Beef jerky knees and my ever-growing stupidity

Finals are next week and I should be building my study guides and then studying my face off but instead I'm eating cookies and banging around on the blog.

For you. This is all for you.

OK OK OK, it's also for me.

My brains need a break from ALL GROWING ALL THE TIME.

I mean, yes, I fucking love growing food and I love the garden and YAY I got a gig working in the school's greenhouses as a student assistant until I finish my degree so I'll be growing food there, too, but...um...what about let's not talk about growing stuff for a minute?

What about let's talk about me giving up one bone crushing activity and then taking up another?

Yeah - that's a fun exercise in "How is Finny being stupid today?".

So - I have, thanks to some strategic encouragement from Bubba, put my toe into the knee scraping, flesh ripping fun water of mountain biking.

Because I obviously don't do enough things to injure myself and I obviously also need to be learning new things and testing my body's abilities at all times because the stress of my daily life of WHAT THE HELL HAVE I DONE isn't enough.

Let's throw some near certain bodily injury and yet another expensive and time consuming hobby on top of that.

I should probably seek some sort of professional brain help, but instead I'm settling for the professional help of our bike mechanic.

They seem pretty profesh, anyway.

So, we'll see where that takes us. So far I've had one shin devoured by a flesh-eating pedal, a thumb stabbed by an errant pine cone, a back bruise resulting from a saddle stabbing, I've lost my virginity 3 more times thanks to the malicious advances of the Specialized Safire's rapey stock saddle and my right knee looks like beef jerky.

Spicy or teriyaki? I can't decide.

Rapist bike

The tasty Mojo. 

Otherwise, though, I'm no worse for wear and Bubba assures me that once he's back on his feet, we'll ride together and oh the wonderful places we'll go and shit, as soon as he doesn't have two broken ribs, a dislocated wrist (now relocated!) and a torn meniscus thanks to his own adventures in mountain biking.

*Sigh*

I fear for us.

In other news - I've planted pumpkins and spaghetti squash in the front yard because I ran out of space in the garden and people who know me too well (hi neighbors!) dropped off some wayward plants that needed good homes and oh you don't want them to die do you?

Like I said - they know me too well. And also I ended up talking about growing food even though I said that I wasn't going to.

WHAT IS MY PROBLEM and goodnight.