Going "Ganic"

I am going to term something today; going "ganic". Not the full blown organic that some people think is a way of life, spending more money of foods without pesticides, hormones, antibiotics etc. Going organic is all in, a bit of a cumbersome task and not feasible for most people, including me. It is unreasonable to try and do that and frankly, I am not all that sold on the concept from a consumers perspective. I am, after all, in the food business and sceptical of trends as it relates to the food industry. Now that I am ganic, I seek to make a change our two soon in how my company can make a slight difference, how my own life can do the same. It is more of a sustainable condition, less harmful to the land and animals harvested, has to do with a better connection to the fundamentals of living. I like that part of it and buy in to that more and more each day. In fact, it has become a part of me, creeping into my thought process daily. Each day I spend a certain amount of my time figuring out my work load, and during that time I create mental checklist of "ganicizms", those things you can do to reduce your carbon imprint or support your Green Initiative.

Ganicizms are simply the handful of things that I do to support my personal Green Initiative. Everyone should have a green initiative, by the way. Have you thought about yours? It is your duty as a human being now. You might soon be scorned for driving that SUV, drinking that bottled water, feeding your kid Happy Meals. Tell me you have no green initiative and most people will convince you otherwise. And the fact that it is "out there" now, that many people are concerned about our planet condition, gives indication of the gradual change that has come about. This was not eating the elephant in one bite, rather small changes, buy ins, initiatives by some who sought to do a little bit better with what they do.

I realize that I am not ready to dive head first in to the waters of total sustainability. Though there are small things that I can do in order to push things in the right direction. For example. The Ruckus thing. I park my car three days a week and ride the Ruckus to work when I can. I rode the damn thing to St. Charles the other day, got cussed at a few times too from people in V8's. My back hurt when I got there and I had a sunburn when I returned. Page had the bridge down to two lanes and I had to cross at 35 miles an hour without a shoulder. Damn!

I shut the Schnucks guy down when he tried to bag my grocery's. I am replacing one type of Styrofoam cup (just one for now) with a biodegradable option at Lindenwood University. I am putting one type of organic sliced cheese into my inventory at all of my properties. I am commuting by bicycle when I can. I am carpooling. Small micro changes that put myself in the ganic way of life.

Who can build it?

What I'm talkin bout. And lets not forget that it is going on a Ruckas, not the Pee Wee Herman looking....thing in the photo.

I will order the parts. Who wants to take credit for fitting it?

Business Etiquette

Here is one that I bet you didn't know. I teach a business etiquette class for a couple of colleges around the state. I started doing it back in the early 90's when I was one of those stiff butler type Maitre D's. Yes, I was one of those guys who stands in a tuxedo when Buffy and Derrek arrive at their club. I am cordial and often curt. "hello Mr. and Mrs. Farnsworth, might I seat you at the twosome by the window"? I hand Mr. Farnsworth a dinner jacket, (there are rules in the club that require this), and lead them to the table. Lonnie the cocktailer immediately drops a Makers Mark and water and Vodka Gimlet placed at 1:00 o'clock, ladies first, stiff upper back, just to the left of the water glass, top right. I mention a few words about the "Dover" that Wolfgang picked up from Lambert 45 minutes earlier and move back to my podium to conduct the evenings, repeat.

Must refrain

Eric called me a liar yesterday. I was finishing shredding him on the Wednesday Castlewood ride, where D-Wayne, Albert, Mitch, Zach and a couple others showed up. D-Wayne is always fun to ride with, he an Albert were off the front, I wish Thrasher was there to see how he measured up, but apparently his cubicle wasn't memo'd. I think D-Wayne is all of 142 pounds. Albert don't look much fatter. Bobby must do weigh-ins from time to time. Those guys are toothpicks.

The reason Eric called me a liar was for obvious reasons. I have had a couple posts that I changed my mind on. The Prius is history, just too gay. Not only that, it is not all that eco-friendly. There is a problem with the price to quality ratio as well. I will stay with an aggressive riding protocol on the Ruckus. Funny, the only time I have driven my car all week has been to load my Mountain bike up to go and ride. I will be contacting Brad Brown of Cycleworks to seek out an apparatus that I can mount my bike on the Ruckus. That will surely be photo worthy and Ploch will know nothing of it, until I completely one-up him.

The other reason Eric called me a liar was because I no showed at the Herman race. And never have I been so glad. Face it, I have two weeks before I am ready to race. The May 10th Castlewood thing will hopefully ignite the afterburners, I will do the endurance class, and by then I should be fit enough to at least get through the race. No surgeries this year, no excuses, I will be back. I snuck off and did another lap yesterday as the groups headlights faded into dark from the park. I got back on that horse to one-up those guys. Yep.

In other news, it was indeed a good time riding with Bobby, Paul, Bauer and Tank the other day. I had forgotten how often there are attacks on that ride. Fun stuff. I kind of saved myself for that ride and performed reasonably well. Though it was only 45ish miles and I really need to get in to the 80's. I believe there is talk about a double Berryman soon, and/or a Castlewood, Chubb, Greensfelder tour, 60 mile epic. This should knock the dust off the water cages.

Tricked in to road race

I have not done a road race since breaking my wrist in Hillsboro a few years ago. Or maybe it was two years ago Froze toes in this picture, where I was obviously out of the lead out. Anyway. Hermann is this week and I was tricked in to going with the team to do a TT and Road race. I will suffer, I will get dropped. But it will be a nice lesson in indulgence, or better said, how not to indulge over the winter. All I have is MTB legs right now. I hope I don't have to ride by myself. The masters are not messing around these days.

New Car, right reasons

I am going to do this. I am sick of the gas. My kids car costs money too. I didn't consider this when trying to get my wife pregnant in 1990, I suppose it didn't pop in, that gas would be creeping to 4 bucks a gallon 16 years later. I suppose tuition was less too, college tuition.

I am going to trick this bad boy out. There is a full package that runs the Prius up to 27 thou. Not including the must have Thule. 45-45 highway and city, and a Ruckus with a 100 mpg for nice days. I am no longer the carbon glutenm and my kid thinks it looks gay. She'll be begging me to fill her tank.

Nightmares of the not so rich and famous

I get Readers Digest and stacks of other magazines at the house like most people do. I am not sure, really, if I pay for these subscriptions. They show up each month and find there way to the vanity in the main floor loo for the daily 6:30 AM reading. It could be I am on some form of birthday subscription thing that my in-laws fund, thoughtfully maintaining my less than half full cup of conservative cultural opinionated rhetoric. Or maybe I just made that up. Fact is, my in-laws are pretty moderate with minor exceptions. They have no idea what really matters in this world as far as I am concerned. I seem to be able to get through political conversations without storming off quite nicely.

Anyway, occasionally the magazines (and I will include the St. Louis Business Journal) have articles on how to handle yourself in corporate culture, rising up through the ranks, tips on dealing with your boss, what to do or not to do in your cubicle, jealousy, competition for promotion, styles of management, most things that have to do with climbing the ladder to middle management and beyond. There are industries set up to defend the framework, the culture, the manual to the corporate world. Think about it, clothing stores, office furniture suppliers, communication companies, builders, all conforming to the framework set forth and guarded by those with skin in the game--those who support the industry of big business culture,those with the yellow ties, dark suits, the conformists.

If I see anyone wearing a bow tie who is younger than I, I have to admit that it is a challenge to restrain myself from launching across the room and Dr. Strange-loving them in the face. It is not that I don't like paisley bow ties. Rather, I think it represents a self indulgent and separative demeanor--that which isn't very humble and/or willing to adjust--that which is not tolorent, approachable or fortheright in their ablility to see the world from the underbelly.

They (not all) are the elitist and there are many who subscribe to a lifestyle of this culture, the fabricated framework of corporate conformity that, if you choose to participate, has strict rules. In order to justify your belonging to the system, they must control you, thereby keeping things just out of reach, a social stratification within the corporate culture for you and...the lay people. C'mon, the odds are very small that anyone will start in the mail room and work your way to CEO of a fortune 1000 company. Even if you buy a closet full of bow ties and vote straight republican for decades.

Now, of course I might think a little differently if I were to have grown up amidst a fleet of Mercedes, a fortune in private school tuition and multiple weekend get-aways to Europe using the Lear. I might find myself being a little more indulgent in my own way. But that won't be the case; waking up tomorrow morning having 500 million dollars, the CEO of a big company. Yet what if I retained all of my memories of bullshit that got me to my meager existence today?

What would it be like? My fear is that I would wake up in next to some woman whom I've never seen before, her face stretched back behind her ears, her lips puffy from Friday afternoons injection of hip fat. An exhale of Merlot leaving a damp stain on her pillow and around her mouth, the additional Xanax needed to "take the edge off" and to insure enough sleep to roll through the dryness of 3 AM hangover. The room is so big I can't find my jeans and tie died shirt, nor my dog, whom I am accustomed to peeing each morning.

Disgusted I get up and look for my guitar and business journal and head for the main floor loo. While there, I make a call and set up the days mountain bike ride and review Tuesdays taxes due. And I pray right there like I usually do, head down while sitting there on the comode, for my life back--my wife back--for the woman who has put up with more shit than God from me--for reasons of all things remaining the same, the woman who needs to make the friggin coffee.

Leaving St. Louis

I ended up in St. Louis. In 1986 I moved back here in order to take a job at the newly remodeled Union Station in Downtown St. Louis. I was a manager at a restaurant there, Houlihans Old Place, owned by Gilbert/Robinson out of Kansas City. I had intended on moving to Kansas City from Houston, but they sent me here to work at what was one of the busiest in their chain of 600 or so restaurants. I had gone to school in St. Louis in 1981-82, but left town broke and sick from, of all things, a food borne illness outbreak that really put me under for a while.

My school was not the traditional kind, I was a culinary student at Forest Park, St. Louis Community Colleges. I had no job when I arrived for school, no place to live, my car was a broken down 1965 VW peace mobile. I was the earthy type I suppose, for lack of better funding. I still tell my wife and kid how I drove the car for 6 months without breaks or a starter, only using the emergency hand break to stop. The only way to start the car was to jump start on a hill. It required planning, to say the least. When the car stopped for good, I took the bus, in the cold, along with the others making their way through the world with what some people say is of little significance. They all seemed happy to me.

I lived in Maplewood, on Lyndover, in a one bedroom apartment complex. Maplewood was depressed and nothing like it is today. It was rough and you had to watch your back. I remember the White Castle that still sits on the corner of Big Bend and Manchester. One day I went up to grab a bag of bombers and the police and fire department had swarmed the center of the intersection. Some psycho had poured gas on himself and lit himself on fire. The image of that has stayed with me to this day. The dark oily stain of the fire remained in the middle of the intersection for years, as it has in my mind, a memory of what my past was like.

I grew up in a smaller town, never had the taste of urban culture, or cultural diversity as was the case in Maplewood. I got a job in a private club, cooking for rich people. I was an apprentice chef, the kind of like you see on TV nowadays. The chef was a jerk, like on TV, but he made me part of what I am today. I got "meat duty" often because I would yawn in the kitchen. Meat duty was a day in the meat box, 40 degrees, carving down veal, tenderloins, other cuts, as punishment for not being "on". I made 3.25 and hour and made things work for a short time.

When I returned to St. Louis in 86, after leaving the first time, I was a changed man. I had lived and worked in Kansas, Arizona, LA, Houston, Dallas. My skill had brought me what was soon to be called home, St. Louis. And I started my life as it is today, met my wife, had my kid, bought my house, started a business, a blog.

So, like it or not, I suppose it is my history, a big piece of fabric that connects to the other pieces of my life. It's an adventure and one that I own. I can't change it and is part of me. My family and friends rely on my history to interpret theirs, to transition into others, and so on. There is legacy by simply living and making your way through life, regardless of any wish to control it. There are meaningful things that stay with me and the others, tattoos that can't be changed or removed without bitterness and an abundance of negative energy. There are memories of the good and bad, the struggles, the choices. It is life.

I find St. Louis to be imperfect and suppose I wish I could leave someday for better weather etc. There is a long list of things that bother me, challenges that that have become a pain in the ass, things that require energy and focus that are distractive and unsavory, I want to flee, in a way. But isn't that the way life is? We find ourselves in a performance, pretending we are living life for the right reasons while our head is down grinding our way through the bullshit. What we don't understand is that, while in the "gu", if we stay with it, if we overcome adversity, persevere, adapt to change, seek out the small things that make life interesting, we better our little world and the community begs us to stay and grow with them. Our cards are our cards, and it is how we play the hand that determines our condition. The only reason I would flee is to find perspective, to recall the memories of what has been my life in St. Louis, Missouri-that which I have made the best of, and that which I call home.

My wife asked me the other day, "why and the hell don't you ever stop and ask for directions when you are lost"? Apparently it really pisses her off when I do this. I just keep driving and driving and driving until I figure it out. I tell her, "in my world, everything is an adventure, therefore, I am never lost". I am always intrigued by what comes my way and how I relate my past experiences to the new patterns that emerge in situations that I am unsure of. Over time a logical and intuitive decision making process comes about and I find my way. I reference the patterns often, grinding my way through unsure-ety. But without familiar ground to call home; a clear understanding of the world around me, there is no clear reference.

So I won't flee. And if I do, I won't bash the city (people) and place where I have spent so many years shaping and molding and making my both my life and the community better simply by being a part of it. I will flee for the right reasons. To take from the old and enhance the new in a positive light.

To cast a shadow over St. Louis or Missouri is to look in the mirror and ask yourself why.

Street Corner Electioneering

e·lec·tion·eer
(-lksh-nîr)
intr.v. e·lec·tion·eered, e·lec·tion·eer·ing, e·lec·tion·eers
To work actively for a candidate or political party.


I was lassoed the other day by my Ward 3 Chesterfield Alderman Mike Casey to do a little campaign work at the polls this morning. I told him I would be happy to get up at 5:00 AM and make it to the front of Claymont Elementary School in order to press the flesh, on his behalf. I am good at that stuff, in a grass roots kind of sophisticated hoosier kind of way, I know this.

Life is quite the adventure, and not many times do interesting opportunities get offloaded right on to your lap like this. So I jumped at the chance to be the closer, a last minute persuading "tool" for my bro Mike Casey.

I arrived when it was still dark at 6:00 am, just about the same time that the overweight and even more over-the-hill poll workers weebled in to sit at the Samsonite tables set up just right by the custodians work order Monday night. I stood amidst the colorful signs with my bundle of Mike Casey "one-outs" and a hot 20 oz. magnum of coffee from the Mobil Station.

There wasn't much to do for quite a while and I was a little lonely so when another electioneer rolled up, I got a little excited. Looking to have some fun, I welcomed him with a handshake and an introduction that I thought might spicen things up a bit.

I crossed my arms and leaned to one side and whispered:

"Yo dude, Ralph for Mike Casey, wassup"?

He looked at me cautiously and responded with:

"Sup dode, doa-in the prop "B" thang, yo...we cool?"

After a few long seconds to gain better control of the situation, I let him stay. Turns out it was this dude.



I must say, I was absolutely honored to have met the guy. You never know who you might bump in to.

Mountain Bike Squad Getting Burn On

Lots of build up going on right now for late spring and early summer races. We are getting organized and will keep it that way. I wanted to let everyone know that have semi-structured rides, held three times weekly. Wed. Sat. and Sun. But the times and locations will change as far as conditions. We had 7 team members Sunday at Castlewood, would liked to have had everyone interested in making an impact on the scene. BTW, the back of the park is closed and it was a bit crowded on Lone Wolf, all trails.

We will be doing a lot of training at Greensfelder and Chubb in weeks to come, weather permitting. Castlewood drains very well inside the park.

If you want to be on the email list, send me an email at ralph@pfoodman.com. Or check my blog for updates, I will post the locations there, plus other penetrating observations on your stature.

Others on Velo Force who who would like to join in for the ongoing training MTB rides...what are you waiting fer?

The current suspects, Christine, A-lane, Becky, Ralph, Thrasher, Schuck, Gibson, Tieber, Tolke, Hawkins, Ted. Others, chime in, lets get some presence out there as a group.
The next ride will be Wed evening. Location to be determined. Location and/or switch to road ride may be the case at any time.

New Bike for Runners

Jerseys

Here is a photo of the new Velo Force jersey from Monday's meeting. As you might have heard, the bibs and shorts came in wrong, no "g" in racing, no "v" in Velo. Thanks Becky for making sure they are right. Come to the meeting on Sunday the 13th and pick up what is in. Four Seasons Country Club.

We need some of these too....maybe Hawkins will get motivated and ride his bike.


"I got a fever and guess what? The only prescription is cowbell".

Walken "the" Bruce Dickenson

In shape

There are glimmers of fitness to be had. Just look at the muscles in my jaw and neck. Pounds of pressure they will deliver on the right day, and on the right meal. I will photograph additional body parts as they become fit in what has been a less than stellar startup for the 08 season. I noticed BLM is giving away Land Shark beer in his Name-O-Church lotto thing that he has going. Well, that is one way to move the backstock, ain't it. Clever, try the Catholics around lent. They let the beer flow while frying up the cod.

Today I plan on making my way to Babler for laps, important to my regimen as it currently stands. I am ready to chuck my road bike off a cliff. The trails are angry at the rain. I will dance the "Wapiti Stomp" to curtail the weather.

Wapiti

Things have really taken shape on the Wapiti front as of late. Of course, the weather has sucked a bit, so most outdoor stuff has been limited to what I can get in Florida, wind training on the road bike, and the hills of West St. Louis County in the cold. It has been tough this year to get spring fitness and I am paying for it on each ride, suffering like I have been.

I know, I have yet to show at a race too. But we all know that I will, and when it happens, I will make excuses, knees, neck, business......

Anyway, I thought you might find this interesting.

It is the team the Bald Guy has put together to launch Wapiti national. Wapiti is what we live for, by the way, if you haven't checked it out, visit us here.