bout the Revelator

Tell me who's that riding?



_______ the Revelator. What's ______ riding? Fill in your own blanks, people.


Having a teenage daughter is no picnic. It's a pout from sunup to sundown. Upon my return from the daily fixed in the dirt, I met N on the road near the house and asked her to accompany me in riding to get the boys from school. She declined on the grounds that I am embarrassing company. Now, how can I argue against that Truth? Obviously, I can't, but I can honestly say that I am not the only kook around wearing bike clothes ("You're wearing leggings!"); i.e. Joselyn's team bib shorts and knee warmers. So asking fell short, which lead to telling, which was met with refusal.
Now, I don't know how y'all were raised, but there was no refusing a direct (let's call it an) edict when I was growing up. And there will be no refusing now. If they want to refuse- it better be refusing to try and breathe under water or some such.
At that point there was no helping the situation, and she dragged her feet and "couldn't" find her helmet (but then went right to it when less favorable helmet choices were proposed- and speaking of, she's written in Sharpie "Snowboarder, Skier, not bike rider" on her white helmet. Which I find doubly amusing, as she does ski, but does not snowboard) and wouldn't ride near me because I am "creepy" (again- undeniable, but not for reasons cited). So.

The boys gotten, I forced them all to ride with me in Fort Ord. I'd initially planned to take just the boys; but given N's maddeningly petty brattiness, she got to go as well. We took the newish route from the Parker Flats Cutoff gate on account of I wanted to see if the rattlesnakes were still around. I want the kids to see these things.
N fussed about every aspect of the ride that she could. She told me "I hate this road. Why are we going this way?" when the other choice would have been techy singletrack with significantly more climbing. She told me "Why are we 'seeing where this goes'? Can't we turn around now?" She told me "This isn't even taking us where we want to go!", and then asked where we were. She told me lots of things.

I have a hard time staying silent in the face of such outrageous bullshit, but it has become clear that any response is just fuel for more bullshit. My face and head began to swell, and steam issued from my ears.

So we seen the rattlesnake. The smaller and more dusty brown of the 2 we'd seen last week was there, under the ply board. I had the kids all stand on one side of the board- the side which looked like it would cleave tightly to the ground as I lifted it and preclude a snaky exit in that direction- and raised up the sheet. The snake lay curled with head and rattle clearly visible. There was a lengthy snakeskin near it, but no sign of it's partner (no small source of nervousness for us regarding the safe placement of feet). We all peeped around and over the wood. Then we poked at it with a stick and riled it up so it rattled. Then we reflected on how we were to lower the sheet and make good our own exit.

Even that was "eh". And this is only the beginning. Sorry there's no photographic proof, but I left the house in a cloud of hissiness, so I forgot about cameras.