As odd as it may sound, this blog has loyal readers and both of them are patient folks, waiting eagerly for a post of any kind. But the blog has fallen by the wayside, yet again. I suspect it’s because I’ve gotten used to expressing my life in 140 characters (Twitter) and that my life has become so dull that I’m hard-pressed to use the full 140 characters to describe it, much less create blog posts.

This last weekend was the exception. Aunt Lily got me and The Bride down to Arizona for a little Cactus League spring training. The cherries, whipped cream, sprinkles and chocolate fudge on top was the quality time with her hubby Mike, her sons Chris and Dave, and the newest member of the family, Dave’s fiancé Marissa. They’re all really nice folks with good manners and quality grooming. (DNA tests are needed to confirm I’m related to them.)

There was also lots of baseball which is my idea of heaven.

Friday was the A’s and the Brewers. A’s won.

Saturday was the A’s and the Angels. A’s won.

Sunday it rained and we missed out on Cubs and Dodgers (darn it).

Monday was the Cubs and A’s. No one kept score. (*cough* Cubs *cough*)

Dave and Chris, both of whom are highly respected professionals in their particular vocations. It’s true. The fact they’re also intelligent, handsome and funny again makes me wonder about the gene pool thing.

Uncle Mike, Aunt Lily, and The Bride. Notice how none of them are melting away in the rain. (Somehow I didn’t get a good picture of cousin-to-be Marissa. Maybe she’s a ninja.)

Here’s my good friend Hall of Fame Cubs pitcher Fergie Jenkins (who is obviously thinking “restraining order”).

You can’t see it there but he signed my hat. Oh, look. Here’s a picture for my adoring fans (both of them).

If you’re bored, there’s more pictures over at Flickr. Have fun.

Sometimes lost in the discussion over Nevada’s open spaces is the fact that the federal government owns 80+ percent of the Silver State and much of the remainder is land for mining, transportation (highways and trains), and ranching/farming. The ranching part has a rich history in Carson City with homesteads owned by the Parkers, Lompas and others. The old range still exists in Carson but is shrinking from development and Californication. Here’s some pix from the old Lompa Ranch area and purists will note that the new freeway extension is to my back as I took this pictures. Even so, these shots show why this space should be preserved for as long as possible.

(This is one of those “lots of pictures” posts…just because.)

On a good ride on a nice autumn day, I got to contemplating what kind of rider be the old Boomer here and decided more about what I ain’t than what I am:

I’ll never be the Lance or Levi of the 50-something demographic. They’ve dedicated their whole existence to something far beyond my ability to reach.

I will never be the conqueror of high mountains like Brent and Sandie. This asthmatic avoids situations where the air is thin.

I will never have the delts of a Fat Cyclist because I prefer to use a nutcracker to open walnuts and not my legs.

I will never engage in the cross-continental insanity like Jill though it would be a serious kick in the butt to try. However, it would involve sleeping outside without electricity. And Starbucks. Never gonna happen.

And I will never be a force for positive change in the community like Moser. (Dude, when are you running for office?)

What does that leave? Not a lot.

I guess I bike because I like to take pictures of the sky and pretty trees.

Maybe I’ll have an attitude adjustment down the road, but for now, things are good.

If you ain’t a relation, this may be a very boring post. If you are a relation, it could still be boring. You’ll live. :)

I was cleaning the garage today and found old family photos and some were in poor condition. I’ve been meaning to do some wholescale scanning so here’s the start. Corrections always welcome.

Elizabeth Nash Hume, Albert T. Hume, and Ruth Hume in 1941. Albert and Ruth are my grandfather’s parents. (Would Elizabeth N. Hume be the mother of Albert?).

Gertrude Dodge Henry in my great-great grandmother (this picture is from the 1890s).

And I think this is my great-grandmother Gertrude Henry Nevelle around the time she attended Stanford. By the way, the family legend is we’re related to Patrick Henry on the maternal line but you know how it is with families. Someday I’ll tell you about my father’s side of the family and our “relations.”

The big kid is Albert Hume and the small kid is my namesake, Robert Hume. The lad is about 2 years old here in 1910.

And this may be him again.

And here’s Professor Hume in his office at UNR in the 1970s.

More pictures to come down the road.

In 2008: 260+.

In 2009: 226.

Don’t need Atkins or Weight Watchers or South Beach. Keep it simple: exercise and eat right. And get off your damn butt. Nuff said.