surprisingly exclusive

I'm not going to lie, I secretly love owning exclusive things.
The earrings I got in a small store in a stylish Tokyo neighborhood, the bracelets I never take off, and the tiny track frameset I now proudly own. Sure, other short people own the same Dolan, but none in Boston, and none have doused that frame in so much pink.
Small surprise, then, that I like to make exclusive things too.
But, it is sort of surprising that I'm currently [back] in New York City, with a bagful of new hats, for a new shop. The concept is the same, but the everything else seems completely different. Which sort of resulted in something like two weeks of crazed hand painted hats inspired by bright sneakers and my personal love of the 80s.

And it also resulted in panicked fits of nervousness and apprehension and the conviction that these are not going to move. I almost backed out of a weekend down in the city, despite a promise for Americanos and french fries on someone else's tab. I spent the morning sipping coffee, stalling and balking at leaving my sister's apartment to head to the shop, the bag full of new hats still burning a hole into my confidence and self-esteem.
I'm finally getting off the couch, off the Internet, and out of the apartment to head to the East Village though. Because I hold myself to keeping my word, and a promise was made to NYC Velo for an order of 10 hats [okay, I did one better, literally, and am delivering 11]. It took some late nights, some stress-fueled tears, and some coaxing by friends to get them done. They're finished though, and seemingly just in time; I'm so anxious right now that I almost need them out of my life.

And with the added weight of being an exclusive run for a very reputable shop [evidence of their awesomeness here, if you scroll down a bit], I'm going to worry about them. Obsessively.
One more reason, why, if you're in the city, you should stop by. I mean, even if only to let a worried mother hen know how her babies are doing in a strange new city.

fabricated crises

1.57am. That's when I finished.
Not like that's unusually late these days. Between rides, blogs, and scheming, late nights are becoming part of the whole routine. A dizzying one that has me nearly falling asleep as I brush my teeth and having small fits of existential crises over gchat. All while some part of me lists all the things I have to do the next day, then tells me to stay up some more. I'm not that tired, am I?
Actually, I kind of am. But it's totally my fault.
I chose to hang out yesterday after my ride, instead of finishing off the latest batch of hats for Cambridge. So those got done after dinner, stretching into the next morning. There was good IMing company, but in the end it was me, a needle and thread, and a pair of scissors. Hand finishing each and every one.

But I like this batch, a lot. There are the classic black ones [Zach insisted on more black], then some lighter ones, more summery and a little more adventurous. I even mixed some gray ink for the brims, the white getting slightly redundant.
The sewing was getting redundant too, though. Barely able to see, mostly unable to think, and completely dead tired, I was rambling and ranting to a partner in crime.
"What am I doing? Why am I doing this? It's 2am," I said.
To which he advised:
"The best cure for a 2am existential crisis = sleep."

Yeah, maybe. I mean, I should do more of that. Soon. After I finish some more hats, cut some more fabric, take some more pictures, write some more posts. After that, and the errands, then the gearing up for work on Monday.
After that, maybe.

disaster zone

Imagine newspapers, fabric, bottles of screening ink, plastic tubs of cottage cheese [for mixing ink], and tailor's chalk strewn around the floor, cardboard boxes spewing out fabric with a track bike wedged into a corner and you have an idea of what my room currently looks like.
Needless to say, it's a mess [no, I'm not posting pictures of it]. Any ordinary person would probably think I've completely lost it. And sometimes I think I might have as well.

After spending most of the day [unforeseen circumstances dictated that I got the day off] alternating between screening, cutting, hopping between laid out fabric, and sewing, my shoulders were sufficiently cramped to allow for a break. Observing the destruction wrought in my room, and some mostly complete hats, I took a breather to pat myself on the back. I've been productive today, I thought.
And there was only so much I could do; the bigger box of fabric from NYC hadn't arrived yet. Thank God. I can blow off certain projects for a few--
And then the doorbell rang.
Yup. That box came.

So it was back to work, hands sometimes covered in ink, other times finagling fabric under the foot of my sewing machine. My trash can filled up over the course of the day to the point where it was vomiting out slivers of fabric, pieces of thread, elastic, and all the bits and pieces associated with crafting. Pushing my machine to work harder and faster, I almost didn't feel guilty about wimping out on my ride.
Okay, I admit, I did a mere 6 miles today. I know. The guilt. But if it makes it any better, my knee was stiff by the time I called it a day and took my foot off the [sewing machine] pedal. My shoulders were feeling it too, and even my fingers were a little tired [although, that could be the endless gchatting].

Finally extracting myself from the hat factory [i.e., my desk], I stretched my fingers while thinking about my next ride, slightly dreading those hills. And that's when I noticed it. Despite the layers of sun screen I pour onto my arms before rides, I'm officially rocking the hood tan. My thumbs and forefingers are a noticeably darker shade than my other fingers. Great.
At this point, the only thing that's going to save me is an airbrush tan. Although, I suppose this is another badge of [cyclist] pride.

loaded

In a few hours, I'll be headed back to Beantown. Headed back to training rides [fun], a block party at Cambridge Bikes tomorrow [more fun], and running [the least fun, ever].
At least my wallet might stop getting thinner, and my tummy might also stop getting thicker. Because I ate. And drank. Delicious sandwiches [hands down one of my favorite foods], cupcakes from Sugar Sweet Sunshine, and multiple caffeinated beverages from Jack's and Ninth Street Espresso. I even cooked dinner one night, but only after injecting my arteries and heart with juicy grease in the form of chicken wings and fries.

There was even a celebrity sighting. Malcolm Gladwell, who almost looked like he might walk into Ninth Street Espresso yesterday. I was all staring him down like "oh hey, I've never read your books but I've heard of them and you should get yourself an espresso." Fail [obviously].
And then there was the TV watching. Between the multiple runs to Mood for fabric, the East Village for coffee and bikes, and the post office to send boxes of acquired things back home to Boston, I managed my fair share of Law & Order SVU, CI, and somewhat trashy true crime shows [I don't have a TV at home, so I have to get my fix in NYC]. And in spite of the inordinate amount of time I spent in front of the tube, I even managed to get blogged.

Okay, I also managed a few more things. Like getting my hands on a very limited edition Gage & Desoto bag [for the non-uber bike geeks, those are some key names of Team CSC Saxo Bank]. Wicked, right?
Mike explained that he didn't want me to leave empty-handed when he gave me the bag, seeming to pull it out of nowhere. Empty-handed? Really? This trip had me loaded full of good food, new friends, and an appreciation for those who bike in the city. Add to that super exclusive bike-related gear and I am leaving here a happy girl, fists full of stuff.
As if I really need any more reason to hop down to NYC more often.

gage & desoto

I love "Zoolander."
Maybe that's why designers scare me.
Okay, not really. Designers have always been sort of intimidating. I have this image of them as being self-absorbed and a little crazy. A slightly socially awkward drama queen whose erratic behavior is only forgiven due to the ability to create, cut, and sew beautiful things together. And one that loves to judge.
My limited closet is enough reason to avoid this species of human. But with the hat making thing, it's getting harder. And yesterday, at NYC Velo, I met one. In person.
An email popped into my inbox last week, a hello from the Big Apple from a designer who loves bicycles. One who wanted to trade. With a trip down to the city planned in two days, packing to be done, and hats for Cambridge in the works, I wasn't sure I could finish one in time. But it was a request for a "Boston" hat. For a designer in NYC? This was going to be interesting...and worth a late night or two.

Meet Mike Spriggs. The man behind Gage & Desoto [and those infamous "I *cog* NY" t-shirts], he's a Boston transplant that picked up and moved 4 hours south for legitimately insane traffic and a city that necessitates biking 10 miles [out of the city] to get to good training routes. And after hearing that he still wears Bosox gear in NYC, maybe this crazy city suits him better than cutesy New England [come on, even Southie has a measure of quaint...Irish...drunken...charm].
A bus ride and a handful of emails later, I met him yesterday to listen to stories about being a courier in Boston, Cambridge Bikes when it was in Harvard Square, the intensity of NYC, and his trip to Beijing, Osaka, and Tokyo. There was no pretension, and I was the sole provider of the socially awkward factor [as per the usual]. And despite my wide-eyed terror at biking a few short blocks, I even got to see the new Gage & Desoto t-shirt design:

After talking labels and with a promise for a screened t-shirt [of course, it'll be blogged about, but I'm not telling which one I want...yet], I headed home, with a new friend in the city.
Too bad this isn't Boston. But I'll be back down here again.
And it won't only be for coffee and fabric.

kiki's delivery service

This movie is a must see.
Though less spectacular than "Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind" or "Castle in the Sky," "Kiki's Delivery Service" [the original Japanese title is "The Witch's Delivery Service"] has always been a secret favorite. A story about a witch that leaves her home to discover independence and make it on her own [with the most adorable black cat], she befriends a boy who rides a fixed gear and dreams of flying.
Small wonder I love the movie. But it gets even better. Kiki starts working as a courier [on her broom, of course] for a bakery, delivering cakes, bread, and all manner of baked goodies. She ends up losing her ability to fly at one point, though, due to her own self-doubt and insecurity.
I was definitely channeling Kiki yesterday. All I was missing, really, was a big, red bow in my hair [I even have her bangs now!]. Getting up way too early to find a still-sore knee, I still trotted out the show pony for the Bay State Bike Week ride to City Hall. And then, having gotten up at the asscrack of dawn, I stopped by 2nd Cup Cafe to guzzle an espresso.

Which meant the prospect of a nap then was out of the question. So I sat around restlessly, encountering writer's block here and there, until, spotting a particular poster in my room, I remembered a promise for blueberry muffins.
Erich had put aside the Embrocation Cycling Journal poster taped up at IBC for me, way back in March. It's May. This was one promise I could bust out in a few hours.

I got mixing and measuring. Ran out of sugar but made do [they didn't come out super sweet, but Dan M. described them as "delicious"]. Did laps between my computer and the oven as they baked; and after they cooled, they went into a box, which was then tucked into my bag. I forgot the red bow in my hair, but I delivered [to IBC].
There was a new chainring waiting for me too. And a new chain. And thus, a straight chain line [for once!]. There was even talk of training for 'cross season and jogging. On the way home, I contemplated how I would handle coming in DFL on my first 'cross race. Uncharacteristically, I think in a way I wouldn't care [as long as I didn't break anything in the process].
I figure, as long as I'm fast enough to deliver baked goods, that's good enough for me.
Kiki's Blueberry Muffins Adapted from this recipe.
For the streusel topping:
1 tablespoon cold unsalted butter 1/3 cup brown sugar 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon 1/2 cup finely chopped walnuts
1. In a bowl, combine all of the streusel topping ingredients. 2. With your fingers, mix until you have a crumbly mixture. 3. Set aside if using immediately or store in the refrigerator.
For the muffins:
1/2 cup vegetable oil [or 1/4 cup oil and 1/4 cup applesauce] 1-1/3 cup packed brown sugar [I only used 1 cup] 1 tablespoon grated lemon zest 1 egg 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract 1 cup low fat plain yogurt 2-1/4 cups all-purpose flour 1/4 teaspoon salt 2-1/2 teaspoons baking powder 1/2 teaspoon baking soda 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon 1-1/2 cups blueberries [fresh or frozen]
1. Preheat the oven to 400F and line a 12-cup muffin tin with paper liners. If you don’t have paper liners butter and flour the muffin tin. 2. In a bowl, mix together the flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, and cinnamon. 3. In another bowl, combine the oil, brown sugar, zest and egg. Once combined, stir in the buttermilk and vanilla extract. 4. Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and mix well. Gently mix in the fruit. If the batter seems to liquidy, add a tiny bit more flour. The batter should be fairly stiff. 5. Spoon the batter into the muffin cups filling them right to the top. Divide the streusel topping equally among the muffins. 6. Bake for 15 minutes and then lower the temperature to 350 F and bake for an additional 12 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. 7. Cool the muffins in the pan for 10 minutes, then remove the muffins and let cool on a wire rack. 8. Package securely and deliver [to your local bike shop].