Random

I survived the first day at my job/VISTA position.  I will certainly get more done when my computer gets set up, but I did get my voicemail and all that taken care of.  I got in early and put some doodadds around my office, moved my [very very very very heavy] desk so that I face the door, rather than the window.  I hate having my back to doors and to rooms.  And I have a nice view that won’t distract me now.

I already knew my supervisor, and I had my office key already.  So I was not that nervous, minus forgetting to wake up or pulling two flats on the way in.  I did get specks of bike grease on new pants.  But I think it came off with degreaser when I got home.  Didn’t have enough coffee, but I was sweating like I did, running around Central Baltimore in two shirts and clipped pants. I had to take a fact-finding ride to North Avenue, Barclay, Greenmount, etc.  And a trip home for computer/software related stuff.  All told, I rode a nice twenty today, most of it uphill.  My new milkcrate was great.  I might need to adjust it again, but I’m too tired tonight.

I went to have pizza, to the movies and to the grocery store (at like 10:30) without deodorant, or what I use as deodorant.  I don’t think I stink.  It was like a date night.  It was awesome.

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This weird face-like thing was on my cutting board after I cut up a bunch of stuff a few weeks ago. Probably a stir-fry. Salsa would have left it wetter.  It kind of creeped me out.  But the randomness was, to sound corny, beautiful at the same time.

Photo Friday: Beauty.

And I don’t stink.  I mean, I didn’t hike twenty miles or go to an outdoor festival or anything today.  But I did ride (as in on a bike, not in a car) out to Towson with my friend to run an errand.  Lots of hills.  Got very sweaty.  Smelled fresh when I returned to have cream soda and fancy cookies.

See, Mrs. P. tried baking soda under her arms last week.  She didn’t tell me until two days later, when she developed chaffing.  Turns out that she didn’t use water and instead let something akin to fine sand rub under her arms.

Mixing with water produced better results.

And I don’t stink.  The expensive so-so stuff I was using be gone.  Turns out that company is gettin sued for basically lying anyway.  (More on that later.)  That salt stuff always worked great for me.  But it took forever to put enough on, and I always broke the damned things.  Or, at least, sharpened them with my hairy pits.

Today, I made a paste of water and baking soda, rubbed that smell-less stuff under the old arms.  Didn’t stink when I sweat.  Didn’t stain my shirt.  Didn’t smell like anything at all.

And I don’t stink!

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Not my bike.  (My rims are black.)  This is what happens when you don’t notice there’s no air in your tire and then try to ride off.  Busted valve stem; Slime didn’t help.  I sanded this rim for this person.  Because I like playing with sandpaper.  And because I like this person.  A lot.

Photo Friday: Awful.

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Photo Friday: Flight.

Retired spy plane at the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center, National Air and Space Museum. Smithsonian Institute. Chantilly, Virginia.

Means that I am now free from the soul-crushing activity of job hunting.  No more waking up, whoring myself out and wondering if maybe it’s time to start looking at teaching jobs or outside of the non-profit sector.  Maybe it’s time to use my talents to make someone rich, etc.  No more.

Yes, I got hired. More on that later.  Today, I am happy as a French press full of coffee.  Cook-out, games, family, beer.  Gonna be a nice day.

[What?  You wanted something more...pretentious from a philosophy major?  Read this then.]

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A little Buddha statue in my apartment. I have something very important to do today, and I think I might need some peace of mind to not blow it.

Photo Friday: Religion.

Oh, shit.  I’m gonna need to get a gun to protect my bike and myself from gun nuts now, once they get all armed.  Read this.  I don’t mean to totally insult fans of guns.  A large portion of the heirlooms in my family are, in fact, firearms.  Most haven’t been loaded in a generation or two.  But there you go.  I won’t scheeve guns outright, either.  I think I’ve mentioned that I’m somewhat proud of how well I can shoot pistols, even inaccurate monsters like .45s.  Still, this is scary.  Somehow.

Early morning on a camping trip this past fall. It was warm under that tarp, and there was abundant coffee, hot and good.  Appalachian Mountains, Western Maryland.

Photo Friday: Great Outdoors.

Man, I’m tired and caffeinated.  This is my favorite camp cup, over a small fire, full of my favorite black liquid.  On a mountain not far from the C&O Canal this October.

Photo Friday: Movement. Because, you know, nothing gets you moving like half a pot of camp coffee consumed rapidly.

About this.  All I said was, “Kiss my ass.”  In my defense, I was on a bike, and there were kids around.  You know who you are!

Already.  It’s just the first little part of June.  I know; last year, we didn’t use them, didn’t even put them in.  Yes.  Well, that experiment taught us to not be brats.  So I don’t crank the AC now such that I need a sweater.  Just for nice, non-humid comfort.

Besides, it was nasty at 8 this morning when I hit the grocery store.  I’m glad to be shut-in today.

And I have a nasty sunburn from swimming at my uncle’s house yesterday.  Ouch.

Cheap adjustable wrench.

Spoke wrench.

See more photos, with larger sizes in my Bike Life set on Flickr. Photo Friday: Tools.

I learned to use a machine, but I suck at it.  I keep screwing it up.  It could be the machine.  But it’s likely just me.  Inspired by two things, I pulled out the sewing machine and worked on stuff until I broke the second from last needle in the apartment.

Like I said, I was put into motion by two things.  One, a good thing.  Matt’s awesome bike bag.  Two, a bad thing.  I am going to leave out the name of the manufacturer.  But I have a new messenger bag that was a month coming, and it’s Okay and all.  But in addition to outsourcing and an obviously second-rate production job, my frikkin strap is fraying because its’ cheaper than my old ones by the same company.  It gets bound up with the cross strap, and it jams in the cam buckle.  But, of course, they cost more now.  Unfrikkinbelievable.

I think I might do what I’ve been flirting with doing for a year.  I might put a frikkin milk crate on my rack. I did think about taking my rack off last week, since I would never use it with a large messenger bag.  And I love bike racks and milk crates and all things Fred.  I mean, I never say, “Hey, look!  That chick has one of them there messenger bags!”  I do, however, shout when I see an awesome milk crate or otherwise something good happening on a bike rack.  I hope it would not get in the way of my seat, since I’ve had loads do that.  And those 700s leave my rack riding very high.  But it might be worth a try.  I think I have occasion to hit a store to buy hose clamps tomorrow.  And a family member, ahem, who, ahem, reads this blog, ahem, is in possession of a sweet Greenspring Dairy crate in green that would look frikkin sweet on my rack. Sweet rack.  Frikkin sweet rack.

Can I say FRIKKIN anymore in a post?

Snake we found in the trail on a nature hike this weekend. I guess Mr. Snake could not resist the nice weather, either.

I spent last night going with a friend of mine to get his new bike.  He’s joining the rank of people who use bikes for transportation.  And another ass-kicking friend of mine started riding to work today.  I need a job so that I have somewhere to ride to everyday.  My poor bike has not moved since Monday, though he will move tonight and tomorrow, etc.

Also, the site for the bike “club” is up.  I’ll post the address soon.