10 mile bike ride, people! Ok, so it's not actually all that impressive. Except, you know what? It is. We hauled the bikes out of our somewhat sketchy bike storage room in the basement of our apartment building (Mr. Awesome's comment on the improved state of that room since they cleaned it out last month: "Well...at least it smells less like urine in here.") and bought a new tire pump and a helmet for the Awesome One and we rode out, into the wild blue! Well, not so wild or blue really. More like a bike lane in a very urban area that led, eventually, to the Mt. Vernon trail along the Potomac River. But it was still lovely. My favorite part is where it goes over a marsh, and the trail is this wooden bridge thing without sides, and all around you are marshy plants looking all...marshy. It felt legit, you know?
Anywho, we rode down to Old Town Alexandria for lunch. Here's a query for you: what is it about Irish pubs? They keep drawing me to them, like a moth to a flame. Even though the moth knows she does not like hamburgers and cannot force herself to eat seafood. Even though the moth does not drink any type of beer, Irish or otherwise. Even though every time she does end up going into one of these oh-so-alluring pubs, she finds herself eating a sub-par salad with questionable lettuce. Still, she is drawn in, helpless to resist. Oh well, at least the Awesome One enjoyed his chicken pot pie.
Torpedo factory? Meh. I mean, you know, modern art and all, but... Look, I work within walking distance of the Smithsonian. You can't expect me to get all verbose about a few water colors when I've got the Peacock Room calling my name, mmmmkay?
And then we sat on a bench next to the river and watched boats float by. Actually, I watched boats. His Awesomeness was totally enthralled with a garbage diving squirrel eating an ice-cream cone. Apparently it was quite the spectacle. I should know, he gave me a play-by-play.
The ride home was not quite so easy or comfortable as the ride there had been. It had it's similarities, though. On both trips I found myself muttering "holy crap, holy crap" every time we came upon a turn in the trail. I can bike 10 miles, no problem, it's just the whole "turning" thing that FREAKS me out.
Anywho, we rode down to Old Town Alexandria for lunch. Here's a query for you: what is it about Irish pubs? They keep drawing me to them, like a moth to a flame. Even though the moth knows she does not like hamburgers and cannot force herself to eat seafood. Even though the moth does not drink any type of beer, Irish or otherwise. Even though every time she does end up going into one of these oh-so-alluring pubs, she finds herself eating a sub-par salad with questionable lettuce. Still, she is drawn in, helpless to resist. Oh well, at least the Awesome One enjoyed his chicken pot pie.
Torpedo factory? Meh. I mean, you know, modern art and all, but... Look, I work within walking distance of the Smithsonian. You can't expect me to get all verbose about a few water colors when I've got the Peacock Room calling my name, mmmmkay?
And then we sat on a bench next to the river and watched boats float by. Actually, I watched boats. His Awesomeness was totally enthralled with a garbage diving squirrel eating an ice-cream cone. Apparently it was quite the spectacle. I should know, he gave me a play-by-play.
The ride home was not quite so easy or comfortable as the ride there had been. It had it's similarities, though. On both trips I found myself muttering "holy crap, holy crap" every time we came upon a turn in the trail. I can bike 10 miles, no problem, it's just the whole "turning" thing that FREAKS me out.
Our kite, Ferguson, showing the airplanes how it's done. Aw yeah. Fergalicious, baby.
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