Matching parts

Rear Derailleur riding the freewheel.  Photo by Michael McKinney

About a month ago, my rear derailleur started showing signs of wear.  It is an Ultegra 600 component I have been using reliably with my current configuration on a daily basis.  Granted, the riding is not extreme in distance or environment, (I'm not riding through front range blizzards, Afghanistan sand storms or Alaskan nights of the Midnight sun or anything), regardless, the derailleur has been running smoothly and without great trouble since resolving this particular issue, about a month ago - here's what happened.
If you notice the picture on the right, you'll see that the chain is slack, the cage of the derailleur is riding on the rear sprocket freewheel and something just seems wrong.  After correctly diagnosing that something was indeed wrong, (a few days of hearing the derailleur riding on the freewheel, locking the crank and chain when shifting and dropping the chain numerous times was enough to convince me something was indeed wrong), I proceeded to remove the chain, the rear derailleur and contact at least three or four better trained, more experienced peoples who might assist me in determining the correct course of action. 

Rear Derailleur.  Photo by Michael McKinney.

After having a couple of discussions with anonymous parties on Craigslist, where I have previously sought assistance in bicycle mechanics, I decided to have a professional look at it.  After a thorough check, he informed me that the derailleur was not actually mounted correctly, and was not functioning because the chain had stretched enough to adequately negate the efficacy of the incorrecly mounted component.  The part may have been working well, but since the chain had stretched enough, the component was now in need of a re-alignment, thankfully not replacement. 

Derailleur, proper.  Photo by Michael McKinney.

Rear Derailleur, improper. Photo by Michael McKinney.

Here are a couple of photos that illustrate what
he was referring to - notice the angle of the writing on
the derailleur.

After also replacing the chain and re-adjusting the derailleur into the correct configuration, which required some skillful manipulation of a tool not specifically suited for that task, the mechanic and I parted ways - myself happy I asked before making the problem worse.










In non-related news, I've gotten to working on a new sourdough recipe, with dried fruit, honey and a levain made from organic flour.  Here are some photos of that -

24 hour levain.  Photo by Michael McKinney

Rising bread.  Photo by Michael McKinney

Finished product.  Photo by Michael McKinney.

Sourdough

Last week, I made a batch of sourdough, using some rye flour as a starter - although the recipe I used for the ratios of water and flour called for second, third and fourth starters to be mixed from the original starter, the 24 hour levain worked well and a small batch of bread was produced. I used organic flour, honey and kosher salt. After working my way through that batch, I put together another batch of cranberry wheat bread, and used almond meal in the recipe. Came out pretty well. Here are some pictures of the sourdough levain, dough and finished product, as well as the cranberry loaves.

24 hour Rye Starter, Photo by Michael McKinney

Sourdough, 1st rise, Photo by Michael McKinney

Sourdough, final rise, Photo by Michael McKinney

Honey Wheat Sourdough, Photo by Michael McKinney

Cranberry Almond Wheat Bread, Photo by Michael McKinney

Another thing - I got royally stumped on a sudoku puzzle in the newspaper - the five star Friday puzzle had me riding out at 11:00 PM to find the last copy of the paper and gently setting it aside until I felt ready to attempt it again.  The next day, it took me an hour in the morning, followed by the exact same thing happening on the Saturday five star puzzle, leading to three hours of puzzling and at least ten wrong answers before getting the right numbers in the right places, here's a photo of the finished result -

10-6-2012 Five Star Sudoku, Photo by Michael McKinney

Deferment

I was sitting at the Caribou coffee shop in the Rosedale shopping mall, about nine months ago, waiting for an appointment at the Apple Genius Bar, when inspiration struck after reading a post in the Writing and Literary Discussion forum of the local Craigslist message board.  After reading my response to the initial post, and thinking about whether or not I answered the question or just sought to bring attention to myself, it seems redundant to struggle for authenticity and genuine effort when the likelihood of being sold down the river is so great.  Forgive the overtly antiquated and obviously inflammatory reference - if I didn't feel it suited my burden I wouldn't apply it.
So, Monday morning. 

and so this night, it started - < mlmck > 01/18 16:00:39

I wrote a short story, about 17 years ago, over the course of a week. It started with that phrase, "And so this night it started..." I submitted for review to the highest chair of the English Department at the University I was attending, and he informed me of two things:

1. Starting a sentence with "And so..." was pretty pedestrian and hackneyed.
2. If you have the goods, sell them.

I kept the draft I submitted, with his handwritten comments, and went further in asking him what he meant by selling the goods. His assertion was the short story was relevant, in some way, and needed to be sold. Never happened. In response to your question, I think starting a sentence with the word, "Incidentally" is a little pretentious and conceived. You're setting a tone for the rest of the story, essay or novel that indicates a certain malaise / boredom / narcissism / "Being half in love with an easeful death"
I like the idea though, and the concept of introducing a narrative half in thought is true to the nature of inspiration...as if to imply the reader already knows at least as much about the world, oneself, general practicalities, social constraints and cultural differences between peoples, and then introduces a new radical thought with "Incidentally...". I believe it worked for JD Salinger.
Here's my effort, for posterity.
Incidentally, psychiatric wards in hospitals don't allow fresh air into the rooms of the patients. Opening a window, feeling the wind, the breeze, smelling the night air and the passing of time between night and day is not allowed. A shadow on the ceiling, a certain amount of natural light, the constant sounds of doors opening and closing, buzzing of locks, arguing of patients, your roommates sighing lack of sleep become the environment of your stay. The artificiality of your surroundings seems to reinforce the dramatic need for calm, as if your natural inclination to flee and return to the wilds of your youth will only cause further duress - a thunderstorm passes and though every day of your life you've sought an open window with which to be closer to the tremendous wind, rain and sounds, your stay is not a voluntary attempt at seclusion. It is a compulsory effort to alter your experiences, to change the perceptions of what defines your mental health, to encapsulate your behavior and present it as either autonomous or sympathetic.

I think this piece of writing can be readily juxtaposed with a review I wrote on Goodreads, back in 2010 -

The Simpsons and Philosophy: The D'oh! of Homer by William Irwin

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


So, yesterday, while cussing out a library computer, well within earshot of an innocent bystander, sitting at her computer with a dazed, mildly insulted look on her face, I started into a rant worthy of another Francis Ford Coppola movie.  Something to do with JFK, the Bar Mitzvah I never had; it all pertained, of course, to why the library's computer would not print my document.  Which was, of course, user error. 

So, Philosophy...you're kidding right? 

Every philosophy person/student/professor I've ever met exudes calm, quiet, serenity, perfect and unassailable equanimity with their surroundings.  They are aloof, they are unapproachable, they are the persons of interest on any college campus, think-tank or place of intellectual stimulation.  I don't know JACK about philosophy...or String Theory.  But, I've watched the Simpson's ever since I saw Doctor Marvin Monroe try, try, try to manage the classic familial aggression so ingrained in the Simpson family. 

"Apparently, Homer, your family sees you as something of an ogre." 

Since those words, and laughing myself silly at the sight of all five family members hooked up to electric shock therapy, shocking each other while trying to get one another to "...shut the hell up...", I've succumbed to the most classic of all enabling devices, the television.
So, what does this book have to do with me, with ranting, with the Simpsons, with philosophy and tolerance? 
After acknowledging education is the long process of unlearning what you know in order to accept what you don't, there is a gutless feeling...like falling off a cliff, or being publicly shamed.  There is a feeling that everything you've been taught, learned or have been given, is suspect.  Dirty.  Undignified.  Soiled. 
As if what you've been working so hard to construct is just an enterprise for somebody else to take credit for.  Nothing has been more difficult in my life than that realization.  Every time it is brought back to me, I encounter that same, fatalistic thought.  "What's the point?"
To establish the quality of life that allows an individual to learn in the first place, seems like an achievement; to undo it all and start over, seems like an impossible and pointless goal.  Among the people you meet and see every day, new faces or old, there are few to whom struggle is a foreign concept.  If nothing else, The Simpson's can alleviate the feeling that everyone has something to laugh at, but you.  Learning to appreciate that can make all the difference between asking what's the point and why not. 



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Saturday, September 29th

Weeds on Cedar Trail.  Photo by Michael McKinney.

MRT.  Photo by Michael McKinney.

Schwinn at Lake Minnetonka.  Photo by Michael McKinney.

Summit Avenue Oak tree.  Photo by Michael McKinney.

What started as a short trip to the Farmer's Market turned into a 51 mile tour of Lake Minnetonka, the Luce Line, buskers on Nicollet Mall and scenery through Wirth Park.