Converted!

A friend of mine (B) met a new friend (G) who has an art studio which he lovingly refers to as his "getting dirty space." They were talking at a party and came to the conclusion that they would help me convert my bike. So yesterday, G called B and they made plans to meet. B and I arrived at the studio and 1 hour and a few country songs later, we were flying out of there on my new single speed setup. Removed a couple of chain rings in the front, ditched the shifters and derailleurs, and shortened the chain. We also chopped about an inch and a half off of my handlebars. Way better handling. G also polished my remaining chain ring and it's so pretty.

I still need to get new wheels/tires so that I can get rid of the back cogs and really lighten this baby up, but I can already feel the difference. I'm gonna be one zippy little thing especially after chugging along on 35 pounds of bicycle. But for now, I'm still a little heavy and on an odd gear ratio, so going up hills kinda sucks, but I still rode about 10 miles today -- more than 7 of them were with a friend who lives in Brooklyn now, but was my skating and biking buddy in middle school back in Indianapolis.

Sweet Dreams II

My little sister (age 9) recently had a dream that she went to heaven. So my mom asked, "What did God look like?" Without missing a beat, she replied "He had white pyjamas with red spots all over them, bunny slippers, and spiked hair."

Of course he did.

Vegetable Pie II

I made another pie with vegetables. When my friend asked me to bake a pie for (what turned out to be) her fabulous summer dinner party, I was stoked. I searched for a recipe at gourmet.com with only one criterion: rhubarb. I've always wanted to use it, but never have. I found recipe that makes what they call a cake, but you bake it in a pie pan, so it still counted in my mind. Plus, the whipped cream called for whiskey, which was an awesome addition. I also altered the recipe to include real vanilla bean instead of just the extract. What a treat!

So, true to form, I'm asked to make dessert and I bring a vegetable dish!

Deconstructing Chicken

I realized recently that I've never cooked a whole chicken all by myself. I'm guessing that this is because I was vegetarian when I might have learned this from my mom, then I went to college where my food was cooked for me (and subsequently made me gain 20 pounds), then I cooked for myself but armed only with vegetarian cookbooks. So I never really figured out how to cook anything other than a boneless breast.

All of this probably explains why I used to think that chicken is kind of like tofu: flavorless and able to take on the flavors of its surroundings. Well, when you leave the bones in, it's a different story.

Tonight, at the direction of my little sister, I roasted an entire 3.22 lb chicken. Only used a bit of butter, salt, and rosemary. And guess what? It's delicious. Flavorful, juicy, and delicious.

I also made a vegetable pot pie with biscuits.

Now I'm tired.

Miracles of Science

Another ophthalmologist story.

I was there for a contact lens fitting (four months late), so I was testing them out on my way to work. When I got back on my bike, the world had suddenly changed. I felt like I was about 12 inches taller. Peripheral vision is amazing, but it was weird because it was as if I were floating or something and suddenly I could go faster and be more nimble.

Who needs a real road bike when you can see?

Eyeballs Roll, Bikes Rock

Today my ophthalmologist told me that since February my prescription has changed. So, just in case, I asked, "You mean it got worse, right?"

"No, actually, it got better. What have you been doing differently?"

The bike. It's the bike. I can't believe it! Yeah, maybe I've changed my diet or my work habits a bit since then, but the only real, significant change is the bike. I've read about eye exercises and other things you can do to improve vision, but like all exercise, it's hard for me to do it just for the sake of doing it (even with a goal in mind). However, if I work it into a utilitarian purpose, life will change. And that's what happened. I'm getting toned arms, toned legs, toned butt, toned core, and toned eyeballs... and all from my 9-mile R/T daily commute and weekend getaways. Are you convinced to start a 2-wheel commute yet?

Weekend Adventure Numbers

I could tell the stories, but it would take too long. Plus, what happened in the tent stays in the tent. So here you go:

• Travelers: 4
  
• Total Miles Traveled: ~40
• Roadkill we passed, ran over, or otherwise encountered: at least 20 including 3 robins, 3 rats, 10 squirrels, 2 raccoons, and several unrecognizable animals including one that might have been a frog
• Hours after our intended arrival time we actually arrived at our campsite: 3
• Wineries visited: 3
• Goat farms visited: 1
• Greenhouses used to wait out rain and hail storm: 1
• Round trip detour mileage due to navigational difficulty: ~3
• People our tent was intended to sleep: 2
• People our tent actually slept: 4
• Caterpillars found on my body in the night: 1.5
• Attempts at making fire: 4, including one successful attempt
  
• Attempts to use the neighbor's fire: 1 (successful)
• Number of pet birds brought by neighbors: 3
  
• Bottles of wine consumed during breakfast: half
• Caterpillar droppings on hair, clothing, and food: well, if we had known that's what that was from the start, the number might have been smaller, but since that was a late discovery, more than we can count
• Emails sent: 0
• Phone calls to "dad": 4

Countless good conversations, laughs, and good times. Can't wait to go again -- but I will be purchasing a new (to me) bike before then or significantly modifying mine. And panniers might also be a good idea. Carrying a wet tent in a backpack is not actually advisable.

14 Year Old Boy

I said in a previous post that we can't all look like girly 14-year-old boys (forever), but apparently I've managed to hang on to that look -- or at least that persona. This morning a guy with chisled, split calf muscles zipped past me on his road bike up the hill on the Manhattan bridge. However, after I took (as I call them) the jumps and got some sweet air, I bombed past him on the way down.

It was a rainy morning, so not too many people out on their bikes. That is usually accompanied by some decent attitudes because there's an understanding that everyone who's actually out is pretty serious about their bikes. He saw me coming and waved me on, and I yelled something back at him about 35 pounds. He caught up to me on the road later and we had a nice discussion about the fact that I'm still a 14-year-old boy, and that my bike is more like a sled than a bike (his words, not mine). He also noted that 14-year-old girls do stupid shit like take the jumps too. Point taken.

Check This Out!

My roommate, the creative composer, fabulous (classical) guitarist, amazing editor, fantastic chef, among other things, has added a new incredible skill to his repertoire: Flash designer/programmer.

Check out his website at www.grantdamron.com to see all but the cooking skills. And if you need someone to write some music, play the guitar, edit sound, or design/program in Flash, please get in touch.

Daring Adventure or Nothing At All

I've never been a quote person. I've never thought it necessary to associate myself with a quotation of someone else's. However, I was recently, at least momentarily changed. At least for now, I'm really interested in risk and how that plays into everyday life. The rock climbing taught me a lot about managing risk in a really real, in-your-face kind of way, but other things that are a little less tangible have come up in my life and in the world around me. I look at running a presidential campaign as mitigating risk after risk and learning how to take one when needed. Foreign policy. Farm bill. Farmers on strike in Argentina. Al-Qaida.

So when I saw this quote on someone else's g-chat, I had to adopt it for my own propaganda and added it as a signature to the end of my emails. Usually I find the Quote People annoying. So judge if you must. I think it's a good thing to reflect on every once in a while.

"Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all." Helen Keller

Treacherous...

When you sign up for a $20 haircut at Aveda Institute, you take a bit of a risk, so you take a deep breath and hope for the best repeating the mantra: it's just hair. it will grow back. i can afford to get it fixed.

Many have the theory that you just ask for a trim when you go for this $20 haircut in order to avoid disaster. However, we have to remember that we're dealing with people here, not just some Flowbee haircutting machine. You have to work with the (delicate) psyche of a beauty school student. In my opinion, one has to find the right balance between confidence and caution in order to make this work. Asking for just a trim starts the relationship with an air of mistrust, which is no way to begin if you want to survive.

1. Know what you want when you go in. Stylists at this level are not generally ready to create on-the-fly, even though they might try. Be firm, but gentle about what you want.
2. Instill a sense of trust.
3. Give compliments when they are due.

Otherwise, you might get what the woman next to me got: your hair stuck in a blow dryer! She asked for a trim, just a boring trim.

Let that be a lesson to you.

The Great Equalizer

Despite many differences in occupation, age, race, culture, politics, etc. in my neighborhood, the laundromat is different. Everyone is there to get down to business. Everyone is wearing their least attractive clothes (i.e. the things that don't need to be washed until next time). Everyone understands that you don't want them to see your underwear and you don't want to see theirs. Everyone has to deal with the same broken or stupidly programmed machines. Everyone has to watch the same stupid movies on the televisions. It's nice to have some unity and some neighborly bonding -- even if it's while you're avoiding eye contact.

Prospect Heights

I have a great neighborhood. There's a delightful mix of races, cultures, ages, income, classes, occupations, etc. Part of this mix is probably due to the rent control system in NYC which encourages people to stay in apartments indefinitely, because staying with that lease guarantees the initial rate or only modest annual increases. So sometimes, when you move into a neighborhood that's an old stronghold for other ethnic/cultural/socio-economic groups, you feel like an impostor reaping the benefits of lower rent (though not as low as your neighbors' who moved in earlier).

It's admittedly a little odd when old ladies at the grocery store call me "mami," but it 's endearing and I love it. Maybe one day that will roll off my tongue too. I'm thinking about going over to the bodega (corner store) to watch the news in Spanish with the shop keeper, but I'm not sure how well that would go -- especially since I'd need nearly everything translated since they talk so fast.

Standing in line

My dad once told me that instead of looking for the shortest line, he looks for the one with the most interesting people in it (so California, so not New York). I think I'm finally in a ((develop)mental) place in my life where I would agree that this is the best method. However, at the co-op, there's not an option. There's only one line. One terribly long line. But today I got lucky.

I ended up standing in line in front of two very rambunctious and precocious children. And since I didn't have to put them to bed or give them medicine, it was just fun.

Annica and her long-haired, towheaded little brother were shopping with dad this morning. After exclaiming, "Look at all the beautiful vegetables!" (while peering into the freezer case), Annica informed me that "Daddy married mommy, and then we had butterflies."

Seems like the right way to do it.

Departure

In a departure from my usual electricity-saving choices, I tried something I've always conceived of as wasteful and stupid today. I went to the tanning bed. That's right I got naked, up-close, and personal with a plastic bed filled with ultraviolet light for 10 minutes. And you know what? It was a departure in more ways than one. I was hot and sweaty, and except for the lack of sand in my swimsuit, felt like I was at the beach. Ok, that might be a stretch, but on a snowy February day in New York City, it was kind of nice. The funniest part was the surprise I experienced when I saw snow outside...

Compost Craze

I keep hearing little peeps from friends and family who are saying things like "Hmm, I really don't see that grapefruit peel in the trash the same way anymore. I keep thinking that it would make excellent worm food. How many worms did you say you have? Do they multiply? Does it stink? How do you harvest it?"

Oh I encourage you! The worm bin makes you feel super wholesome... and if you want to feel a little less wholesome, think about it this way: worms are hermaphrodites and therefore have both sex organs -- they can do anyone! And from the looks of the baby worms we have, I think they do!

I'll find and post some more practical tips soon. I'm just happy that it's catching on without any direct attempts to convert people.

State of the Universe

This morning I walked down the street with a tangible sense of justice and fellowship and even patriotism. I woke up early and made myself farm fresh pastured eggs, toast with almond butter and red raspberry jam, a french press of coffee, and a tall glass of OJ with lots of pulp. It was pretty wholesome and fulfilling.

I'm sure it sounds entirely cheesy, but it really felt good. I walking down the street was smiling for no reason other than I just felt happy. I even laughed a little. This isn't entirely related to the fact that today was my first time using one of those fancy old machines with a curtain and a lever (they have paper ballots in MA), but also feeling a little more square with some personal issues as well.

On Budgeting

So how's it going, this budget? Let's put it this way.

Yesterday I asked myself, "Why in hell did you buy so many damned potatoes?"

Yeah, January's budget is spent. Plus $1.

Anxiously awaiting February, where I've reduced my budget to about 75% of January's budget. I have a secret savings project.

I really want a beer.

Success! (so far)

That's right folks, I've been able to find my keys pretty darn consistently since I decided that I needed to focus on that December 10, 2007. I was concerned that I would lose the pattern when I went to Indiana for a week, but I found a way to keep up the habit by being very mindful of other people's keys -- like my mom's car keys which I borrowed a few times. Incidentally, I think the key focus has helped me to be a little less aimless about other things like my checkbook or glasses. Also, I find myself planning things ahead (like putting my book in my bag when I think of it the night before instead of trying to remember it the next morning). This independence from my own memory is sort of liberating. I'm a little concerned that I will get complacent about it and start slipping, but it might actually be a part of me now. We can only hope.

25 Going on Self-Help Guru

No, I don't think I have it all figured out, but I feel like my time of late is often consumed with actively trying to and sharing those trials, successful or not, with others. Food choices. Waste disbursement. Getting organized (or habitual) enough to find my keys. Budgeting. Is this part of quarter century development or is it just me? And if it is quarter century development, I guess I'm a late bloomer...