DSL
I'm in Houston. DSL here seems to go down every couple of months for a couple of days. I'm getting a little sick of it. I post most of my pictures from this blog on my web server in my apartment. I can't imagine running a business off that system. I can't get a cable modem in my apartment complex because they monopolize the cable TV connection and the company that does it has not option for digital cable. At least, not two years ago when I checked last. So, what am I going to do about it? Well, I plan on bitching allot and bad mouthing DSL in my blog.
By the way, it just started working again a couple of hours later. Frigging DSL. I have no idea if any of the other options are any better.

From A Friend At Work

The other day I'm having this intense conversation -- delving into issues like love and loss and cassette compatibility -- when I realize I'm talking with a stranger. This is surprising since I'm not like those people who tell you about their divorce, their hemorrhoids and their shoplifting conviction 20 seconds after meeting you in the express checkout at HEB. But we're not at the store. We're on our bikes. Big difference. I'm cruising along the FM1463 when he catches me. We exchange greetings and start trading pulls, working together against a headwind. At first we don't say much. But from his pace, his cadence and the way he sits on his bike, I know this: We're a lot alike. We both ride as much and as well as we can. We like being fit. We like being outdoors. We like the Zen rhythm of pedaling, the unspoken communication of a smooth drafting partnership, the flicked elbow that says please pull through, the pointed finger that says glass ahead. We turn off the busy road onto a Hunt lane where we can ride side-by-side. We're relaxed, happy, doing what we love. The conversation flows, gets deeper. Pretty soon I'm talking about stuff I haven't told my mother. (Mom: Just kidding. I tell you everything.) It's like this with my other cycling buddies. I've never been to their homes. Some I wouldn't recognize without a helmet and sunglasses. But we've told each other things you wouldn't say to your therapist, unless you consider cycling therapy, which I do. (a buddy at work)

This guy does the MS150 every year.