I caught the last 20 laps of the Gastown Grand Prix live on Vimeo from the comfort of my couch, incorporating ice cream into my race viewing. The race made me excited and inspired to get back in the saddle, yet I remain conflicted. The trepidation is still fresh. Also, I still need to replace my front wheel. I can’t justify the expense before I find out whether ICBC (a provincial crown corporation) covers any of it. I used to go into the bike room to look at my bikes. Now, the first thing I look at is the destroyed wheel.
This is my first time dealing with ICBC, and it is not going well. This doesn’t surprise me, as I can’t recall anyone I know ever saying anything positive about ICBC. My dealings with Cycling BC’s insurance provider (Aviva) have been much better. I get a response quickly, and they don’t keep throwing new forms or requirements my way.
ICBC no longer compensates for pain and suffering. Aviva has an “injury menu” with prices for different body parts/bones listed. A fractured maxilla has its dedicated category. Yikes. They’ve granted me 33% of the principal sum. It horrifies me to think it could have been thrice as terrible. Also unsettling is realizing this specific injury is common enough among cyclists to warrant its own category.
I didn’t catch any crashes during the Gastown Grand Prix, so it is safe to assume none of the men’s racers will need to file for fractured maxilla damage. The live stream had live captioning (it was too good to be auto-generated). Maybe all sports commentators are like that, but this one was overly enthusiastic. The level of personal details the commentator knew about the participants were uncomfortably intimate.
When people learn I have a blog, they often ask what it’s all about. That always throws me off for a few seconds. I’m from the era when all blogs were personal blogs. If I were to stop writing about the thing I know the most about–myself–my backup subject would be soup.
After 26 days of sucking my dinner through a straw, I have become somewhat of an authority on puréed soup. I have had soups with the following base: sweet potato, kabocha squash, butternut squash, potato, cauliflower, broccoli, mushroom, carrot, tomatoes, kale, beans (black and kidney), fennel, onion… I found a recipe for watermelon gazpacho that I did not try. The roommate pointed out that it was just a non-alcoholic watermelon margarita.
I wrote two weeks ago, “Every soup I’ve made has been tasty.” This is still true! However, not all the recipes I’ve tried were worth the trouble. I really should get an immersion blender—the food processor has painted my kitchen like Jackson Pollock. Soup has ended up in the following places: my mouth, countertop, walls, oven display, stovetop, hair, clothes, and my eye. (“Ow! My eye! I’m not supposed to get soup in it!”)
I returned the hospital gown I got from Victoria General Hospital to the local hospital today. The person at the help desk seemed surprised by this as they were unsure what to do and directed me to the ER. The anomaly of my deed made me feel as if I’d have surpassed the Shopping Cart Theory, fast-tracking me to sainthood, for I am selfless and holy for having returned an XL hospital gown!
Since my last post, the other noble thing I did was introduce Jordi to the 1995 cult classic Hackers. A few months ago, he asked me about my guilty pleasure movie. My original answer was Clueless. At the time, Jordi was with his friends, and they shot that down, saying it was a legitimately good movie and, therefore, doesn’t count.
“Hackers?”
“Ok, you win.”
Part way through the movie, Jordi asked me if it was supposed to be a serious movie, or a comedy, like Zoolander or Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure.
I was not sure, and I still am not. On the other hand, Jordi became more steadfast in his opinion that the movie was intended to be serious after we finished it. How can that be? First, there is a scene where The Plague—a nerdy villain type—appears out of nowhere on a skateboard and nicks a floppy disk out of Crash Override’s hand. Later, the teens manage to evade a police chase on rollerblades. And the dialogue?
“Well, let me explain the New World Order. Governments and corporations need people like you and me. We are Samurai… the Keyboard Cowboys… and all those other people who have no idea what’s going on are the cattle… Moooo.”
I have four days to rot my brain with limitless tv time before I’m back at work. I am ready to work on bikes, not ride them.
Time to buy rollerblades.
squaremeat.com 