Gorging on Summer

I’ve been very busy lately, but not typing so much as desperately enjoying myself. It’s a last ditch effort to fit everything into the last days of summer that I possibly can. It’s been cool and wet here for months, not at all the bone dry clear sky weather we usually have. So now it’s sunny and hot again, and I’m rushing to get everything done that I haven’t before.

 August 28th. Me on Neahkahnie Mountain. Manzanita in the background.

Well, maybe it’s a stretch to call reading books on the front porch “rushing,” but I’ve made myself do it just because that’s one the things I enjoy about warm weather. Gotta do it while I have the chance.

And okay, picking blackberries up on Mt Tabor then watching the sunset isn’t really rushing either. But even when I’ve been tired lately, I’ve made myself ride up to the top and pick. In the grim, bone-chilling dank of a Portland winter, eating blackberry jam is what reminds me of why I stay here — the glorious summer.

I’ve been trying to fit in as much tennis as possible too. Both my partners are starting grad school soon, and that’ll be the end of that. Brian and I play up on Mt Tabor, where the courts have a great view, and we get to watch the sun go down over the city. We keep going for at least three hours then finally have to leave when the lights turn off at 11 p.m. and we’re suddenly cast in pitch black. I can coast almost all of the thirty blocks home, and even the warm summer air chills me because my clothes are still damp from play.

On the other hand, L.B. (aka Elbey) and I play at a mercilessly unshaded court midway between our houses. I hate the blazing sun, but I love it when he strips off his shirt to get some color on his freckled sholders. He’s lean and perfect and infinitely energetic in the way only a twenty-five year old could be; so it’s probably a good thing we can’t play very long before he’s off to work. But our ninety minute sessions make up for in vigorous competition and lively conversation what they lack in duration. Unfortunately, in less than a month, I’ll lose both my partners. So until then, it’s always a yes to tennis.

And the list goes on. Go running at night whenever I can. Take one of the longer bike treks I’ve had on my list forever. Pick some fruit for canning or herb for drying. Catch a ride to the beach any time it’s possible. Don’t miss the last Last Thursday or the last nights of a certain queer night held outside. In these final days of the season, I feel very much like a bear gorging on berries before a long, cold hibernation, except that in my case, I’m gorging on summer.

Vexation

Wordy Wednesday’s Wonderful Word of the Week

vexation

• irritation or annoyance
• anger produced by some annoying irritation
• something or someone that causes anxiety; a source of unhappiness
• the act of troubling or annoying someone

Sounds like: vek SAY shun

Example: Drunken yelling matches between brawny lesbian truckers after closing time at the Egyptian Lounge next door are a constant source of vexation for all our housemates, but especially for the two whose windows face the parking lot where the drama unfolds nightly.

Happy Monday – Bathing Suits of the World

Every Monday I post photos of guys smiling. Since summer is winding down, I’m gonna post all the remaining shirtless guys I’ve collected. Really, that’s why. This week, they’re from all over the world.

 Regular ol’ American dudes. Wait, do I see knee? Oh, no, of course not.

 Israeli Defense Force personel, 1970s. Love the uniform back then.

 Brazilian guys (front) wearing the national beach costume, the sunga.

By sheer coincedence, I’m off to the beach later today. This being Oregon, I’ll probably have a sweater on over my speedo.

Skullduggery

Wordy Wednesday’s Wonderful Word of the Week

skullduggery

• Crafty deception or trickery or an instance of it
• Verbal misrepresentation intended to take advantage of you in some way

Sounds like: skull DUG uh ree

Example: Some argue that Reagan’s carefully scripted speaches and flag-waving, feel-good rallies were the high point of twentieth century political skullduggery.

One Summer Day

I had a quintessential summer day today. For the last two months, it has been unusually gray and rainy in Portland, which most people here (myself included) have actually enjoyed. But not today. Today, it was perfect. Warm, but not hot. Big, gleaming cottonball clouds against a deep blue sky. A light breeze.

I made a point of taking a couple of hours in the afternoon to sit in the porch swing read an actual book (“Blink” by Malcolm Gladwell), then I rode my bike up Mt Tabor and picked blackberries in the fading light. Watched a peach-colored sun set over the West Hills. Did a few pull-ups on the playground. Then later at home, I ate Tillamook vanilla ice cream with the fresh blackberries for dinner. And then again for desert.

Flying
I’ve had the worst bike luck for the last few months, but I think I’ve finally turned the corner. Last night I sat in the kitchen and did some necessary repairs. Had to remove my back gears to replace a broken spoke, and I cleaned them thoroughly while they were off. Some of the caked-on, packed-in black grime was so old that I think, legally speaking, I should have applied for a variance from the Historic Preservation Commission before chipping it out. There were strands of foliage and lengths of cord wound up in there too. But now it is pristine, and all joking aside, my bike feels ten pounds lighter after all the repairs and adjustments. Tonight, riding up Tabor, I felt no resistance. I felt like I was flying.

This summer alone, I’ve removed my cranks and bottom bracket for adjustments, repaired my pedals, removed and cleaned my gears, replaced a broken spoke and trued my wheel, and changed my tubes (in under five minutes) no less than nine times. And that’s just what I can remember off the top of my head. I’m really thankful that I can do all of that myself and that I can help and teach other people as well.

I learned it all years ago at the Community Cycling Center volunteer nights, and I was especially lucky that somebody took the extra time back then to show me how to do stuff right. Every time I fix my bike, I think of his help, and I am still truly grateful. Tonight, flying around, feeling happy, I thought to myself for the one-thousandth time, thanks again, Marko.

Happy Monday

Every Monday I post photos of guys smiling.