My ride, it was stinkee

Blech.

Morgan Hill was earning its title of Mushroom Capital today.

I should have expected it. Yesterday, on my ride with Ann, we went by the farms and had to hold our breath. Which is hard to do during an 8 minute interval.

Today, as I slipped out into the country roads, I forgot all about the stinkee mushroom farms. My mind was on finding some roads to climb. And the Baker Report and Yvette at the fairgrounds. And then I got distracted by the silly turkey family that kept zigzagging across the road and the fat guy in the pickup who's dog was sitting on his lap (a big cattle rustler kind of dog, not like a poodle or anything). I tried to take pictures of the lap dog and the turkeys, but me and my camera phone are just too slow. So I took this instead.

Eventually I found myself back at the almost drained reservoir. I stopped to see how the huddled fish were doing (I'm rooting for them). And the smell almost knocked me off my feet. Stinky dead fish, dried guano and murky mossy mud smell.

The fish didn't look so good.

I left that scene real quick and headed back over the hill. As I descended the other side, the mushroom farm stench hit me. And hit me good. It was worse than yesterday. I don't know what kind of poop they are growing those mushrooms in, but I think I may have to join xBun on her mushroom boycott.


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For the life of me I can't remember what the point of this post was even about. I mean, beyond the stinkyness.

I guess, if I remember, I'll come back and finish it.