Sometimes when a girl has a beard, she gets snow in it

Initially when I started this, I wanted to mostly post photos. 

So, here are some photos I took today, from the

I LOVE MY NEW BIKE!!!!!!!!

His name, I believe, is Felipe.  But I'm not sure yet.

I love it.  I love everything about it, except the weight which I have to hoist up the 3 feet into my house each afternoon, but that is really just a small thing.

The best thing about the bike is that it fits me, unlike my borrowed bike which belongs to a woman who is 5'10" (4 inches taller than me).  Everything is easier and more comfortable on a bike that fits.  The tires feel like 2 pillows, and I find the shifting smoother on Felipe Rincon.  So far, having ridden about 4 miles on it, and we're in love.

1)  After about three months of ignoring the nagging pain, I finally went to an orthopedic surgeon about my sore Achilles tendon to find out that I have Achilles tendonitis and need to stop running.  Running for me lately has been a series of fits and starts.  So I'm not running, and am going to the physical therapist, during which time he applies this really delightful warm ultrasound thing to it and also really undelightfully massages it, which frankly, hurts.  But he feels optimistic that I'll be back on the road again in about two weeks or so.  I can't wait, because winter is my favorite time to run, for some reason-- nothing makes me more intrepid feeling than running in 35 degree weather with a cool misty raw rain sprinkling down on me, I don't know why.  Or maybe I do know why and its that I enjoy blowing my nose farmer style.  That could be it too.

2) Three months have also come and gone about on a borrowed bike from my friend Bridget.  During this time, I have learned that I really love biking to school.  I have also learned to not bike home while kind of drunk.  Lets just say the bruise was spectacular, and I was cringing every time I sat down for about a week.  But, I need to give that bike back.  I've put a lot of time into finding a used bike on craigslist, and despite checking about 3x a day, and emailing about 20 people, I cannot find a suitable bike for around the $200 mark.  The main reason is that typically the bike will not fit me, or worse,the person has no idea as to the size of the bike, and its not worth me trekking all the way out to wherever they are to look at something that is never going to fit me.  So, I've decided to return to Fells Pt Cycles to see what I can find.  I think I have very low expectations: hybrid or mountain bike that I can ride literally 2 miles a day, and maybe slightly longer for pleasure trips around the city, that is not a piece of total crap.  I love the Trek 7500 I'm on right now, but I think that might be a little pricey for me.

3) I love Thanksgiving.  I took approximately 10 naps.

4) I love Mah Jong, even if I don't understand the scoring.

5) I love the cinnamon toast ice cream I made for thanksgiving.

6) Hillary '08?

I recently ordered my friend a warm woolen beanie with earflaps as a birthday present, and means for her to get through the windy winter months.  The package came via UPS, and despite the fact that I was actually home when they claim they left it at the door, I never received the package. 

I'm sure that I actually was home, and I'm sure that they actually left it, which gets to the larger problem of why they don't knock when they leave a package, which would cause the dog to bark which would cause me to go open the door and retrieve it.  But, that is the way they do it, they just leave it between the front door and the glass door and assume that the next time I go in or out, I'll see the thing.  Unfortunately, someone else also saw the thing and took it, methinks.  Not such a score compared to other things I've had delivered at the house (our recently repaired digital camera so that I can take photos of myself boxing, a new cell phone to replace the one that Nik dropped into a glass of delicious Sierra Nevada beer, my new physiology textbook with a street value of $180), but a nice warm hat nonetheless.

After I called UPS, and the shipper, they sent me a second hat posthaste. I was then the recipient of about 8 calls from UPS who I am guessing payed for the replacement, about whether I had received the package.  No, I patiently explained, I did not!  OK!  They would respond cheerfully.  Then call me again with the same question the next day-- not sure if they were trying to catch me in a lie, but luckily even if it was a lie, it was not a complicated one (do not admit to receiving package...).

Finally, the UPS man himself came a calling. "Just checking to see if you got the package...?" he inquired. 

"No, no, I never got it.  In fact I was home when it was left, but I never got the package!" I said. 

"Oh, so somebody probably took it.  Well, what I'll do from now on is, I'll leave your packages at Gecko's [the corner bar about 50 yards from my house], they're happy to sign for anyone in the neighborhood" he replied cheerfully.

So, to get this straight: my package got stolen, and the solution involves the corner bar.  Baltimore problem/ Baltimore solution.

As it so happened, my replacement package arrived the next day and was delivered to me personally by the self same UPS driver, who saw me walking the dog a few blocks away. 

Now I'm just going to be on the lookout for someone in a zigzig earflap beanie at the corner bar....

Its the end of the first term at my school, so that means its finals time.  Much less stressful than last year, mostly due to a decreased work load but also because after four grueling terms, I finally learned a few things about how to work so that I was more efficient and less stressed.  Come to think of it, things feel almost leisurely to me.

You'll excuse me, but I'm not a big tea drinker-- at least hot tea.  I went to a teahouse last week and had a delicious cup and was reminded of the George Orwell essay on the eleven points of a good pot of tea.

Now that I've been biking to school every day for the last 3 weeks or so, I've accumulated more near death experiences in Baltimore than I had in the previous year of living here.  People would generally rather that I didn't bike in the street, I've discovered.  And they think that, because A LOT of people bike on the sidewalks, which I think is just as, if not more dangerous.  I find people less anger prone in the morning, mostly because I think they are sleepy and don't care how fast they drive to work.  Baltimore, as a city, is not full of cars really.  People walk, or take the bus.  I mean there are cars of course, but the city proper isn't overrun really at any point of the day, so that adds to the niceness of biking to school.  I love it.  I actually had a nightmare that I had to walk to school.  Walking drives me batshit.  I'm a runner, not a walker.  Except that, I twisted my knee playing stupid indoor soccer for the second year in a row so I'm off the knee for the moment.

Guess what I bought myself to amuse myself til I can run again?




Wait for it...










Wait for it....



BOXING GLOVES!  Grrrrr.

I've been at school for a year now, and since I've been there, I've had the pleasure of making the first cohesive group of friends that I've had since probably college.  Before, it seems like I've always cobbled friends together from various parts of my life-- work, T's friends, old friends mixed from college, grad school, even high school.  Now though, I have a core group of about 5-6 friends that really enjoy hanging out together.  I know its a short lived thing-- the end of this year will see us flung around to various locations, pursuing the dissertation projects that we hope will carry us to graduation in a few years.  Still though, I really love hanging out, laughing and talking with these friends.  They're some of the funniest, smartest and quirkiest people I've ever met.

Last night, we went to the Baltimore Book Festival kickoff, which is in the very prettiest part of town, Mt. Vernon.  We bought some screwtop wine at the wineshop and listened to some bands, then climbed the 231 steps up to the top of the original Washington Monument to gaze at the full moon peering back down at us.  Afterwards, we had Indian food, sang Dead Milkmen songs and concluded the evening with arm wrestling on the roof of my friend Nik's house. 

Fun evenings like this make all the school work worth it. 

The bounds of my curb cut project.  Could expand it a little to include the neighborhood east of Highland Ave, but for the most part this selection adheres to the boundaries of what is thought of as the neighborhood of Canton.  (So named, I found out, because the merchant marine, John O'donnell, pioneer trade between Canton, China and Baltimore in the 1800s.  Weird.  And here I thought it was because there used to be a lot of canneries.

I have included the harborfront streets, but most of them are private because you have to pay big bucks so that you can live there and get to dock your boat right in the front yard.

As a frequent runner in my neighborhood, I am always noticing people in wheelchairs making their way along the street rather than on the sidewalk.  I always think 'AHH! NOT SAFE NOT SAFE!" while also realizing that they certainly don't want to be in the street, but are forced there by walks without curb cuts in them.  So, today I decided to combine my passion for running with my other passion of sidewalk inspecting.  I'm going to try to cover as much of my neighborhood as possible in the upcoming weeks with rather monotonous running routes through it, in order to note particular corners that are missing a curb cut.  I will then note them on a handy google map, and email the resulting product to my city councilperson (note to self: find out who that is).

That is all.

Sore, actually. 

Tresa took me to dinner at my favorite Baltimore restaurant, The Bicycle.  We've been there once before, and I've been dreaming of the Sashimi Tuna and Avocado Tartare appetizer since our last visit.  Its finished with a sprinkling of delicate Mache greens that taste to me like spicy clover-- ahhhhh!  Fantastic.

Saturday we had lunch with my parents who are en route to visit my brother in Atlanta, and my brother Chris' family.

Sunday we went for an impromptu camping and hiking trip in the foothills of the Appalachian mountains in Virginia.  We aren't really those lesbians-- ie the ones who camp a lot.  So, our gear tends more towards the kind of camping where you pull your car up next to your tent site, which this was not, and less towards the kind where you hike a mile to your site, which this was.  Laden with our camping crap and with a certain white dog who was insistently pulled and hiking a mile was an exercise in the usage of my biceps to clench firmly around the lopsided tent and sleeping bag bundles.  After a 6 mile hike, sleeping on the ground and then hiking back out the next day, my arms were dead.  Like it hurt to have them straightened.

On my actual birthday, the best thing I did was go for a run along the water.  It was a warm (82 degrees) but not hot or humid day, and the sun felt good for a while on my body.  I finished my run and said aloud "thirty three!" for no reason at all (well I mean, other than the reason that I am now 33). It feels not so bad really, to be a third of the way through a century.  As soon as my arms feel better, it will feel just great.