The Perfect Number

Corey and I prerode the race start today and, in short, it's going to
hurt.

As Corey and I spun the road heading toward the gravel roads which
marked the beginning of the meaningful part of the course, I commented
that the gear I had might not be enough. However, once we hit the
gravel and neared the ATV trails, I knew I could let go of that idea.

The road kicked up pretty hard and my legs were not happy. From the
things rolled their way skyward while we bounced off rocks all along
the way.

We dipped into some single track to take us back and somewhere along
the my legs relaxed, I remembered how to ride a mountain bike and I
started looking forward to tomorrow.

It's still gonna hurt though. (and Mr Godfrey looks damn strong.)

Breakfast in Joplin

Corey and I rolled down to Joplin, MO last night on our way to Mena,
AR and Ouachita. After a brief David Lynch-like cultural event at a
convenience store, we settled in with some old school rap and made
great time. Thanks to all for the calls and emailed well wishes. A
few more ours and it's time for a pre-ride.

So, There's This Ride I Know...

Rapha has updated the Continental Calling rides and hosts for their summer tour of the US.

Your friends have some rides to share with you (and many of you in the 402 have ridden one of them.)

Ready

Well, Sam made sure the bike is ready. The rest is tbd.

What? What Time Is It?

Suddenly, the impending season seems very real.  Like getting engrossed in something only to discover that hours have moved by, the preseason has seemed to become the race season overnight.

With Ouachita looming this weekend, I am in that proverbial position of wondering exactly how things might turn out.  The only thing that seems certain is that I'm a bit lighter and that packing the things needed to race is nearly automatic.

With Sam readying the BKB IF for action, my often used tactic of showing up with a creaking chain is probably out the door so I will have to find some other reason to be worried right before the ball drops on 80 miles of Arkansas fun.

I think the biggest difference between my ride this year and almost every other in years past is my fork.  I'll be running suspension for Ouachita.  I'm actually feeling mixed emotions on the idea.  Sam's point, "You should save your hands for the bigger races later in year."

True... but I'm not sure I'll like it.  We'll see soon enough.

39x16 Meets 38x17

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday.  Weather, perfect.  Gravel, dry.  Wind, a bit.  Sam and I rolled for a touch under four on our respective singles today.  Sam decided to out mash me with a 39x16, while I took baby steps with the 38x17.  For much of the ride, I hadn't taken notice of the difference but finally, as Sam pedaled by me through the bottom of a roller as I waiting to be able to spin, I realized the score.

Fork in Action

"What are you running?"

"39x16."

"Oh... well that explains it."

"Yeah, I used to live with Tony Wilhelm, so it's all good."

On a related note... Don't look now.

Are You Thinking What I'm Thinking?

Apparently, a few people were.

After a morning spent supporting Mrs. Snob through her first running event, then watching Seven battle it out soccer style, I took the Fixed Niner to the park in order to remove some of riding skill rust prior to Ouachita next weekend.

With the trees providing a nice break from another Nebraska Spring wind and the sun pushing through in the afternoon, it was easy to push the tempo occasionally, visibility permitting, and see how the legs feel about racing next weekend.  (I am not sure they're down.)

Along the way, I saw Kevin B, Jay, MW and few others at various times out rolling dirt as well.  

As Ferris would say, "If you have the means, I highly recommend it."

"I don't wanna stay at your party. I don't wanna talk with your friends..."

Lucky Thirteen

As in years Mrs. Snob and I have been married as of today.

I had planned to post one of my favorite pictures for a commemorative update.  The X-Maxx party at D St was in full swing and as Susan and I talked, me with a hat made of balloons upon my head, someone tried to snap a clandestine pic but I caught them out of the corner of my eye and tossed up the middle finger of destiny to ruin the shop.  The shot captures Susan just beginning to laugh and that smug look of satisfaction of a job well done.  Merry fucking Christmas...

... and Happy Anniversary.

She-Devil

Dude... Cute Derringer

As in, not bringing enough weapon for the job.

With the family schedule forcing an early rise today, I joined the D St congregation for the Sunday 8am ride.  Unfortunately, it didn't take long to realize that I wouldn't be riding with the crew very long.  As we headed South into a brisk headwind, I often found myself close to being spun out and knew that as we turned away from the resistance, I would hear the familiar clicks as everyone shifted and I would be off the back.

So, I checked the time on my phone and decided to give it an hour then go solo.  The hour itself was nice enough, I chatted with JP a bit, hung around a few different rear wheels and tried to remember how my NCAA bracket was fairing after yesterday.

Then it was a quick see-ya-later to Jesse and a turn onto gravel.  Next time, I think I'll show up with at least one less tooth on the back.  I probably should have known better anyway.  The derringer is a cute pistol, but I can't imagine it's the right tool for most jobs.

Flats, PB&J and Modern Technology

It was a good Saturday. I bet Corey has the long version.

Express Lunch

Nothing like a quick 26 miles over lunch. I could have done without the headwind back though.

My New Favorite Band

The Plain White Hipsters...

or

Death Cap for Cuties

or...

Irish Eyes Are Smiling

Despite a string of flats that would normally leave me bent out of shape and reaching for a Irish stout, the weather of the last two days has kept everything a batch of smiles.  Imagine a photo showing a bike laying at the side of the road, a tire removed and the contents of a saddle bag strewn across a strip of grass, all drenched in warmth and sunlight.  

Now imagine four of those same photos.

Yet, the guy whose now running low on tubes still has a stupid happy look on his face.  Such is the impact of Spring.

Closer

The Morning Flat

We've all had it happen.  You've enjoyed some coffee, donned leg warmers and stroll to your bike only to find that, while it was put away in seemingly fine working order, now you have a flat to change.

Sunday morning was that morning for me.  After discovering no suitable tubes on hand, I sent a quick text to Sam letting him know we needed to switch to cross bikes.  With an already dead set of legs, the idea of smooth pavement and shifting to more teeth was hard to let go of, but I quickly resigned myself to the typical single speed ride and headed out the long way to Sam's place.

With a nice mix of road and gravel, we saved the headwind for last and capped the day with a Belgian style ride through headwinds and rain.  Plans for world domination sat on hold as we ground it out until the very end.  It's always a telling sign when the discussion ends with the food you're thinking of as you part.  

Sam was thinking chowder and, of course, I just wanted a mocha with a extra shot.

Hmmm... How to Describe My Legs Post Ride...

Perhaps with a picture...

Colonial Uprising

Why?  Because naming this post "London Calling" or "Anarchy in the UK" would have been too damn easy.

As life would have it, mid-April will find me in Hatfield, UK, just North of London proper.  From the looks of things, it looks like an off day will also be in the mix, so if anyone has suggestions on cycling related activities in the old empire, let me know.

If only Three Peaks were this time of year...

Feeling 'Euro'

Tick Tock

It hit me sometime today that my first race of the year is essentially three weeks from now.  Corey is over-trained as usual and I am probably under... we'll know soon enough.  

Tick Tock... Tick Tock...

Little Temptation

Nearly brought this home from NAHBS

The Long Way Home

Saturday.  29er, fixed gear, gear inches in the mid-seventies, temps in the mid-twenties.  Gravel.  Turkey chase.  Wander too far from the city.  Ride home against light sleet and rain.  

Sunday.  Road bike.  Mid-forties.  Highway shoulder to Beatrice.  Wind shifts just before turning around in the Arby's parking lot.  Bypass a Jamocha shake.  Twenty mph headwind home.  Spent on arrival.  Finish with around 80.  Still want the shake. 

"Take Note..."

Urban Velo takes note of Snappy Caps.

NAHBS from the Booth

The Snappy Cap booth at NAHBS proved to be more than a simple platform to spread the word about Mrs. Snob's caps and display the craftsmanship that she takes so much pride in.  It, as Nate pointed out, was a great oasis from the chaos of walking the floor.

The Wall

The coalition that worked the booth at NAHBS would also seamlessly rotate between providing us a break from the booth and strolling the floor to check out those asking to be checked on.  While Susan and I really didn't take in the entire show until the end of Day Two, it was fun to hear the reports come back about what was interesting and what didn't quite make sense.

Where the magic happened

By the time I really starting taking the show in, I found myself reviewing bikes with a scouting report to go along with my own take.  Typically, I would think things like, "that's what Johnny was talking about" or "Yeah, that chain would constantly drop off if you really rode this."

The Table on Day One

In the end though, everything came back to our little ten x ten space.  One of my favorite moments was when Mike DeSalvo took a picture of our crew at, I believe, the request of the Sparkle Ninja, Mrs. Carrie Kohtz.  We were all sprawled out in the booth, perhaps after hours, but maybe not.  Tired from the day, but having a good time just the same.

Two-Headed Monster

Speaking of Carrie, she was fabulous in the booth.  While I was often joking about my status of booth-babe, she was a zen master of booth management.  I found myself thinking that, if I were hiring a rep to travel and handle shows, I would hire her in a heartbeat.  She might not actually make it to the booth until the afternoon, but whatever she gave you would be worth it.

Worlds Collide

Mac|Life reviews the Chrome Soma. I say, good for Chrome.

Memories of NAHBS 09: REO SpeedVegan

One of the more interesting aspects of NAHBS was being across from Vanilla.  Not only did the bikes show amazing attention to detail, but the subtle aspects of the booth did as well, including bike stands make from what looked like stained concrete which held a post a pedal could clip into and adorned with a small tuft of fake turf.  When you're trying to decipher a stand, you know something is going on.  It's a booth that prompted Carl Strong to comment in a seminar that he looked at their booth and thought to himself, "Man, I suck," which was hysterical.

On the not so subtle side, they had SpeedVagan brass-knuckles.  I think at least three of us separately tried to get a pair at some point, only to reassemble and realize we'd all politely been turned away.  

After chatting a few times with Molly, who worked the booth like a champ despite feeling under the weather, we found ourselves referring to the Vanilla gang as the 'SpeedVegans' and genuinely enjoying small breaks in the crowd when we could step across the aisle and chat or laugh about the fact our hat fixtures kept dropping off of our Snappy Cap grid wall.

Of course, there were the bikes.  There are plenty of sites containing photos of the gorgeous bikes Sacha had on hand, so click and drool.  There was one bike in particular that I almost made my own at the show and, frankly, if we hadn't been pretty busy ourselves, I might have been commuting on it today.  

Bike or no bike, I'd still love to have a pair of those brass knuckles.

Whirlwind

Well, it's over. In being so focused on the moment-to-moment, it leaves me having no real idea of how Snappy Caps was received by the general public.  For a first-time, it really did seem to go very, very well.

What I do know is that Mrs. Snob and I had a great time, worked hard and had some great friends who helped us to make sure we put our best foot forward.  Thanks to Nate, Sam, Johnny and Carrie for coming along and helping out.  Having that support made the show much easier and kept the threat level low.

Now, I need to relax, watch Gangland, and get some sleep.

NAHBS Awards

"Everytime a non-functional bike wins an award, an angel gets its
wings" - Nate Woodman

Seven is ready to pit crew in Belgium

Handmade at NAHBS

"Are you guys 'pre-cooling' bags?"

Multi-Functional

Do You Have One's with Smiley Faces?

"No, but we do have some with less threatening skulls." - John Kohtz

Good Morning

Gifts from the Bilenky Gang

Snappy Action

View from Snappy Land

Hilarious

My Vote for Best in Show

The Circle in Indy

Preppin'

Nate's breakfast

Progress

Snappy Caps: Booth 353 at NAHBS.

At the risk of speaking for Mrs. Snob, it's been a fun, strange course which has lead Snappy Caps to attending its first NAHBS.

In short, she really was just planning on making me a cap or two.  Hobby helping your husband, no intent to start a cottage business with a strong, fast pulse.  However, a few blog posts, followed by a handful of ads in Urban Velo and suddenly, the conversations turned to getting too big and deciding what that might even mean.

The 2008 birth and growth of Snappy Caps did create a lot of fun memories, though, including (in no particular order).

• Susan getting hate mail from a "competitor" and Johnny suggesting we create the "North American Handmade Cycling Cap Show."
• Seeing Team Snappy Cap right before the start of 24-9.    
  
• Seeing G-Ted's first cap and marveling at the size of his melon.  (No offense, Mark.)
• Being to stubborn to believe MW could have a big head, and seeing otherwise in our living room.
• Learning from Aris, during TI, that his girlfriend took his cap because she didn't know cycling caps could be so cool.
• And possibly my favorite, learning of Johnny's response to someone who asked what Susan makes her bills out of.  "The souls of dead hipsters."

We've had fun getting ready for the show.  One thing is certain, the Snappy Cap booth will have a sense of style all of its own.  If you're making the trip stop by and say hello.  We can even help with what to do in Indy when your dead.  We used to live there.  Plus, the Sparkle Ninja and Johnny will be helping us man the booth so we may lead the league in quality dark-hearted banter as well.

Related to NAHBS, Sam and I will also be continuing the forward movement of War Axe while flying under the radar at the show.  Primarily, we will be hitting the sessions for the experience.  No booth required or needed.  (Yet, another fork has just gone to paint.)  Not to mention, the road trip will include Mr. Nate Woodman, so I suspect even the driving itself will be a good time.

So, even as Susan rocks out more caps as I type this, I can't help but be excited.  The soles have more than a little bounce.

More Than I Could Chew

So much for intelligent decision making...

Wandered out to ride today with the fxt-mtb as the ride of choice, got out into the wind, soft limestone and gravel and simply turned slowed heavy pedal strokes for a couple of hours.  Silly.  

Tomorrow, I think I'll close out the ToC with a road ride of my own.

Uh Oh, Gus...

It looks like we can remove the quotation marks.  SS Solo is now official.

And now everyone and their brother will clamor to win the first...

Happy Thursday

Captured

Mrs. Snob has often had more than a few laughs over my enjoyment of the Rapha Continental. However, while I have promised Sam that I won't hire high dollar photographers to follow us around all season, I remain inspired. The words and short films covering the Continental's ride of the Tour of California route have continued to raise that bar. In particular is the video below, which captures suffering in a way that many of the endurance set can relate to. At least, obviously, I felt I could.

Rapha Rides the TOC - Episode 2 from RAPHA on Vimeo.

Gumby

That's how my body feels, rubbery like Gumby.

Rewound yesterday's effort into a pretty strong South wind.  The results?  The desire to do little but watch UConn/Pitt then the Tour of California afterward.  (Versus in HD, love it.)

My body feels so tired, it's clear that Pokey came along for the ride as well.  I'll have to recover before taking on the Astrobots.

Two Part Gravel, One Part Snow, One Part Mental Decompression

One gift the early season often brings is the long ride where you finished spent and totally satisfied.  A ride where you know you got something done.  The legs contain a bit of rubber.  The lower back feels the ride but doesn't hurt and, with a floating holiday scheduled for tomorrow, the body tells you it's ready to do it all again, maybe even a bit more.

The ride itself was a solo effort heading south of town.  A nice early year rhythm came easily and I let my mind and eyes wander, only the periodic check of the watch broke the sequence.  A ride based on turn-around time instead any goal or destination.

 

After a while, a lot of the clutter that makes up the day-to-day popped up then dropped away to be replaced by something else; the office, the kids, Mrs. Snob, NAHBS, the Granny Gear series, TI and Kanza.  

After a time, it was nice to just ride, with all of that let go and hidden away for a little while.  

That's enough of sounding like a hippie or a hallmark card for tonight.  Maybe I'm a bit more tired than I think.

Well Now... It Seems I am Excited.

Got this from Granny Gear today (As did a guy much faster than me):

As an addendum to my reply a couple days ago, I wanted to let you know that we HAVE decided to include Solo Single Speed classes (mens and womens) at all three of our races this year! Online registration will hopefully open on Sunday (or soon thereafter), and there will be some really good discounts for registering early, especially within the first month of it being open.

Game On...

Speaking of "getting the job done"

I didn't even know Sam had gotten this posted.  Rock D rides again.

Don't let that fool you though.  We're really still just a clothing company.  (I sense an easy transition... )  

Which is why we're happy to report that the Hoss Creative's War Axe t-shirts are now available at Monkey Wrench.  

"Snow Day, Yo!!"

Vanilla Valentine

This quote is taken off of a recent North American Handmade Bicycle Show newsletter, in regard to the show being in Indianapolis this year:

Sacha White - the Vanilla Workshop
"One thing I can say is there are a lot of cycling hotspots that are not expected, Lincoln, Nebraska for example. My wife is also from the Midwest, and I like their style, they are less about talk and more about getting the job done," said Original Six builder and Portland handmade bicycle success story Sacha White, owner of Vanilla Workshop.

Pretty cool.

Game Changer?

Apparently, 24hr Nationals is now going to be in Moab and hosted by Granny Gear, which I guess is a regression from Galactic Championship to mere National Championship.  

The latest change has left me with a lot of questions.  Will there be a single speed category? Granny Gear doesn't historically have SS Solo.  Do I consider gears?  Not really my style.  Do I do the whole series now?  I was considering Big Bear anyway and know what to expect at 9 Mile.

And, of course, it is Moab.  And I have never been to Moab.

Assorted Snobbery: Demolition

Lunch on the Road

R.I.P. Lux Interior

Signposts to the Season of Hate

Ask not what hatred can do for you...

but what you can do for the Haters.

Near Death by Cliche

I hadn't thought of officially counting the cliches involved in my near miss today until half-time started and I sat down to type this out.  

As I stopped at a street crossing southwest of Lincoln today, a woman with quite fashionable oversized sunglasses decided she only needed to look left for her right hand turn and, while carrying on what I sure was a critically important conversation in her live, started to one hand the wheel and turn right into me.  I looked up, catch her daughter's petrified eyes as her Mom then saw me but, of course, instead of stopping, Mom decided the solution was to punch it, cross over the other side of the road and then rip a hard right turn in front of me.  Of course, then she gunned it down the road in a great impersonation of a getaway drive.  

Ride it like you stole it, but drive it like you might have killed him.

I've told Mrs. Snob that if I do ever get ran down and the driver is identified to have someone check the driver's cell phone records.  Since it will likely come down to a "he said, she said," that could be the only 'true' account you might get from the driver.

In a strange twist of circumstance, the rest of the gravel driving public, including several white trucks and SUVs, almost seemed to, not only know of, but be offended by this woman's ridiculous driving.  Acknowledging, waving and generally driving like champs and making me remember that most people are pretty reasonable, it's just the idiots we remember most.

Be safe everyone.  (Cliche count?  I number it at five.)

Soloist

With the Pinewood Derby (Best in Show) and a girl's basketball game (victory) eating up my morning, I missed the D Street Gravel Convention and found myself rolling solo through a strangely sunny and warm final day of January. I pulled the Fixed Niner out for some heavier rotations and discovered just how fall the fitness has fallen.

It's always interesting to climb back on any single and ride a familiar route.  It provides a touchstone for where your fitness sits and let's you know what you need to get done.  I discovered I have a lot to do.

Birds of a Feather

Perhaps it seeps in through the windows or slides through an open door, either way, the plague known as over-analysis has taken over our house.  With NAHBS only a few weeks away, Snappy Cap preparations have consumed the Casa de Cronin.

Mrs. Snob has faxed me show floor layouts, booth decor and any other detail up for consideration, all in an attempt to make her first show memorable and stylish as only Mrs. Snob can.  

After an email back and forth leading to the selection of a booth on the main aisle across from the Vanilla enclave, last night consisted of moving furniture out of the living room and grabbing a tape measure to truly visualize what you can really do with a 10x10 space.  (At the time, I had silently wondered if we would tape the space off Les Nessman style.)  The concept is there, several unique elements are set so it's now all down to execution and a little bit of madness.

With sessions to attend for War Axe in mind, John and the Ninja assisting in the booth, and the show being in one my former home towns, the show is likely to be a whirlwind which I won't completely absorb until Nate, Sam and I arrive back in Lincoln after the twelve hour drive.  

Whenever it soaks in, it's hard to imagine our first NAHBS won't be a memorable one.

An Answer...

... to 17 hour hands?

This Damn Blog

It's so easy anymore to throw out a Fight Club quote for nearly any circumstance or social occasion, so in the interest of continuing to let the dominos fall, let's do it again.

"The things you own, end up owning you."  So predictable.

Many of the links to the right were in need of updating, including one that you now apparently need permission to read.  I didn't even know that functionality existed.  Links used to stress me out but I stopped caring.  Not that I don't care about the people who right them, but I have found I am the proverbial creature of habit, not efficiency.  In someways, my links are a rundown of my favorites, but in other ways no.  Some blogs are my gateway drug to other blogs (some of which I visit more frequently than the ones on the sidebar.)  Others don't update that often, get light visits because of it, yet they remain my favorites.  Fickle?  If you say so.

What does that little rant amount to?  Not much, I agree.

Aside from War Axe, racing and shrinking seem to be occupying most corners of my mind lately.  Thankfully beyond double-digit downsizing, I'm starting to look again at the little mythologies that I start to believe mean I am faster than last year.  Again, having stacked a bulk of racing before the end of April and not having a clue of what to do until Nationals rolls around, this time in October.  Maybe I can lose a winning blackjack hand by that time (as in lose 21 pounds), but history is not on my side.

Side Thought:  My daughter has a softer jump shot than you.  (But, she can't go to her left so play her tight and take away the drive to her right.)

Yours in randomness,

Snob

Calling All Photogs

In finalizing the new War Axe site, I'd like to put together a gallery of War Machine from last season.  If you have photos you wouldn't mind sharing and attaching to an email, we would appreciate it.  I think it will round out the new site nicely.

Mileage Like the Mailman

As in, neither wind nor snow...

It seemed to take a long time for it to happen, but my mind has finally clicked into the mode which makes you want to eat miles. Week after week I was coming up short but now I can look back on this week and be satisfied. Of course, the becomes keeping it up until Spring rolls through and we all grab number plates, line up and go.

No, Corey, I'm still not waking up that early.

StillLife

Assorted Snobbery: Doing It Wrong

The problem with visiting Elk's Blog and then wandering about YouTube's selection of Fugazi and The Evens is coming across the snippet below. It could potentially cause you to want to leave your office, take your computer to a coffee house and work on a little upstart frame fabrication company instead of actually doing your day job.



Of course, the fact I started piling on miles this week has also left my legs in a state of pleasant tiredness, which also makes me want to go get coffee and work on War Axe. Can't go wrong. Can't do it right.

The American Pit Bull

I have to believe that as long as their have been cyclists, they have been chased by dogs.  And if your riding habits put you on gravel or in rural parts of your world, it likely happens enough that you've developed your own way of coping with the offenders, with it's own peculiar order of operations.  A friendly voiced, a sprint, water shot out of bottles, bottles themselves; all in a effort to stay one step ahead of a bite aimed for your achilles.

Of course, I've been through my fair share of dogs sprinting through yards.  Most come to say hello but a few have wanted a little something more.  Today was a first though, as I pushed into the West wind on Bennett road just southwest of Lincoln.  My head was down as I mashed my way up a hill.  As I crested, I looked to my right to see two dogs in a dead sprint toward me.  The second dog barely caught my attention though, because his buddy was a large white, muscles ripping, American Pit Bull.  My eyes went wide.

Of course, not every Pit Bull owner runs the 40 in 4.4 and tortures dogs in his spare time.  In fact my brother has a Pit, so I slowly dismounted to put my bike between myself and the block of flying muscle.  "Hey Buddy!!  Come here." 

The tale gave him away and a little love-fest ensued with my new single serving canine friend.  His owner came out just as I started scratching the dog head.  He walked out and I said, "most of you guys freak out, but he wouldn't harm a fly."  I just smiled, gave the other dog a little pat and headed out.

Even though all was well.  That moment of looking up and seeing the Pit in a full sprint toward me had still jacked me up.  At least it helped me finish out my ride strongly.

"Throw'em Con!!"

Worked from four windy hours in the but the stoked on the new War Axe
t-shirts in undiminshed.

Thanks to the Hoss Creative and Screen Ink for the style council.

Crap, It's Starting to Feel Real

UFO sighting number one.

(Personally, I think this photo, and the others, are photoshopped.)

Sickly Scent of Desperation

Naturalist missives about the circle of life aside, it is ironic and seemingly pathetic to me how I feel the same ruts, paranoia and passion start and restart the same times each year, a passion victim case study in how difficult it is not to constantly hit 'repeat.'

Now, sitting here in January with the earmarks of a season to come queued up waving in the distance, my little panics about riding and training keep creeping up my back to stand on my shoulder and ask me why 2 degrees is too low, cookies still catch my eye and 8am is too early to meet people to ride.

'New' Chrome store in SF.  Yet another do-over.

At least now, those panics prove to be more archangel that devil, prodding me along as opposed to providing a load bearing weight.  Eight pounds lost.  Bikes restored to standards.  Finding fitness under the dust-covers.

So as the cold temps continue and trainer time turns the movies I own into the movies I quote, it's the little twists that spark fire.  Little steps with War Axe, strides with Susan's Snappy Caps and races viewed with a competitive eye and others for the sake of new experience. 

More space.  More product.  Same great vibe.  Same shitty phone camera.

NAHBS.  Ouachita.  TransIowa.  Kanza.  24hr Nationals all sit in that queue, holding places in line to be filled.  Revamp.  Rewind. Repeat.  I'm ready to let the archangel on my shoulder lead on, even if I am not sure I'm ready for where we are going.

You Are Not the Coffee You Drink...

City Lights