Festivities

It was an extremely full and satisfying day for the O'Richey-O household.  We had two Events scheduled for today: TLG's School Picnic in the AM, and the Multicultural Festival in the PM.

For the picnic we signed up to bring brownies, and I thought it would be a good experience for TLG and I to bake them early in the morning, and then bring them to the picnic.  Pride in accomplishments, and all that.  So around 0900 (after a quick trip to the store to buy eggs, which he helped me check for cracks) we began the process.

He was extremely excited about the egg.

It didn't take too long to put the batter together (even including cleaning up the egg he crushed rather than cracked), and soon we were popping it into the oven.

Official Taste Tester

Which, uh, kind of decided not to work.  As in, it decided that 250 was pretty much it's default setting, consequences be damned.  I kept those brownies in there nearly 90 minutes (did manage to coax the oven up to about 335 for the last 10), and finally had to pull them out so they could cool for fifteen minutes before we left.

Those brownies were 100% not done.

Now, they were done enough.  Enough that I'd eat them, or give them to family to eat, and just enjoy the chewy rawness of the bottom.  But to take to a Class Picnic, where people might actually complain about salmonella?  No.  So on our way to school we popped into WalMart to pick up a substitute; "We already have brownies!" TLG shrieked in indignation (pride in accomplishment, sigh), but after I explained the situation (ie lied and told him I didn't think we had enough) he grudgingly agreed to their purchase, with the caveat that he got to carry them.

The point of the picnic was to celebrate grandparents, but since TLG's all live far far away, we instead brought my aunt and uncle to represent the generation.  TLG had a grand old time running his great uncle ragged on the playground!

Not nearly as death-trappish as they were in MY day.

I may or may not have indulged in some hokey pokey with him.  But there's no photographic evidence, so who can tell.

Fortunately for everyone he fell asleep on the way home, so he got an hour nap (and I got a chance to write some Severan stuff, which I'll share in a few days) before we had to get ready for Event Number Two.

I'd been so focused on the chance to eat delicious ethnic foods that I had totally spaced on the fact that we've got some multiculturalism in our household, too.  But fortunately at the very last moment it occurred to me, and I squeezed TLG into his vintage lederhosen (passed down through the family from the aforementioned great uncle).  I was bummed that I hadn't thought of it in time to have my mom ship me my dirndls, but there's always next year...

Ready to Ride!  Possibly for the last time, because he's just about outgrown that seat.

We rode my bike there (love being able to ride my bike to fun things) and TLG was an immediate hit with the police officers wandering around: they gave him a shield sticker and directed us to the bike corral.  Once we had it locked up, TLG made a beeline for the playground, but pretty quickly thereafter he caught sight of the hula dancers on stage and got mesmerized.  I eventually coaxed him back down, and we checked out some of the booths, until he told me he wanted food- but then on the way to the food he caught sight of kids with balloon animals, so we had to take a detour for "a brown monkey!"

He would literally bite his money's face off within five minutes.  Enemies beware.

Monkey secured, we got ourselves some delicious street tacos, and followed it up with a peach ice-pop to share.

Not necessarily multicultural, but a favorite from the Farmer's Market we were excited to find here.

We spent some time watching beautiful Mexican dancers, and playing with a little paper toy bus (TLG is enamored of city buses), but eventually we were ready to head home.

They looked like butterflies.

A burst of sunshine!

All in all it was a great time, and next year I'm thinking I'll wear my dirndl, have Nathan wear a kilt, and we flip a coin to see which of our 52 flavors TLG will represent!

Cultured!

Sharing My World(s)

My boss and I decided to change our office hours this year, and as a result I now get off early on Fridays (why yes, he is the best boss ever, why do you ask?).  As a result, I've been making it into the climbing gym once a week for the past five weeks or so, and I can definitely feel the difference.  Not just physically (although my goodness yes), but mentally and emotionally, as well.  Every time I solve a route, every time I push through trembling muscles to the next hold, I feel like me again.  Like my life has finally settled down enough that I can brush away all the dust that came from carving the new "mom" parts and re-reveal the old "pre-mom" parts.  Is that a simile that even makes sense?  I'm sticking with it, regardless.

Sweaty!

Anyway, the past couple of weeks I've been there, there's also been a father with his young daughter.  She's about five, and he belays her while she top-ropes.  It's freaking adorable, and I can't wait until Neeps is old enough to try.  He's recently become very interested in climbing onto things, so I've been thinking that pretty soon now I'm going to take him in to the gym to see if he wants to do a little baby bouldering.  Heck, maybe I'll even take him in tomorrow morning- it's scheduled to rain, after all.

Today it did not rain, however, so my bike ride back from the gym was glorious, and once I got home I did what I've been dreaming of doing for months and months- installed a toddler seat.  (I finally used my Christmas money and ordered it earlier this week: it arrived last night.)  And then I went and picked my son up from daycare, brought him home, helmet-ed him up, and took him for a ride.

Please note the adorably ruffled jeans, borrowed from daycare after too much playing-in-puddles.

He loved it, but I don't know if he loved it as much as I loved it.  Because for him it was just a new, fun activity- for me it was fun and emotional.  My heart was swelling up and singing joyously, so happy to be able to share another beloved activity with him.  Now we have hiking and cycling that we can do together.  And soon?  Climbing.  And eventually?  Him being able to do all of those things independently.

It's funny how my life has become this combination of super-fast and so-much-waiting.  On the one hand, Neeps is developing at a crazy rate: I love watching him figure things out and use new words and identify connections and basically just self-program his little meat-computer brain.  But on the other hand, let's face it- the past fifteen months have been a lot of me putting aside things I used to do all the time, so that I can focus on what needs my attention right now (poops and meals and naps and stacking blocks and reading Goodnight Moon for the umpteenth time) until I could someday come back to those things- and introduce my son to them, as well.

That someday is getting closer and closer.  And I'm so excited.

Adventure Buddies.

Personal Plan 2017

I just finished up my rewrites on The Oathbreaker, which strikes me as an excellent time to make good on my vague promise to share part of my so-called Personal Plan for 2017 (as opposed to the Business Plan I wrote for the office- it's not business, it's pleasure!  Hah!).  After all, I've already achieved one of my strategies for a major objective!  Woo!

Vision Statement:  I will be a happy, healthy person who feels good about her accomplishments in life.

Objective:  Have a happy and healthy family unit
    -Strategy:  Make it a point to have a date with Nathan at least once a month
    -Strategy:  Do at least one family-hike per month
    -Strategy:  Get out camping at least three times this spring/summer/autumn


Objective:  Feel good physically
    -Strategy:  Do yoga at least 3x a week starting 1/1, upping it to at least 4x a week by 3/1
    -Strategy:  Ride my bike to work more often- at least 3x week during nice weather
    -Strategy:  Create clean meal plans with Nathan


Objective: Become a published fiction writer
    -Strategy:  Finish re-writing "The Oathbreaker" by 01/31
    -Strategy:  Submit a collection of short-stories to at least one literary agent by my birthday
    -Strategy:  Write at least one new novella-length (or longer) story by 06/30


That isn't all of it, but it is the most pertinent parts.  I've already made a good start to it, what with doing yoga four times this week (eight I guess if you count morning and night) and riding my bike to work four times (in spite of the face-flaying cold- sheesh).  And Nathan and I had a lunch-date yesterday, which totally counts.  We may not have refrained from talking about Neeps the entire time, but we did keep our phones put away, which is pretty huge.

And now?  Now I start rewrites on my original Princess and the Pea retelling, because I think it will pair nicely with Oathbreaker in a short-story collection.

Good Job, Girl

I got cat-called, today.

I know I got cat-called not so much because I heard exactly what was said, but because I heard the tone, and I definitely know it ended with the word, "girl".  Lack of clarity, ladies and gentlemen; just one more peril of leaning out a car window to yell at someone on a bike...

At any rate, my brain turned it into "Good job, girl!", even tho' I knew that probably wasn't it, given the aforementioned tone.  And as I was grumbling to myself about lame-ass catcalls, and how people should have some standards, I suddenly thought,

"But what if it was, 'Good job, girl!'?"

And then I said out loud, with Ryan Gosling hovering beatifically in my brain,

"Good job, girl!  I know things are hard right now, girl- you're stressed out and pressed for time, and don't get enough sleep, but here you are, making the bike commute like a boss, being healthy and awesome.  So good job, girl!  Keep it up!"


And damned if that didn't encourage me to dig in a little deeper, and get up that long-ass hill a little faster.

So thanks, random Scrub.  Thanks for bringing out my inner RG.

An Afternoon With My Self (and also a Friend)

I pedaled on down to the Source this afternoon to get my climb on with my buddy JT.  Not that I can climb particularly hard at the moment, but I did well enough on slab (screaming feet notwithstanding) to feel good about myself.  In fact, we had such a good time that, once we'd both worn ourselves out (entirely too quickly- pesky Real Life getting in the way of regular climbing), I suggested we saunter over to my favorite bar for an afternoon libation.

This is weirdly reminiscent of what it looks like when I stand next to Nathan.  Except I'm shorter.

It had been a long-ass time since I'd been out for a drink with a friend (let alone a spontaneous one!), and I reveled in the freedom of it all- the leisurely cycling, the challenging climbing, the carefree walking, and the raucous(ish) drinking- and none of it with a "gotta get back!" time crunch.  It was amazing, and so freaking healthy for my psyche that you guys don't even know.  Especially coming on the heels of yesterday's glorious hike.

Once I got home I washed the car, then took Neeps for today's walk, during which ]my mom and I had our latest Mother Daughter Book Re-Reading Club Discussion (Dragonquest, for the curious).  At the end of the day, as I catch up on the blog, I find I am left feeling like maybe, just maybe, I'm starting to find true Balance between Self as Parent, Self as Self.

Fingers crossed!

Oh Happy Day

Today was a great day.

First of all, Neeps slept for 6 hours for the second night in a row, and I'm starting to let myself think about hoping that maybe this is what he does now.  Fingers crossed.

Anyway that apparently put him in a good mood, because he was extra smiley and engaged all day today.  We went to the grocery store(s), and I wore him in the ergo for the first time.  I really loved wearing my nephew Eaglet in the ergo, but now that I've carried Neeps in the moby so often, I'm wondering if I don't prefer wrapping him, since you get such a custom fit.  This requires more experimentation...

After we got back I took him and Isis on a walk, and then left Neeps with Nathan while I rode my bike for the first time since the first trimester!  The weather was too gorgeous not to, and I felt so free, and so happy, and so light-of-heart as I pedaled my way to (drum roll, please) the climbing gym!  I met up with JT and he and I made good on our promise to one another last week, and actually put my new gym-rope to use by lead-climbing.  And let me tell you, thank goodness for muscle memory, because it's been about nine months since I last did that, too, but the body remembers once you get going.  ::does happy dance::  I also tackled an overhung 5.9, which thoroughly kicked my ass, but in the best way possible.  It's so amazing to be able to push my body again, to the point where I'm sweaty and trembling and grinning like a maniac.

And then?  Then I got to ride my bike back home!  Aaaaahhhhh!  I can't believe how much I've missed it!  I started trying to figure out how I can work a daily ride back in (and how old Neeps has to be before I can bring him along).

Once I got home I bundled said cutie up and hustled him over to Boozeday, where he managed to be both adorable and useful:

Because what is the point of that fluffly-cloth-diapered-butt if I can't balance a plate of veggie chips on it?

I hung out with my ladies for almost three solid hours, and It Was Good.  And now the boy is in bed and I'm writing (and sore) and feeling thoroughly satisfied with life.


Next up?  A shower!

Woo!

Commuter

tail light

Reinflated

Lately I've been feeling kind of bad about my bike riding performance, like I've just really lost a lot of strength.  It always feels so hard to pedal, especially when I have my (admittedly pretty weighty) paniers strapped on.  The final insult came the other morning when I got passed by someone who was obviously less fit than me, on an inferior bike- on the uphill!

That was depressing, and a little voice in my head said surely, surely something must be wrong with my bike, but then another righteous voice told me not to make excuses for my own lack of fitness and moreover not to be so judgmental over someone else's perceived fitness.  Suck it up, O- you're just a wuss these days!

But then this morning I suddenly realized that, no, I am not a wuss- my stupid back tire is mostly flat.  And I immediately felt a million times better about myself, and after work I went over to Bad Monkey and remedied the problem.

Ego repaired!

And sure enough- I'm having a much easier time pedaling now.

Well Come

It's nice to see a warm light at the end of a cold ride.

Not Doing a Damn Thing

Nathan's one requirement for this weekend was that we Not Do a Damn Thing.

My caveat to that was, "-That We Don't Want To".

As such, I got on my bike this morning and took a new (longer) route to the climbing gym.  The reason for the new route was because I wanted to extend the joy of being on my bike again- and joyous it was.  The weather was just perfect.  Plus I saw all sorts of interesting things on the way, and it filled me with Great Affection for my chosen town.  I do so love Vancouver.

Will I ever be able to properly draw a bike?  The world may never know...

(Oh and as for the gym- I did two 5.6s up-and-down, then a 5.8 and a 5.9  My ankle felt solid, but it will take a bit for my strength/endurance/technique to come back...)

On the Quality of My Melons

Let's be blunt here: when you look like I do, you get used to Unsolicited Comments Upon Your Physical Qualities.  Most of the time they do not bother me- I choose to take them in the flattering manner they are most often intended.  Wolf-whistles or appreciative stares don't get my back up- on the contrary, often times they please me.  I may not have had anything to do with my genetic makeup or the symmetry of my features, but I have plenty to do with my physical fitness, clothing, makeup, and hairstyle.  So it's nice for my efforts to be appreciated.

However.

As I was riding home from work today, a cluster of boys (I'd say they ranged in age from about 14 to 17) who were conversing in Spanish (a language which I have a tentative grasp on) deliberately switched to English long enough to comment on my "huge melons" as I zipped past.

Readers, it pissed me off.

Those are supposed to be cantaloupes, in case you were wondering.

 And I spent the rest of the ride home trying to figure out why.  Why did that particular remark make me so angry, when other incidents have not?  I mean, I understand and appreciate the culture of piropos (goes back to that whole, "studied Spanish" thing) but this- this was not that.  But why wasn't it?  Was it just the crude phrasing?  (Piropos ought to be poetic, and I'll admit there was a tinge of insult to my anger- a sort of, "Screw you, my breasts are worthy of far better compliments than that!") After much thought and furious pedaling, however, I think I figured it out.

The incident pissed me off because those boys weren't trying to show their appreciation, or make me feel beautiful or good about myself- they were expressing their power over me by intimidating me.  A group large enough that I certainly didn't feel comfortable stopping and confronting them (as I have been known to do if just one or two males are being inappropriate), deliberately switching to a language they figured was my native tongue, to make absolutely certain that I understood the rude thing they were saying about my body.

Melons, indeed.

Corey DID Warn Us About This

Generally speaking, you can find me at the rock gym after work on any given Tuesday or Thursday.  Today I was joined by Nathan, which was great- although I was not having my Best Day Ever in terms of performance.  (Also I tore open a callus, which, in case you were wondering, sucks)  Anyway, since he'd met me at the gym, and rain was threatening, we popped my bike up on top of the car and drove home together.

Yeah.  That happened.

Fortunately my bike was okay (fender bent, but I just bent it right back into shape).  Unfortunately, the roof rack and car were not so lucky.  ::sigh::

But this is exactly why I am such a tight-fisted be-yotch with money; so that when these things inevitably happen, we can afford to make them better.  Plus I am choosing to think about this in terms of how excellent our REI dividends will be after we buy yet another roof rack, plus the climbing rope I was going to buy this month, anyway.  See how shiny and silver this lining is?!

But seriously you guys- I do not know how it is possible that my bike is okay.  The roof rack was ripped off the front of the car (and dented the frame in the process) so there was a hell of a lot of force going on.  But Zuri is a-okay, at least as far as a quick pedal around the block could show me.  I'm not complaining, mind you- I'm super grateful- but it is very weird.

Good weird.  Good, grateful weird.

(silver!)

Commuter Adventures

I have quite a few of them- adventures on my bike, I mean.  Many of which involve me channeling Daryl.  But today's adventure was not one of rage so much as amusement and vague disquiet:

(And just so you know, I was wearing regular black work slacks, nothing spandex-y.)

In case you cannot read my chicken-scratch of a thumbnail, what happened was this:

I was grinding my way up the Big Hill near the beginning of my route, and I was putting a lot of effort into it because I had my gear set at 6 (out of 8).  It's not very dignified-looking, but I keep it that tough because I use it as a chance to give my quad a good workout.  Anyway, a middle-aged dude was walking down the hill and he said to me, "Wow, that'll give you buns of steel!" (that phrase alone would have dated him even if I couldn't have guessed his age from his face).

"I know, right?" I said with my best dashing grin.  Then I was past him and moving along, and he yelled out,

"It's working, I can see!"

"...uhhh... thanks..." I said, and tried to be more flattered than weirded out.  But c'mon, guy- you just went from awesome-commiseration-dude to vaguely-creepy-lech in thirty seconds flat.

Salvaging September

Not that there has been anything particularly wrong with this month- just that I seem to have been seriously slacking on the updating-of-the-blog front.  And not because post-worthy things (and writings) haven't been happening.  No, it's just been one of those months where I think, "Oh that will make a good blog post!" and then I just... don't get around to it.

But check me out, all 'round to it!

I'm feeling more and more comfortable in my role as commuter-cyclist, to the point where I am beginning to acquire paraphernalia.  Yep, I took a walk on my lunch break the other day, and ended up lugging a floor pump back to the office, where I cheerfully strapped it to my little rack and took it home.  Nathan, who'd had a flat tire, was thrilled with the investment.  More evidence of my total assimilation?  My holiday-wish-list is starting to become peppered with items like "skirt guard" and "panniers".  Yes Ladies and Gentlemen, my bike is more than just a passing craze. (Expense justified!  Woo!)

We are making incremental progress on the house: both the ceiling and the walls of the master-bedroom are now painted pale blue and yellow, respectively (although the ceiling-fan remains sitting in its box down in the still-chaotic "crafting-nook"), and we installed the extra shelf in the master-bathroom, so I now have a place to put everything in there without resorting to cardboard boxes.  There is still a long, long list of little tweaks and improvements and personalizations, but hey- we've got years.

Speaking of years, it's been eleven months since I first started really writing my "novel" (and I still feel compelled to put it in quotes), and I am in the middle of getting feedback from the second draft.  So far it's pretty much looking like I need to just entirely re-write the first section, which is depressing.  I hate to admit it, but I'm so sick of the story I just want to burn it.

But I won't.

In happier creative-news, I've gotten about 10,000 words into the Sleeping Beauty book, and I'm liking it just ever so much (we'll see how I feel in about 70,000 more words... although truthfully I think it will end up longer than the Crow book...), and I've been laying some serious ground-work for this year's NaNo book.  Expect excerpts...

But back to Home Owner Adventures: our oven sort of semi-imploded the other day, which, let me tell you, was excitement all around.  Fortunately a home warranty was part of the deal when we bought this house, so all we had to do was call them up and they'd take care of it.

In their own sweet time, apparently.

The oven did its scary-thing on Sunday, but no one came out to look at it until yesterday (that would be Thursday).  And the verdict?  Special parts needs must be ordered, so we can fully expect to be without a functioning oven until 10/11.  A good sixteen days.  Awesome.

Fortunately some wonderful friends had us over for dinner that first night, and we've been relying quite a bit on the grill since then.  And no-cook meals, of course, like bread-and-meat-and-cheese-and-fruit platters.  And, um, ordering pizza...

Speaking of not cooking (see, so many things to write about!) I've also gotten seriously hooked on green monster smoothies.  Holy guacamole, they're delicious!  Plus it's fun to experiment with flavors...  Possibly I will be rambling on about this subject more in the future (with product-shots, naturally).

And that... ought to cover it for the latter-part-of-September ramblings.  I actually do have another post percolating in my brain, but it involves scanning a drawing and that seems like an awful lot of effort at the moment.  (What can I say- it's Friday and I'm a bit wiped)

'Til next time, Gentle Readers!

Nerd: A Tale of Faking and Making

I have a confession to make.

I hate wearing my helmet.  I hate it so much.  And not just because I hate how it physically feels, pressing my sweat-soaked hair against my equally sweat-soaked scalp, denying me the glorious sensation of wind that is the natural born right of everyone who straddles a bike.  No, my hatred and resentment goes beyond that.  I hate wearing my helmet because in spite of all my ballsy proclamations that, "Safety is sexy!", the truth of the matter is that my helmet makes me look like a nerd.  A nerdy-goody-two-shoes-rule-follower.  And I cannot stand knowing that I look like a nerd, gentle readers...

...because I am a nerd.

I'm not talking about being a geek.  I'm not talking about my love of science fiction and fantasy, of my proclivity for reading comic books and playing RPGs, or of my sporadic status as "girl gamer".  None of these things make me uncool (helllllooo geek-chic).  But my deep-rooted instinct to be a "good girl"?  To play it safe?  Total nerdsville.  And I am... still kind of insecure about that.

I know, I know- I am probably the least insecure person you know.  I not only am fully aware of my own awesomeness, I am fully willing to go on- at length!- about it to anyone who cares to listen.  Fer Pete's sake, I write a blog.  Obviously I do not have self-esteem issues, here.  And for the most part that's very true... but what's also true is that my self-confidence is a decades-old, carefully cultivated facade that has slowly but surely become reality.  I acted confident and uncaring-of-others'-opinions until it became the truth.  More or less.  But deep deep down I am afraid that any minute now people are going to look at me, see past my tattoos and bright lips and uninhibited dancing and realize:

This girl freaks out about jaywalking.  Cool people do not take pause at the prospect of jaywalking.

Cool people do not wear helmets, because cool people do bother to think about the consequences of not wearing helmets.  Or, if they are really cool, they do wear helmets, and don't even think about whether or not they look cool because hey- cool people are cool no matter what they do.

Which brings us back to me being a nerd.  I am a nerd because I am afraid that people will see a nerd when they look at me.  Not because of anything that I do, or wear, but because of who and what I am.

But I will pretend that I don't care what people think when they see me wearing my dorktastic helmet and one of these days... it will be true.

Flashback

Dusk is just starting to settle her skirts as we wheel our bicycles out of the apartment.  It's still fairly warm out, so my tissue-thin, white-is-most-visible t-shirt is feeling quite comfortable- although I've strapped a fleece to the Zuri's carrier, just in case.

I let Nathan take point- it's true that I prefer to lead (in this as in most things) but trial-and-error has taught me that after dark it's wiser to fall back, because checking my six with him behind me invariably leads to me being blinded.  At least it gives me the fun of swinging my own headlight back and forth, back and forth across his form in a private game of Searchlight.  ("Are you having an epileptic fit back there?")

People are out in the streets shooting off firecrackers (as people do on the 4th) and I have to admit- it's more than a little nerve wracking.  The noise, the lights- the general drunkenness that means people don't necessarily recognize a cyclist as someone to look out for.  I'm stressing out a little, and I'm thinking about the men and women in the military who have to deal with said conditions on a daily basis- without the comforting knowledge that it's just firecrackers, and that if anyone gets hit it will more likely than not be an accident.  And not fatal.  How odd that we celebrate our independence by reconstructing the sounds and smells of war- by taming it, making it a pet whose claws we've gilded.

It's three miles down to the waterfront, and we find a grassy patch to park our bikes and our selves.  Our timing is impeccable: not five minutes later the show over the fort gets started.  Since we didn't pay to get in we get to experience the strange disconnect between flash and bang, and I find myself making a game of guessing what noise each display will make.

I ask Nathan what his favorites are, and he tells me that it's the ones that are mostly noise- just a big flash and a big bang.  Me?  I like the glittery ones- specifically the gold, although I never say no to purple.  The ones that seem to swim like minnows intrigue me, too- I've only seen them in recent years, and they always make me think of Gandalf, or maybe Hogwarts... they have a sort of life to them I'd not have though possible with mere gunpowder.

I watch explosion after explosion and I realize I'm a little bored.  It makes me sad: when did fireworks stop being a big deal?  Is this a natural part of growing up?  Or am I just spoiled?  Either way, when the finale comes (the real one- we thought it happened twice before it did) we don't waste much time hopping back on our bikes and cycling home.  There are fewer explosions now that it's nearing midnight, but definitely more drunks- and more belligerent drunks, at that.  Although I'm not afraid, exactly, I am grateful for the nimble speed of my aluminum steed, and for Nathan's imposing bulk beside me.

We cruise through quieter neighborhoods and talk in giddy terms about the house that will soon be ours.  I realize how happy I am in this moment, with this man, and I feel overwhelmed with gratitude for this life that we have found and made together.  And as we put our bikes to bed in our safe little apartment I think of the soldiers out in the darkness, who will never feel jaded about fiery night-time explosions, and I feel grateful for them, too- and I hope they too get to go home soon.

Portland Twice in as Many Days- Oh My!

And for excellent reasons both times.

Last night I headed down to meet up with an old and dear friend of mine, Zachary.  We caught up on the past few years, ate delicious corn, and best of all I got to meet his long-term lady, whom I liked so well that honestly, I probably spent more time chatting with her than with him.  This is something of a trend with my exes... I have one old flame in particular who married a girl so excellent that I am always hard-pressed not to steal her for pure-girlie-madness times... not that I love him any less but damn that man married a rad chick.

Anyway hanging out with them last night was just so exactly what I needed to sort of regain my chill.  I'd worked myself up into a near frothing-rage during the workday, and it was good to be with people who reminded me that it's just not worth it to to let that sort of thing affect you so much.

This afternoon, however, I ventured down for an entirely different sort of stress-relief: my bike was finally ready!  And so I re-visted Seven Corners, and Corey helped me get everything adjusted Just So.  In fact he is so awesome he helped me (and by 'helped' I mean did it without any sort of interference from me) put it on the new roof rack:

Blue on Blue!

After it was up there I sort of squinted at it and said,

"Huh.  I guess that's going to be a lot more wind resistance than a surf board," to which he replied,

"Yeah- and a lot taller.  So be careful if you go through the Burger King drive through or whatever- I can't tell you how many bikes we've had to repair because people forget and go racing into their parking structure!"

Which, of course, made me totally paranoid about for the first few miles of my drive home, until the Rational part of my brain pointed out that even with the bike on top my profile was still lower than the 18-wheelers next to me on the freeway, so if they could make it through an underpass, so could I.

(Oh Rationality!  So nice to see you again, however briefly...)

Once I got home I immediately took her out for a spin, and discovered that there is a really lovely biking/hiking path not half a mile down the road from the apartment (the opposite direction of work, which is why I'd never seen it before).  All in all I did about four miles, and it was just so much fun!  Especially since I didn't feel like I had to clutch at the handlebars to make certain the wheel stayed attached...

Back home again

I'm definitely looking forward to tomorrow: the morning's commute should be really excellent.  Not to mention the fact that Nathan comes home in the evening...

The Days Are Just Packed

Well stripe my posterior and call me Apis: it's been that busy around here, lately.

Yesterday we finally made good on all the bicycle research we've been doing, and headed into Seven Corners Cycles down in Portland.  There we met Corey, a particularly friendly chap who ordered our bikes for us and then sent us over to see his friend Mike at Rack Attack so that we could outfit our car to actually carry the bikes once they come in.  Nathan had an enjoyable hour or so putting those together (the man does love gear) while I sat in here and put more hours into... a secret project that is Coming Soon.  In capitals, people.  We are not messing around here.  But it's taking up an enormous amount of my time (at least it feels like it has)...  hopefully it will turn out to be worth it.

The other kind of research we've been doing a lot of lately is related to houses and the purchasing thereof.  So today we made good on that, and went out with our realtor, who is every bit as excellent as his recommendation.  We saw four houses, and all of them were good.  One of them we've eliminated because we both felt positive-neutral about it, which isn't enough to justify spending that much money on a place (plus it was further out than we wanted to be).  There is one house (Yellow House) that Nathan is super excited about, but I'm feeling a little more reserved.  Perhaps part of that has to do with the filthy condition of the interior: I do not know how people live that way.  They must be renters, because surely no one would treat a home they owned like that... surely not...  But the nice thing about filth is that it's relatively easy and cheap to fix: we just have to be willing to scrub (and rip out some carpet, but we would have done that, anyway).  The bones of the house really are nice- I'm just skeptical about the bathroom situation.  We'll see....

The front room was immaculate compared with the rest of the house.  Also there was a stupid dog yapping at our ankles the entire time, which did not help my perception of the house, I'm sure.

Nathan's next favorite house (70s House) is one that I feel much more excited about, even though there isn't a basement.  But again- it's further out than we wanted to be, and definitely needs a new roof.  But the interior- oh my!  The people who built (or possibly remodeled) this place understood the importance of light, so it feels a lot bigger than its actual square-footage.  And the master bath... is pretty great.

The kitchen made me squee with happiness- especially that hand-painted backsplash.

The other house that I sort of love (Dutch House) is lower on Nathan's list, and I can definitely understand why- it would take more work to become what I envision it as (namely having a huge master bedroom suite on the top floor- currently there are two bedrooms and a sitting area- no bathroom).  Plus the kitchen is kind of non-existent, which is a real minus.  But when I walk into the house it makes me happy- and its proximity to uptown is a real plus.

Upstairs sitting room, flanked by two bedrooms.

So there you go- three great houses, all with their shares of pluses and minuses- plus I'm sure we'll go see more, eventually.  That's the nice thing about not being in a hurry to move (and being a staunch fatalist): you can take your time and see what else is out there.

And now?  Now I get back to work on some logos I've been designing for people.

More Blathering About Bikes

(Sorry guys, but you know how I am when I get a new Interest.)

First of all, today was a day of Great Achievement.  Why is that, you ask?  Because I finally made it all the way up the friggin' hill outside my place without having to get off and walk.  I almost wasn't heavy enough to make the pedals keep going near the top, but I was and I did.  So go me.  I definitely was feeling pretty bad ass about that.

Second of all, I've discovered that being whistled at while on a bike is even more flattering than being whistled at while running.  Possibly because more of me is covered up, and thus I can pretend their admiration is for the steely determination in my eyes as I struggle to get my bike going again from a complete stop at an intersection (oh how I dream of gears).

Speaking of my gear-lust, I have to admit that part of me is starting to feel a little smug about my lack thereof.  (See the whole "feeling pretty bad ass" about getting up the hill portion of the entry...)  So maybe I can kind of understand the whole fixie-obsession just a wee bit.  Although I am still jumping on a new bike just as soon as I possible can, because damn I'm tired of people looking around for the source of that incessant squeaking (hint: it's me).  Hopefully that day will come very soon, as we've found a Jamis dealer that comes with a great reputation.  (Oh, and in case you were wondering, this is the bike I'm looking at.  It's not red, but hey- we can't always have everything perfect...)

Oh the Perfection of Red on Red

Anyway we finally got "Nathan's bike" back from the shop, as well, so now we're going to see about selling them.  I was thoroughly encouraged to hear the expert give me a guesstimate that perfectly matched my own, regarding fair asking price.  And with Nathan's mad photographer skillz to put them in their very best light, it shouldn't be hard to find buyers at all (although I am rather hoping to be able to sell them as a matched set because I am sentimental that way).

In other, non-bicycle-related news, I've been working on a couple of projects for a couple of friends.  I ought to be able to post the results in a day or two.  Nothing spectacularly exciting- more along the lines of Design than Art- but pleasing nonetheless.  Although I guess I did recently finish a piece of "art" that needs documenting- a random bit of embroidery done for no other reason than to amuse myself.  Maybe I'll have Nathan take a photo later tonight...

PS if you'd like to see more of my lovely vintage wheels, go check out Nate's photostream

Ka-Ching! Ka-Ching!

What?  No, that's not the sound of a cash register!  Don't be silly.  It's the sound of my little vintage bike's little vintage bell!  Ka-Ching!


Today was the day I got bold and rode the bike to and from work.  I mean, to be completely honest I only rode it about halfway to work, because the first half is straight up a hill that I am not yet able to handle sans gears.  I walked the bike and tried not to sob as middle-school children whizzed past me.  Coming home was definitely easier (there's an uphill portion in that direction, as well, but the grade is much, much gentler), if only because the more I ride the less paranoid I get about... well, everything.

I really enjoyed it, and I look forward to riding too and fro on lovely (or even passable) days from here on out.  But I have to say, I'm probably going to go ahead and trade my bike in for a new one.  It kills me, because I really, truly love the aesthetic of this bike:

Outside Bad Monkey, after they'd tuned her up.

but man, it is pretty much too rickety for a Nervous Nellie like me!  And the lack of gears...  I am definitely not hipster enough for that inconvenience.  So we'll sell her (and Nate's- it would make me sublimely happy if we could sell them as the matched pair they are) and get me a less-cool-looking, but more-practical ride.

Stupid being a grown-up.