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Unedited photo of the family Christmas tree. I scored a lot of awesome presents this year. And I am stuck with a quandary. Do I brag and ruin everyone else’s Christmases in retrospect? Or do I keep quiet?

I mean, will you feel badly if I brag about the little coffee maker for my office and the large Thermos?  The awesome winter cycling gear?  Two Hemingway related presents?  A gorgeous Walden edition?  Nice flannels?

You might.

So I will keep it to myself.

Merry late Christmas, if you’re into that thing.

Photo Friday: Best of 2008.

I am at my family’s house in Hampden, in my old bedroom, on my Dad’s new computer.  (I’m seriously stealing this frikkin monitor when I go back home.)  After much drama, research and, well, bullshit, I have a new camera.  It’s sitting here in the tiny (and kinda over-priced) case I bought for it, charging.  Did three test black shots, and there was a weird spot in the first one.  I almost pooped.  But I took three.  And the others were fine.  Took two photos of the wife and put that baby on the charger like it told me to.  It’s tiny.  About the size of a deck of cards.  I can actually carry it around!  I didn’t check to make sure there’s no crap under the LCD, but that’s only happend to me twice (knock on wood), both with a Canon.  The same one that died twice on me.  Four of the same model (!).  And the other dead pixel one and my favorite old A60 which up and died totally, else I’d probably still use it.  With the luck I have with digital cameras, maybe I shouldn’t check?  (Kidding.)

I am going to my brother’s house for Christmas Eve, and I’m stoked that I will have a camera.  Enough eggnog in my baby brother, and I’d be a fool to miss it.

I should really post more candid photos of people on here and Flickr.  But I don’t take a whole lot.  I’m photo shy.  I used to sneak photos of people and call it a pretentious name (look it up with the search function!).

I can’t sleep and didn’t eat much for dinner because I’m pooping myself with excitement over Christmas.  I think being away from my apartment and job (and bike, poor thing) and seeing the presents I have for people is infecting me.  I wanna wrap and give and take pictures of people opening the awesome shit I got for them.

I went shopping with my Mom yesterday like I used to before I started my VISTA year.  People were nuts.  You know, proof of the existence of God might lie in the way that more people don’t either die or kill each other over the stupid things people do when they are lurking and speeding their metal cages around with them.

You might think it’s weird to spend one’s day off with one’s mother, but I don’t give a shit if anyone thinks that.  Hell, I like my parents a lot.  I have fun with them.  I feel badly for people who don’t enjoy their parents’ company, and that is at least half of the people I know.

Mrs. P. and I went shopping with my Dad tonight for a camera and other things.  When I was in college, my Dad and I used to go shopping just days before Christmas and do all of our purchasing.  I don’t think anyone really did online shopping back then.  When I was living away, Mrs. P. got to come along, which was supposed to be understood as an honor.  With the advent of online shopping and DOORBUSTERS, we’ve sorta fallen out of the tradition.  I was glad to revive it tonight, quite unexpectedly.

I have a little more shopping to do on the Avenue tomorrow, a half a block away.  And TONS of wrapping.

If you don’t hear from me before then, very happy holidays to you.  And to everyone else I love or hate.


I don’t have any recent photos of Christmas because my camera pooped out.  This is my Grandmama-in-law [who is one of the sweetest people I know] back in 2004.

I don’t get/have to travel for the holidays these days, which takes away some stress/excitement. I still eat too much and feel guilty about it though.

Not that I don’t do that a whole lot during normal times.

I did too much research and picked my new camera, which I’ll order later.  Hopefully this one will come sans imaging processor errors.

Christmas feels weird these days. It’s been suggested that I need to have some kids to get back into it. Kids? I wonder how long it will take before we have a kid or two, as if I don’t get a say in the matter. Any children we have will probably show my green eyes and F’s big hair.

So cute that they might destroy the world. Or save it. Maybe even make a real, really, totally-for-real Santa Claus.

Holy shit.

I am pooped. And I haven’t wrapped my presents yet.

I’ve only owned Canons once I got into digital cameras.  My first was a brick, but I loved it.  And I swear subsequent cameras have not taken photos that were quite as nice.  It did die, but after I had a replacement.  My next had a dead pixel that showed up as a white dot in every shot.  It’s replacement did.  And it’s replacement did.  So when I was, apparently, stupid enough to get another one (but with a totally different imaging chip), it did it again!  This time, it’s red. That makes dead pixels in four of five Canons I’ve owned, with the fifth dying itself totally.

This time, it actually happened when I was taking photos in a church Wednesday on a walking tour.  I can pinpoint the shot where it showed up, and it’s staying.

So I was, of course, up all night looking for replacements.  All the ones I like are getting replaced themselves this spring, which makes me want to wait.  But waiting months to get a camera when my old cameras all have dead pixels is just a painful thought.

I also lost my cell phone last night and didn’t know until a nice cyclist called me and told me several hours later.  It’s nice and awesome that someone is nice and awesome enough to do that.  But still.

Technology was not my friend yesterday; that’s for sure.

I don’t know if this is funny or sad or scary or what.  Dudes name their kid Adolf Hitler Campbell.  They get upset when the market won’t put it on a cake.  Walmart puts it on there for Jr. (I’m actually surprised).  People get hate mail for naming their kids after a racist mass murderer.  Upset?  You should probably get kicked in the head for being surprised people are mad.  Or, rather, perhaps you’ve been kicked in the head too many times?

Folks can name their kids what they want to, certainly, and a market not putting this kid’s real name on a cake is pretty much bullshit.  I mean, I could see if they didn’t want to print something about sodomizing a copse, complete with the F-word.  Maybe.  I mean, people are prudish, and I certainly can be about certain things.  Ah, hell, I’ll take a cake with the line, “I wanna sodomize dead fucking caterpillars ten ways from Sunday!” on my next birthday cake.

It’ll be festive.

I’m all for free speech and the look on people’s faces when you use the phrase “I wanna sodomize –”  Try it!

Perhaps some light can shed on the entire situation when you learn that another child the couple has spawned has Aryan Nation for a middle name.

But, you know, the guy says he’s not racist, while for some strange reason wearing German boots from WWII.  He says he’s not.  I’ll play cracker’s advocate.  Maybe he’s not.  I mean, he’s wearing old boots from WWII.  Maybe he’s just crazy or stupid.

Still, if you name your kid something like that and don’t expect any backlash, you are not competent enough in dealing with this whole reality thing to have children.

I’d adopt them, pending a name change.  Of course.


I think I’ve been not much in the holiday spirit because I haven’t been shopping much at all.  And also work business.  But I think it’s largely a lack of shopping.  What?

Christmas came early for my bike though.  The seatpost clamp that is not QR doesn’t fit, but that’s Okay.  The seatpost does, and the saddle’s on, too.  The stitching is wacky on my seat.  But.  Whatever.  At least I can ride it today.  While staring at my maimed bike all last week across my desk made me ache to defy death in traffic, The Duke sitting here while I work has made me excited today for the chance to ride home.  For all it’s annoying quirks and imperfections, I do love my bike.

I think that my old (stolen) bike got me out of my car and into the fun world of getting around without four wheels.  This bike was under my butt when I really got into cycling in traffic and to get places that people look at me funny for riding to, like weddings, job interviews and community meetings in questionable neighborhoods.

There have been times I’ve badmouthed it myself, for all its hyrbid dorkiness, but I’d be beside myself if someone stole this one.

So he’s coming to the office with me until my workplace threatens me.  And I’m prepared to fight them, given what little anyone does to prevent bike theft these days.  (Though a UB detective tells me that they are getting siren locks to lend folks….)


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A cheap, wind-up timer from Ikea that we use to time everything from laundry, to French press coffee, to baking yummies. I’m surprised it still works.

Photo Friday: Weathered.

And seat post!  There I was last night at around 5:30, heading to a community meeting in Barclay.  I went to get my bike outside UB, and the seatpost and seat were gone!  I thought I must have forgotten to lock it, but the tiny little cable was cut. I use a U-lock, with a thick cable on my front wheel and a tiny cable they make for seats and other small stuff to lock my seat, since both are quick-release.  I never thought anyone would steal it.  Nor that the wanker would leave the light and computer on the handlebars which were worth far more money.  Stupid crackhead.

So I spent my evening fetching the vintage monster I sorta found and couldn’t find the owner for, discovering how much work getting it ridable will entail and ordering a new seat/post and a clamp that bolts closed(!).  It wasn’t that expensive, and I’ve been meaning to get rid of my heavy suspension seatpost and overly-cushy seat for a while.  But, you know, I wanted to still be riding until my replacements were in.  Now my poor bike is in my office, seatless and sad.

And I’m taking the bus this week.


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Dusk on State Street, near Quincy Market on my last night in Boston this past August.  We caught a train to New York the next morning for more adventure.

Photo Friday: Dusk.

With a lot of the pro-marriage, pro-family, pro-”Christian”* crap we all get to look at, it’s at least…refreshing to see some diverse views in ad space.  Read about DC’s “Why believe in a God?” ads. People are pissed!

Why,  oh why, do some faithful people get so fucking upset when there are people who don’t believe what they believe?  I understand the urge to evangelize, but come on.  Ignore non-Christian religious folks.  How many strands of Christianity are there, and how much do they really have in common?

I get people’s religious beliefs shoved in my face constantly, without shoving my lack of belief in anyone’s face.  I’m glad someone is doing it, though, no matter how I feel about what I might call “God” in place of any faith in my lapsed Catholicism.

Belief that can’t be held alone is weak belief indeed.

*[What's a "Christian"?  What's a vegetable?  Show me "vegetable"!  Christians are usually members of a Church or denomination of some kind.  Be more specific, Johnny!  Asparagus!]

Saw someone who works where I work, who I hadn’t seen in a while, this morning at the coffee place.  He’s very nice and has a business beard (i.e., very very well-trimmed beard when he could totally grow more if he wanted to).  He said, “You grew your beard in a little.”  Wistfully.  And intentionally understated.  My beard makes ladies swoon these days.  You don’t  believe me?


There I was this morning, meandering through wooded streets on my way to work in Central Baltimore.  The ground was wet and more filled with gravel than I thought it would be, so I was taking it slowly to avoid having to clean myself and my drivetrain later.  (My current fenders suck hard.)  My fingers were warmer than they should have been, and I was trying to remember why yesterday felt like an important date.

Yesterday was three years since we actually sold the car and took up legs and transit and trains to get where we need to go.  I’m probably not much thinner and don’t really have a ton of money saved (I made more money as a grad student than I do as a VISTA), but I’m much happier.

I feel like I should have some reflections on being carfree, but I’m too tired to think of much.  Like how you avoid the guilt that one of my neighbors told me about this morning, of driving everyday alone.  Or how you really do see more of your city and meet more people and stay in at least slightly better physical shape.  Or how you should try it.

But it’s hard to really try being carfree.  We decided to sell our car a few weeks before we actually handed over the keys and $6,600 to a Saturn dealer — because Thanksgiving was coming, and we were on the way to Baltimore, and we couldn’t meet with the car guy to sell it until we got back.  So we had time to get used to the idea.  How will I get here?  Should I stock up on stuff because I don’t get there as often?  If I still owned a car, I don’t think I’d be able to think very creatively about transportation and fun because the four wheels would always be there to make that commute quicker or that trip a little more comfortable.  That could certainly be my own weakness speaking, but it’s like imagining what it’s like to be a vegetarian.  Until you’re faced with what to eat at a steakhouse you go to with a family member (and when, like the car  in the garage, you could just eat the meat), there are alternatives that are fun and alternatives which are just unpleasant that are hard to imagine unless you have to.  It’s not a matter of weakness or strength or ethics.  It’s hard to imagine the tight spot that vegetarianism and being carfree can each be unless you’re in it.

I’m certainly not trying to get preachy or anything.  Even with the rise of cycling as transportation, I don’t actually know anyone in my family or circle of friends who is intentionally carfree.  I do know some car-light folks who cycle as much as possible, and that’s more awesome than I can say.  But there’s still the car when you “need” it and the difficulty in imagining being very carfree.  I know people without a car because of money or a lack of license.  But swearing off the auto is hard business. I think I’m stubborn enough to be able to stick with it, that stubbornness being a weakness dressed up like a strength in this instance.  But there are definitely times when a car would make some things easier.  With the way things are laid out and constructed around cars in the US, this is bound to be true.  I’m not saying that we don’t live in a great country; nor am I judging it.  But the US is arranged around cars for the most part, and that’s not just my opinion.  Look around, or read up on what smarter folks have written about it.

In the end, though, cycling, walking and transit make a boring trip a mega-fun adventure.  Going to The Charles to see a movie is a pain in the ass if you drive.  If you cycle from North Baltimore, it’s a fun ride, and the theater is warm and inviting.  Imagine grocery shopping without ever having to look for or fight for a parking place.  Being able to lock your bike right by the door at work.  The cool looks you get when you go to a dinner party or a wedding and tell people you rode there on a bike or walked.

All possible without a car.

[More BIKE LIFE photos.]

[If you think cars are the best thing ever and want everyone to have one, you should direct your energies toward a blog on that topic (I'll read it), rather than wasting it on trolling comments that won't get published.  Just sayin.]

Photo Friday: White.

Last Wednesday, my co-worker and I spent literally all the cash we had at lunch time, after dropping off a grant application.  We went to a place called The Cozy Corner, which was, in fact, cozy.  I had a grilled cheese, kettle chips and a root beer.

On the way to the cash machine and back to the office, we passed a young woman carrying a folded up blanket who asked if we could “spare anything” — without stopping, as if no one ever bothers to answer her.

What a shitty time to  be without cash.  Whenever I think about the defeated look on her face, I wish I could find her again.  I tried to pass it on to a youngin Friday who needed cash to buy lunch at the B&O Museum, but it wasn’t the same.