Low-Power Mode

You know it is going to be a hot day when, stopped at the first traffic light a few hundred yards from the start, a rivulet of sweat runs down your calf from the slight skin-on-skin contact in the crook of your knee, and it's only 9 a.m. After climbing some hills on the suburban fringes of San Jose with friends, I returned home to sprawl under a ceiling fan and switched myself into low-power mode. Not quite, but nearly, napping in the triple-digit heat.

My Saturday started with the most egregious telemarketing call yet. When telemarketers call, my habit is to answer the phone, set it down, and hang up after they eventually drop the call. This one, however, begged for some interaction.

Hello, may I speak with ...
Who's calling?
[My bank]
Is there a problem with my account?
Oh no, ma'am ...
It is 7:40 A.M.
And I am on the Do Not Call List.
Do Not Call Here. Ever. Again.

Yes, I suppose the Do-Not-Call-List does not apply when it is your bank calling. It is I who will be calling the bank, on Monday morning.

When I stopped to take the photo above, I didn't notice the hawk that must have been perched nearby until it took flight and scolded me with its distinctive, eerie cry. Given the heat, we scaled our ride back from five hills to three, 31 miles for the day. Top speed: 44.4 mph, on a wide thoroughfare with little traffic and creamy-smooth pavement. Well worth the climb.