tailwind

A friend asked me a few days ago what exactly would prevent my biking to school - snow? sleet? driving rain?
Embarrassed at admitting the truth, I just shrugged.
Ever since, my weather arch-nemesis - strong, gusty wind - has been making a recurring appearance.
Yesterday morning I felt like I was on a wind resistance trainer, except that there were cars passing by, I was outside, and I had the added pleasure of trying not to sprain my neck while the wind tried to rip my helmet off my head. Oh yeah, and it involved some gasping-fish-out-of-water faces whenever the wind got so bad that I couldn't breathe.

My thighs, by the time I limped my way to school, felt like someone had put them in a vice and then injected them with battery acid. The worst part was knowing that on the way home, the wind will probably have reversed direction.
But then something unbelievable happened. Something I've sort of fantasized about, but then would immediately try to forget because I figure it'll never happen. But it did. I got featured on trackosaurus rex!!!
My eyes almost popped out of my face when I saw the post. My mind exploded when hit counts on this blog exceeded 400. 600+ and I almost swooned in excitement.
And then Garrett Chow of MASH SF fame accepted my friend request on Facebook.
Headwind be damned, I can now officially die a happy girl [okay, pending building up that Dolan and riding it around first].

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!

a method in this madness

My OCD's back.
Despite my crazy [see: Asian ethnicity, astrological sign, and gender], unorganized mess is currently taking over my life. And because of my crazy [see: Asian ethnicity, astrological sign, and gender], I'm convinced I'll always remember where things are and which hat I owe to whomever, even though history has consistently proven me wrong.
It doesn't help that you people have similar names or even the same first name! Yes, I am blaming you all for my disorganized mess of a desk and lack of any structured system to keep tabs on what I need to do for whom, because, hello, how can anything be my fault [see: my gender]?
Okay that was a total lie [see: my gender]. I finally did get some sort of system together last night. It's rudimentary but it works. As pretty as excel spreadsheets are, I need to be able to draw and write stuff out, and this way I can easily deprioritize people [just kidding!].

I also did some solid sweatshop labor last night and got some linings done. They even got labeled so I know I won't forget who they're for, and where they're going. I mean, I'm convinced that I won't forget even if I didn't label them, but you know, just in case [see: Asian propensity to be overly-prepared winning out over female convictions of always being right].

As a result, my OCD's feeling a little bit better. Although, let's be honest, my list of names on index cards is going to bother me until it's actually gone. Like it's already bothering me in that toe-curling-I-need-to-get-my-work-done-so-I-can-work-on-hats-so-I-can-clean-up-that-list-of-names kind of way.
Did I mention I have the crazy?

heartbreaker...contest!

It's Valentine's Day!!!
The above statement actually means nothing to me, but I figure I should just put it out there. Okay, that's not entirely true; I did give out kisses [chocolate ones, only!] to my favorite bike mechanics.
Having thrown my chain twice in the past 24 hours, I hustled to IBC today to pick up that new pink chain, and possibly a new chainring. Chris worked on my bike again, mentioning how he had changed the chainring bolts a few days ago:
Chris: They were too long for the chainring so her chainring was wobbling.
Me: Yeah there was a chain guard on there earlier. But I didn't put that chainring on...but...yeah...
Eric: But someone did.
Me: ...yeah....
Me and Eric: .......
Eric: ....that was such a classic "my boyfriend knows so much about bikes" moment.
So true. And so appropriate on Valentine's Day. So maybe this might be appropriate too:

I'm actually going to give this away. That's right. Free. Shipping included in the word "free."
What do you have to do? Well, send me your best bike-related Valentine's Day story. Or the craziest bike-related thing you've done for someone that you <3. You'll obviously have to be okay with your entry - if it wins - being posted on this site, but other than that, all you have to do is send in your story!

The deadline is February 28th. Yup, you have until the end of the month. So get emailing!
In terms of logistics, you might notice that the hat isn't 100% done. That's because I will resize it if you don't have a huge head. It's made right now to fit people with larger heads [about 24 inches around] so mostly everyone can submit a story and not have to worry about the hat not fitting.

Good luck!

muddy optimism

I'm really bad at being optimistic. Once, in a stupidly foolish moment of one-sided confidence, I declared my conviction that people in general just aren't really interested in what anyone else has to say. They only care if you're interested in what they're interested in. If not, their interest in you is directly correlated to how attractive they think you are.
Horrified, my then-confidante looked at me as if I had just killed a bunny, and then informed me that I was probably "too jaded for [my] own good."
Maybe. But I have a point. I mean, there's an irrationally rational reason why I love bike mechanics that work on my bike: they fix and take care of the most important thing in my life. You get the same effect from mothers when you coo over their not-so-attractive children, or from your friend when you pull out the well-practiced "ohhhhh my god, your new boy is soooooo cute! Where did you find him?" while you make a mental note of never stepping foot in whatever location your new friend found the awkward mess she's currently dating.
And, yes, I am, occasionally, disingenuous.
Like the time I promised everyone that I'm working really hard on hats. Because, um, I really haven't had the time to do that in like...the last two weeks.

Unfortunately, [and contrary to popular belief,] I sometimes have other priorities. Most of which are slowly dragging me under like really wet mud. It's like falling face first into the mud in a 'cross race; but instead of just eating dirt [literally], you find yourself waist-deep in brown goo. And you know that even if you somehow make it out of that cesspool, you still have a hill to climb...with a bike over your shoulder.
Which makes me sort of just want to stay and sink, instead of swim. But apparently there's a finish line, somewhere. So even though every week seems to pitch me into a new pool of mud, I'm still trying to crawl out [and make hats in that narrow margin between climbing the next hill and tumbling into the next obstacle].
I'm pretty sure no one's going to stop and help me out of this mess, unless, of course, it somehow serves their interests. I'm still trying [to make/finish hats] though. I might be jaded, but I'll be damned if anyone calls me a quitter.
[And for the record, I'm not being disingenuous this time.]

hello, 2009!

I’m back in Boston.
Back from the land of anorexically skinny girls, equally slight boys, and faux fixed gear bikes with freewheels but only one brake.
Needless to say, I didn’t do much while back at home. I did mentally review the never-ending goal of losing five pounds while I stuffed my face with food and stopped exercising (I don’t have a bike at home and I don’t like to run, okay?). It did occur to me how monstrous I was going to look when I was suited back up in my Underarmour but I don’t think I cared.
But if it this makes me look slightly less lazy, I at least got something done:

Here’s to a new year, a new site, new hats, and hopefully fulfilling new year’s resolutions of not being a total waste of life...at least, not all of the time.