So, there is a reason that acorns are no longer a staple food for most North Americans. It’s because almost nobody knows how to properly prepare them.
Including me. I hope the squirrels enjoy the unprocessed remainder of my haul.
Blewks.
I can’t true my own wheels—I have neither the patience nor the equipment. I’m kind of too lazy to switch out my own brake pads, though there’s also a lot of unfamiliar variables there I reasonably wish to avoid.
When I take my bike in to get a flat fixed, that is the product of laziness and disposable income. I realize I had them do a bunch of shit and I was sitting there threateningly reading an art walk brochure—my bad. But even I know that when a new tire/tube combo goes flat after two days, it usually means They Did Something Wrong. I pulled out my gear and discovered the nice young fellows at the bike shop hadn’t seated the tire correctly, so it had bitten part of the inner tube, which then declined to hold air at pressures that would cushion my big ass sufficiently. SIMMY FIX.
Now I am going inside to, I don’t know, make pumpkin bread or something. Just to prove I can indeed do it ALL.