Good lord people! You! With your donations! I'm honored that so many people who I've never met and who I probably will never meet (andifidoiwillneverrememberyournamessopleasedontbeoffendednoimtotallyserious)* saw fit to support me, and people with AIDS, on this ride, which is one hundred and fifty gajiliion miles from SF to LA. Within 6 hours of Rachael and me blogging about it I exceeded my minimum donation and within 8 hours I exceeded my goal (which I set higher than my minimum mostly because of a large early donation that guilted me into keeping on with the keeping on, and you know who you are, and you are awesome). I just this second had the idea that I'm gonna wrap some yarn around my handlebars next my the image of Avilokiteshvara, the buddha of Compassion (who I taped my my stem** when I realized that my stem wasn't particularly inspirational to stare at whilst climbing hills) to remind me about all the people who are supporting me on this ride. I stared at that empty space long enough to know that I wanted something to encourage me - that yarn is going to do just fine.

So, that said - on the off-chance you aren't broke yet, please consider donating to support the people in Myanmar (Burma) instead. I wouldn't usually bring up this sort of thing, but Myanmar is a special case since there are very real concerns that aid that goes there won't end up helping individuals in need. Fortunately, a member of metafilter was able to suggest some agencies that have been operating there (pre-cyclone) and will be able to distribute aid. These organizations include groups like Doctors Without Borders, which is a pretty reliably good cause. If you were on the fence about donating, or were putting it off until payday (dude, I feel you) please donate to one of those organizations. This is part of my groovy "we are all interconnected" thing, but I'm not planning to turn my blog into a nonstop donation platform or anything. (For one thing, that's not normally very funny. If a giant clown attacks Akron, that would be pretty damn funny, but until then...)

Also, if you would like more info about Myanmar in general, this episode of Speaking Of Faith is a great introduction.


* that's gonna make one really fucked up line with no breaks. my inner designer reels.

** not the actual buddha, of course. I can't afford that kind of tape. And it would take so much of it - all those arms!!!

So, as you know, I've been training for AIDS/Lifecycle 7, which coincides with my 40th birthday, since October. At this point I'm spending about 15 hours a week training. Many of my friends haven't seen me in months, and know they won't see me again until after the ride. If I'm not at work or at band practice I'm usually on or near the bike, or resting in preparation for a ride. Or eating - all this exercise results in a lot of eating. Good god am I tired of eating.

In the six months since I started training I've given a lot of thought to what I'm doing, and how it is that I can even attempt this. There's a lot of support. Every weekend volunteers come out to plan routes (crazy crazy routes with hills and traffic and no zebras!), be ride leaders and help us get ready for The Ride (or in some cases, overcome our fear of hills). We have training buddies and the support of other riders to encourage us newbies. On The Ride there are almost as many roadies as riders - folks who get up early and stay up late to plan routes, get permits, prepare food, help us bed down at night and get up in the morning, fix flat tires and cheer us in.

Now, another thing that you readers know happened over the last six months was finding Bart. (Have faith, I'm going somewhere with this.) There were so many people who were willing to make an effort on behalf of that dog - the people who first saw him in the road and stopped for him, the other person who helped me take him to the SPCA, and of course all the people who worked hard there to save him and rehabilitate him. People keep trying to pat me on the back for that, but he wouldn't have made it if it had been just me there that day - and I think we can all agree that we're glad he made it.

So I don't usually think of myself as a team player. (I loathe team sports. In fact, I never had any interest in sports at all until I discovered kickboxing - at last a sport where you clobber the other guy! Perfect!) But I, in my usual late-to-the-party way, I have had a realization. It takes a... hmm, what's the word? Collective? Apartment building? Flash mob? Gang? That's it! It takes a gang to, uh, enable me to ride my bike to Los Angeles! And it takes a gang to save dogs! And have dance-fights! Honestly, since I've been training I've realized how privileged I am to be able to be part of this event and have the kind of support I've been getting, and it's really opened my eyes to how much we all rely on each other all the time. Not to get all cosmic on you, but dude, we're all interconnected! I've gotten some really good real life illustrations of it lately.

Which brings me to what a good cause this is for. (For some reason all the templates they give us for fundraising have us saying we're riding for AIDS, but I tell you what, I'm riding AGAINST it. I'm taking a stand, and I am totally against AIDS.) These days it's possible to live a long time with HIV, but it's not necessarily easy to do so and it's a lot easier with some help. I know firsthand from living with someone who had a serious illness that it is a lot of work being sick. Providing support for people with AIDS isn't just searching for a cure, but helping those who are living with the disease now. Since I started training I've really focussed my thoughts on how my contribution is helping people living with HIV get on with their day to day lives. The San Francisco AIDS Foundation, who are the beneficiaries of all this fundraising we've been doing, helps folks manage their health and and treatment to maintain their quality of life. They also do HIV testing, counseling and medical care, help people get benefits, rental subsidies and provide information and do outreach to prevent the transmission of AIDS. What I'm keeping in the forefront of my mind is that the money I raise is going to be put to use immediately to directly help someone living with HIV/AIDS live a more healthy and dignified life. It's gotten me up more than one tough hill, let me tell you.

So I've promised you begging*, and the time has come. I've been training for months to RIDE MY FREAKIN' BIKE TO LOS ANGELES. I'm not asking you to train with me (unless you have a tandem and good strong legs). I would like you to join my gang (I'm looking into matching satin jackets) in my commitment to make a difference. Now's your chance! Donate a hundred bux (there's a handy payment plan)! Or ten dollars! Or one dollar - any amount is awesome. Okay, a hundred bucks is a little awesomer, but one dollar is way awesomer than no dollars. Seriously - I mean, think about Bart, and those people who stopped when they saw him in the road - they saved that dogs' life just as much as I did, even though they were only there for a few minutes. I'm asking for your donation of any size at all to support me in this ride, and to support people living with HIV right now. Every donation of any size is from someone who is helping people with living HIV/AIDS.

Make a donation here!


*Actually, it's a little not-begging, because The Knitter insisted that she be allowed to raffle off some handknit socks. (I'm totally not kidding, she insisted.) (And btw if you already made a donation I thank you, and of course you get added to the raffle.) But we're not focussing on those nice, warm, luxurious hand knit socks right now.

I like cycling because it's the only time it's okay to wear black socks with shorts. Also, you can wear your underwear proudly on the outside.

What could be nerdier than falling off your bike? How about falling off your bike and landing on your inhaler? Is there any way to make that more dorky? I could have done it at a science fair.

I'm going to go tend to the large inhaler shaped welt on my leg now, thanks.

Clipless pedals my ass, that's what I say. If they're so clipless, why you have to clip into them, huh? And also, why are they clearly trying to kill me? I got clipless pedals, in case you didn't already hear. Last week I said they weren't trying to kill me, but they were just being crafty, like Lady Macbeth. Or something.

I did my first big serious hill-climbing ride this weekend, and also the longest ride I've been on and let me tell you it was a great idea to combine those things. Just great. I rode 57 miles, got lost twice (in my neighborhood - which is how I learned that apparently what I do when riding in my neighborhood is space out) and fell down twice. That's the beauty of clipless pedals - they let even the most experienced rider fall down like a clumsy six year old who just got the training wheels taken off! On my first training ride someone fell after being unable to unclip fast enough at a stop sign and broke her wrist. And a few weeks ago, on the so-called zebra ride, a rider came in with blood running down both legs because he just forgot to unclip at a stop light. Oops.

When I got my fancy little shoes with the fancy little pedals, I was assured I wouldn't fall down because "You just have to follow one rule - unclip both feet every time you stop." Sounds easy, doesn't it? The problem is, sometimes you don't know you're going to stop. Say, for example, that you suddenly find yourself turning right to go up that one very steep block of 98th (which is in my neighborhood, which means I was spacing out, too) and there you were flying along in high gear and all of a sudden you have to switch to you lowest gear (I had to stop just long enough to lose all my momentum) so you're going up this steep hill and you're trying to change gears as fast as you can AND - your chain locks up. And then you have the purely enjoyable experience of feeling yourself tip over while making a cartoony "whoa-ooooh-ooooh-ooooh!" sound. And then you fix your chain and continue your ride while wondering if maybe you tore the elbow of your windbreaker right in the spot that you can't see it because your elbow feels cold. That will turn out to be because of the BLOOD. And also the tear.

Then there was the getting lost part of the ride, which may have been a subliminal attempt to go home. Then there was the other getting lost part of the ride where I misread an address because I would do a lot better if they would write them out like this:
     one-five-nine-two
than this:
     1592
That looks an awful lot like 1952, don't you think? I thought - all three times I checked it, in fact.

After the getting lost part I was at the end of the pack (I had also left our last rest stop last because I was helping a little old lady park her car, which I am glad I did so there Lance Armstrong) and was riding with the sweep riders, who were having a nice leisurely ride. So leisurely, in fact, that my pace was an eensy tiny wee little bit faster than theirs. But I needed to stick with them because I was tired of getting lost and the directions were - how should I put this - baffling. It turns out that it's pretty much a drag to ride just a tiny bit slower than your natural pace up approximately ten thousand miles of hills (you didn't know the Berkeley hills had that many miles in them, did you? I assure you they do.) And if, say, you were riding behind someone who's pace is a just a wee bit slower than yours up a steep hill and there's gravel and you're struggling not have to pass him because you're not THAT much faster and besides you'll get lost if you do that, and then he hits a rock and stops, what is going to happen is that you're going to be stopping unexpectedly, and you will fall down, this time in the middle of the road, with witnesses. Which is awesome. At that point I decided "screw it - if I get lost I'll just live in Tilden Park the rest of my days" and went at my own pace. That was the awesome part, because it was all downhill from there and I rode approximately one million miles per hour, which is faster than the speed of sound. I don't want to brag, but I passed an antelope AND a cheetah. And the antelope was on roller skates!

The ride was supposed to be 67 miles, but there was a conveniently located bail out, and I had band practice so I only went 57 miles. Only. Ha! I had planned on riding the next day too, but I was in no shape to do anything but complain vigorously. I pretty much felt like I had been hit by a car. So the Knitter and I took the dogs for a walk and then went home. Also, there was lots of sleeping (although I didn't sleep that well, since every time I moved something hurt).

I have bruises up and down both sides of my body, and a huge scab on my elbow, but I feel fairly studly. Someone told me that there are NO days on the real ride that have as many hills as I rode on Saturday, so that was pretty reassuring. And I rode every mile. Veeeerrrrry slowly, but I rode every mile, and mostly stayed upright. I'm feeling like the ride is much more doable now.

Coming Soon! Begging!

Sometimes I randomly get the theme from The Patty Duke Show stuck in my head.

They're CUUUUUUUUH-SINS! Identical COUSINS! All the way!

There are actually no dogs in this post, but I said that since I know everyone is here for Bart. I guess I shouldn't have told you that. Hmm.

Well, I was on my bike and I got DOG TIRED!!! How's that for dog news? I haven't been blogging about bike riding because for a long time it wasn't happening due to weather, and also somewhere in there I was sick, and then... sigh.
I went on this ride that was my first big ride after the weather and being sick*, and they taunted me with the promise of a zebra, but there was no zebra. There's never a zebra. But there was a hill - it wasn't steep at all, but it was long, and the ride what about ten miles longer than I'd done before, and I was the last person and I had to stop to rest and it sucked. And there was no zebra. I had planned to think of that ride as the Zebra Ride, but now I think of it as the "Fuck You, Wind" ride, because there was a headwind both ways!!! I think we all know what the correct response to that is.
Anyway, I was languishing by the side of the ride with the very nice ride leader who told me that "this is a nice ride because it's not very hilly". And that's when my spirit was crushed. That was supposed to be category 2 terrain - "rolling hills" - and the ride the following week was category 3 terrain and I pretty much resigned myself to never being able to do The Ride, much less the category 3 ride the next week. I also might have been pms-ing a little. Seriously though, it was a bummer. So I didn't do the ride the next week (which I have concluded was the correct thing to do because it was too hard for me) and I spent a lot of time on the trainer, and on very short hilly rides, and then I went out of town with the band, which is not such good training, although it's a lot of fun. Then I got on the trainer again. The good news is that I went on two rides this weekend - one ridiculously easy and one harder - and a) did not die and b) found out that everyone else was sick and had weather, so I'm not the only one who's behind and if I end up walking to LA I will have company! Yay!
The super easy ride was on Saturday, which was a good one to choose for my maiden voyage with clipless pedals, which for some reason are the kind you clip into - also, my new shoes are silver and pink, and I hereby dub the the Fembot Shoes. It was with the same ride leaders who were on my first two rides, and I have decided they are my favorites. Very mellow, just there to have fun - have I mentioned that I'm not competitive? I'm not. I can be combative if you get in my face, but especially with sports, I'm not at all competitive. I mean, ALC training rides aren't competitive, but if you get a bunch of enthusiasts out there to egg each other on... I'm not going to fit in with that group. I will be way behind that group, in fact. My philosophy is "It will be there when I get there". So, while I appreciate the folks who are gung ho and am happy for them, I'm not interested in keeping up with them, except insofar as I don't like to be the very last person - or rather, I don't want to be the last person all by myself. Would you like to walk in with me? Many of you were non-jocks - I'm sure you understand. Anyway, the Saturday group is awesome and supportive and laugh at my jokes and I am willing to schedule my life around them and that's that.
Then Sunday I did the fabled Tiburon loop which is a so-called "easy" ride. I was worried because it's one of the standard rides that everyone in SF does, so I thought everyone was going to be all jock-y and whatnot, and then this woman showed up who - she wasn't small. And actually, a lot of the folks who've done the ride multiple years aren't small. Which is cool, I'm down with the big folks. But I saw this woman and thought to myself "It'll be okay, obviously she's not caught up with the training schedule either". But then I ended up riding behind her and she absolutely monstrous calves and was, if not fast, faster than me. Of course I ended up behind her the whole way. And I ended up behind the guy on the fixed gear (one speed) bike. But whatever, I'm not competitive, right?
I understand that compared to the route to LA it is, in fact, easy, but those were the biggest hills I've ever ridden up and you know what? I didn't die. At all. Not at all dead. (The guy on the fixie didn't die either, which I have no explanation for.) In fact, I noticed something interesting, which is that while I was in agony on the actual hills, as soon as I was not on a hill, I was fine. That's kind of weird. Also, I'm not sore today. I have yet to have sore legs after a day of biking. I'm starting to suspect that I'm broken. Arms and shoulders? Definitely sore. Legs? Not so much - just tired. Anyway, noticing that was reassuring. Also, on the last big hill on the way to the Golden Gate Bridge I was pretty tuckered out, and a couple of the other folks in my group were stopped to rest and I was SO RELIEVED. I mean, that I could, uh, show solidarity by waiting there along the roadside with them. And then I totally made it over the hill on the bike without walking at all. That's my other big discovery about these rides - resting is a good idea. I know, put me on the short bus, but I didn't notice before, probably due to my innate laziness. If resting is a good idea when you're not actually doing anything, it must be an even better idea when you're exercising! Who knew? Not me!
So that's where I am. Still slightly freaked out (I have a band event this weekend that will keep me from riding, and some other shows that will keep me up or otherwise leave me indisposed on some of the remaining EIGHT WEEKS til the ride) so I think I might be taking some days off work for training, and spending more time on the trainer (which means I can watch Battlestar Galactica - the trainer is boring, so that's the only time I allow myself to watch BSG and usually that's the only reason I get on it in the first place).
I'm also getting worried that there isn't enough food in the world for me to eat when I'm riding this much. If you come home and your fridge is empty it was probably me. Sorry about that but all I want to do is eat right now. Someone said yesterday that on the ride they suggest eating 7000 calories a day, to which I responded "HOW????" I'm starting to suspect I'll find a way.

So that's what's going on with the riding. Soon there will begging, but in the meantime if you care to donate to some good causes, and help me raise money for the ride, there's a link there at the top of the right column.


* I had been riding my bike to BART on my way to work, but I wasn't super comfortable doing that on my shmancy bike in east Oakland, and then one day I found a dead pit bull on the sidewalk on the way to BART. The good news there is that that is what caused me to ask the Knitter what you do when you see a dead animal on the street, and she told me to call Animal Control, and that's why I stopped for the dead dogs that one day and found Bart, who mostly wasn't dead at all, so I there's definitely a bright side. But dude, I saw another one on Hegenberger on the way home from BART the other day and I am so over finding dead dogs on the street. Seriously.

Lots of people asked for an update on Bart. I'm delighted to report that he's doing GREAT. The Knitter and I went to see him this morning at the East Bay SPCA. He's moved out of the clinic and has a bed in the office now, and there's a bowl there that says "Treats For Bart". As you can see, he's filled out a lot - he gained 13 pounds!
That bag of dog food in the background also says "For Bart" on it.

They're teaching him how to play, because he didn't know how.

He's picking it up pretty quickly, but really, all he wants to do is hang out with people and get petted.

He's a big cuddlebug.

He's a lucky dog. We heard a little more about the lengths they went to for him at the clinic - they had a heated blanket that they use to warm people who have hypothermia there, and they contacted a specialist to find out how much of what nourishment they could give him to keep him from going into shock. They want to get some more meat on his bones ("That's a whippet butt - we want him to have a pit butt.") but he's well on his way. He LOVES people (god only knows why). He's occasionally fearful but mostly really really affectionate. He's going to be a really good pet for lucky person. Go Bart!

My wife, she looks good in clothes.

(Wait. I'm not sure that came out right...)

Hoo-boy, it's been a long time. And it's not like certain tipsy Canadian lagomorphs haven't been nagging me to update you, either. It's been an eventful month or so, and I'll fill you in, but gradually. So you can stand the shock. Starting with the most recent events and working backwards.

Last friday I was driving to BART and when I noticed a car stopped by the side of the road on Hegenberger, which is a busy six lane street that heads to the Coliseum and the freeway. Just as I passed the car I saw what looked like a bag of dead animals lying on the curb. Since I only recently found out that what you do when you find a dead dog by the road is call animal control to remove it (it wasn't pleasant to learn about that, btw) I circled around the block to check it out and call Animal Control. When I came back around I found three women standing on the curb looking at two dogs (one of them was white and brindle, which was why it looked like more animals) wrapped in blankets spooning. The smaller one, a solid brown puppy was already dead, but I was horrified to see that one of them was still alive. Just barely. The women had tried to feed it some crackers (what they had in the car) but the dog was just laying there, not moving at all. We talked a little bit, and a man who lives in one of the nearby houses came out and told us that people dump dogs there all the time. I called animal control (I had to call three times, and I had the Knitter on it too) and the ladies who had initially stopped left, because they had to be somewhere, and there wasn't anything they could do. These dogs had pretty obviously been dumped out of a probably moving car.

Animal control said they were going to send someone out and it would be a priority, so I sat down and waited. I didn't was pretty sure the dog was going to die any second, and I didn't want to leave until he did. Of course, this was an unfamiliar adult pit bull, in pain, on the side of the road in a bad neighborhood, so I wanted to be careful, but it was pretty boring and depressing, just sitting there not doing anything while this dog is dying, so I scooted a little closer, and a little closer, until I decided he wasn't going to make any sudden moves - heck, he wasn't capable of any sudden moves, and I petted him. He just let me.

While I was sitting there another woman, who introduced herself as Linda, pulled up and asked what was going on, and it turned out she had a friend at the East Bay SPCA and suggested we take him there. I didn't really want to move him - I was sure he was dying and I didn't want to make him more uncomfortable, also I was afraid to look under the blanket to see what injuries he had. The other dog had a broken neck and I didn't really want to see any more gruesomeness if I could avoid it. So we talked about it and decided to wait for little bit for Animal Control to come. I was still petting his head, and he moved toward me a little, which was heartbreaking. The Knitter called and said she'd followed up with Animal Control and they didn't seem to know what was going on and couldn't give any assurances about when they would come - so that wasn't encouraging. I just wanted someone to come who put this animal out of it's misery humanely. So I sat there and petted him some more and when I paused for a moment lifted his head to get more pets.

You could have knocked me over with a feather. I decided right then and there we weren't waiting for animal control. In order to get at the dog I had to move the dead dog, and then we had to see what our guy looked like under his blanket. Removing the blanket, I saw the most shockingly emaciated animal I've ever seen. He looked like he had been fed in over a month. We lifted him into my car with a sheet and drove him to the East Bay SPCA. The shelter director, who Linda had already called, came out to take a look at him. When we got inside they told us that he was probably a couple of hours from dying - his temperature was low they couldn't even measure it. They didn't know what they could do for him, but they had him on a heating pad and were hydrating him, and they'd just have to wait and see what happened. They said they'd call us to let us know what happened, so we gave them our names and went on respective ways.

And then I got to work and moped. I would love to get my hands on the person who did that to those dogs (the other one was just as emaciated) - I have an idea for a rehabilition program for him. It will involve being chained up in my yard for a month with no food. I think it will be a good learning experience. On the other hand, five different people stopped for this dog, and that was good - if the first car hadn't stopped I probably wouldn't have seen them, and if Linda hadn't stopped I wouldn't have thought to go to the SPCA, or possibly even been able to move him by myself. And then there were all the people at the SPCA, too - I'm finally figuring out there's something to this whole "teamwork" thing. Better late than never.

Anywho, I was all bummed out at work, and hoping to hear from the vet, when my phone finally rings with an Oakland number - it was the shelter supervisor. The first thing he said was, "We might have a miracle dog on our hands here." He surprised everyone by managing to eat a little bit of food! Yay! I asked if I could come see him and was told maybe Monday.

So Monday rolls around and I'm already planning to leave work early to visit him. I called the clinic and they said I could come, and that they had named him Bart, since he'd been found near Bart. I take naming him as a very good sign. The Knitter picked me up from BART, and off we went. They knew who I was and why I was there (I'm famous yo) and we got to go in the back door of the clinic. He still had to be fed very very small amounts of food, because his body wasn't ready to process a lot yet. He got carried outside to pee and sit in the sun. He could barely stand but he could wag his tail - especially when the lady who confessed that she'd been slipping him treats came by to say hello!

Today I got this note from one of the staff members:
"The entire staff is in love with Bart. I’ve had the privilege of sharing my office space with him all week and it’s been wonderful to watch as he gets stronger by the day. The doc has increased his food intake, and my wonderful co-worker Lenny gave our boy a bath this morning. He continues to give us kisses as we take turns showering him with hugs and pets."

So it looks like he's going to make it. Apparently he made the news, so he's a celebridog! Hopefully that will help him find a good home - I think he's going to be a great pet, and the East Bay SPCA does a great job of placing dogs. They also work closely with BAD RAP (Bay Area Doglovers Responsible About Pitbulls), who are a great organization that rescues and rehabilitates pits and educates the public about them. Right now they have some of the dogs from Michael Vick's house, and if you want to get weepy you should watch their slide show about those dogs. And if, after reading this story, you felt moved to make a donation to either of these fine organizations, here are some links! (If you wanted to say it was for Bart, I would think that was cool. He's far too modest to be impressed that sort of thing.)

East Bay SPCA - Donate!
BAD RAP - Donate!

Fashionable young people of San Francisco! Lend me your ears!
I just saw a young woman who... okay, there's this thing that happens in SF where you sometimes see someone, usually but not always a young woman, who you can tell is dressed very very stylishly - her clothes look expensive and well thought out - and she looks like her stylist was pranking her. Someone has taken this perfectly pretty girl (or occasionally boy) and hit her (or him) with an ugly stick. It's a tragedy.
So that's what I saw today, and it has motivated me to speak out. Today, ladies and gentlemen, I saw a pretty young woman who looked like she probably spent a lot of money on her clothes walking around in public wearing an oversized white shirt untucked with a black belt, ankle high boots and spandex pants. In public. Let me repeat that for you, in case you didn't get it the first time -
SHINY BLACK SPANDEX PANTSOn the streets of San Francisco in the 21st century. During the day.

People, this just has to stop. The 80's are a time to regret, not a time to emulate. Leg warmers, blue eyeshadow, off the shoulder sweatshirts*, slouchy boots, polo shirts with the collar up, belted sweaters - these are all bad things and those of us whole lived through rue the day we ever laid eyes on a pair of slouchy elf boots. Mark my words - first you're belting your sweater and the next thing you know you're brushing your permed mullet off your giant shoulder pads.

My pronouncements are below:
- No one has legs long enough to look anything other than stumpy in ankle boots and tight pants.
- You are in California, for god's sake, your legs do not need warming.
- Why do you have that stuff all over your face? You're such a pretty girl!
- If you are not a ballerina/welder/future lesbian cable drama star you have no need to get out of your sweatshirt that quickly and you may not wear it off the shoulder.
- I'm not kidding about the ankle boots.
- thigh high boots are acceptable only if you are dressed as Uhura in Mirror, Mirror. (The corollary is that more people should dress as Uhura in Mirror Mirror.)
- paint spattered sneakers are permissible.

You kids get off my lawn!

* True story - I told my coworker about the sighting and ranted about 80's clothes coming back and she said "Do you know where they sweatshirts with the neck cut out came from? Some movie called Flashdancer!"

I'm pretty sure this is it - things are going dark - you can have my records (even Thriller!) - take care of Harriet for me... I'm probably about to die. That, or I'm due for a nice long nap.
I had another AIDS Lifecycle training ride today, 33 miles, and it kicked my ass. That might be due to the fact that I miscalculated what time the alarm clock should go off when I went to bed last night, overslept, and flew out of the house without, you know, eating. Last night was the first night in over two weeks that I didn't want to go to bed at 9:30 due to this cold that's still hanging on a little, so I was up late. I've been up late the night before at least half the rides I've been on so far due to rock star business, but I didn't have a tubercular cough those times. Plus I had the good sense to be stressed out about it, so I set the alarm correctly. Lest you get too worried, I'm not really sick per se (or as the unwashed masses on the internet spell it "per say"*), but the cough and congestion are sticking around. At least it gets me sympathy. Also, I haven't been on my bike in a month, what with the holidays and then being sick. So I was not 100% today. Also, this ride included my mortal enemy - hills. Mostly gently rolling hills, but I am a big weenie, and also hungry and tubercular, so they kicked my ass. My ass, it is kicked.
Actually, for an ass-kicking, it doesn't feel too bad. I had to get off and walk a couple of times - my legs are strong by my lungs are another story, even on the best of days. But the downhill parts were fun - I'm getting used to the new brakes okay. And I finally ate. Maybe I'll make it after all. Anyway, I'm afraid you'll overfeed Harriet. So nevermind.

*No, that doesn't annoy me a bit. Why do you ask?

You know what? Having a sinus infection is not as fun as it sounds. I know it doesn't sound fun, but in reality, it's even less fun than that.
I've spent the last 8 days with this demonic shape changing cold from hell. Yes, I know I said it was a sinus infection - bear with me here. It started off as a regular cold last Thursday, and I stayed home from work Friday so I could do our show at the Freight & Salvage, which turned out pretty good, actually. Although, for the record, if you ever come to see us at the Freight & Salvage (or anywhere else, but especially there) we really like it when the audience shows signs of life. Dance, make noise - don't sit in the front row texting someone. Other than that one guy the people were really nice, just reserved.
Anywho. So then I was free to be sick and I did it up right. Yup. I went to work on Tuesday and my officemate begged me to go home and not make her sick. Wednesday I realized that I wasn't feeling any better at all and asked for antibiotics for what I, in my wisdom, diagnosed as a sinus infection. Yay! They worked! Now I'm still sick, but not with a sinus infection. So I've had three colds this week.
Here are some things that happened while I was home sick:

• Our cat has a drug problem. Willie repeatedly stole my tylenol. It was in a ziplock bag next to the bed. (What can I say, we have a lot of ziplock bags ever since that misunderstanding at Costco).
• Because I couldn't breathe through my nose I have gone around for the last week with my mouth hanging open like a.... big old thing that has it's mouth hanging open all the time but isn't very good at metaphors. And since we have 150 pets, my tongue was always ALWAYS covered with fuzz.
• Playing metroid prime when I have a cold apparently makes me motion sick. So much for fun.

No bike ride tomorrow, still sick. Send comic books.

I was going off to buddha camp the day after thankgiving, which is to say 4 days after my weekend ride attempt debacle.
If I got my old beater bike totally tuned up it would cost about 10% my budget for a new bike. I really didn't want to do that, since I didn't have any intention of riding it more than I absolutely had to. The Knitter handled it with aplomb and said I should get a new bike asap instead of after selling some musical equipment like we planned.
I have to say, I am not often frustrated by things like that. Of course sometimes I want a shiny new thing because I like shiny things, but generally I'm just as happy to get the generic tylenol or the off-brand transplant heart. As a pretty damn middle class person I don't expect you to feel TOO sorry for me, but it kind of crushes my punk rock soul a little to realize that sometimes when you buy something for more money, you get a better product in return. Dammit. And here I'd always thought that as The Man keeping me down.
And test riding bikes I was finding that I had outstanding taste. Oh yes. After a mere three days of test rides I am pretty sure I could have told you whether the frame was steel, aluminum or aluminum and carbon fiber. I'd already regretfully told The Knitter that I thought I would have to invest the extra couple hundred dollars in carbon fiber forks and seat post, since I could tell the different on a flat 15 minute ride, and she was totally open to that. She actually tried to talk me into getting a bike before I left for the retreat so I could ride it while I was gone, but that seemed like taking on too much at a retreat and I declined. OMG I can't even imagine what it would have been like trying to cram in a 20-30 mile ride in there. That would have been a terrible idea.
Anywho, I got back and had a tough reentry - it can be a little rough going from almost two weeks of people working generating compassion for their fellow sentient beings* to dealing with the dude yelling at invisible people at the corner of 5th and Market in SF - but I managed. And now that I had The Knitter's blessing, I desperately wanted to get a new bike before the next training ride.
My first opportunity to go bike shopping was the Saturday after I got back, after band practice. I got to Alameda Bicycle (who I can't say enough nice things about) at about 4:45 - not too long before dark. I didn't want to rush in to anything, but I also REALLY WANTED A BIKE. If they had given me a Huffy or fixie I would have taken it. (Well, maybe not a fixie - I'm not crazy.) On the other hand, I'm planning a long term relationship with this bike, so it's not the sort of thing you rush into. Anyway, it so happened that my total favorite bike that I had tested was there, and it was more bike than I needed and more money than I had to spend, and I told them so. What bikes did they have that had some of the features I liked but didn't cost so much?
Dude, they SO came through for me. Turned out that the bike I liked had a little brother that was less expensive and lighter. Huzzah! Oh, and I rode some other bikes and they were fine whatever. They were boring. But not my little Giant OCR 1! I guess I just ruined all the suspense - I got it.
YAY! NEW BIKE!!!
It was dark by the time I got home, so I had to stuff it in my car and drive it home. I suppose, since I drove my car to the store I would have had to drive it home anyway. Stupid car. I woke up early the next morning to go for a bike ride. Anyone who knows me knows that I wouldn't wake up early for a fire, so that meant that I was VERY EXCITED (so excited that I've used all caps more in this post than I have in the whole rest of the blog). I decided to go on about half of the ride I would have gone on if the shifters on the other bike had worked - down to the Fruitvale bridge, across and around Alameda. It was... mmm, how shall I put this? Awesome. It was awesome. Also, rad. Also, I no longer know how to ride with drop bars, since I have had a bike with drop bars since I was in high school, and it was one of those ones with the really big wheel in front and a tiny wheel in back, that's how long ago it was. It was a good idea to go on a nice, mellow, FLAT ride to get used to them.
But that was nothing, because I was finally going to get to go on a real training ride the next weekend! I elected to go on the easy ride with few hills, due to the whole not-entirely-used-to-the-brakes thing. Heh. Easy ride. Actually, it was a pretty easy ride, but it included probably the longest hill I've ever ridden up - not because it was an especially long hill, but because I Am Lazy and I have absolutely no compunction about deciding that I don't need to be someplace if there's a big hill in between me and it. I guess I'll have to get over that, huh? That ride was where I learned how much my old beater bike was handicapping me - and here I was thinking I was just puny this whole time. Little did I know that if I rode a bike that weighed less than, say, me, it would be easier. In fact, there was zero possibility that I would have been able to do that ride on my old bike. Lest I badmouth the old bike too much, that was also the ride where I learned that if you are riding an aluminum frame you will feel every single grain of sand that passes under your tires. I kept thinking I had a flat when, in fact, I had merely rolled over a small rock. That's gonna take some getting used to, as well.
So the bike saga has a happy ending - yay! Thanks to the folks who sent encouragement about the bike problems - I really appreciate it. On this new bike I have absolutely no doubt that I can ride all the way Los Angeles, although it is still an insane thing to do. I console myself with thoughts of stopping for deep-fried artichoke hearts in Gilroy. I'd like to see a marathoner do that! Ha!

* lest you start idolizing such folk, I will relate a story from an instructor at the retreat that went something like this:
"I remember a night I was teaching compassion practices and it was so profound and deep. Sometimes you attempt to feel connected to all sentient beings and you succeed and it was one of those times. On the way home I stopped at the supermarket to get some things for the family, and I was in the 12 items or less line and the cashier started giving me a hard time because I had more than 12 items I was furious with them. I totally lost it. And then I had a great revelation, which was that I AM AN IDIOT."
If you ask me, that story is pretty much what practicing buddhism is all about. I know - what could be more appealing?

24
It's because I wouldn't hesitate to use one five year old as a weapon against the others.

So, when we left off, I had just tried to go for an unsupervised training ride, which I apparently should not do, because it was a disaster. But it was going to be okay because I was going to do the real official training ride on Sunday and I would still get a ride that weekend and that would be good. So naturally being me I was engaged in rock star behavior the night before and when the alarm went off on Sunday morning I once again tried to talk myself out of it, especially since I was convinced that the ride would be rained out anyway, since it had been raining the day before, but it was sunny outside so I dragged my sorry ass out of bed to go for a ride, which pretty much required me reassuring myself out loud every step I tool that it would be fun once I got going, and I was really proud of myself when I was ready to go in time. The only thing I had left to do was double check where the ride started on the website.
Only it wasn't there, which was weird.
It turned out that it wasn't there because IT HAD ALREADY HAPPENED. Yesterday. Savvy readers may recall yesterday as having been the day that I spent an hour driving around trying to LOCATE a place to ride. Naturally I was almost in tears at this point. But The Knitter, who is awesome and, more importantly, deals with far more freaked out people than me on a daily basis, patted me on the head and told me I should ride over to the Raiders game to check out the tailgate party, which I did. It was... special. It was actually pretty cool in spite of being full of jocktastic sports fans... I'd say we left it at a truce, which was better than when we went in and I'm sure the Raider Nation was deeply concerned about my feelings. One of my brake cables snapped on the way home, so I went home real slow-like.
So then I had a gimpy bike, but I felt I could fix it. Brake pads are something that I prefer to leave to the professionals (because if you get to the point where your brake pads are worn down it's probably time for a tuneup anyway) but I was game to replace a brake cable. And in any case I had a backup bike.
My bandmate Diana used to work for Cannondale and had a bike she could loan me, which was fucking cool enough by itself. but then it turned out it was a bike she DESIGNED, because she is cool like that. And that, my friends, is seriously cool. I went over to borrow her bike, which she told me she hadn't ridden in several years so it was my backup, and I got the lowdown on the bike's history and whatnot. She talked about different bikes she'd designed and stuff - one of them was for Shaquille O'Neill, which was cool because he'd never had a bike that fit him - and just crazy riding stuff like her and her friends riding their road bikes down (I'm sure there was an up in the story but I don't remember it because it wasn't FUCKING TERRIFYING) a hill in New England in the snow... Dude. You don't ride in the snow with road tires, at least not where I'm from. And the tires on this bike, which was the one I was borrowing, were the width of my thumb. I've ridden my bike in the snow, but that's just crazy talk, and I told her so. Yes, I'm sure she feels like she's been put in her place now, boy howdy.
So then I had the bike that, once I replaced the brake cable, would be totally predictable, and as backup, the totally awesome bike Diana loaned me that was
a) way better than any bike I'd even test-ridden before
b) dramatically different geometry than what I was used to (I haven't had drop bars since that bike that got stolen in high school)
c) hadn't been ridden in at least 5 years
Turned out that in spite of my moderately well informed and very sincere (albeit last minute) efforts, there was no way in fucking hell I was going to be able to ride my old crappy bike the next day. At least if I wanted to be able to stop quickly. Although it's so clunky it's possible I could have managed with no back brakes.
That's a thought for another, stupider day. I ended up taking the borrowed bike to the training ride, with misgivings. But I made it there on time (with the usual rock star complications), stretched and whatnot, and was going great guns... until I tried to change gears.
Old folks like myself might not know about the fancypants changes that have occurred in cycling the last 150 years. Apparently shifters that show you what gear you're in are for losers. I can tell what gear I am in by feel and looking at the actual gears (thank god cars don't work the same way) but... I'm not convinced it's the best system for everyone, anymore than driving a stick is the best thing for everyone. But I guess that's neither here nor there.
Anywho - imagine that you had only ever driven grandpa's model T pickup. You're probably better prepared for something to go wrong on the road than anyone, but that doesn't necessarily set you up to drive a Ferrari.
That was how I felt. I knew that under the best of circumstances that bike was a Ferrari to my old old model t. And if you've gotten on a bike lately, especially, apparently, if you're a ladyperson, the geometry has changed dramatically in the last decade. Who knew? So I started this ride knowing deep in my heart that, between my lack of skillz and the bike not having been maintained regularly for a while, it might not work out, and I was prepared. So when we started the ride and I wasn't able to shift gears, I was bummed, but not devastated. Diana (not my bandmate) one of the ride leaders on that ride* was very accommodating to me - she took me a bike shop that I didn't even know about near the start of the ride at Lake Merritt. She also tried to be a good buffer between me and the well-meaning people who trying to console me by telling me that I could get a good bike for under three thousand dollars, so I shouldn't feel bad about only spending that much. Because gosh, who would think twice about dropping more on a bike than what their car is worth?
Bless her heart, too, because that was rough. I've spent pretty much my entire life in which I've been buying things for myself, which is somewhat less than my actual adult life, trying to convince myself that you don't need to spend top-dollar to get something good.
...
Upon review, I'm finding I don't have a specific post on my new banjo, and I think that it's probably not a coincidence.
For my birthday this year my dad gave me a fucking awesome banjo. Actually, now that I think about it, I may not have blogged it because I couldn't avoid using the phrase "fucking awesome" to describe it. So if you're my dad, I'm sorry I'm using the f-word, but you're just going to have to suck it up. Sorry, dad! Life's tough like that sometimes!
Okay, so I got this new banjo, which as you may have already heard, is fucking awesome. It's a '57 Gibson Mastertone. I loved my old banjo and in her price range (under $1000) she was always my favorite. The only time I found another banjo that I liked as much turned out to be the same model in disguise. But the new banjo is like drive a Ferrari after you had a Miata for years. Miatas are nice but... you get the idea. It pained my punk rock soul to admit it but it's hard to deny -- and I have to say that it's even harder to deny when you're dealing with acoustic instruments and human-powered vehicles.
So there I was with my punk rock bike and my borrowed fancy-pants bike that wouldn't shift gears - the shop my ride leader took me to told me that the frame was awesome (but of course, since Diana designed it) but the newfangled shifters were dead and replacing them would require replacing the whole drive train. Oh you fancy people, with your novel gear ratios!
I was almost in tears when I got home.
Dudes, I am so fucking sincere about this ride. You have no idea. AIDS? I'm against it. Riding a mere 545 miles to do something that could potentially in some small way actually help? I am for it. Doy.
And on top of that I really really want to do the ride just for the sake of doing it. So when I got home after two weekends of failing to be able to go on a training ride despite my best efforts, and having some very well-meaning people reassure me that it's okay if I only spend a couple grand on a bike for the ride because that's when you really don't want to skimp... let's just say The Knitter didn't come home to a very happy camper that night.

* and to whom, if you're thinking to yourself "I want to donate, but I'd rather donate to a known quantity" as it were, you should feel free to donate to her, because she's totally done the ride before. And she's super nice... It would tickle me pink if someone donated to her (even instead of me!) because of this post.

So I think I mention that I'm doing the AIDS Lifecycle ride this summer for my 40th birthday (Note: as soon as I'm done with the ride I'm going back to 29 and there's nothing you can do about it). If you are wondering, you might want to look at the sidebar to the right for more info --->
Something about me is that I really REALLY enjoy riding a bike. I didn't think too much about it until one day (at a time in my life when I wasn't riding much) I went to the gym and for some reason couldn't swim, so I rode the stationary bike AND ENJOYED IT. That's just crazy talk. That was when I realized I actually just enjoy riding a bike, not just getting from place to place under my own power. Although I enjoy that too.
So I was pretty stoked to start training for the AIDS ride because I like riding a bike. In fact, I like riding a bike so much that I will get up on a Saturday morning after 5 and half hours of sleep because I was doing rock star activities the night before and go for a 20 mile ride! I did a couple of rides on my old beater bike that I got used for 150 bux ten years ago and which has been sadly stored outside for a lot of the intervening time, and had a grand time, but I was bummed because I was the last person in on both rides, and they both kind of kicked my ass even though the terrain was almost totally flat. I haven't been riding regularly in a long time, and I've gained a fair amount of weight in the last five years, so I chalked it up to that and just generally getting older and was slightly bummed but glad that I have lots of time to train and a really supportive community to help me out.
Because I was going to be gone for the two weekends after thanksgiving I was really looking forward to the last official training ride I was going to be around for. It was a Sunday morning, and that meant I couldn't hang out with The Knitter on Sunday morning, but I really wanted to go, and I was so excited about riding I decided to take my new Bay Area Biking book for a test drive on Saturday morning... so... you know... I puttered... drank coffee... actually, by my standards I didn't dawdle too much and I got out the door by 11am. I had decided to go to a park on my side of the world (the Oakland/San Leandro side of the world, that is) because I wanted to find reasonable places to ride that were nearby. There are a lot of obvious UNreasonable places to ride in my area (due to the insane hills), but I wanted to find something I could get to without going near a bridge (and hence a traffic jam) that would also not cause me to have a heart attack. Or a lung attack*. So I got myself out of the house and set out for Redwood Regional Park with my bike on the back of my car and, to make a long story short, the directions left out a key (and easily overlooked) piece of info - what highway to get there from. I realized this pretty quickly and stubbornly decided to get there anyway, and it didn't turn out well at all. I just drove around in smaller and smaller circles for an hour, by which time it had started to drizzle. If I had already been rolling it wouldn't have been a problem, but all my clothes were cotton and if I had started off in that I would have been freezing, so I didn't go for a ride and I was really frustrated, because I think driving your bike somewhere in order to ride it is TOTALLY LAME, even if it WAS what I needed to do in order to do the route I intended**.
So that sucked. The good news was that I realized I should get some Official Sports Fabrics Clothes - something wicking that wouldn't give me pneumonia like wet cotton would, and I made a small, painless trip to Target where that shit is DIRT CHEAP these days. Dude.
So that was good. Then the next morning I dragged my ass out of bed early and, like I do every time, tried to talk myself out of going that day - I could go one my own ride later, it's early in training, I didn't eat enough the day before... But I put on my new special exercise underwear and got ready to go, talking myself through by reminding myself that it's never not fun to go for a bike ride. Even the times I nearly get hit by a car! Even the two times I pretty much (different, not very interesting, stories) did get hit by cars! Almost!
I will now pause for a moment to talk about me and riding a bike.
If you've been reading my blog for a while, you may remember when I ran into my best friend from 6th grade. She said two things that surprised me about what I was like back then - one was about my curly hair, because my hair was nowhere near as curly then as it is now, and the other was about how much I loved riding my bike. From my perspective I rode a bike because I couldn't skateboard - where we lived in rural Illinois didn't have paved roads or sidewalks. I remember trying to talk my parents into getting me a skateboard and they pointed out that I would only be able to use it in our driveway and I would have to admit that they had a point and I poured my energy into riding a bike. Bear in mind, this wasn't jock energy, because I am in no way a jock - it was make-believe energy! If I had had a skateboard I would have imagined... I dunno, it was a hoverboard, or that I was cool or something. But since I had a bike I imagined my bike was a motorcycle or a horse or something... cool - I probably had way better ideas then than I do now. It was a vehicle I had control over - that might explain why I wasn't too stressed about getting a drivers license (which turned out to be a hassle) and I was in no hurry to get a car (obviously). When we moved to The Big City (Boise, Idaho) I immediately decided to ride my bike through every alley in our neighborhood. And then we moved and my resolve was less resolved, but to this day the only way I can get a mental picture of an area is to walk or ride around it. Boise's very good for that. If you're visiting Boise, especially if you're staying downtown or in the north or east end, you should plan for that, because it's a nice place to walk or ride around, even if it's cold.
Where was I? So yeah, I really like riding a bike. My brown Huffy got stolen outside the high school eventually, because I never locked it up, because I can't remember combinations and I (thought) I was always losing keys (I'm not sure where I got this idea, since I can't remember ever losing my keys, although I've occasionally forgotten them)(still can't remember lock combos, though). My folks got me a new bike when I was in college in Moscow Idaho USA, and I rode that thing for a long time, including up and down every hill in Portland Oregon. I got a new used bike shortly after I moved back to civilization (sorry Cari) and I rode that to and from work, the grocery store, etc until The Late Mrs. Smartyboots got sick. Well, actually, I got a car shortly after I met her, and I started driving to get groceries pretty shortly thereafter, but I didn't rely on the car for my own transport till I had to transport a sick person in it. Then after the Late Mrs. Smartyboots died I just drove places because I was depressed and some days my choice might be "hmm, do I drive to work or stab myself to death slowly with this broccolli on BART?" Apparently I chose the driving to work option, since I'm still here.
Okay, so that was a big bummer, wasn't it? Anyway, I ended up driving because it left me less free time to think about things at a time when that would have been a poor idea. Then a bunch of really stupid shit happened where I did things that were perfectly reasonable but in the end I didn't have a place to live, and I moved back in with my parents in Boise and... actually, if you go to the start of this blog you can get the rest from there, so I can finish with the lengthy backstory.



*Did anyone else see "I Am Joe's Lung" in Health?
**I didn't get my first car until I was 30 and I didn't drive regularly till three years after that - getting places under my own power is deeply ingrained in me.

I have a new boyfriend, yes I do. It's gonna be a little awkward with The Knitter, but he doesn't live around here so I think we can work it out. Anyway, he seems like a guy who can fix a car, and that would be handy around here.

I went and saw Jesse Dayton this weekend at the 23 Club in Brisbane (which is it's own story - you should go there because it's a big awesome barn of a place and Johnny Cash played there and the bartenders are insane and it's totally worth it even though it might as well be on the moon it's so out of the way). C-Funk is a big Jesse Dayton fan. When we were in SoCal she brought some mix cd's to listen to and every single time I found myself saying "This is great, who is it?" it was Mr. Jesse Dayton of Austin, TX. He doesn't make it to the Bay Area much, so I dragged myself out to the 23 Club (which, as I mentioned, is conveniently located on the moon) on Friday to see him and BOY WAS HE WORTH IT. I'm almost as crushed out on him as I am on Dreamy Kelly Hogan.* (They should do a duet so I can die happy.) The next morning I woke up and immediately checked his website to see if I could go to his next show, but it was in Portland so there was no way - very sad. He has people who follow him around on tour and I don't blame them, he's that good.
He plays some serious country music and I love me some serious country music. Go to his website and listen to the sample song (that plays on load, sorry) if you don't believe me. Or check out of his videos on youtube. He sounds like he should be old and dead, that's how good he is. But he doesn't sound like he's doing an imitation of classic country music, just like he's picking up where it left off after it went awry in 1980 or so. Sometimes he sounds kind of like... dare I say it? George Jones. Yes he does. Oh, and he plays lead guitar. He's pretty darn good at it, too. And as far as I can tell every single one of his songs is good, especially Loretta, which is my new favorite song. And he tells funny stories about his mom and David Allen Coe (don't worry it turned out okay). And he gave me a sweaty kiss on the cheek after he got done playing. He's so dreamy.
You should buy every single one of his cd's and also get them as kwanzaa presents for your all friends! Or people who you want to become your friends!

* confidential to JD - if you want to move up in the ranks, try wearing something low cut.

Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.

If I could grow a mustache it would definitely be a handlebar mustache. Oh sure, sometimes I would go nuts and do a fu manchu, but the standard would definitely be a handlebar mustache. Then, as my mustache turned gray and then white I would complain about having to buy new mustache wax.