Aww...freak out!

It turned out to be a rather stressful day. And I say that not in reference to the 4300-ft climb we scaled or the 20 miles we rode through a straight tunnel of abominal headwind or even the arrival of Brandan Newman, the most stressful part was the first 20 seconds of a phone message from my father:

(In a tone that implies I am in serious shit) Um, Kathy? (He never calls me Kathy) We need to talk (dramatic pause). Your blog has been taken off the Bike and Build site; you need to call me and let me know what has happened.

To reiterate, I am not in any trouble; I am the one who removed the link from the B&B site.

I am most reminded in this situation of a short piece from David Sedaris. In his story, he recounts how his sister starts telling him an embarrassing event. Sedaris, always seeking material to write about, whips out his notebook. "You're not going to put this in your BOOK, are you?" she asks critically.

This short exchange illustrates the key moral quandary of all nonfiction writers: at what point does your quest for things to write about ruin your integrity? How can you ally yourself both with your audience and your subjects?

Well, if you write about the stuff I do, you can't. And since my loyalties lie with those who fawn their love and adoration on me (my readership), my solution is simple: don't let your subjects know you write about them. Hence my 'disassociation' from the site.

Alright, that's enough deep thinking for now. Moving on.

Last night made me think of a situation way back in Niagra that I have yet to discuss. It involves a young man named Ryan.

The morning we woke up to leave Niagra Falls, we found a note on the van. We had had little to no interaction with the folks living on the street, but apparently one young man took interest. The note read:

Dearest Bikefolk,

What's up? NM (not much) here. Just writin. How's the biking? Got affordable housing yet? If not, try sleeping in that massive van of yours. or my house, LADIES! Am I right?

But seriously, you are the mangs man (man's man) among meng (men), ever. My talent is (word edited) drawing. Take this offering and hold it dear to your hearts.

Love, Ryan (cell phone #) Text me!

(rude drawing here) Don't be offended.


We never met a kid named Ryan in Niagra, but man am I glad he wrote us that note. I was reminded of him last night at the drag race; he would have eaten it up.

No other big news except prankster plans for Brendan. The madness has already begun: when his bike case showed up at the church (this was before he had arrived), we took out his nice Trek bike, hid it, and then replaced it with a rusty Huffy we found in the church basement. Shazaam!

Updates on our continued debauchery to come.

Thanks to everyone who's expressed concern about the blog. This morning, Shawn's dad left a message, the entirety of which was to let Shawn know my blog had been removed. Let your people know, I'm still here! And this time, I'm blogging without reservations (although, let's be real, that's not really changing much).

Love and peace,
Kathy