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!

we wondered if martha came up with the recipe in prison.

I interrupt this blog's regularly scheduled programming of Heavy Stuff and Bike Concerns to talk to you about an issue of great importance, an issue that touches us all.


I am here to talk to you today about pancake recipes.


Every semester brings with it different cravings. There was the semester I lived on ice cream, and who can forget last fall, when all I ate was arugula? It occurred to me recently that this semester has been a pancake semester. Unknowingly, I've been trying to make the perfect pancake, and I think I've actually done it.


Effort 1- Sour Cream Pancakes
these are good, but they are mostly sour cream. I have nothing against eating straight sour cream, but you don't really need all the effort of pancakes to do that.


Effort 2- Traditional Pancakes
these are what you make when you have a very limited range of ingredients on hand. dense. much too dense. you don't eat these pancakes- they eat you. put some jam on it as you head out into the mean streets, so heavy it would double as a weapon.


Effort 3- Buttermilk Pancakes
these are IT. post-Thanksgiving we had a lot of leftover buttermilk (thank you, ranch mashed potatoes). lacey and light, they are so perfect and dreamy. comfort food to the max, best drenched in warm Pennsylvania maple syrup.

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming. Up next: further embracing of life's magic and mysteries, Wald rear basket installation, and probably a youtube video. Maybe in reverse order.

the top ten things i've learned this year.

My sister-in-law has lots of good ideas, and blogging is one of them. In honor of her recent foray into the world of internet freewrites, I am copying her idea to meditate on the top ten things I've learned this year, though after writing them out it seems like, for a most part, a list of stuff I'm still learning.


10. How to change a flat. I resisted bicycle maintenance for a long time.


9. I eat a million times better when I avoid grocery stores. After a summer of farmer's markets and a fall of shopping at Reading Terminal, I feel so much better. Quality produce makes such a huge difference.


8. Blush. Voila, cheekbones! Voila, I don't look so tired and pasty and hungover! It's a makeup miracle.


7. The neighborhood I live in has significant implications for the life I lead. I am glad that I live close to friends, lovely bars, and good public transportation. Although it means a slightly longer commute (which is good for staying fit and having a little longer to decompress), my quality of life has improved greatly. Put succinctly: god, what a good time I'm having in South Philly!


6. I need beautiful language. The book of e.e. cummings always on my desk at work and the prose of Updike always next to my bed have eased my mind.

5. Something about men and agency and what I want from my life and having a voice. I can't say exactly what I've learned about those things, but the tension between them is finally coming into view and has brought with it some needed clarity as I consider what I want and expect from relationships, who I want to be in those relationships, and who I want to be with in relationships.

4. I don't think America is really being governed in a way that is constitutional. My readings for graduate school have made me aware of this, but haven't presented any clear solutions- but I'm pretty sure a solution would involve an immense collective rethinking of federalism, a reduction of the powers of the court and policing systems at all levels, and an intensive expansion of the number of positions in legislative bodies... or something. 

3. There is a small way to reconcile my work with how far from home it takes me. It's called doing research on where I'm from. I can't wait for that brilliant idea to pay off next summer.


2. The present is all we have. We can value and learn from the past, and we can anticipate our futures, but now- now is it. 


1. Reciprocity. As my nieces get older, I'm finding that they love me as much as I love them. I don't know why this shocked me, to suddenly feel aware of who I am in their lives. Their generosity of spirit is disarming. It's not just that they fill my life with a big love- it's that they teach me to expect nothing less than a big love. 

it's ok if you cook the sandwich in bacon grease.

I was inspired recently by this post on Big Girls, Small Kitchen about grilled cheese and mushroom melts. I have been playing around with variations on the theme this week. I brought in elements from a favorite salad at Prohibition Bar-- namely frisee, which goes lovely with mushrooms, and of course, bacon. This is a fall sandwich of no regrets. You're burning off extra calories just by staying warm, so I promise there's no harm.

Cook bacon.

Take come of your bacon grease and saute' mushrooms in it, with a bit of garlic.

Place sliced havarti on wheat bread, and pile all elements together. 

Cook sandwich in bacon grease.

Top sandwich with frisee.

Eat with fork and knife.

up with joy.

from the Queen's garden at Sandringham Castle

I recently added a complete volume of e.e. cummings poems to my desk. When I need a moment of tranquility I crack it open. Here's a piece of this morning's study. I like it because it reminds me of a toast. We could all use a toast on Monday morning.

here's to opening and upward

here's to opening and upward, to leaf and to sap
and to your(in my arms flowering so new)
self whose eyes smell of the sound of rain

and here's to silent certainly mountains;and to
a disappearing poet of always,snow
and to morning;and to morning's beautiful friend
twilight(and a first dream called ocean)and

let must or if be damned with whomever's afraid
down with ought with because with every brain
which thinks it thinks,nor dares to feel(but up
with joy;and up with laughing and drunkenness)

here's to one undiscoverable guess
of whose mad skill each world of blood is made
(whose fatal songs are moving in the moon

individual portions.

I love cooking for myself. 


It's not that I don't mind cooking for others. I belong to a group of food-loving foodies who celebrate food, and we cook for each other often, celebrating the strengths of that potato salad and reveling in the fact that one pound of butter really went into that pound cake. Hauling side dishes on the back of my bike brings me great joy. Talking with people about food is a daily occurrence. So much of my food life is social.


But cooking for myself, that I really love.  In an empty house, with the tunes turned up. Nobody will know the excesses of butter and salt. With my mind clear I futz with the temperature, add a little more flour. In the calm of my head I make important decisions about how I will unthaw the spinach. My family and friends are all around me, in gifted butter dishes and mixers and rubber spatulas. Individual portions fill me with intense and quiet satisfaction. In solitude I worship at the feet of proteins, fats, and carbs.


My therapist recently labelled this kind of activity "deliberate self care." I know that this kind of recreation is important for my well-being. I know that the times and seasons of my life may someday make this pursuit a rare event. But for now, in the moment, beyond all the present meaning and possibilities of the future, I delight in cooking for one.

i'm still here.

At the end of last month, I found myself with a doubled commute.  My new job and school year began.  Overnight, I acquired an office, a demanding schedule, and sixty people whom I call "my students."  The transition was rough. I quickly came in contact with my own limitations as a student and teacher, as well as the limited number of possible North / South routes through Center City.  4.7 each miles, these days.

But now that I've found my legs and the heat has abated, I'm back to a point of reflection on my rides.  I've started worshipping at that bike church I used to attend.  Relaxed by now-familiar routes and the timing of the traffic signals (I always get to rest at Spring Garden), I can breath deeply and work through the daily puzzles of my life, putting them together in my mind to find clarity.

One such problem that's emerged lately was what to make of a particular recent outcome, a termination of sorts. I had strategized, when it happened, to "remain selfless, cold, and composed." When I found myself failing at this, in, you know, a mature internalized way, I asked myself, rolling along, what to make of it. And then it hits me, powerfully, so hard that I forgot traffic and potholes and the city's glittery pervasive coating of broken glass.

This doesn't make a difference in my long-term happiness.

Sure, I was a little sad in the moment.  But it was temporary, fleeting. So many of the things that I've mourned in fall's past didn't have a lasting impact on my long-term happiness. Things that hurt-- well, they did hurt-- but they didn't constrain my ability to be happy.  I pushed forward, plowed through, and ran over these miseries and seized happiness. I built myself a life.

It came in a flood, these beautiful flutters of memory of the moments that have made a difference in my long-term happiness-- the moment I put my application in the mail for my Masters, the rush of buying a big red bike, the series of mouse clicks that have purchased plane tickets for home and adventure. Taking a job at a restaurant where I learned to cook, making a drive to Park City to find that I really did want to come to Philly. These memories washed away the problems, and suddenly, I found myself twenty-six years old, settled, on my way to a job I really love, where I get to use my talents, where being who I am fills the qualifications.

And then I felt my hands grip my brakes, heard the clackity hymnody of the folding bike's noisy chain, and stopped at the stop light, satisfied. And, lucky me, I still had three and a half more miles to go.

great moments in tacoma cycling, part 2.

Last night around 11:30pm my cousin- today, a blushing bride- called with a crisis: she had forgotten to get flowers for the church. No problem! Big Brother lives close to the Proctor Farmers Market and has equipped his long-staying houseguest with a bike. This haul may be one of my favorite ever.

You can see the flower stand where I picked up the flowers in the front on the left! 

a dispatch from the summer of 2010.

It's been a while since I blogged.  I think the whole internet slows down during the summer, and personally, I think it's fantastic.  I haven't been posting because I've been playing pretty hard.  Playing too hard to finish LGRAB's summer games... or to even ride my bikes.  Playing too hard to do the reading and language study I should be getting to... or to even get to the library.  Playing too hard to clean my floors or paint that bookshelf.... or to even buy groceries.  


It's been delightful.  


My body bears the telltale signs of a summer well-spent-- a range of ever changing tan lines, a tummy that's a little soft after a good many beers, and a headful of hair that's getting white blonde.  My friendships feel strong and ready for the assault of another year of graduate school-- my fourth.  After going all over-- to Delaware, South Jersey, The Shore, New York, Boston and Cambridge-- I am eager to fly home tomorrow to continue the summery process of replenishing my spirit.  This summer has taken on an unexpected richness, a kind of abundance that would seem inconceivable if you saw how low my bank balance is or knew how hot it got in the house we moved out of or about any other number of dramas.  But still, life is sweet, and there is nothing more to do, I suppose, than finish with my favorite poem, because it seems to capture all the joy of living that I'm so high on right now.  It's funny how life gets to be so good when you aren't finishing all the items on the to-do list, or, even better, when you forget the to-do list existed at all.

wishing you a merry summer from Philly!

i thank You God for most this amazing

day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything

which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,

and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth

day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay

great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing

breathing any-lifted from the no

of all nothing-human merely being

doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and

now the eyes of my eyes are opened) - e.e. cummings

Don't forget: It's not too late to help the children and win a bag o' swag at Tacoma Bike Ranch!!

a visit to DBC in boston: test-riding the 'swift'.

It's taken me a month to get to this post.  On one hand, it's about sloth-- here and there I've been busy, but for the most part I've settled into a state of mild but ambivalent productivity that is appropriate to my status as an underemployed summering graduate student.  On the other hand, however, this is about my inability to explain things that move me in a certain way, moments of pure joy and freedom.  Like when I played in the Pacific Ocean last summer in San Diego-- the bliss was inexplicable and vast, hard to put my finger on. So I don't really talk about it, because it feels kind of sacred.

Ok, now that we've established that, you can be aghast:

"You felt that way test-riding a bike?!?!"

I know, I know.  It's a little superlative.  

When I visited my best friend in Boston last month-- every Philadelphian should have a cleaner city nearby to escape to from time to time-- I found myself with a morning to myself while she worked.  In the interests of "doing things right" and "getting some blog material" and also, duh, "my interests," I looked to see if there were any Dutch bike shops in Boston.  When I go to Boston, I actually spend most of my time in Cambridge, and let me tell you something-- Cambridge bicycle culture is the jam.  People tend to ride functional, sometimes beautiful bikes with helmets and lights; the bike lanes are plentiful, and (by MIT) sometimes even separate from traffic; there are oodles of folding bikes.  To a spectator- it's orderly, pragmatic, pleasant, plain clothes.  Riding in Boston, I hear, is a bit more aggressive, but let's not get too far away from my impressions of Boston as bike paradise.

So all of this in mind, I made my way out to Somerville, sort-of near Tufts, to City Bikes (lest they be confused with other Dutch Bicycle Companies, though I think they go by DBC).  All I knew going in was that they were Dutch bike dealers building their own bikes.  I expected a traditional bicycle showroom, but it's a little more casual than that-- which I think gets at the practical sensibility at the heart of the City Bikes program.

City Bikes started out with the desire to solve some of the problems of the Dutch bicycle-- the incredible weight, the sometimes wobbly steering, the increasingly cheap components used on bikes for American import.  They recruited an army of MIT engineers (ok, maybe not that many) to come up with a host of frame designs that looked just right, to get a geometry that felt just right, to make a bike ideally suited to the rigors and challenges of American urban riding.  Anywhere they could've cut corners, they didn't-- they used American materials (like Pennsylvania steel!), rebuilt headlights, and selected the very best components.  What they got surprised them: they hadn't expected it to be so perfect.

If you're surprised that you haven't yet heard of City Bikes, that's kind of on purpose-- they are doing everything they can to meet demand as it is.  We all know the demand that's faced other custom builders, like Sweetpea or Vanilla.  When I visited, the only City Bike in the showroom was the men's prototype and an unbuilt women's frame.  

ladies frame

As it is, you can order a bike to fit your measurements with the paint job you want for ~$2400.  For Boston residents, City Bikes is offering lifetime maintenance because they believe in the quality of their bikes.  For people living within 2 hours, they're offering an installment payment plan.  

What can I say about test-riding the Swift?  It's a bike-riders' bike.  It's responsive, easy to recover when you pitch yourself sideways.  The posturing is perfect, the bike is not heavy, it's elegant.  The time I spent on that bike may have been some of the best ten minutes of my summer-- they were lucky I left my purse in the office, I might not have come back.  Riding this bike-- it was my playing in the ocean moment. I can't really explain it. It was how riding bikes ought to be. You could have never ridden a bike before and get on this bike and think it's nice, but I think it might take someone a little more seasoned to appreciate what's going on here in terms of craftsmanship and deliberate design choices.  If I could afford one, I would buy one.

Obviously, if you find yourself in Boston, a City Bikes visit is mandatory.  Dan and Maria are gracious bike enthusiasts who you'll want to spend some time with.  I can't do justice to how excited I was when I left.  Make sure you bring an extra couple grand when you visit-- you'll want to buy one of these beautiful bikes before everybody else finds out about them.  

Dan and Maria, if you see this-- please feel free to make any corrections in the comments!

This video is found on their website- it includes a teensy portion of what I learned during my visit:

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...)

tacoma biking, part 1: my little french friend.

This blog isn't dead! Really! Between the end of the semester and being called home last week for family business, I haven't had a whole lot of blogging energy.  But I'm done! I'm back! So get ready for me to start blowing up your Google Reader like whoa.


The first two days of my trip came at the end of #30daysofbiking.  I was really committed and wanted to ensure that in spite of my travel and stresses, I met the goal.  As I was to be spending a lot of time going back and forth between two family homes linked by a bike lane, biking at home was an easy and feasible transportation choice.  Big Brother asked a family friend if I could borrow the vintage Peugeot folding bike that BB rehabbed last winter. Alas, to my delight, me and The Peug were joined together for 8 wonderful days. The link above will give you better insight into the specs of the bike, so now I can just prattle on about the bike's awesomeness.

This bike fits me the best of any bike I have ever ridden.  I have a long torso and short inseam, so my smallest-size Old Dutch is a bit of the stretch, and the Dahon is you know, fine.  But The Peug fits perfect.

This bike is what you would see if the Old Dutch Treat and the Dahon had a baby.  Size-wise, The Peug would fit nicely in a car trunk or small apartment.  Size isn't everything, though, so you still get all the amenities of a city bike- nice upright position, a skirt-friendly frame, built-in lights, and a rear rack.  The positioning is great-- riding the bike, it feels like your sternum is being thrust out in a very "Hello, World!" kind of way.  Compact bike happiness if I ever saw it.


We are very grateful that the person who loaned me the bike generously ended up giving The Peug to our family.  I am looking forward to riding this bike when I go home at the end of the summer... and will probably start trolling Craigslist for one of my own.  It's that fantastic.

 

Moms and daughters alike love Peugeot folding bikes!

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.

bright spots stockpile, part 4.

I emailed a professor a couple of days ago asking for two book recommendations to round out a five book historiography* I'm working on (political networks of the early republic! so good!) and he finally got back to me today.  


With recommendations for seven books I should look into.  


I know that the expectation isn't that I read them all, but that's the difference between being an undergraduate and a graduate student, I feel. I will read them all.  My learning journey with this professor this semester has been so positive and enlightening and mind-stretching that I know the books will be useful and I want to go down that path.  I am happy that I get to be here, learning from such nice, brilliant people.  I am happy that I'm living a life where I can drop everything and race off to the library.  I am happy to have work that is so blissfully consuming and challenging.  I am happy, I am happy, I am happy.


*a paper that is a brief overview of a specific field-- like a multi-book book report, with more analysis.

randoseru: the perfect cute backpack for bicycle commuting.

I'm here today to tell you about my Mom.

She's pretty special. She lives in Japan and knows just what I like.

Such as very early birthday presents.

She saw the little kids in Japan wearing these backpacks- randoseru- and knew that it would be just the thing for bike commuting.

She scoured and scoured ebay until she found the perfect one.

It's made out of a horse.

Horse leather, that is.

It's red because the girls in Japan get the red ones. I like the red- it's very high vis.

As you can see, it's very finely crafted. The randoseru are made for the children to wear as a part of their uniforms through six  primary school years.  

The clasp closes magnetically and can also be locked with that little swivel.  The straps swivel as well.  I love the metal construction- it is industrial.

The back is cushy, as are the straps.  They are also adjustable.

The randoseru has a see-through pocket for your homework, forms for your parents to sign, or if you're a history grad student, your "haircuts of the U.S. presidents" print-out.

I have the hardest time remembering who the Gilded Age presidents were.

The front pocket zips closed and is perfect for pens and wallets and lipgloss and such.  The front has a see-through space your ID. But not your id. 

This randoseru has really adorable white piping. 

It has a deep storage compartment that would fit three or four history monographs and some composition books.

It sits up really high on your back for proper ergonomics.

My mom would probably suggest that I move that towel before taking pictures to post on the internet. At least she taught me how to apply mascara.

Water rolls right off the back when it's raining- I made it through a storm yesterday and all my stuff stayed perfectly dry.

Isn't my mom the coolest?

(these pictures brought to you by photo booth, since my camera was never recovered)