Sigh

The 97th annual Tour de France is going on now and I'm missing it. It started July 3rd and runs through July 25th. There are twenty stages and the race covers a total distance of 3642 kilometers or 2263 miles.

Other years I’d have taken days off to watch a few of the stages live because I love it. This year I didn’t. I have no TV provider. Part of my decision to get rid of TV was because they dropped the channel that carries this race. Sure I could have switched back to the local cable company but I’ve already had too many disagreements with them. And they just announced they’re raising rates yet again.

I considered moving in at the bar on my corner since it is a sports bar with 32 big screen TVs. But then I’d need to eat there every day. And take my computer to work on during slow bits. And my cats would feel neglected so I’d need to take them with me as well. Harry would want to hang out in the kitchen, helping to cook. Quinn would shed all over everyone. Bix and Kya would sprawl wherever it’s most inconvenient and Beau would chew his way around the room.

I don’t think they’d be very happy with me. I’d want all the TVs tuned to the race, not just the one closest to me. Hey, don’t want to miss anything as I wander around to snag the kitties. Even though the tour is on live in the mornings some silly people would still want to watch soccer and tennis and those sorts of things. They don’t understand and I doubt they’d be reasonable when I tried to explain why we needed to switch back to the bike race.

Happy weekend!

All Over

And I’m sad.

The Tour de France ended yesterday. The overall winner, Alberto Contador, though to me, that isn’t really important. Oh sure, I enjoy the competitive aspects of the race. And there are plenty of categories to compete for as well as tiny victories along the way throughout most stages. Yes, it amazes me that after 21 days of racing and over 82 hours of riding, the top ten finishers are separated by less than 15 minutes.

But again, that’s not the part I pay the most attention to. To me, it’s the race itself. The sheer distance and challenges it presents. The tradition. The unwritten rules. The strategy. Contador won. His teammate, Lance Armstrong was third, coming back from a few years’ break. But don’t think, just because of that, Armstrong’s former health issues and the age difference that it was easy for Contador. He has issues of his own. He suffered an aneurysm during a race five years ago. His surgery was successful and, after eight months, he was up and racing again. This year’s Tour victory was his second. He won his first in 2007. Along with plenty of other events as well.

Many of the riders have stories too, if you bother to check. That’s one of the things that fascinates me. And that this race is just one in many that most of them compete in during the season. It’s just the rest aren’t as popular so you never hear about the other grueling miles they cover.

Something else that ended a few days ago is Torchwood. Yes, believe it or not, I do actually watch something current. Last week there was a five night mini series in which the remaining members of Torchwood saved the world yet again, though destroyed themselves. Well, perhaps they left an opening for the show to come back but it’s doubtful and even if it does it will take a long time. By then, I probably will have gotten rid of my TV and won’t know about it anyway. If you hear about it beginning again, please let me know.

Tour de France Update

For those of you who don’t pay attention but surely must know the most famous name in cycling, Lance Armstrong is indeed back this year. Back and ready to take the Tour by storm. After 6 stages, he’s in second place by less than a quarter of a second. Pretty damn good for an old guy, as he calls himself.

If you haven’t been watching you’ve missed some incredible scenery. The first stage took place in the streets of Monaco. Stage two took them from Monaco to Brignoles. Stage three, from Marseille to La Grande-Motte. I particularly enjoyed the scenic shots that day because that’s the region where the Middle Child had her big adventure. So cool to see some of the places she explored.

Stage four was the team time trial and wound around Montpellier. This was the day that closed the 40 second gap between Cancellara, the race leader, the one who is currently wearing the infamous yellow jersey and Armstrong. The strength his team combined is amazing but then it should be. He’s not the only former Tour winner on it, nor the only one with a chance of winning this year. Alberto Contador is also on the same team. He’s in third place at the moment by a whopping 19 seconds. Can you imagine? They’ve already pedaled hundreds of miles and they’re separated by seconds.

Stage five skirted the coast. For some reason seeing the palm trees surprised me. Yes, I do know they’re there. I just don’t associate palms with France. Hot beyond belief and, being so near the shoreline, tremendous crosswinds to contend with.

Stage six saw a day of torrential rains. The wet roads had bikes slipping out from under riders right and left. No one was immune as some of the big names from years past went down along side Tour rookies. This one ended in Barcelona which, upon leaving there, will now send them up into the Pyrenees Mountains.

Ready to watch with me yet? Sigh. One of these years you will be and then you’ll be addicted to. Have a good weekend.

Hate Ants, Love My Friends

Yes, ant season has started again. Little suckers get a break today. It’s raining so I can’t spray the hell out of the foundation of my house like I normally do to rid myself of the pesky nuisances. Oh, it’s not a total invasion. I’ve only found half a dozen of the teeny tiny brown ones but that’s six too many in my book. Ants belong outside. Period. End of discussion. I don’t go out and mess around in their hills. They can damn well stay out of my house. It’s going to be nice tomorrow and I’ve warned them. If they want to live they will vacate the premises instantly. Otherwise I’m declaring all out war and I’ve had years of experience so they don’t stand a chance.

On a much happier note I had dinner with my adopted family last night. Neeley was in town for a few hours so she called and told me they were on the way to get me, destination to be determined en route. Riley is just back from her visit with the Middle Child, still on her big adventure in France, and I hadn’t seen her yet to hear all about her trip. Guess what! I got presents. A bright yellow Tour de France T-shirt and Milka bars. She knows me so well. The Little One wasn’t with them but that’s okay. I hung out with her the other night when my phone wasn’t working, something I might have to do again soon simply because she makes me laugh. And the Paternal One, well, he’s so kind, putting up with me as he does for the sake of his girls.

Okay, time to get to work here. I’ve been playing far too much lately instead of revising the story I should be working on. I left my characters in limbo because I couldn’t figure out the best way to get them from where they are to where they have to be next. Maybe they’re finally sick enough of just sitting there doing nothing to help today. Let’s hope so.

Sunday Stuff

The stench of raw unadulterated panic permeated the early morning calm.

No, this isn't the opening line of a new story. It was the way my morning began today. I woke up to only having two cats. Mouse was missing. He was tucked under my chin when I fell asleep but this morning, nowhere to be found. My house isn't that big. I don't sleep with any windows open. The alarm hadn't gone off so no one opened one from outside, providing him with an escape route. He just vanished into thin air.

This was at 4:30 AM. I spent the next 45 minutes searching everywhere, including the basement even though the door was closed when I went to bed and got up. I looked in cabinets. I even checked the refigerator just in case he and Harry worked together to open it. I raced up and down the steps, screaming hysterically, sobbing so hard I couldn't see, with Bixby and Harry trapsing along after me, I'm sure laughing as we went. By the fourth trip to the attic they were bored and decided to wait by their food dishes. They couldn't understand why breakfast was delayed just because Mouse had disappeared.

I was in the attic, tearing out boxes, thinking he'd somehow gotten behind them and had, gulp, decided to crawl back there to die, when I heard this little meow coming from the other corner of the room. I turned around and there was Mouse's head, peeking up over a box I would have bet he couldn't wiggle his way behind. He was wearing his sleepy, confused face, glaring at me like he was annoyed at me for disturbing him. I'm surprised my screaming woke him. Even though it was loud enough to wake the entire block, Mouse is almost totally deaf and generally doesn't hear me at all. I scooped him up, trying not to hug the stuffing out of him, and gave him an extended lecture on why it's not wise to sleep in places where he's not easily found because one, it panics me no end and two, what if he were to have a seizure and I couldn't locate him? Being a cat, he swatted me with his expressive tail and squirmed to be put down and fed. Panic averted. Whew!

That was followed by a mid-morning thunderstorm, the best we've had in years. It started with rumbles of distant thunder that I first mistook for train noises from the small portion of the Reading railroad train yard that remains active. Then the sky got black as night. The wind started. Lightning flashes began in the distance. The sky opened up and it rained so hard I couldn't see the houses 30 yards away on the other side of the parking lot. There was hail so big I was seriously concerned my car would be dented. The power went out just as they were about to award the final yellow jersey for the Tour de France but that's okay. I'll watch the wrap-up show tonight. I, of course, relocated to the porch. I felt like I was in the middle, summoning the tempest. The storm raged for an hour and then as quickly as it began it was over. Mm, there's nothing like a good storm to restore order within me. Fortunately, in this area, they're generally all bluster without causing any significant damage, just downed trees and wires, more of an inconvenience than anything else so I don't have to feel guilty for loving them so much.

I had a weak moment last week and ordered some post-its from Vista Print. Anybody want one? Email me your snail mail addy and I'll send you one with some bookmarks. Please put post-its in the subject line so I don't delete you.

Tour de France Finals
Winner Stage 21, July 27 - Steegmans, Belgium
Overall Winner, Time - Sastre, Spain (Yellow Jersey)

Cadel Evans, 2nd

Winner Points - Freire, Spain (Green Jersey)

Winner King of the Mountain - Kohl, Austria (Red Polka Dot Jersey)

Winner Young Rider - Andy Schleck, Luxemburg (White Jersey)

Miss August

I did something today I never imagined doing. Not that I have any sort of problem with it, I just saw no point before now. What is it, you ask? I bought a Playboy magazine. Specifically the August issue of Playboy. Why? Because I met the centerfold, Kayla Collins, a gazillion years ago when she was merely a pretty kid instead of the beautiful woman she is today. Okay, so it wasn't that long ago. She's only 21 now so it couldn't have been. There's a picture on her bio of how she looked when I knew her in you're interested.

How? I worked for her dad. I can't help laughing. You see, with how the offices were arranged I was able to hear many of the non-work conversations that took place between the guys back then. Total pigs, the lot of them when it came to this sort of thing. Oh yeah, as bad as they come. I'm sure you know what I mean. We've all overheard such things whether we wanted to or not.

I haven't spoken with him in years now so I don't know how he's reacting to his little girl being the focus of such discussions but I can't imagine it's favorable. I'd heard that he was not at all happy when her tanning poster appeared on the hunting camp wall and that was wearing a bikini. Hm, perhaps there's a lesson to be learned here. Like maybe you should watch what you say about someone else's daughter because one day it might be yours?

While I was at Borders picking up the magazine I spent a moment chatting with the woman having a book signing. At one point, one of the store personnel stopped to join us and she introduced me as another local author. One thing led to another and I ended up speaking with the manager about the possibility of my own signing. Okay quit laughing. I could maybe do it if Dakota flew in to be there with me. Or maybe if I hired someone to pretend to be me for the beginning of it so I could lurk on the fringes until I got over being such a coward. Any volunteers?

At this point it's not an issue. Borders doesn't carry the Bound Brits Anthology. It's not even in their system. The manager explained how I could go about getting it there. That might be my break time project later on. She did tell me to stop back in to arrange something once that's taken care of. I'll have to think about that one.

Tour de France update -
Winner Stage 20, July 26 - Schumacher, Germany

Overall Leader - Sastre, Spain
Cadel Evans is in second

Technically there is one more stage to go but the finishing order was settled today. The last day when they ride into Paris is more of a celebration than a competition. In the 105 years of the Tour it's become tradition to not attack on the last day so the standings won't change unless there's some sort of scandal or a sudden illness that prevents someone from riding the final leg.

Casanova, Fact or Fiction?

A few days ago in a conversation with Amarinda Jones, she suggested I do some research on Casanova and then report what I find in a blog. I did a quick check and decided I would.

First the basics…

“It is only necessary to have courage, for strength without self-confidence is useless.”

He was born Giacomo Girolamo Casanova in Venice in 1725 to actor parents, one of six children who may or may not have actually been fathered by his mother’s husband. It’s generally believed that the theater owner was actually his sire, something he acknowledged in his later life when he was at odds with the Venetian powers-that-be.

He was sent off to boarding school at nine, supposedly for health reasons. His teacher, a priest, took him in and he ended up having his first recorded masturbation experience with the man’s sister at age eleven. At sixteen, while studying law at the University of Padua he lost his virginity to sisters. There he also discovered a love of gambling that plagued him throughout his life.

Following university, he entered the seminary for a brief time. That ended with much scandal, including asking for special dispensation from the Pope to be permitted to read “forbidden books”. His next career was the military but again, it was short-lived. Apparently sitting around Constantinople was too boring.

Back in Venice he made an attempt at professional gambling only to end up losing all his money after which he tried his hand at being a violinist for the same theater owner who was probably his father. Boredom sent him to pranking with his fellow musicians until his quasi-knowledge of medicine caused him to save a nobleman who became the first of many patrons Casanova would have during the course of his not working for real lifetime.

Capers and scandals earned him his first banishment from Venice so Casanova turned his attentions on the rest of Europe. He positioned himself to be noticed by the upper crust of society and managed to sponge his way from one region to the next, often being forced to move on by his own nefarious doings. On occasion he was jailed only to escape or be rescued by his current patron.

In France, Casanova made a fortune by becoming one of the trustees for the first state organized lottery. He became a spy and a diplomat as well. He used his wealth to acquire a silk mill but manufacturing was not his forte. His numerous liaisons cost him all he had and again he resorted to his charlatan ways to survive. Moving from one area to the next, he left a trail of schemes, mostly failed, and assignations which left him notorious and not in a good way. He added de Seingalt to his name to boost his respectability but his own reckless behavior worked against him throughout his years and resulted in his expulsion from wherever he landed time and time again. He was quite the con man since he generally managed to get readmitted all over the place as well.

Casanova lived out the end of his life as librarian to a much younger count who often couldn’t be bothered to introduce the old man to his important guests, something that left Casanova bitter. He took out his anger on the rest of the household staff which resented him for his better than the rest attitude. It was to stave off going mad or dying from grief that he undertook the writing of his memoirs.

“Happy or unhappy, life is the only treasure which man possesses.”

Now the seductions…

“Love is three quarters curiosity.”

What you must keep in mind is that Casanova lived in a time when the upper class married more for social standing than commitment. Attitudes about love and sex were more casual. In his memoirs he lists encounters with roughly 120 different women. He hints at more as well as some men but doesn’t include them because doing so would anger the wrong people.

The general consensus is that Casanova liked women who presented him with an intellectual as well as sexual challenge. He rejected those pursuing him merely for sex. His conquests were always mutually consented to and often followed a certain pattern. It seems he liked a touch of drama in his affairs. He’d discover a woman with a problem, say an abusive lover, save her from the brute which would result in a period of intense attraction during which she’d express her overwhelming gratitude physically. When things began to cool off Casanova would find her a replacement before skipping out.

In his memoirs he comments that in a time of seduction by alcohol and violence he much preferred to employ attentiveness and small favors to soften a woman’s heart. Yeah, I probably would have fallen for him too especially since he considered chocolate to be the ultimate aphrodisiac.

“Economy in pleasure is not to my taste.”

Final thoughts…

“In fact, to gull a fool seems to me an exploit worthy of a witty man.”

In my opinion, Casanova was an overly intelligent man who was easily bored and whose life has been highly romanticized. He amused himself by preying on more than willing, often wealthy victims and had a limited attention span for just about everything. Think of the Leo DiCaprio movie, Catch Me If You Can, only without a Tom Hanks in pursuit. Instead, he burned too many people and age set in. Without his 1400+ page memoirs which is regarded as a great descriptive source of his time, he probably would have been long forgotten.

Tour de France Update -
Winner Stage 9, July 13 – Ricco, Italy
Overall Leader – Kirchen, Luxemburg
Cadel Evans still 2nd by 6 seconds even though he crashed at the beginning of today’s stage

Ho Hum Day

Just a bit. It's too hot to think. Yes, the ac is on but I have to keep going to the attic to retrieve the Mouse cat. Silly boy just doesn't understand that it's unwise to sleep in 100 degree heat on a navy blue, furry bean bag chair in a sunbeam. All I can think is that it makes his old bones feel good. At least he's eating again. I think he figured out that I'm serious about taking him to the vet for weekly fluid injections if he doesn't.

My wonderful and overly-indulgent friend Neeley sent me a link today for a map with street views of the Tour de France. Click here to see some of the towns up close. Today's stage took place in the pouring rain. Tomorrow they move into the Pyrenees Mountains and they're worried about encountering ice. Can you imagine flying down an icy mountain road on a racing bike? I've seen them crash and flip over the guardrails into the trees on dry roads.

I promise tomorrow's blog will be more interesting. Amarinda Jones suggested a research project which I chose to accept. I should have it ready by then unless something unexpected and earth shattering happens here tonight, like Colin Firth shows up, finally having realized he just can't live without me. Hm, do you think I should put on some real clothes, just in case?

Tour de France Update -
Winner Stage 8, July 12 - Cavendish, Great Britain
Overall Leader - Kirchen, Luxemburg
Cadel Evans still in 2nd by 6 seconds
Tomorrow starts the first of the mountain stages so that'll shake everything up.

Don't forget - Total-E-Bound's anniversay contest is still going on. Enter to win. First prize is a year's supply of ebooks!

Le Tour de France 2008

Sorry, I have to rant first.

Fireworks...I love professionally done shows. It's the amatuers that I have problems with.

Technically, any fireworks other than sparklers and snakes are illegal in Pennsylvania. Unfortunately no one other than me seems to know or care. It's to the point where I dread all holidays. The inconsiderate men, and I use that term loosely, in the blocks surrounding my house started yesterday before 8 AM and continued until after 2 AM. I assume that's either when their lighters died or they passed out. You can guage their level of drunkenness by the volume and understandabiliy of the shouting that accompanies the fireworks displays as the day progresses.

I looked out at one point and the parking lot across the street from my house was shrouded in haze. Yes, that's how many things were being ignited. Thank goodness it rained this year. I'm sorry it did because it ruined so many plans, mine included. I didn't get to go to the concert in the park but I'd rather give up that than have a fire in my yard from all the incorrectly launched explosives. No, the only thing to fear this year was a direct hit that might get lodged beneath a rain gutter. Nope, not exaggerating. There are always several house fires in Reading every Fourth of July and an occasional one on an alternate holiday.

In defense of the local police it is impossible for them to contain these people. This is a city-wide problem, not just in my block. I haven't read the paper yet to know how many hands were blown off yesterday. Not that it will make any difference to the rest of the bunch setting off fireworks. The Fourth is over but around here they don't stick to that one day. They started mid-week and will continue through the weekend at least. And then in two months it'll be Labor Day and they'll do it all over again.

On the other hand, should I ever decide to become a war reported I doubt I'll have much trouble adjusting to the noise of being in a war zone. Hm, have to think about that one.


Now for what I really wanted to talk about, Le Tour de France.

"Running from Saturday July 5th to Sunday July 27th 2008, the 95th Tour de France will be made up of 21 stages and will cover a total distance of 3,500 kilometres.

These 21 stages have the following profiles:
10 flat stages,
5 mountain stages,
4 medium mountain stages,
2 individual time-trial stages.

Distinctive aspects of the race
4 mountain finishes,
2 rest days,
82 kilometres of individual time-trials,
17 Category 1, Category 2 and highest level passes will be climbed."

For additional information Click Here.

Overall, I'm not a sports person. You all know ice hockey is one exception. This is the second. I'll tell you about the third when the time comes.

This race just plain fascinates me and it has nothing to do with Lance Armstrong or any of the other individual racers. Have you ever watched any of it? I sit in awe of these athletes. Day after day they go out and put their weary bodies through the most physically grueling torture possible. They ride 3500 kilometers which is over 2100 miles in three weeks with very few rest days scattered throughout. I can't even begin to imagine that.

Seriously, these guys ride up mountains and then virtually fly down the other side whether it's raining, snowing or sunny and 100 degrees. They ride through little towns over narrow, winding streets with crowds screaming so loud they can't hear the team radios in their ears. They crash with each other, fall on their own due to equipment failure and just pick themselves up, often with bloody and raw skin exposed through their torn uniforms, and keep right on going. And then, just for fun, every so many days they force their battered bodies to pedal even faster during an individual time trial.

I have yet to grasp all the rules and strategies associated with this whole event and frankly, I don't really care. I like to watch just because I do. It seems to be one of those things. Last year's race was frought with scandal. I hope this year's isn't because having the announcers dwell on the various nefarious situations detracted from my overall enjoyment. I want to relax and soak up the scenery the racers are zipping by, not listen to non-stop speculation of who's cheating and how.

As I said, the race begins today. You can catch part of it almost daily over the next few weeks. If you have a spare moment, take a look. Maybe you'll be as inexplicably interested as I am.

One last thing - I spent some of my holiday speaking with Amarinda Jones. On the phone instead of just through email. It was quite a conversation and I'm so glad it happened. One thing I'm sure of, should we ever meet in person we will be very dangerous. There, you've been warned! What do you think, AJ? Is the world ready for us combined?