[briefly] living the dream

Despite both of my classes having been canceled today, I rolled out of bed at the usual time.
Granted, I can't sleep past 8am on any day, anyway, but I was sort of excited to get up and pick my way across a floor littered with fabric, tailor's chalk, and some random pins [ouch!]. I scooted my chair in front of my sewing machine - not the laptop - and settled in for a morning of pins, seam rippers, and bias tape.

The need to stop in at school before taking the long way to CB meant I was working on a deadline. I slightly kicked myself for spending the majority of last night sitting at my desk, my chin resting on the top of my machine, while I read and clicked through the amazing photographs on Velodramatic. It's such a great blog! Clean, professional, and very well executed; it's where I get my Rapha fix because my current bank account balance won't let me actually do that in real life.

My foot like a lead weight on the sewing machine pedal, I didn't mind the pressure or undoing a seam or two. Mostly because this kind of near-sweatshop-labor is my definition of fun; I almost wished that I could hand embroider the "Boston" or somehow personalize each a little bit more. But with limited time and a pretty saddle waiting for me, the screened versions had to do for now.

Then I crawled into a pair of rain pants [yes, dorky] and jumped on the bike first to school, then to CB. The saddle's hanging from a bag on the bars of my Dolan, on the secret 3rd floor of IBC. UPS is currently killing the possibility of a finished bike this weekend, but by this time next week, I plan to have something incredible between my legs.

bosox fever

Good thing I'm not a Bosox fan.
I'm not sure I can take the intensity of it all; and despite the fact that I barely manage to get dressed every day (i.e., that I've completely let myself go), I can't/won't wear the Bosox hat and t-shirt combo. Particularly if the former is pink.
I know that sounds hypocritical, almost. Like I'll unashamedly get every pink component I can get my hands on for my bike but I refuse to wear that particular color. But the pink Bosox hat is peculiar - it's like dressing up a butchy lesbian to hide the obvious from the relatives: It doesn't make anything more "feminine" and it just smacks of [imposed] traditional gender norms/roles.
Besides, I'm not obsessed with the Sox enough to rock any Bosox attire. And a friend should be very glad I'm not.

Otherwise, I would be keeping this, instead of handing it over to one of my first bike friends. And while the hat gave me enough grief to qualify for "I would only do this for a friend I really really really value" type work (and it's definitely on the list of "things I don't think I really want to do, again"), I can rest assured that it's going to be loved (and worn). Enjoy the hat, E!

epic drop-off

Some things are worth working for.
And some things are worth waiting for.
And still other things are worth braving the wind and being reduced to walking your bike along the bike lane on the Mass Ave bridge because you just can't stay on the damn thing while the wind rips half your hair out of your ponytail and you clutch your scarf to your chest while snot dribbles down your face.
It was probably one of my most unsexiest moments but well worth it. I dropped off 10 hats at Cambridge Bicycle in exchange for one of the sexiest things I have ever seen:

Yeah, there's probably something truly neurotic (and kind of disgustingly consumeristic...if that's even a word) about finding a bike part sexy. But as of right now, I'll take this over any man.

embracing the 80s

Everyone has something they denounce in public but are secretly proud of or own. Like popped collars and pink polos; the ones "your friend" has and you would never wear in Boston because it emits a beacon of douchery, but somehow it finds its way into your suitcase on a daytrip to the Cape.

Yeah, we're all two-faced. Old news, I know.

But sometimes you can't deny who you are, even if you try. Me, I've been cursed as being born in the 80s, that fabulous era of flock of seagulls haircuts, gold MC Hammer pants, faded blue denim jackets, and shoulder pads. And in terms of fashion, those gold MC Hammer pants should probably stay in the past. Still, I can't deny the appeal of the wearing the most mismatching colors in clashing patterns all in one outfit.

Or the appeal of Marky Mark. Or his brother, Donnie.

So on Saturday morning when I rolled into the Wheelhouse Diner and saw an autographed pictures of Donnie on the wall, I jumped to make this hat. The fabric's been lying around for a while and it's so awfully, perfectly 80s.

And no other fabric was as appropriate to make my first newly designed hat. I'm dropping this off somewhere today - hopefully to someone else who loves the 80s.

...still cheating

I'm still on that cheating high where you feel totally awesome because at least one person is sweating you hard enough not to care that you might actually be dating someone else.

Like when you get compliments and looks because of your shiny new bike and you totally forget about your trusty old beater and how you're not even going to look at that new ride once it starts snowing.

Or like when the cute bike mechanic abandons the bike s/he's fixing to look at yours. (But come on, like some dude's mountain bike can really compete with your carbon frame, brakeless, fixed gear with 52/12 gearing, 650 on the front and 700 on the back?)

So I sent this hat out - to a (yet) undisclosed location. Via mail.

My bike probably hates me. But USPS is loving me...right?

third hat...mail off

There's really no point in cheating.

Because in the end you figure out/come to your senses that you should have stuck with whatever/whomever you're cheating on in the first place.

I would know.

Or at least my legs and ego would. (Who would have thought that I could get up hills faster with one gear as opposed to, say, twenty one?)

So I know I shouldn't be cheating, but I am. I'm sending these hats out to one of my favorite bike shops in the area - International Bicycle Center in Allston. And technically that's cheating because I'm supposed to drop them off by hand. I'll feel the guilt later.

Oh and the return address? I borrowed that one from a friend. Because we all could use a good alibi when we're, you know, cheating.