Tomorrow is what feels like my fifteenth first long ride of the year.
I did go to Leesburg during the winter. And brought back duck confits
that didn't quite fit into the insulated pannier. (I had thought that
I could re-pack them, but the packets of meat had been tossed into the
box any old way and they froze into odd shapes.)
I considered printing out the Friday specials and asking Dave what he
felt like, then reflected that it's going to be ninety degrees (30 C)
out -- stuffed chicken breasts are the only thing that I know for sure
will fit compactly into my insulated pannier and fill up all the
space, with just enough room for Black Ice at each end. And we are
out of stuffed chicken breasts. Chicken chips can wait. (And I've
still got plenty of confit.)
This will be the first time I've worn cleated shoes. I'll have
sandals in the other pannier, of course.
Switchel is cooling in the fridge. I boiled a bottle of water with
some ginger shavings, a teaspoon or so of honey, a coffee measure of
red-wheat flour, and three stalks of rhubarb. Three because they are
spindly and don't have much flavor. It tastes pretty good. Enough
water boiled away that I can add a little orange juice in the morning.
I have small zipper bags of ice cubes in the deep freeze with the
Black Ice, so I can add ice after I've drunk some.
I'm going to need tea. But I need a bottle of plain water, I don't
want to take a non-disposable bottle that isn't in a bottle cage, and
tea should be in a bottle that I can drink from. Inspiration struck: I
put a teaspoon of leaves into a "pill pouch" (tiny zip-lock bag) and
added it to my emergency-food bag. If I can't buy tea at Sandy's
Sports Bar, I can eat the leaves. And at ninety degrees, it wouldn't
take all that long to cold-brew it.
I got my long-sleeved linen jersey out of storage. Much to my
surprise, it is in good repair. The outer pockets are tighter than I
remember; when I make my new one, I'll see whether I can steal a
centimeter from each end of the middle pocket.
joy beeson at comcast dot net