I had a weekend

 And since then, I've happily been living in the present, neglecting writing about the past. During the height of the Covid pandemic, versus this month with mere (yes, sarcasm) double digit deaths per day in the United States (a truly mere 1-2% of automotive fatalities per yearly average), a lot of annual events never happened, which is almost as sad as this sentence, the result of my attempt to convey a minimum of three ideas simultaneously. Good luck with it!

One of the things that didn't happen was the Mike McCoy Memorial Ride with Marc Muldoon, and no, there wasn't an elitist cadre of friends with the initials MM, or at least they never admitted it to this SM.  I never met Mike as he died from an ill located slip above Bashbish Falls during a winter hike with Marc at least twenty years ago, but of the people I've known and respected, one I dated, they all held him in high regard, so I respect him by transferal, and yes, some extra motivation that the memorial ride ends with a potluck with excellent people.

Gathered round the (titanium) memorial. 

Photo credit to Marc, although making the camera timer work was definitely a team effort!

Last year, I did join the ride, but separated north from the group after the photo op to ride back the same day. This year, I planned better and ate far, far better, arranging to stay the night in Connecticut with my friend Seth before returning to Massachusetts on Sunday via the Northampton cyclocross race.

The race was great: home raised eggs, homefried potatoes of various hues, butternut squash soup, mushroom gravy, and finishing with well spiced apple crisp. Oh right, that wasn't the race, but rather the visit with Brian and Laura, and not-quite-so-wee Willa during their well timed family visit in northern Connecticut after taking the punge to full time Vermont residence in late summer. That visit did run long enough that I missed the race, but I don't feel I at all missed out!

For this weekend overnight, I did travel with a sleeping bag and my minimal shelter, but I'm not sure it counts as another mini tour since I did opt out of the cold 20s at Seth's when he offered a separate room with a closed door and hepa filter instead of setting camp in his backyard at 11pm, four hours after my usual bedtime, these near solstice standard time days. I slept well with a full belly and the warmth of central heating and happy reconnections, no entirely small thing these days.

I also slept with a new-to-me pair of gloves downstairs next to my bike, although I was deceived of their true status. On Friday, I'd netted a matching pair of gloves roadside, no big surprise given the way the way things tend to find me, but what I hadn't realized was that items which find a new home with me spread word to their kin.

Shortly after I'd arrived at Marc's house Saturday afternoon, he'd rolled up the street to greet car arrivals, but then returned to where I was unpacking my load next to his garage, asking, "Salem, did you lose a pair of gloves?" Looking down at my pile and spotting the layered gloves I'd worn riding, I replied, "No," but then looked up to see the gloves I'd found 24 hours earlier, 60 miles away. I'd hung them on my line the prior day, thought to take them in before my departure Saturday, but it sure looked like I'd completed only half that intention and stashed them somewhere on my person, well enough to very nearly, all but 100 yards, join the ride to Marc's. But no, as I learned upon arriving home a day later and at a clothes line with the matching gloves I THOUGHT I'D NEVER REMOVED!

Having happily passed another DIY neuro cognitive exam, with only minor points deducted for not recognizing the size increase to XL of the second pair, I, a day later, confirmed that I'd failed another test earlier, although to my credit, I had suspected my error before it was presented to observation.  In my multiple posts of Schwindling my readers out of varied subjects, I'd again proclaimed my love of bar-middles, but despite having them on most of the bikes I ride regularly, I'd misremembered the order of things, and didn't even immediately notice that it was wrong, and while it didn't quite feel right, I credited that to residence on narrower handlebars. Oops.

Bottom option gets my thumbs up!

And on that note, I will end weakly.