks. Sent it off to Michigan, and again I have no data with which to track my progress.

Good: Having my cyclocomputer break. Pain is my speedometer. It gave me a great moment on the team ride this weekend, pulling the pace line up the hill on St. Mary's toward the railroad tracks before the turn off for Old School. I knew I couldn't bail out on the middle of the climb, and if I'd been looking at my speed I'd have lost concentration on my spin. I knew if I was feeling the pain increasing, then everyone else was too, and I was keeping my speed up.

Bad: Missing the Judson ride. Just didn't get enough sleep and was a bit dehydrated when I woke up...I knew it was gonna be a hot, humid and windy day so I cut my losses, knowing I'd get my needed 3 remaining hours on the bike when the sun went down.

Good: At least I didn't miss Judson in vain. Cheap Trick put on an awesome show down at the Taste. Those guys should've been the one's selling out Wrigley Field, not the Police. The Police can barely stand being on the stage with one another. They're a novelty and people will pay any price to say, "I was there, man!" Cheap Trick have always brought to every single show for the past 30 years, and it should count for more than that. But even better, they don't think they're entitled to anything, and they gave the hometown fans a great performance. The best part, however, was heading to Piece, Rick Neilson's stellar pizza joint in Wicker Park, for a couple beers and a bite to eat afterwards. Mat went to the men's room, and who was he standing next to at the urinal? The Man himself. Not one to chat up at the pisser, he waited until they were both washing their hands. "Hey, big fan. Great show tonight." Rick belched his thanks, and then said, "It was hotter than shit up there!"

Bad: Riding the path at night. I don't know which was worse: the gnats in my teeth, or the beach crowd crossing and standing in the path as though it were their driveway. And when they give you that look as if to say "what the hell is bike doing here?" when you yell out, "on your left!".....grrrrrrrrrr. But definitely worse than both of those was hitting that pipe stave in the middle of the path straight on, unable to see it, causing both wheels to flat.

Good: Erik Didriken coming to pick me up in his car.

Bad: Having to do my remaining 90 minutes on the trainer.

Good: I was watching Something About Mary.

Bad: Haven't yet put my window units in.

Good: Transformers completely kicked ass. Which was a huge bonus since I would've paid $10 to see License to Wed, as long as the A/C was on.