Was ist los?

Nichts ist los. And so, nothing much is new around the Old Pueblo. My thoughts wander. Looks like bullet statements are the way to go today.

• Check out wife Beans' blog, the BeanSScene. Beware - its a Pepto-Pink overdose.
• Rode the 50-Year Trail up Catalina-way yesterday. The ride went swimmingly, but the land looked tawny, bleached even, and the mesquites were about as punky-looking as any I've seen. The track is filling with sand which, lacking moisture, defies compaction. The desert hereabouts is getting downright brittle. Yuccas are toppling right and left and even the prickly pears are shriveling up. Meanwhile, my Sacto friends are filling sandbags ahead of two rainstorms stacked up just offshore. Bone dry in the 520 and yet, this crazy shit is happening in the 916. Latitude is everything in a La Nina year.
• LakeRaven, His Royal Gnomeliness, just shipped me a snack pack of stickers. Thank you, G$. This is on the same day a friend without a nickname shed his excess decals to me. I am a sticker whore, and yet I can't bring myself to befoul my Chameleon, not even with a 24 sticker.
• Thrift-scored a nice pair of Gramicci rock climbing shorts for $2.99 this weekend, came home to find 3 singles in the pocket. Free pants - amazing. The bad part was how the money was so crisp that its clear the shorts weren't washed prior to having been donated. All I can say is: my junk, a stranger's junk, same place. Ugh.
• I'm facing a full, 5-day workweek after having a bunch of Fridays and holidays off. BooHoo, welcome to the real world.
• The Olympics' closing ceremony featured a marching band composed entirely of people of all shapes and sizes dressed as Pagliachi, the sad clown. Sick and wrong, plain and simple.