sunday routine.

One of my favorite things about Sunday is the articles each week in the NYT series Sunday Routine. They ask an interesting person what they do on Sundays. I think I find this so fascinating because for six or seven years my Mormon Sundays were an miserly and unrestful mix of obligations- meetings, worship, and dropping in on family. I was shocked at how much more "me" time I had when I left Mormonism. I thought I would take a stab at my own Sunday Routine- and I'd love to know yours as well.


Melanie, 26, is a graduate student pursuing a PhD in American history. A resident of South Philly, she has lived in Philadelphia for seventeen months.


COFFEE, INTERNET I like to wake up naturally on the weekends since I don't often have plans- usually around 9:30 or 11. I drink coffee and catch up on my favorite Sunday internet features- Postsecret, Sunday Routine, occasionally the weddings section. I stay up on blogs and the Fashion and Politics sections during the week, so I like to have Sunday treats to look forward too. I like to keep it ultra casual- t-shirts, sweatshirts, and raggedy jeans I would never wear out during the week.


WHAT'S FOR BREAKFAST In recent months I've been captivated by pancakes, so sometimes I'll make those for my roommate and I. Otherwise it's cereal or toast. In the summer I go out to brunch more often. Today I was lucky, I went with girlfriends to Local 44 in West Philly. We had their signature beer-mosas and I had a breakfast BLT with the most good quality bacon I've ever seen on a sandwich anywhere, ever.


TAKING IT EASY Some Sundays I like to take care of business- maybe laundry or a trip on the bike to Target. After brunch today, a friend and I hit up Metropolitan Bakery and walked through still snowy Rittenhouse Square, one of my favorite Philly spots.  Like any day, I have to work, but not too soon. I picked up a fruit and oat bar to enjoy while I'm reading later.


GETTING DOWN TO BUSINESS Sometime in the mid-afternoon I get down to work. Today I have to go up to school to get some books out of my office. I left them there on purpose because the forecast was calling for sun and I really, really need to get a bike ride in after all this snow. But again- nothing too quick. I'm going to drink some more coffee before I make my way out of the house. I think I might stop by H&M on the way to school-- I am getting an itch for Spring fashion. Like everyone here, winter has worn me out.


ACTUALLY WORKING I'm studying for my comprehensive exams this semester, so I'm trying to put away five books a day. It's insane- I usually get through three books and feel fine, but the extra two is a stretch. Working through the lists is really satisfying, even though I just started really reading last Wednesday. I have class tomorrow as well, so there's reading for that. There are no days off between now and May.


KEEPING IT REAL Sundays are a nice time to relax and prepare for the week. And there's always time for a cocktail in the evening when it's time to wind down. Watching a movie- we've been into Almodovar's tragedies lately- and chipping away at an embroidery project is a nice way to wrap up the day.

in praise of hibernation.

I was inspired by these thoughts in a recent post by Miss Sarah:

"In these winter months my attitude towards transportation is much more defensive than it is offensive. The application of some perspective on moderation suits me very well, and since I don't particularly prefer driving, I only do it when I must. One can embark on the quest for sustainable transportation practice in a variety of ways. I like consciousness and choice. And sometimes I choose not to go out at all as a way to save a car trip.

Instead, we have fun in our neighbourhood doing hibernation-like things instead of battling the roads. Watching movies. Having brunch. Walking the dog on a sunny afternoon. Spending time building mega blocks towers with Dexter. Ordinary stuff that we should be careful not to take for granted."

The last month has probably been the least bikey of the seventeen I have lived in Philly. Between my trips to Boston and Salt Lake, weather, and illness, I have had a handful of bicycle commutes into school and only a few opportunities for bike errands. Although the lack of exercise (with its attendant mental health benefits) has been rough, I am fortunate on a number of fronts:

-I live in a neighborhood with a number of amenities in walking distance, including great bars, a grocery store, a liquor store, and a number of friends (and not to mention, all of Center City).

-I live several blocks away from a subway line that takes me directly to school and work. While it's not my favorite way to travel, I appreciate being warm and dry. I have biked a lot less this winter because I live on a direct public transportation route, but I have also been a lot happier not showing up on campus completely soaked and miserable.

-I have a roommate. Living with someone does much to temper cabin fever. We've gone on walking excursions in the snow (the hamburgers / Apple Store / liquor cabinet restock adventure was a favorite). We've enjoyed plenty of cocktails at home watching foreign films, RuPaul Drag Race, and 30 Rock. Cooking projects abounded. And perhaps best of all-- he went out for groceries when a cold completely knocked me down. A good roommate is far more useful than a car!

So let me just add an amen to Miss Sarah- hibernation in the winter is the way to go, whether underground or at home. Location is key-- living in an urban neighborhood is a critical component in maintaining a sustainable, car-free lifestyle year round. Bikes are a part of it-- a key part of it during most times of the year- but it's nice that when weather makes biking inconvenient, dangerous, or impossible to have a number of ways of getting around and living a comfortable life.

weeks of hibernation meant a momentous and hoarder-like trip Trader Joe's. Putting those Walds to work!

lgrab summer games, social cycling challenge.

I'm a little late to the Let's Go Ride A Bike Summer Games-- but this is my official contribution: 
I had a lovely chat with a lovely lady cyclist on May 26th.  It was about 12:45pm and we were headed southbound at 12th and Spring Garden (kind of a wackjob intersection with a long light and the end of the bike lane in a spot that really needs the bike lane to continue).  She was helmet-less, dressed in a gauzy dress with dark hair and elegant tattoos-- a regular cycling apparition, the kind of person that I saw and thought, "Yes, she is one of us!"  She was riding a shiny emerald green bike-- and lo, she is herself from the Emerald City! We both agreed that Philly is divine for being car-free and riding bikes with just a few gears.  Lesson learned: I need to roll up to people and say, "I love your bike!" more often. Solidarity, sisters!


Ok, but here's the kicker to all this cycling sociality-- somebody left me a note on the Old Dutch Treat yesterday.  The preface to this is that usually I lock my helmet up with my bike so I don't have to be the girl in the bar / grocery store / restaurant / school slinging around an unweildy noggin-protector as I go about my business.  Anyways, it's been a while since somebody left me a bike note, so I was pretty excited to find this little note sitting in my helmet when I came out of Bob and Barbara's last night.


The outside read:

And then I opened it up:

I laughed out loud. I'm not sure whether it was a threat or a prophecy, but to me, it's classic Philly.  It definitely made me feel like, "Oh Philadelphia, social cycling is ON." Watch out folks!

The note proved useful though (beyond eliciting continuous smiles), as it was written on a flyer for a new used bookstore that I've heard good things about but had forgotten to check out.  Ride on...

summer lifestyle lessons from england, part 1.

Last summer I went to visit my mom, stepdad, and pup siblings in England.  It was the trip of a lifetime- seven weeks in the English countryside with some very wonderful company.  We went to National Trust houses and beer festivals.  I presented at my first conference in Cambridge.  No piece of antique furniture could escape our loving gaze.  Sunday roasties and the pleasures of tea-time (clotted cream, where art thou?!)... lovely lunches and riverside walks... beautiful churches and lingering trips to Marks and Spencer (to emerge with canned cocktails for public consumption)...  Eastenders and the joys of the BBC... really, it as the most wonderful trip. (a handful of related blog posts here)


I've been thinking of the trip often lately.  As it stands, I am grounded in Philly for the summer; at present, I am beginning to gather materials and start reading in preparation for my comprehensive exams (one must have an occupation).  There have been summers in my life that escaped my memory (Summer 2008, I'm looking at you) so I've decided to apply some of the lessons of pleasured living from last summer to this one.  Realizing that there are so many lovely points to highlight, this is the first in a series of posts.  So what if I can't live in the now.


1.  Find somewhere nice to visit with friends.

Caerphilly Castle

Last summer I went on an excursion to Wales with a friend after hanging out at his place in Cambridge.  This summer I'm planning on making a couple of trips to Boston and New York with my buddies.  If it's close, you should go.  Grab some honey ale and some stilton and crackers lest you get lost and need to picnic.

2. Don't forget to visit the beach.

                                   

Hunstanton Cliffs

This is very important for health and well-being. This summer I'm bound for the Jersey Shore, and you can bet your sweet pippy when I get back to Washington, there will be some beach time as well.

3. Beer festivals are a top priority.

                                      

Three different kinds of cider at a beer festival we happened upon unexpectedly.

The Campaign for Real Ale has done much to promote and preserve English beer culture.  We took great pleasure in selecting a range of delicious local brews from an overwhelming number of casks at CAMRA festivals.  It expanded my palette and was just so dang pleasant.  This summer, I'm looking forward to Philly Beer Week. June 4-13  is going to be a very glorious time.  I've already got the June 9th Real Ale event at Johnny Brenda's scribbled onto my calendar.

(excuse the wonky formatting... ahem, Blogger...)

nice rack.

Today the Old Dutch encountered some guerilla knitting at The Flying Saucer.  Classy and cozy, just right for an overcast day.

some thoughts on #30daysofbiking.

I was thinking about this post and how it would be good for the end of the month, and then I was like no.  Victory narratives are good, but you guys already know I'm a champ.*  What we need around here is some process.  Nitty gritty process.  


I got on the Thirty Days of Biking train at the end of the worst week of cycling I had ever had.  I had been riding the folding bike for a month straight, I had witnessed an awful, head-mangling crash, and then I had to ride a bajillion miles over the course of several subsequent soakedawfulrainy days.  


Biking.  I was so over it.  


So Thirty Days of Biking came at a moment when I wanted little to do with bikes.  Literally, April 1st was a beautiful day and as I was headed out to a meeting, I was pumping up my folding bike tires, got impatient, jerked a valve and gave myself a flat.  So. over. it.  


Later in the day I found out about Thirty Days of Biking, and determined I had to get the Old Dutch back together.  I had to see if I couldn't reclaim some of the joy.  Because this blog isn't called Church of the Granny Bike for nothing, and I'm the kind of person who stops going to church if there isn't any joy in it.


So.  I had some work to do.  And my roommate did too, because that chain wasn't going to put itself back on.**


My first ride was at night.  The first thing I noticed was that I had gotten faster from riding that teensy bike.  The second thing I noticed was the way the wind felt against my face.  Feeling the wind on my face again-- in that special way that one can only feel on a big steel upright bike***-- gave me hope.  I might be able to enjoy this.


It's been a gift getting reacquainted with the Old Dutch.  Going out on it every day has challenged me to actually leave me house every day.  Did you know I can be kind of a hermit?  To meet my daily ride quota (just one!), I've actually taken the bike out just for fun.  I've been more prompt about doing errands instead of combining trips.  I've wondered why I wasn't riding my bike every day.  I've given in to urges to make banana bread, urges to circle around Swann Fountain, and urges to ride around in short short dresses in spite of the wind.  


It wasn't until today-- after I put the seat up a bit, and after somebody had manhandled the ODT in an effort to have it for their very own-- that I felt truly reconnected.  Hightailing it out of the unfamiliar neighborhood, I couldn't help but feel like I was on parade, showing the whole damn world that the Old Dutch Treat [!] is my bike, and that smile on my face is there because I'm having so much fun riding it.  


It was perfect.




*this blog is all about meeeeeeeee!
**I am now an expert at this.
***yep. if it's not steel, you can't have that feeling. sorry.

bicycle graveyard.

I liked this recent story about our own Bicycle Coalition Bike Ambassadors wielding tools to rid the city of skeleton bikes."  One of my professors claims that these bikes are not so much victims of theft as abandonment- and once they've been sitting around for a while, the restaurant worker subculture of bikers (see in highest volume in Center City near Broad Street between 12am and 2am) will part them out so they can get parts for their own bikes.  While I don't know if that's true, I am sure glad the BCP is out there cleaning up.  

Then of course, it snowed in Philly.

Many people opted not to ride.

Like me.

Others left their bikes right where they were. Many of the racks at Temple had one or two bikes emerging from the melting snow or wedged in between heaps of plowed snow.

At home, our own resident unfunctional bike- a victim of a broken chain- has taken a turn at modeling. 

my life in bike stats.

Big Brother and I have a monthly bicycle miles accountability routine.  Tonight we checked in and I went a little crazy with my numbers.  They reveal a lot about my habits- though not entirely, as there was a lot more bussing, subway-ing, and walking in January than a typical in-school month.  But here's what I was up to on my bike:


I rode 118 miles.
I rode 82 of my total miles on or after school started on January 19.


I rode 35.3 of my total miles at night.  
Are you watching for bikes when you drive at night?


I failed to encounter zen and the art of bicycle maintenance.


I averaged 3.8 miles a day, or 6.2 on days that I rode (I like my days off).
My average round trip was 4.9 miles.

A. 32% of my miles involved acquiring or imbibing drink.*
B. 27% of my miles involved picking up library books or amazon.com orders from the post office.
C. 26% of my miles involved getting groceries.


There was no overlap between A and B or A and C. There was a teensy bit of overlap between B and C thanks to a sweet new supermarket by my school.


I had a Church of the Granny Bike moment on my folding bike.


I made 15 round trips on the Dahon.
I made 11 round trips on the Old Dutch Treat.
This was the first month that I've ridden the Hello Kitty bike more, thanks to my snazzy new headlight.


I've ridden approximately 685 miles since going car-free last August.  Amazing what the body can do without the Honda, isn't it?




All routes were checked using Google Maps. My lifetime car-free cumulative numbers include some earnest fudging from unrecorded rides early on and when I was on vacation away from my lovely spreadsheet.  All errors are due to the fact that I'm a historian who's never taken a statistics class. All bike miles were accrued wearing regular clothes for the purpose of transportation. All January miles were accrued wearing a helmet.


*Know your limits before you get on your bike and plan accordingly (that's how I roll). Drink and ride responsibly, judiciously, or not at all. I'm not here to tell you how to live your life so don't blame me, sue me, or judge me.  I'm not looking for a conversation, that is, unless you are the awesome dude who was hauling a mega-case of bottles on your front rack in 20 degree weather the other day.  Because that was awesome and required some serious skills.

unexpected day in the life.

Give me a day that starts out with me falling asleep around 4am.


I'll tell you that it's not going to be a good day.  There's that midday social obligation.  There's articles to read.  There's all those bike miles to add up.  There's that class I'm not interested in, talking about that book that I didn't get much out of with that group of people who bore me with that nutty professor.  That's going to happen.


Ugh.


I'm going to wake up a little grumpy.


And things are going to add up.


That toast is delicious.  And that music?  It's music to my ears.


Those people outside the liquor store?- yes, I'm there at 11:30am- the ones who always heckle me for cash when I pretend I'm not listening?-- dollar bills all around, not really thinking about it.  It's windy, get some coffee.


Let's get on that bike, the one I fight with, the one that carries me through Center City as that van honks at me but I miss all the potholes.  Bake some cookies, my favorite thing to do.  Baking with the girls who are like my Relief Society, making our own group just like the Relief Society would've told us to.  But give us mimosas- the idea they scoffed at, drinking at noon- give us mimosas and chocolate chips and snickerdoodles.  A few hours of much needed sisterhood and that bread!  Something you could only find in Philly, that bread!


Breeze through those articles, the ones we won't talk about, and on to dinner.  Leftover spaghetti noodles somehow transform themselves into some proto-yakisoba, pan-fried noodles, onions, garlic, pea sprouts, soy sauce.  And we have that conversation, texting back and forth about that UPS guy who likes you.  I look forward to that, you know.  Coffee, yes, at 6pm, class tonight, what a bore! But I'm glad we talk- a different we- when we meet in the kitchen. I'm glad when you offer me some of that soup and when you tell me you liked the latkes I made, the ones you ate without asking.  Going to that talk tomorrow, getting an advisor tomorrow, class tomorrow.


Let's not think about tomorrow.


Let's talk about going to OAH in April, tenement style, with everyone.  Or you- the other you- call me and squeeze in that five minute conversation while you walk home and I race out the door.  Headlight, blinkee light, helmet, lock.  Green lights and minimal traffic, easy parking and not even late!


Allow me to bust out every strategy in the book to get through that class.  The instant challenge to a viewpoint that you tell me later will make me that professor, the one people are afraid to take and who challenges them to learn!  The notes to the person sitting next to me that inspire discreet smiles and solidarity.  The discussion's dragging, please, let me ask that question- the one about how this book would look if we wrote it from a different methodological perspective.  Let it be 9 o'clock when the professor starts answering that question, when he lays out how the book would be called "Spain on the Brain: Anglo Anxieties in Hispanic World, 1500-1800," and tells us the who thesis and sums up the class just perfectly in spite of repeating the phrase "Spain on the Brain" five, eight times.  Who cares if the monologue lasted 35 minutes?  It's the second time I've made this happen, that question, this monologue.  I've already forgotten I don't care about colonialism.  What a time we had with those guys! The ones who drive us crazy, the ones who tell us they enjoyed our comments and that they like our folding bike. The ones who exist only as types and never come out with us afterwards.


Beer, glorious beer, finally!  Let there be the favorite usual waitress who we always overtip at our favorite usual bar, the ones where people's eyes twinkle as the pitcher gets emptier and the light reflects off the yellow glass lamps and the dingy wood paneling.  Oh, that laugh that reminds me of my cousin, and please, tell me again that twenty-five isn't that old.


Oh you guys! You don't have to wait.  Headlight, blinkee light, helmet, lock.  I'll try that smaller intersection, just right, an easy left turn.  Why have I never taken that route before? 


Give me third gear all the way down the Parkway, wind on my face, no cars, dim lights glowing against the Art Museum.  I'm on the folding bike, it's not as blissfully cruise-y as the other bike, but wait, it is.  Sublime propulsion along the usual unnoticeable route.  Don't let the cat in, he comes in anyways, but he's home, I'm home, he's happy, I'm happy.  I'm headed up the stairs, happy because I'm leading this life that I never planned to lead, happy that I enjoyed this day that I didn't expect to enjoy.

philly tweed ride.

I was really there! 

Photo via veronikavsyou- check out her photostream.

Ok, so I might have been excited about the Philly Tweed Ride since the second I found out about it. But how could I not be? A bunch of finely dressed people riding bikes together? This is what I do. We were blessed with great weather for parading through the city. The part of me that's been reading about fundamentalists all week would like to think that hearts were changed and that many Center City onlookers saw the "style over speed" bicycle light this November afternoon. If anything, a lot of people saw the Old Dutch Treat and had plenty of nice things to say about my beloved beast.

At the Waterworks behind the Art Museum before the ride.

Parade through Rittenhouse Square.

Chilling at the Schuykill River Park.

It was an amazing time. I was the 49th person to sign in, and there were easily at least 20 more people who came after me. We rode through Center City (past tons of shocked Saturday shoppers on Walnut!), walked through Rittenhouse Square, played games at Schuykill River Park, rode past Independence Hall, enjoyed a pleasant regrouping at Elfreth's Alley (Philadelphia's Oldest Street!), and then terminated the ride at the choice bar / eatery The Institute (that extra bowl of chili accidentally sent up to the second floor that I got to eat? AMAZING.). I was fortunate to meet a ton of kind folks that I am proud to share the road with.  It was nice to get together with a bunch of other everyday cyclists for a little fun and to remember why doing what we do is so dang cool.

three disparate things.

1. I'm reading The Handmaid's Tale again.  After a particularly difficult year of high school, I asked a favored English teacher what to read that summer, knowing that she had to have good taste because she'd done her masters thesis on e.e. cummings.  She suggested Atwood's book. I loved it. It got me thinking about woman's place in the world.

As an undergraduate I pursuaded another kind English instructor to let me do a paper on it. The course of that research introduced me to Phyllis Schlafly, the ERA, the Christian Right, and the LDS Church's efforts against the proposed Amendment. It revealed to me that dirty word: feminism. As a graduate student I've done work on the Eagle Forum and am now working on the Moral Majority. The Handmaid's Tale was written in a very particular moment, and that moment has come to define my career and how I spend my days.

And to think it all stemmed from a very casual book recommendation to a teenage student.

2. When I was living in the dorms at college, I embarked on a mission to a suburban Macy's for a bathrobe. I left the store with a piece of fluff the color of buttercream frosting. It was one of the first times that I said, "damn the costs," and bought something because I liked it and I knew I would need it for a long time.  Now that it's suddenly winter bathrobe season, wearing it puts me back in Pflueger Hall, back in the steamy smell of Dove body wash, back next to the drafty window where I used to sit after my showers. It puts me back in a time before I was an aunt and before my relationship with Mormonism got so fraught. I put on this bathrobe and I go back in time, back to before I knew anything about how good life could be.

And yet I kind of like that my cozy bathrobe takes me back to that time of not knowing any better.

3. Yesterday I went to New York City for the first time. It was big and bustling and dense and busy and shadowy. I only saw a few rushed snippets of the city, and I didn't like it all that much. How do people live there?  Why would anyone choose that? 

And then I remembered that I was in New York City, where I had never been before. That I made choices- a lot of them, big ones- that got me there. That I'd better enjoy right where I was because I'd never get to go to New York City for the first time ever again. Times Square got a little prettier and the people seemed a little nicer. 

New York made more sense to me when it was a myth, but at the very least, there I was. And Philly seemed so blissfully quaint when I returned.

cookies.

I'm shrinking. It's been unavoidable- the stress of moving, a sudden drop in beer consumption, the only two proximal grocery stores being Whole Foods and Trader Joe's (goodbye Oreos, Pringles, and Breyers Ice Cream, hello organic vegetables), and of course, all this biking. It's gotten to the point at the present rate that I'm going to get bumped down a smaller jeans size, and since I can't handle the trauma of jeans shopping (and being hungry all the time), I have decided that I'm going to bake more regularly. As I already eat a ton of butter and full fat dairy, cookies feel like my only hope.

Interestingly, the unintentional movetoPhillyandwasteaway weight loss moment coincided with the reappearance of the recipe notebook.

I'd lost it after moving from one of my eleven addresses in five years but had given up on seeing it again. Until I randomly ran into a former housemate and he said,"Hey, this isn't my ex-wife's, could it be yours?" and alas, I was reunited was this messy chunk of dreams from a time in my life that I thought my baking skills were going to be my ticket into eternally wedded bliss and a life of deriving spiritual pleasure from cleaning my windows.

Which is all to say, I have this amazing sugar cookie recipe that I would like to share with you. I got it off of Allrecipes.com a million years ago, but it's been modified a little. These are dense little cookies that, in spite of recalling several unrequited loves and the sorrows of one too many singles dances, take the edge off and, combined with that multi-egg fried egg sandwich I just ate, will keep the pants fitting for just a little while longer.

Perfect Sugar Cookies

1 1/2 cups butter (3 sticks)

2 cups white sugar

4 eggs

1 teaspoon (maybe a lil' more) almond extract (vanilla works if that's all you have, but almond will take you to the next dimension) (amaretto would be a dream, but I haven't tried it)

5 cups flour

2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp (or less) salt

1. Cream butter and sugar with your mixer. Add eggs and almond extract.

2. Add in flour, baking powder, and salt gradually. This dough gets pretty dense.

3. Cover and refrigerate for 1 hour or more.

4. Preheat your oven to 400 degrees F.

5. Roll dough out however you like. This may involve cookie cutters or you can be life me and just use an ice cream scoop to make balls. At this point, I recommend baking 10 and freezing the rest so you can have fresh cookies whenever you want.

6. Depending on your oven, bake 6-10 minutes. Cool, and, if you really want him to marry you, frost.

Frosting

When baking 10 cookies at a time, I quarter this recipe.

4 cups powdered sugar

1/2 butter

5 tbsp milk

1 tsp of whatever kind of extract you used in the cookies

A drop or two of food coloring (I prefer using red or yellow)

Mix it all up.

getting in tune with the title of my blog.

Philly is such a premium bike and art city that people turn their parking into a temporary installation.

So I know that a lot- ok, basically all- of my posts lately have been transportation related, and I know you are all like "where are all the muppet videos?" "conservatism isn't dead?" "what happened to those awful lists of links that nobody ever clicked on?" but the fact of the matter is, the only other thing I have to talk about these days is how much I love my new program, and really, if I talk about this here, nobody will ever call me again. Ever. So in the interests of making sure I still get the occasional phone call, I'm talking about bikes, again. Call it the circle of life or whatever, I go through blog cycles and this one is particularly bike-y.

In the past few days the weather has turned and the muggy air of Philadelphia transformed into the crisp cool kind of air that makes me feel like we should be having a cross country race, right here, right now. Whither my short thin shorts and perma-stink singlet? Spikes, be summoned! All of this is to say that for riding a bike, it's been delightful, even when a closed road unexpectedly tossed me onto a narrow street where some lady gave me a solid nudge into a car with her car mirror (Thanks endorphins!). Feeling the cool wind on my face reminds me of when I got my bike almost two years ago, right in the sweet spot of blissful fall.

I hadn't taken the Old Dutch Treat out in a while since I've been getting acquainted with the folding bike, and really just basking in the convenience of it, but today the ODT beckoned. I read this post and knowing that I was going into Center City for class, it seemed to be that there was no other to travel. I was scared of taking the folding bike back into Center City after the whole mess of getting the bike, but now I am much better acquainted with proper streets to take and was traveling into town after peak traffic. The brawny build of the ODT gave me the confidence to conquer downtown by bike.

It was magical! The bike lanes carried me blissfully, and flat and fast Philadelphia both embraced me and pushed me forward. For music, I rang my bell for small children and precariously placed cars, and on the ride home the hum of the bottle dynamo was my symphony. With its majestic fountains, plentiful neo-classical buildings, and charmingly lit skyline, Philadelphia was paradise. Energized by the engaging exchange of my class and sitting so high on my bike that I felt on top of the world, it was impossible not to be in love with this city, with life, and with the simple connects-me-to-the-universe euphoria of riding my bike.

the best fifty-nine cents i spent this summer.

Some people have backseats and trunks. I have the Ikea tarp bag. I got it on my first shopping trip in the city and have used it again and again. I can get on the bus with loads of stuff (like pillows) and it looks (and indeed is) completely controlled and deliberate. Why use five bags when you only need one? This bag kicks the ass of every other bag I own.

one of these things is not like the others.

When I first got my Mac and had some trouble making the switch, the guy on the support line told me that once I got past the initial challenges, I was going to put the experience behind me and absolutely love my computer. That's exactly what happened. I was trying to keep that in mind today because I recognize that I have zero patience for error, and really, five hours after it arrived, I am back from my first ride on the Dahon and feeling much better about the purchase.

I went all the way out to Performance (which is so far away that it is almost in New Jersey). The guy popped out the offending packing piece and pumped up the tires. I was there all of five minutes...


...Which was long enough for him to lecture me about how I shouldn't buy anything online and I should always come to the store. For his information, the store is too far out of the way to be useful to me after an extremely harrowing experience trying to ride through unavoidable Downtown on the way back (I ended up mostly walking the tiny bike and stopping for a worthwhile and much needed Hot Sausage from a street vendor).

Really, it is getting bitched at and denigrated that keeps a lot of people, especially women, from going into bike shops in the first place. I shouldn't have to defend my choice to buy something online when it is cheaper to anybody. The bike would've cost me $500 with tax from the store, which was more than I paid. I don't need to be intimidated when I come seeking help. That was disappointing and even if it was closer, I wouldn't go back to that shop.

So that pissed me off, but I got on my bike and rode off the angst. End of story.


So the Dahon- the bike, the actual bike itself- is fantastic. As a short legged person it is so hard to find a bike that fits perfect, but this one does. Once I got onto bikeable streets, I felt like I could really fly on that little bike. The Schwalbe tires were great on Philadelphia's debris laden streets (much like the ones on the ODT), and the gearing- well, usually on the ODT it takes all 3 gears to get me up the hill from the Downtown area and on the Dahon, I stayed in 3rd the whole time, quite comfortably.

The positioning is pretty upright and I felt visible and safe on the bike- though I will be adding a bell and using a blinkey light. I like that the rack came with a special little bungee so I could strap my purse on. Not having a coaster brake takes some getting used to, but what the bike has works fine. And of course, most importantly, it fits through the front door and is not hard at all to get up the stairs and through our sharp cornered hallways. I think it's pretty sweet that Dahon throws in a little vial of touch up paint and a bunch of stickers. I'm looking forward to many pleasant miles on my little bike.

the old dutch treat takes philadelphia by storm.

This is too perfect. In honor of my 500th blog post (not all of them have been posted, I think, but blogger counts and I don't), I picked up The Old Dutch Treat from Trophy Bikes in University City. The bike was finely tuned and the ride pacific and pleasant. The humidity was unnoticeable; there was little traffic and plenty of bike lane to get me home. Even the hills were easy. Three gears are all a girl needs in Philly. I felt totally at home.

Everything was as sublime as the Rothko painting I saw yesterday at the PMoA until I came home to this:


As it turns out, the hand brake makes my bike just a bit too wide to get through the door. It took some jimmying to get in, but not after I damn near had a heart attack and said all the bad word combinations I haven't been using since I stopped driving. And getting it up the stairs, well, that was a pain too. It was a bummer end to a lovely afternoon ride.

I won't be getting rid of the beast- I enjoy the ride too much- but the stairs are definitely going to require adjustment and practice, and the reality may be that the ODT may not be the best everyday gig. Don't worry- the blog won't suddenly be "Church of the Folding Bike," but this just became a lot more appealing.

bikes, boats, planes, cabs, buses, trolleys, and walking; or, being car free.

Last month I found myself suddenly car free. I listed my car on Craigslist, and, it being the Honda that it was, it was sold to the first person who looked at it for cash. This is what a Honda looks like when you hold it in your hands:

I no longer have that money in cash. Please don't rob me.

I was surprised that my car sold so quickly, but as it was a car that had been stolen, rear-ended, needed and gotten new brakes and tires, had insurance that was going to triple, required gas and washing and oil changes and made me worry about theft and future maintenance, it was pretty liberating.

Before I left Tacoma, being carfree offered me the challenge of biking through and too parts of the city I hadn't thought to be very bikeable. It was surprisingly easy. I had the opportunity to take a boat ride around Puget Sound, and while it was more for leisure than getting anywhere, it was cool. When I moved, I flew and allowed somebody else to do the driving as I shipped my stuff and took a cab home from the airport.

So before I got to Philadelphia, I had the sense that being car free was going to work out ok. Now that I'm here and carfree is the only way I know the city, I can't imagine living any other way. Philadelphia is quite walkable and has a very developed transportation system that includes buses, trolleys, and a subway (I haven't taken the subway yet). Some lessons that I've learned in the first week:

1. With planning, bus travel is an easy way to get around. It is not always fast, but it is cheap. So far my bus excursions have taken me to Ikea, Target, Trader Joe's, and Center City (downtown). In the next few days the bus will take me to West Philly (to pick up my bike!), the 30th Street Station (to pick up my BFF!), and to all the best tourist spots. Once I got on board with tokens, it's become even easier.

2. Trolleys are badass. I am fortunate to live in an area with restored 1940s trolleys and I'm sorry, but the design is so classic that you can't help but love riding them. They stop almost every block but are still pretty efficient and have been touted for their abilty to drive traffic to local small businesses.

3. That brings my to my third point, which is that being car free has encouraged to patronize local small businesses. Sure, it is fun to say I made it back from Ikea or Target with a ton of stuff (pillows!), but the really of those trips were that they took about 3 hours round trip and were totally exhausting. Ok for a special occasion like moving in when you need to do heavy shopping, but not ok for every day. Instead, when I needed Drano, rubber gloves, and a box fan today, I hit up the local hardware store. I walked there. I got to talk to the shopkeeper about her shop dog, and I felt very happy walking three blocks with my box fan. I paid a little more, but in an area with too many empty storefronts, it's worth saving myself the time and trouble of the trip to keep a business going.

4. Public transportation can suck, but providence takes a hand. Today I planned to take the trolley to a meeting at the University (my first trip to campus!). I made sure to leave early since I needed tokens and wanted to be on time. I missed the trolley by just a second (I was visiting with the token lady at the check cashing place, also a recent transplant to PA). I thought this was no big deal because they come quite frequently in the morning. And then it didn't. After the fourth trolley passed in the opposite direction, I called to tell the person I would be late and started walking. I walked and walked and walked. I walked down some streets my roommate would call "cracky." I got a huge blister. I was sweaty sweaty sweaty and late to my meeting. But you know what? I wasn't upset because when you walk 40 minutes, the good exercise chemicals get released in your body. And I still got to visit with the cute granny at the trolley stop for a while. My meeting person was fortunately flexible. And on the way back, I did get to take the trolley, which during the day serves a predominantly senior citizen population. When I was at Utah, one of the things that I disliked was that I never got to be around old people. That is not the case here.

5. I can get single portion desserts on demand. Popsicles, gummy worms, and ice cream are available at the locally owned mini-marts, 7-11 downtown offers delicious peach-mango slurpees, and the soul food restaurant has yummy squares of eight different kinds of cake available. I don't have to keep the crap in the house, it's cheaper to by just a little of something, and when I walk to the junk I don't feel too bad about it.

6. Although I don't have a scale, I've definitely slimmed down. It may be that I haven't had much beer since the local beer store looks sketchy, and maybe it's from the stress and activity of moving, but I like to think all this walking has me craving healthy foods and that it's doing something good for my body. You know when you walk a lot when you're travelling? I'm doing that almost every day now.

7. I think this is apparent from the six other points, but being car free has put me in touch with my community. Today an old guy asked me for a token, and since I hadn't used my budgeted token earlier, I gave it to him. Lucky me, I got a friend for the whole ride! In slightly unintelligible English, he told me about his untreated diabetes and seizures. He told me about how he hates that his friends offer him booze when he's sick and we got to chat about Christ in the wilderness. It was kind of a funny experience but it made me feel good.

Walking and using public transportation has shown me what a friendly neighborhood I live in- I mean really, I couldn't hear every guy say in an overfamiliar tone, "Hey baby, how you doin'?" if I was in my car. Since the granny bike won't be ready until Friday, look for a second installment on biking in Philly once I've gotten to do it a little.

"this is not hicktown."

I'm here. I'm saving myself twenty phone calls (for now) and writing it out because I am still reeling from a day of travel and air sickness, weeks of drinking, playing and packing, and months of not having an address that was actually mine. So now I'm home for the first time in months and setting myself to the impossible task of trying to absorb it all right away.

Some first impressions:

1. Flying over the city upon descent, I didn't believe that this was actually where I was going to live. The city is vast and tall and industrial. You would not believe the port on this city! It even has an aroma. I feel right at home.

2. It's hot and humid and diverse here.

3. From my windows (two!) I can see: a trolley line, a house that looks straight out of Rocky or It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia or, let's go crazy here, Sesame Street (my house probably looks like that too), and people out enjoying the evening on stoop and sidewalk. One person just defended Philadelphia against Pittsburgh, saying, "This is not hicktown." No, it's not. And I'm not in Kansas anymore.

4. The thought of twenty-seven g*d d*mn boxes showing up is terrifying. A yokel from the moving company called me while I was in San Diego to tell me it would be difficult to get a truck onto my street annoyed me, but now, surveying the street and my narrow little stairs, twenty-seven g*d d*mn boxes is a math equation that I can't solve right now. And don't get me started on getting the Old Dutch Treat in and out of here. I'm going to deal with everything tomorrow. In the mean time, I'm going to loose twenty pounds instantly going up and down our stairs.

5. On the cab ride home, I couldn't help but feel that I had no idea what I was signing up for when that big white envelope showed up last spring. I've had a sense of that as I have done the unthinkable- turning down a good offer from another program, selling my car- but up against downtown the gravity of my decision stood out in sharp relief. It wasn't a bad thing, but it was overwhelming. I don't doubt what I chose for a second, but man, I'm feeling what it meant to take the risk that I did. And I'm loving it because not in a million years could I have expected any of this.

five things.

5 things I loved about my family's visit to SLC:
1. The way my dad checks out electrical work everywhere he goes.
2. Speaking in movie quote code with Big Brother.
3. Getting ready for the day with my mom.
4. The craziness that ensues when we're all together-- does your family have in-depth discussions about recycling over breakfast?
5. That they all came just to see me graduate. It means a lot to me and I am happily exhausted.

Special thanks to Big Sister who held down the fort in T-Town!

salt lake, sushi bars and the power of sincerity.

So this afternoon, feeling glum about the direction of the world and the inevitable effects of this context on my own life, I decided to take myself out to a movie. I don't go very often, I have come to find that some times what I really need is to be completely distracted for a few hours. Fortunately tonight marked the opening of Revolutionary Road, a movie based on a book I loved, so there was really no question in my mind that it would be a satisfying evening down at the art filmhouse.

I got there just in the nick of time, just in time to run up and get a ticket, to dash in and get a set. Except. Sundance. Fucking Sundance! Only one cashier was working the regular tickets as the other cashier managed the non-existent line of Sundance Film Festival goers. The regular ticket line, of course, stretched well out onto the sidewalk, past the parking meters, and the first twenty minutes of the movie passed away. Confronted with the reality of seeing a 9:30 showing, I bought my ticket and came up with plan B.

Downtown Salt Lake is something of a ghost town at night, much in the same way it is a ghost town during the day. At night the homeless people seem to fade into the darkness. The few bar goers get straight off the Trax and go into the clubs; those going to the finer restaurants spend mere seconds on the sidewalk as the valets whisk their cars away. Depressingly empty but pleasantly quiet, the deserted old buildings watch as one moves through the unusually foggy evening blissfully alone.

After a pleasant stroll, I made my way to Takashi. Takashi is, for the uninitiated, the finest sushi place in all of Utah. They fly in fresh fish and line up a phalanx of sushi chefs at the bar, prepared for the iminent crush of well heeled natives and visitors pressing into its teeny waiting area. You can't get in without a reservation on Friday night, unless of course, you are patient or are willing to sit at the bar. Sushi bars are a very convenient place for the inconspicoius solo diner, unencumbered by the need for so many chairs.

Seated, a Sapporo beer speedily handed off without the flushed scrambling for ID, I ordered a Magic Dragon roll and contentedly watched the chef masterfully create this extraordinary work of culinary art. My silence was only briefly enjoyed as the commraderie of a bottle of sake flowed along the bar and I was soon overwhelmed by the company of two Outdoor Recreation conference goers. One-- the Director of Marketing-- was in his thirties, the other-- The Quiet Guy-- seemed in his mid-forties, and all the pleasantries were exchanged as these two east-coasters cheerfully made conversation. I started to work on my roll, and as I did, a tanned gentleman in his sixties was seated to my right. He discretely ordered salmon sashimi and, enticed by the beauty of my own feast, a Magic Dragon roll.

Turning to my left, the Director of Marketing is giving me his sales pitch-- identifying me, by virtue of my independent dining endeavor, as an individualist of great taste--about how it's not about product, but about the purity of experience and the clarity.

But you do marketing, I ask, so how do you sell without selling out?

The Quiet Guy pours us all a shot of sake. The Director of Marketing ensures me that it's about a discerning, adventure seeking personality and finding truth and here's my card and you should email me when you have that moment outdoors-- I'm not trying to hit on you-- it's really about the truth.

I assure him that I am a post-modernist and I don't really think about truth.

Vigorously he tries to pursuade me that truth and purity and business somehow make totally realistic bedfellows. I concede that he is something of a capitalist spiritualist evangelist and The Quiet Guy pours me another shot of sake after I tell The Director of Marketing that I think what he's telling me is bullshit. They are drunk. I return gratefully to my roll.

The Tanned Gentleman compliments me on the selection, as the Magic Dragon roll really was a heavenly delicacy. As it turns out, he is from Florida and spends 300 days a year travelling to sell products to oil companies. I tell him I am a working on a Master's in history and he says, well I'm sure your dad wonders this, but what will you do with that? And I tell him that given the state of the world today I really don't know, and we fall into a discussion of the state of the world and he makes sure I know why gas will by 300 dollars a barrell by 2011 and that diesel is so expensive because of regulation. I don't know where it came from, but somehow-- Florida, deregulation, business-- I bring up Mitt Romney, and don't ya know this guy was a Mitt supporter. I have got conservatism down.

Leaving, he reminds me that as a guy that was once on the Howdy Doody show and lived to see a man walk on the moon, as a guy who has seen every oil boom and bust, he's never seen anything like this. His parting words to me reemphasize the genuine concern about America's affairs that he's professed; he has the sincerity that the trite Director of Marketing lacks. He says,

You are cute as Christmas and I hope you get a job.

I hadn't expected to meet people; I hadn't expected to find such solidarity at the sushi bar. I emerged from the midst of this strange spectrum of contrived nonsense and real feeling buoyed by the heartfelt candor of a stranger. That man made my day.

The movie was good but rendered inconsequential. On a night that I intended to revel in my solitude, It is good to realize that I need people.