Days of Shades

I think everyone should be required to ride the bus once in awhile. It's so easy to get isolated in a car, to forget about the wide variety of people that live in or visit the same place you do.

I commute by bus from October to early April, roughly -- when it's cold enough that my reynaud's makes biking dangerous, painful, or impossible. My bus goes from downtown out to Tumwater, which is basically 'a few grocery stores and lots of state offices', so the norm on the bus is a few high schoolers, state workers, and families with screaming children headed for the grocery store or DSHS ever since the one time I took Monkey to the vet on the bus I've had a lot of sympathy for the parents of screaming children).

Then sometimes -- well, this morning -- I walk on and sit next to an absolutely gorgeous man from Sudan who introduces himself by offering a toke (Nah, thanks, I'm good). And the bus noise is too damn loud for me to really ask "How the hell did you end up in Tumwater?" and it really doesn't matter, because he's just enjoying looking at all the green.

[On a somewhat related note, I really love carrying band business cards with me, for tons of different reasons. I like making interesting connections, and there've been far too many interesting opportunities I've let slip by for lack of bravery, but like anyone else I'm leery of being harassed or having friendliness come off as flirtation. My band business card only has an email address, not a phone number, and that email address is answered by three people (the other two are my dad and my boyfriend). Friendly, but safe. It's an awesome middle ground.]

Both of my potential new tenants declined, I think I'm coming down with a cold, and Erik and I are taking a red eye flight to Connecticut tomorrow to spend the week with his parents, which is sure to be extra exciting since we're so close to the election.

All that aside, though, I've had a really great morning. We've still got our crisp, clear indian summer weather -- hell on my garden, but beautiful to bike in. I made it to yoga on time (it's a miracle!) and then went to Orca books armed with the list I gathered yesterday. I narrowed my selections based on price and thickness (since I'm traveling), with a preference for authors I'd never read or read very little of. I ended up with The Bridge of Birds by Barry Hughart, Greenwillow by B. J. Chute, Northshore by Sheri S. Tepper (not a comfort read, I suspect, but on the $1 rack), Sandry's Book by Tamora Pierce (Oddly enough I've read almost no Pierce, but YA with magic + crafts is right up my alley) and Bellwether by Connie Willis (there were two Willis books recommended; I bought the one with sheep). I make take Dealing with Dragons along, too, since that's always been one of my favorites and I was thinking it might be fun to try drawing the characters. All that and a cup of coffee for $25 -- and I got to pet the store's cats, too.

I spent awhile wandering the antique store next door (it's a friendly one, and you never know). Luckily for my wallet, the only things I were interested were either glass or cast iron -- neither of which I can feasibly handle in my bike panier. Then I toddled across the street and scheduled a service call for my gas fireplace. My wallet won't be thrilled, but, eh, maintenance.

There's a new antique/vintage shop right next door to the fireplace place, so I checked that out (I mean, I'd visited every other business on the block, I had to be fair), and that's when the Very Strange Thing happened: I saw a piece of mid-century modern furniture that I... kind of liked.

Now, I'm sure that in reality it's as fugly as every other piece of mid-century modern furniture, and any vague notions otherwise are delusions brought on by my nascent illness, which is clearly worse than I thought. This is why one should visit antique shops with friends -- you never know when you'll need an intervention. "You like that? Here, sit down. I'll get you a glass of water. There there, dear. You're clearly not well." Thankfully it's irrelevant (except as a health diagnostic tool) because I don't have one hundred extra dollars and I was riding a bicycle.

I have a short list of things to do before the flight tomorrow night which all seem very achievable. Laundry. Get four or five plants in the ground (the spots don't have to be permanent). Pay the dental bill.

Oh, yeah, and perform at a concert downtown. I'm really glad it's tonight; cramming an extra rehearsal in means I've had ONE quiet evening at home with my sweety in two weeks, and ONE quiet night to myself. When combined with the room-mate roller coaster it's not surprising that I'm getting sick, really. The upside is that going to Connecticut is starting to feel like a real vacation instead of an obligation. The fact that I won't have to DO anything much helps make up for the fact that I'll be constantly trying to avoid getting roped into political 'discussions' by E's dad. And I can sleep in! FRABJOUS DAY!

Over on ontd_political there was an article today about an empathy disparity between the rich and poor.

In the comments at the source of this article, someone explains that they show empathy by hiring a maid, gardener, and pool boy. The money these people get is money they wouldn't have otherwise, therefore charity! Or something like that.

Not 15 minutes after I posted to ontd_p joking about my non-existent pool boy, I biked home, and a few blocks from my house I saw a kid in a swimsuit crouched inside an ice chest while their friend sprayed them with the hose.

THAT'S HOW WE ROLL IN MY HOOD, YO.

I am so fucking Pacific Northwest today. I rode my bicycle to work in the pouring rain, stopped for a latte at The Ubiquitous Roadside Coffee Shack, and carried it the rest of the way in my water-bottle holder.

Note to bikers: 16 oz beverage; 20 oz cup, use the bottle cage on the seat-tube, not the down-tube. No spillage of the precious fluid of life, even on bumps!


In totally unrelated news, I just realized that I know not one, but three songs about cosmetic surgery. It's slightly disturbing.

It's been an eventful day.

My family and I met my grandparents, aunt'n'uncle, and 3-year-old twin cousins at NW Trek this morning. It was a beautiful day, and we saw a decent selection of critters (mostly snoozing in sunny spots). The twins were (unsurprisingly) more enamored of the tram ride than the animals we saw from it, and (surprisingly) incredibly excited about the interpretive signage.

Isa SIGN! Aun' Mary, isah 'NOTHER SIGN!

After they left we hung about for a bit taking a more leisurely look at the wolves and watching the otter frolic. On the way out, we heard a very peeved cry.

It came from the land-bound* bald eagle, who was screeching in protest at the herd of keepers re-landscaping his enclosure, and scurrying back and forth along the fence line in agitation like a giant, feathery rat. The keepers were planting salmon- and service- berries, and were happy to talk about native plants, which lead to the final collapse of my willpower and a stop at Gordon's Nursery in Yelm on the way back.

I rent. You should not buy shrubbery if you rent. But most of the hummingbird-friendly northwest berries apparently do fine in whiskey barrels, which is why there's a bare-root flowering currant in my back yard now.

Our last stop was for groceries, which would have been quick, except that we witnessed an accident in the parking lot on the way out. No-one was hurt, but at least two cars were totaled, and I am reminded why I'm in favor of periodic re-testing for driver's licenses. The poor old man driving the offending vehicle mistook gas for brake.

I hate auto accidents. They rattle me, and not because I'm afraid of crazy drivers someday harming me. I'm deeply afraid of *being* the crazy driver and having that on my conscience. This is another reason I only own a bike. I am more comfortable with the possibility of being a victim than the possibility of being a killer.

So, right, busy day. I'm going to go sit with my sweety and draw, now.

It's that perfect crisp shiny kind of autumn day, and I took myself, some postcards bound for Japan, and a few frame-less art pieces downtown to run errands. My print of Hangover by Justin Hillgrove is now at the shop awaiting it's frame, and my wallet is $50 lighter (it would have been $100, but I had a gift cert for acting as shop translator awhile back). Now I go to the website and see that he's offering stretched canvas giclee for $100 - damn, I could have had a limited run hangable pieces for less than my little paper print will have cost to frame. Oh well...

I also stopped in at Radiance while I was downtown. I didn't mean to, but on the way from the post office to the bus station I walked by Jefferson and Legion, and therefore Planned Parenthood, and every single corner was staked out by multiple people on both sides of the abortion debate. The shock of the mutilated fetus pictures was such that I immediately had to run to the most feminist, goddess-worshiping, lesbian-owned shop in town and spend upwards of thirty bucks, just to bring my day back into balance.

Seriously, though - I feel really sorry for the PP patients, especially the ones there for other services. Come on, people - the majority of people there are getting their bc prescriptions, annuals, and STD checks, and they have to walk through THAT. For the record, I'm anti-abortion but pro-choice, which is to say that I think it's nasty but should be legal. Really, we ought to be focused more on avoiding the whole unwanted pregnancy thing entirely, but that wouldn't have gone over well on the street-corner (I'd have more sympathy with the anti-abortion protesters if they were PRO birth control, and if they weren't, y'know, such god-awful jerks).

Bile aside, I saw Celia (of the days of yore at Columbia street session) in Radiance and Erik in Otto's (He came out from behind the counter to hug me, prompting the other lady in line to complain that he never hugged HER. So he did. I think she was a bit surprised...). He has a car now and pointed out gleefully that he could abscond with me. Wish more people threatened to abscond with me...

So that's a beautiful day, a nice walk, and chance encounters with two friends, none of which I would have enjoyed if I'd had a car.

I just got my bike back from the shop yesterday, and on the way home from work I did the stupid-diagonal-gear thing (paying attention to traffic, not shifting) and my chain locked up tight. It was the most-stuck chain I have ever encountered. I walked to a nearby parking lot, got my fingers a bit greasy, and was back on the road within ten minutes.

I am not a good bike mechanic. I'm not even a mediocre, almost-competent bike mechanic, but bikes are simple enough that I can look at the problem and figure out, if not how to FIX it, then what to do to get me home on it. And if I screw something up, it won't explode.

I wouldn't know where to start tinkering with a combustion engine, and it's highly unlikely I'll ever be able to solve an auto problem by popping a quick-release lever on the back tires. I have a healthy respect for things that are potentially explosive.

I'm fundamentally uncomfortable with owning anything I don't feel comfy tinkering with.

***This thought-train has reached it's scheduled terminus. Please de-train and board your connecting thought-train on platform 2***

The Obesity Epidemic is front page news again because of a study claiming to link weight-gain to social connections - you gain weight because your friends do, crudely put. This is sparking discussions about societal stigma and whether fat-acceptance, love-your-body people are creating an environment where there's no penalty for being fat and therefore worsening the health of all of the country.

I don't think any amount of love-your-body acceptance pep talk is going to make anyone up and decide to be obese. I don't think stigmatizing anyone does any good, either. I am concerned about friends and relatives who are overweight.

I know that someone is bound to read this and launch into "you don't know how it feels...". Lets get clear, here - I'm pretty skinny. As an adolescent I lost weight due to physical stress (surgery) rather than gained it. But also due to surgeries, I have a really damn good idea of what it's like to loathe, fear, and detest the idea of going to a gym. Y'know, a gym, where people who are obsessed with fitness go to more perfectly tone their gorgeous bodies? Where people might see you and laugh 'cause here you are like you'll be able to improve and you just can't freaking do this stuff, pack it in before you embarrass the rest of us?

Some of this is normal human egocentrism - the fact is, "they" are not spending all their time staring at you.
But knowing that doesn't help. I don't think it can be physically healthy to force yourself into a situation where you feel that bad. New and uncomfortable situations make you grow, but that's uncomfortable, not agonizing.

This is another reason why I bike to work.

It's not a pretentious work-out. It's a commute. The only people looking at me are the assholes honking at the slow biker (I prefer to pretend that they are honking in appreciation of my luscious ass). It is somehow a much "safer"* way to get some of the same activity. I took a spin cycle class once - I was absolutely miserable. I've never been inclined to join any group rides, even though I enjoy recreational riding on occasion. Safe to say, it's not just the movement, it's the situation. Walking can be the same way - exercise without feeling like somehow you're a fitness-poseur.

Y'know something about biking (or walking) to work? It's a whole lot easier to make yourself do it when you don't own a car.

By this point, I think I will reach the place where I can make myself bike even if I own a car, because I've come to appreciate it as part of my daily routine. I feel healthier, I have more energy, and I enjoy seeing my town from the bike. There have been days when I had my folks' car and I took the bike instead. But I seriously don't think I could have gotten to this point if a car had been available all the time. I never would have gotten comfortable enough with the idea of a commute ride if I had another option (I didn't have a license 'till I was 19, in case you're wondering). Yeah, I'm lazy. Most of are. It's evolution - of COURSE we want to do it the easy way! If we're more efficient mammoth hunters then we preserve more calories and can spend more energy making little mammoth hunters. As many, many people before me have pointed out, this set of evolutionary adaptations is NOT helpful to today's desk jockey.

Commuting has the other clear benefit of being something you were going to do anyway, instead of yet another thing on your long to-do list.

So there you go. Another reason not to own a car.



*My risk of gruesome mangled death are higher than at the gym, but my brain is happy.

Searching for a safe place to park my vehicle, I circled the Home Depot parking lot twice before I realised, watching people walk by with fifty pound bags of cement and sheets of drywall, that I was the only person who ever rode their bicycle to Home Depot.

Ah. That'd explain why there aren't any bike racks, then.

Inside I finally tracked down an employee (this is difficult) and asked:
"Excuse me, could you help me cut some chain?"
"Yes, but only because you're a kick-ass fiddler."

Turns out that he saw me play back in the day at Piper's Lady/Columbia Pub/Clancy's or whatever it was at the time. I've been in this town too long.

Anyway, my sunday-morning inspiration in the realm of kitchens and storage worked out quite well, all things considered. I'm pleased with myself.

( Cut for pictures )

Weird...There is no 'proud' mood built into LJ. Is this place angsty by default or what?