In the past few weeks--since I've found myself interested again in blogs and blogging--I've spent many hours surfing blogs, and I've found myself drawn most to three sorts of blogs: blogs that address political issues or events with a liberal sensibility sympathetic to my own and that do so without stridency or rancor (although not without a necessary dash of irony); blogs by North American ex-pats in Europe (though whether this shall persist I do not know: two writers I've followed for a few weeks are now returning or will soon return to the U.S. or Canada); and finally, blogs by bicyclists of several sorts--folks involved in advocacy, bike culture, classic bikes, and touring, but not necessarily racing.
And after the torturous puncutation in that first rambling sentence, I think I've said all I will about those subjects in this short entry while I recover from punctuation fatigue.
The mean streets of Manhattan, Kansas, become exceptionally treacherous at this time of year, as peasants--who recently wielded pitchforks and hoes--fill unprotected vehicles with bushels of surplus zucchini, so lock your car. Constant vigilance is the price of freedom from zucchini. Shown below is my morning harvest, sans zucchini.
The morning harvest
Reading: Catching up on back issues of the New Yorker. I know it's impossible, but a boy can dream. And I'm still reading the Cathcart memoir.