tessie

Every Bostonian that reads this blog will probably understand the title reference. Or they should, if they consider themselves true Bostonians. Especially when it's coupled with this:

Yeah I know, I said I wouldn't make another one. But I owe Jeremy this kind of maddening, eye-straining, muffled-scream inducing embroidery work, mostly because my bike almost bit off his finger a few weeks ago.
Okay, so it didn't cut it off [it resulted in a puncture-wound-plus-laceration combo, according to Jeremy], but it still weighed on my conscience. I mean, he could have lost his finger over my bike. A bike that, despite how much I love it, really isn't worthy of fingers!

As I blinked and gaped in shock, Jeremy actually smiled and wished me a good afternoon if he didn't see me before I left as he stepped outside for a few minutes. Everyone else just went about their business. I felt like I was taking crazy pills...!
When he came back:
Chris: How deep did it go in?
Jeremy: Only a few millimeters.
Chris: That's what she said.
...Boys [especially in bike shops] will be boys.
Note: The Heartbreaker contest is still going on until the end of the week!

constipation

Yup, this might be wayyyy too much information, but things just weren't feeling right these past couple of days.
Going up hills felt sort of heavy. There was just general uncomfortable-ness. And then there were the sounds.
My bike was grinding. Pushing the pedals at certain points felt like I was working a pepper mill. It was either rock salt or my bottom bracket. With two winters under my bike's belt, I was pretty sure it just wanted to poop out the bottom bracket.
So it was off to therapy again. This time for a real reason though [and for my bike, not me].
But it wasn't my bottom bracket. It was these:

The bolts and screws that held my chainring were way too long, which meant that my chainring wasn't exactly stable. Which meant that my chain ring got slightly warped which is why my chain was hopping. The grinding sound was the unfortunate result of my chainring nearly rubbing against my chain stay.
The chainring got shorter bolts and was put on the outside of my crank. There's actually more than 1mm between my chainring and the chain stay now, and the hopping's mostly gone. My bike is positively purring.
I could marry the IBC staff. Like for realz.

dirty water

The only thing I hate about my favorite coffee shop is that it's apparently everyone else's favorite coffee shop as well.
This means that, being oblivious, I end up choosing the table next to a couple on their first date. And even though I pretended [unsuccessfully] to be engrossed in a few law review articles, I was really just [blatantly, yet uncomfortably] eavesdropping.
The girl talked about how much she loved shopping, how "it's great to be young and a girl," and how she couldn't stand wearing jeans and sneakers because people would never take you seriously when you dress that way.
I mostly did not agree with anything she said. Mostly because I was wearing jeans and sneakers.
But not just any pair of sneakers; I was wearing my [beloved] Chucks. In Boston! In February! Because it was in the 40s yesterday [about 4C]!!!
That's my excuse for not posting anything this weekend. I was too busy biking around town, sipping coffee in various places, and stopping into therapy.

The roads are kind of gross [to be fair these pictures were taken in Allston], but at least those giant piles of snow are finally melting. And after biking from one coffee shop to another, I got a[n appropriately] dirty chai latte at Starbucks for $3, the shot of espresso being on the house.

On second thought, maybe it is great to be young and a girl.

a simple favor

My best friend has this concept of "secret interests." People usually have one - something they love or like that not many people know about. Her boyfriend's is cars, something I hadn't known until a few months ago, despite knowing him for a good 5 years or so. Hers? Horoscopes. She can tell whether you're a Pisces, Aries, Cancer, Virgo, whatever.
I'm a Cancer. Which might explain why I love being domestic, and also why I can be bat-shit crazy.
But back to being domestic, and nurturing, and homey. Okay, I'm probably not most of those things...but I can sew. And I have a sewing machine. Which sort of led me to hemming the pants of a complete stranger [but one who rides bikes].

He's getting married, or more accurately, he's having the civil ceremony on Friday. He needed the pants hemmed up two inches, which I was more than happy to do. I mean, the man plans to wear a bowtie - how could I say no?
So while school might be getting in the way of all things fun right now, finishing a raw seam and a good blind hem let me chill out for an hour or so last night. I'm not sure I can claim "nurturing" yet, but maybe this good deed can qualify me for at least "domestic" and "homey"?

internet famous!

Okay, yeah, it's out now. I'm coming out of the closet.
Sure I let people see pictures of my feet and I even went so far as to make a very identifiable bag. But I never posted anything that would really identify me...until now.

It's on the internets, as the Boston Globe was at the last Boldsprints I went to. I'm not sure how I feel about coming out - it's a little scary...but hey, for someone that slid down Mass Ave on her butt to get to the Middlesex, I don't look so bad, right?

a bold[sprints] adventure

Having gotten my polo fix earlier this week, and today being a holiday, I was on the look-out for some weekend bike-related goodness.
Thank God for Boldsprints!
It was snowing as I left for Cambridge, and it felt like I was getting facial acupuncture as I pedaled. And then nature and gravity decided to show me that my conviction that "I have a 'cross bike so therefore I can bike over/through anything" was just totally wrong. Good thing I wasn't with anyone though, as sliding down Mass Ave on my ass is one of my less charming moments.
I made it to the Middlesex, though, in one slushy piece. Hats were delivered, old faces seen, new ones met, and [some of a] beer consumed. And while 'Sprints didn't happen due to some impossibly difficult technical problem, fun times were had.

Until, of course, I was faced with the choice of pedaling home in the snow. With the roads not that plowed, fate seemed to imply that I would either be walking it or sliding home on one buttcheek.
But lucky for me, a friend offered me a ride home...if I biked to his house/car in Somerville. There was walking involved, but I'd like to think much less sliding.

Then a whole other adventure ensued in which the guy who was parked behind my friend wouldn't wake up but we could hear the TV on. Oh, and sliding sideways down the hills of Somerville when we finally got on the road. But of course, it was well worth it.
So...when is the next Boldsprints, again?