Mud Up. Pack Up. Wheels Down.

NOB HILL--The Mango_Mansion continues to be a playground for Jim Jones and his buddies, Charlie and Doug. See those sacks of drywall mud? They used every single one of them in one room. This was taken 2 days ago. Their part of the fun is almost over.

By this morning they were finishing up the mud and the painter starts tomorrow. Still to come, more work by the electrician, the window installer, the flooring guy, cabinet people, counter installers. Glad to be biking starting later today. Mike and I are driving up to Steamboat Springs, then to the Wyoming border tomorrow morning.

Here Is the Wyoming Route

Mike and I will be standing on the Wyoming border north of Walden, Colorado by Friday. We are using the routes of Adventure Cycling, which has excellent maps featuring all services along the way. Also, their routes are a little safer than some of the situations Mike and I encountered going across country on our own. This particular trip through Wyoming is part of their famous Transamerica Route which starts in Yorktown, Virginia and ends in Astoria, Oregon.

The route is marked in black. Last year we rode through Colorado from Durango and joined the Transamerica Route in Fairplay, after going through Pagosa Springs and over Wolf Creek Pass.

The one thing about the Adventure Cycling maps is that north is seldom at the top of the map. This is done because the routes go every which way and it saves carrying so much extra paper. You can see we exit Wyoming at West Yellowstone, which is actually in Montana. I have heard one big word about Wyoming: WIND. We'll see.

Also, my knee is really bothering me and this has cut into my training. Again, we'll see. Our days aren't too hard, and the scenery will be just outstanding. I can't stay home.

Geese Move In...Golfers Get Another Water Hazard

KIT CARSON PARK--Several dozen Canada Geese have become permanent residents of the Tingley Beach area, hanging out near the drain and the Albuquerque Country Club golf course. I have heard of this in other towns...mostly around airports where they become a flight hazard. I wonder if the country club will get the city to boot them out? Maybe if it were in the Heights. I can't imagine a valley organization objecting to the extra wildlife.

Tour of Wyoming Start Date Draws Near

NOB HILL--Biking partner Mike Moye and I have ridden somewhere around 2000 miles together in the last three years. You get to know each other pretty well when you are only travelling 50 miles or so per day. Still, I was surprised when Mike showed up at the Flying Star this morning with his bike and trailer ALL PACKED. I mean, we don't leave until Thursday. Mike always likes to get an early start.

Actually it isn't a bad idea to get used to the trailer before the trip. The first time you ride with a trailer you feel real unstable. And it has certain peculiarities...like you can't stand up and pump. Also, you go downhill faster...a lot faster. Did I say you go uphill slower? Notice the water bottles Mike has strapped to the back. That idea came out of our ride to Tucson. Water...blessed water.

You Just Can't Make This Stuff Up

NOB HILL--Maybe you do have an ice cream truck whose melody makes you smile. Maybe not. But do you have a 2-wheeled drummer pounding out a jungle beat? Chris Stevens tries out his rolling drumset Saturday down Tulane SE as he rehearses for a wedding. I bet it was quite an unusual affair.

The maker of the rolling drum platform and his supervisor watch as the drummer walks/rolls down the street. Hills would be bad, I think.

A Fast Friday Look Down the Street

NOB HILL--Husayn Bin-Bilal, a UNM student and red-shirt freshman defensive lineman for the Lobos, plays an early evening game of chess with his father, Hassan. The two had just finished eating at Il Vicino. What a great way to spend some time with your dad. Unfortunately for Husayn, Dad won.

Now I am no judge of football talent, but anytime Rocky Long recruits a chess-playing lineman I am all for it. By the way, Husayn has a little brother playing chess for the Taos Elementary School Nighthawks under coaching legend Dennis Hedges.

I know you're smiling as you read this...but I'm telling you this stuff is important! Chess has more "life lessons" to teach than most of traditional school curriculum. Chess generalizes to life so easily: like, What do you do when you don't know what to do? Or how about this skill: What are my strengths in this position and what are my weaknesses? Young chess players seldom worry about winning. The passion is in the effort. Well, you get the picture.

As far as football is concerned, TheRedMenace had this to say about Husayn's spring practice with the Lobos in April:

#99 Husayn Bin-Bilal I have Husayn down for at least 1 sack perhaps 2 and just some tough run defense in the middle. Sure he was knocked down a couple of times, but he keeps coming full steam ahead.

American Life in Poetry: Column 013

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE

Birthdays, especially those which mark the passage of a decade, are occasions not only for celebration, but for reflection. In "Turning Forty," Ohio poet Kevin Griffith conveys a confusion of sentiments. The speaker feels a sense of peace at forty, but recalls a more powerful, more confident time in his life.


Turning Forty

At times it's like there is a small planet
inside me. And on this planet,
there are many small wars, yet none
big enough to make a real difference.
The major countries--mind and heart--have
called a truce for now. If this planet had a ruler,
no one remembers him well. All
decisions are made by committee.
Yet there are a few pictures of the old dictator--
how youthful he looked on his big horse,
how bright his eyes.
He was ready to conquer the world.


Reprinted from "Cooweescoowee, A Journal of Arts and Letters," by permission of the author, whose most recent book is "Paradise Refunded" (Backwaters Press, 1998). Poem copyright 2004 by Kevin Griffith. This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress, and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.

I Turned Forty As Well...Once

I also wrote a poem when I turned 40. Here it is.


The Birthday Party

Tonight I am handed
a bigger piece of cake
than usual, and a fork

I remember as a child.
A bolloon inscribed
"Forty" pops up

and is lightly
batted about the room.
The punch has a jocular

ring. The cake and fork
are still on my lap.
It's time, they say,

to unwrap the present.
Now the double-headed
candle is trotted out.

Here is the card from
the humor section. Hey,
a bottle of prune wine.

And why not? The year
passes; the dog barks.
The moon grins

in the twigs of an elm.
That sound is my fork
smacking the plate.

--Jon Knudsen, 1983

Johnny_Mango Learns What Demo Means

NOB HILL--By the time I got back from drinking coffee yesterday morning, Jim Jones and Robert were already at work. MaryAnn was still emptying the dishwasher but was almost finished. Well, there wasn't much for Johnny_Mango to do, so I said, "Adios!" and went for a bike ride in the north valley. I have to get ready for my trip on the 1st across Wyoming. My plan was to ride from Kit Carson Park up to the Alameda bridge to check up on what John Fleck has been saying (and I predicted in May)...that the high water combined with the flying cotton from the cottonwood trees would lead to new stands of trees this year.

I did stop in the middle of the Alameda bridge, got off the bike, and unlimbered my Nikon. By god there were lots of small cottonwoods growing on the sand/mud bars near the bridge...hundreds of them.

Look at this little beauty. Wait a cotton-pickin' minute! Looking closely I could see that this year's growth was actually coming out of last year's growth. You can see the different color bark. I went and looked at the other hundreds of cottonwoods; it was the same story. Somehow, these trees got started last year or even earlier. I guess I'll have to look elsewhere to see this years seedlings. Maybe I should wait a month or so.

On the other hand, I might be wrong...these could be brand new trees. But, still, they look pretty big.

When I ended up back at our house after the ride, I was in for another surprise: the kitchen was gone. I mean, the kitchen was gone! The cabinets, appliances, lights, doors, walls, even the floor...everything was gone! Demolished!

So this is how it begins...there is no way to put it back together...we have to go forward. The past is demolished every instant. Nothing binds us to the present but hope and memory. And what of love? How it changes everything! Just click on this picture and see what a difference MaryAnn's being here makes.

I, Rock

LEAD AVE., SE--Every neighborhood seems to be famous for something. Oh the North Valley has its individualistic mailboxes...and the South Valley is famous for its mix of industro-agripolitical neighborhoods. The NE Heights has the heaviest concentration of strip centers in the state. And the West Side has a million side streets and no arterials. And the Southeast Heights is the absolute King of Wry when it comes to political statements.

You are probably familiar with the Leon Trotsky Croquet Field over near the Ernie Pyle Library. And you might have seen the hand-painted signs that stick up over the bushes on Coal SE that proclaim something about stopping the Bush Gulags. But the newest one has me a little stumped.

What in the world is this about? Is this meant to say "I Rock?" Or is it in the mode of the old PBS show "I, Claudius?" In that case it would be "I, Rock." Maybe it means "I Wreck." And I bet these boulders would do a bit of damage to your vehicle. Whatever it means, it sure has me thinking...just like a good poem does...or a good piece of art.

Dinner and Dancing: Right Here in Nob Hill

NOB HILL--In the end to a perfect "66" day, we went to the Town House for supper Thursday night. The band Curio Cowboys, billed as Albuqueruqe's only western swing band, was playing. Somehow I had never paid attention to the sign out front. Or maybe my preconception of the Town House got in the way of my eyeballs: cavern-like booths, bloody prime rib, and smoke...lots of smoke.