Friend: Hey, how's it goin?
Lyco: s'ok. I have been on the phone with Career Services panicking. You've not missed much.
Friend: Have they found you a bridge to sleep under/panhandle from?
Lyco: that's the problem, all the bridge's are going to Standford grads
Friend: Perhaps a roadside ditch then?
Lyco: NYU - apparently it's not as much of a transition for them so less training. Can't compete. I really thought I had a chance at a mid-level urine soaked stairwell, but turns out they only want applicants with a technical background.
Friend: Storage drum? You must at least rate a storage drum.
Lyco: I'm applying to 14 of them as we speak; they want two writing samples and they prefer journal. We'll see.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Posting Procrastination
I know I said I'd post on the Brooks saddle, but I lied.
I did, however, actually finish it today - this in itself was induced by much guilt that I was not fulfilling my promises.
Actually, I'm just a neurotic perfectionist and a project like this is just the kind of thing to get me obsessed. But I am done. I bought a pretty little saddle cover and everything.
The wax takes a day to finish soaking in. Then I'll take some pictures and talk about it. It needs to be talked about! I saw very little on the blogosphere on this extremely pivotal topic of waxing and oiling your seat. If you don't inform the people on the keeping of a lush and supple seat, then you're going to have tons of riders out there with dry, chapped, yea cracking and permanently damaged saddles! And I had to actually go find a human being to explain this process to me face to face. Never you mind that he was a completely cool human being who knows more than anyone else I've ever met on refurbishing old British bikes (and he taught me lots and even let me ride some of the star bikes), the point is that I felt like such a troglodyte. I find it my obligatory duty... yes, my moral obligation to humankind to supply this step by step information on the internet so that no one has to experience what I did that day.
Tomorrow.
I'll also be posting a bit on the awesome feller I met to get said supple seat information. If you're feeling impatient, check out his website for his shop, Syklo.
I did, however, actually finish it today - this in itself was induced by much guilt that I was not fulfilling my promises.
Actually, I'm just a neurotic perfectionist and a project like this is just the kind of thing to get me obsessed. But I am done. I bought a pretty little saddle cover and everything.
The wax takes a day to finish soaking in. Then I'll take some pictures and talk about it. It needs to be talked about! I saw very little on the blogosphere on this extremely pivotal topic of waxing and oiling your seat. If you don't inform the people on the keeping of a lush and supple seat, then you're going to have tons of riders out there with dry, chapped, yea cracking and permanently damaged saddles! And I had to actually go find a human being to explain this process to me face to face. Never you mind that he was a completely cool human being who knows more than anyone else I've ever met on refurbishing old British bikes (and he taught me lots and even let me ride some of the star bikes), the point is that I felt like such a troglodyte. I find it my obligatory duty... yes, my moral obligation to humankind to supply this step by step information on the internet so that no one has to experience what I did that day.
Tomorrow.
I'll also be posting a bit on the awesome feller I met to get said supple seat information. If you're feeling impatient, check out his website for his shop, Syklo.
Like Galileo Dropped the Orange
So the tick disease is making me feel tired and is getting in the way of my plans. No bike rides (not long ones anyway) and lots of napping. Plus, they have me on some nasty antibiotic that doesn't want me hanging out in heavy heat or sunlight. Because that's compatible with southern Virginia in late July.
Anyway, since I can't do much, I decided to go to the theater up the street from my house. They sell really good beer there and have squishy soft chairs for achy tick-ridden joints. Nothing on my meds bottle says anything about drinking. What??
They were playing Ira Levin's Deathtrap which was a lot of fun and exactly what I was in the mood for. Light comedy/thriller with a surprise ending. Cute characters and pretty decent acting. Plus two dudes kissed. I would have liked it more had there been more of that. But anyway.
While I was there I was looking over their expansive beer list and I decided to do a scientific/archeological/alcoholic study. I would compare two ancient beer styles and see which one I liked better. I would then somehow be able to have first understanding of our entire fermented beverege history. Quick answer? The Scots get my vote.
The two types I ordered were Dogfish Head's Midas Touch Golden Elixer and Froach's Heather Ale. Dogfish is adapted from traces of a fermented beverege found in central Turkey dated at 700 BC - found in what is supposedly King Midas's tomb. Froach (literally "heather" - what was used before hops) is boasted as Scotland's native beer. This recipe, like Dogfish's, was adapted from a shard found with residue of this heather ale on the Isle of Rum dated at 2000 B.C. I thought it would be an interesting comparison.
The first interesting thing to note is that neither of them had much head when they were poured - Midas had nearly none. Midas was (fittingly) a lovely clear golden color while Froach was a hazy copper with a visible sediment. I kind of liked the hazy look better, but that may have just been me wanting the more rustic experience. If someone out there is scared of sediment, you may want to decant this beer.
They both had a honey thang goin, but Midas was definitely a "honey beer" whereas Froach more had honey undertones kickin. The Froach was earthy and a little fruity and I think - appropriately - had some herbal/floral tones with a dry finish. I *really* liked it a lot. Although I can love my hops, I definitely appreciate no hops as well, and Froach was hopless - I would highly recommend it to those who find themselves averse to the hoppish. Definitely some malt in there but the heather did a good job at balancing it out. Midas was much sweeter - more of a mead appropriately. It had a very peachy/honeysuckle flavor and was winey - definitely too sweet to drink all night, but was a nice single-serving. It had some hop flavor which was almost overpowered by the syrupy flavor. However, the hops gave it a wonderful balance - without them it would have been undrinkable.
I certainly preferred the heather ale. Part of me can't help but wonder if that is not because that ale is probably built into my genetics. Either way, it was a great science experiment. People, this is as close to a science experiment I will ever get.
The play was awesome, but I was cold and I'm glad to be home. I am almost done refurbishing my Brooks saddle (my other indoors sick activity). I'll post on that tomorrow. Yay!
Anyway, since I can't do much, I decided to go to the theater up the street from my house. They sell really good beer there and have squishy soft chairs for achy tick-ridden joints. Nothing on my meds bottle says anything about drinking. What??
They were playing Ira Levin's Deathtrap which was a lot of fun and exactly what I was in the mood for. Light comedy/thriller with a surprise ending. Cute characters and pretty decent acting. Plus two dudes kissed. I would have liked it more had there been more of that. But anyway.
While I was there I was looking over their expansive beer list and I decided to do a scientific/archeological/alcoholic study. I would compare two ancient beer styles and see which one I liked better. I would then somehow be able to have first understanding of our entire fermented beverege history. Quick answer? The Scots get my vote.
The two types I ordered were Dogfish Head's Midas Touch Golden Elixer and Froach's Heather Ale. Dogfish is adapted from traces of a fermented beverege found in central Turkey dated at 700 BC - found in what is supposedly King Midas's tomb. Froach (literally "heather" - what was used before hops) is boasted as Scotland's native beer. This recipe, like Dogfish's, was adapted from a shard found with residue of this heather ale on the Isle of Rum dated at 2000 B.C. I thought it would be an interesting comparison.
The first interesting thing to note is that neither of them had much head when they were poured - Midas had nearly none. Midas was (fittingly) a lovely clear golden color while Froach was a hazy copper with a visible sediment. I kind of liked the hazy look better, but that may have just been me wanting the more rustic experience. If someone out there is scared of sediment, you may want to decant this beer.
They both had a honey thang goin, but Midas was definitely a "honey beer" whereas Froach more had honey undertones kickin. The Froach was earthy and a little fruity and I think - appropriately - had some herbal/floral tones with a dry finish. I *really* liked it a lot. Although I can love my hops, I definitely appreciate no hops as well, and Froach was hopless - I would highly recommend it to those who find themselves averse to the hoppish. Definitely some malt in there but the heather did a good job at balancing it out. Midas was much sweeter - more of a mead appropriately. It had a very peachy/honeysuckle flavor and was winey - definitely too sweet to drink all night, but was a nice single-serving. It had some hop flavor which was almost overpowered by the syrupy flavor. However, the hops gave it a wonderful balance - without them it would have been undrinkable.
I certainly preferred the heather ale. Part of me can't help but wonder if that is not because that ale is probably built into my genetics. Either way, it was a great science experiment. People, this is as close to a science experiment I will ever get.
The play was awesome, but I was cold and I'm glad to be home. I am almost done refurbishing my Brooks saddle (my other indoors sick activity). I'll post on that tomorrow. Yay!
Friday, July 28, 2006
Bohemian Rhapsody
My "office" is located in a little hallway connecting the water and air practice groups. The senior attorneys are out of the office at a "meeting" today and so the staff attorneys have been acting kind of goofy all day.
Currently, they are singing competing versions of Bohemian Rhapsody back and forth. Including the legal secretary for the water practice group. This is what I'm listening to right. this. very. second:
It's straight out of a dimented version of Office Space. The musical. Only my stapler is a Stanley Bostitch. This must be one of those knock off movies.
Currently, they are singing competing versions of Bohemian Rhapsody back and forth. Including the legal secretary for the water practice group. This is what I'm listening to right. this. very. second:
Water: Mama, just killed a man. Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he's dead. Mama, life had just begun, but now I've gone and
thrown it all away-
Air: Mama ooo, Didn't mean to make you cry-If I'm not back again this time tomorrow, Carry on, carry on, 'cause nothing really matters-
......
Both: I see a little silhouetto of a man, Scaramouche! Scaramouche! Will you do the fandango-Thunderbolt and lightning-very very frightening me-
Water: Galileo, Air: galileo, Water: Galileo Air: galileo Water: Galileo figaro-
Both: magnifico!
It's straight out of a dimented version of Office Space. The musical. Only my stapler is a Stanley Bostitch. This must be one of those knock off movies.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Freakin' Ticks
Gosh Lyco, the preferred nomenclature is Ixodida-American.
I officially hate ticks. Hate. Ticks.
I have Lyme disease. It makes me grumpy. Today I went to a meeting with a room full of environmentalists trying to coordinate their agendas into one unified message. Normally this is a really interesting opportunity to get important points into the minds of other greens to help you on your project. Do you know what that's like with Lyme disease?
Hell people. Hell.
I'm going to go lie in a ball, continue muffled whining from behind a pillow, and hate Yankee woods. And ticks.
Update: I've decided to make myself feel better by indulging in fantasy. My newest is that I'm going to ride the Luna Eclipse (built with the gold - aw, heck, this is a fantasy - the platinum build kit) on this trip. Only without the tour guide. Aww yeah.
I officially hate ticks. Hate. Ticks.
I have Lyme disease. It makes me grumpy. Today I went to a meeting with a room full of environmentalists trying to coordinate their agendas into one unified message. Normally this is a really interesting opportunity to get important points into the minds of other greens to help you on your project. Do you know what that's like with Lyme disease?
Hell people. Hell.
I'm going to go lie in a ball, continue muffled whining from behind a pillow, and hate Yankee woods. And ticks.
Update: I've decided to make myself feel better by indulging in fantasy. My newest is that I'm going to ride the Luna Eclipse (built with the gold - aw, heck, this is a fantasy - the platinum build kit) on this trip. Only without the tour guide. Aww yeah.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Life's Short and Hard Like a Body-Building Elf
Crappy day - they happen. I might have Lyme disease, which is just absolutely super because just what I need right now is another health issue. There's still a chance that it might be an allergic reaction. That leaves a bullet rash. And is caused by a deer tick.
It could happen.
I also got my paper back and I was seriously dissapointed in the grade. Only law school can have you work as hard as you can and build you up every step of the way only to kick your teeth in at the last minute. And then charge you $42,000 for it. I also don't know where I am going to live. Maybe I can start exploring city bridges now for when I graduate and need to stake my claim. Stupid day.
Luckily, (since I was utterly distracted by said health scare and wasn't focusing and was instead neurotically reading about tick-born diseases) work has (gasp) slowed down since the SCOTUS brief was submitted (yay!) and I finished my Marshall Plan-sized memo for the water practice group. Tomorrow I will apparently receive mountainous stacks of dead trees in order to draft a complex public comment to a rulemaking I've never even heard of.
Awesome.
Actually it is awesome because it's an environmental topic I'm really interested in right now: mercury. Although I'll be looking at it from the air side, it touches water as well and makes for a complex and emerging topic in environmental law. Although it's passe, I still find mining to be a completely fascinating field - there's no area it doesn't touch. Water, air (global warming here too), deforestation... you name it, mining gergetates it like Takeru Kobayashi eating hotdogs against a kodiak bear and then releases back the horrid gases and waste you could only imagine would come after challenging a kodiak bear to a hot-dog eating contest.
So after said depressing doctor's appointment and focusing difficulties at work, I went and saw the new Pirate movie (yar!) to cheer myself up. It was shiny and big with lots of oohing and aahing but substanceless, much like George Lucas's hair. I think the best description of it was from a friend:
And I never get tired of Depp in eye make up. Not sure where that's coming from, but it upped the mood.
It could happen.
I also got my paper back and I was seriously dissapointed in the grade. Only law school can have you work as hard as you can and build you up every step of the way only to kick your teeth in at the last minute. And then charge you $42,000 for it. I also don't know where I am going to live. Maybe I can start exploring city bridges now for when I graduate and need to stake my claim. Stupid day.
Luckily, (since I was utterly distracted by said health scare and wasn't focusing and was instead neurotically reading about tick-born diseases) work has (gasp) slowed down since the SCOTUS brief was submitted (yay!) and I finished my Marshall Plan-sized memo for the water practice group. Tomorrow I will apparently receive mountainous stacks of dead trees in order to draft a complex public comment to a rulemaking I've never even heard of.
Awesome.
Actually it is awesome because it's an environmental topic I'm really interested in right now: mercury. Although I'll be looking at it from the air side, it touches water as well and makes for a complex and emerging topic in environmental law. Although it's passe, I still find mining to be a completely fascinating field - there's no area it doesn't touch. Water, air (global warming here too), deforestation... you name it, mining gergetates it like Takeru Kobayashi eating hotdogs against a kodiak bear and then releases back the horrid gases and waste you could only imagine would come after challenging a kodiak bear to a hot-dog eating contest.
So after said depressing doctor's appointment and focusing difficulties at work, I went and saw the new Pirate movie (yar!) to cheer myself up. It was shiny and big with lots of oohing and aahing but substanceless, much like George Lucas's hair. I think the best description of it was from a friend:
It was as if the director took four or five screen plays, jammed them into a shot gun, and pulled the trigger.Needless to say, it wasn't as good as the first - it was total marketing and it was shockingly racist... however, I liked that they kept shooting the monkey. Hehe. Senseless violence with no victim.
And I never get tired of Depp in eye make up. Not sure where that's coming from, but it upped the mood.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Dear Asshat Truck Driver
Ok, so it was really clever of you to take the back road behind the pedestrian mall to avoid morning traffic (I do it all the time). And I really liked how you managed to completely disregard the sign that said "Closed to Commercial Vehicles All Times." You also clearly took delight in your asshatted flouting of the sign "Bike Route Share the Road" as evidenced by your bellow "get a car or get off the road!!" Clearly those "laws" mean nothing to you because you were, apparently, late.
And I thought it was really neat and interesting the way you thought revving your engine and riding my back tire like it was a sweaty Bertha at the town line dance would get me to ride faster, because, you know, that encourages me to fancy your needs. And indeed I could go faster on an under-construction steep hill at 7:30 am on a Monday morning when it's 90 degrees out plus humidity. On a bike. With a heavy pannier bag.
Oh, and what was especially clever is when you, yes you lovable lug you, tried to pass me in the narrow converted HORSE trail they call Main Street. You were so busy making disgusting faces at me that you didn't see that pesky little light change - and after swerving not to hit the older woman crossing the road in the cross walk with a cross signal blinking that hideous and taunting WALK WALK WALK, you plowed right into.. wait, what was it again? Oooh right..
A city bus.
Well, you were such an amusing companion on my lonely ride in that I felt simply compelled to stop and make sure you, yes you precious little thing you, were ok. And by stop and make sure you're ok, I mean stop and give testimony to the cop that was 1 block away.
After relaying our special little moments together to said authority unit and taking complete delight in seeing you in the back seat of said authority vehicular structure, I finished my ride to work.
I hope the day you go on trial every P.D. is out with a stomach virus except that hairy guy with the facial tic.
May You Burn In Hell,
Lyco
And I thought it was really neat and interesting the way you thought revving your engine and riding my back tire like it was a sweaty Bertha at the town line dance would get me to ride faster, because, you know, that encourages me to fancy your needs. And indeed I could go faster on an under-construction steep hill at 7:30 am on a Monday morning when it's 90 degrees out plus humidity. On a bike. With a heavy pannier bag.
Oh, and what was especially clever is when you, yes you lovable lug you, tried to pass me in the narrow converted HORSE trail they call Main Street. You were so busy making disgusting faces at me that you didn't see that pesky little light change - and after swerving not to hit the older woman crossing the road in the cross walk with a cross signal blinking that hideous and taunting WALK WALK WALK, you plowed right into.. wait, what was it again? Oooh right..
A city bus.
Well, you were such an amusing companion on my lonely ride in that I felt simply compelled to stop and make sure you, yes you precious little thing you, were ok. And by stop and make sure you're ok, I mean stop and give testimony to the cop that was 1 block away.
After relaying our special little moments together to said authority unit and taking complete delight in seeing you in the back seat of said authority vehicular structure, I finished my ride to work.
I hope the day you go on trial every P.D. is out with a stomach virus except that hairy guy with the facial tic.
May You Burn In Hell,
Lyco
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Simpsons, is there anything they can't do?
I just got the dvds of the sixth and seventh seasons. God bless the Simpsons. My evening activity of ironing just got way cooler. This is when the writers are really hitting their ultimate prime. They are so deeply and purely funny - each little detail makes me laugh. The best is thinking about it next day and laughing harder. Recently, one of the staff attorneys at my office came back from vacation and I popped by his office (for the first time) to welcome him back. In his office was a diorama of Lionel Hutz and Sideshow Bob in court. Needless to say, we bonded.
I told him about my first day in Legal Research and Writing. I was in a neck brace and highly irritated all the time because I was coming down off my pain meds. Plus, I am extremely hostile to forced group bonding activities. What was the first thing the legal fellow did? That's right, a forced group bonding activity. We had to go around the room and say whatever media attorney we most modeled ourselves after. Well, first I panicked because I don't ever watch t.v. There were lots of Atticus Finch's and references to random t.v. shows I've never heard of. When it got to me, I said Lionel Hutz. Those who knew laughed. Those who did not are still publically shunned as well they should be. I still adhere. I used Simpsons as my entire theme for my legal writing presentation - focusing on Lionel Hutz. Damn the formal requirements!! Actually, it went over quite well even though it probably didn't help my grade.
Anyway, some of the gems from the seasons so far have included (but are not limited to):
But the dank Moe, the dank!
I bent my Wookie.
My cat's breath smells like cat food.
No beer and no t.v. make Homer something something.
In America, first you get the sugar, then you get the power, then you get the weemon.
The fingers you have used to dial are too fat. To obtain a dialing wand, please mash the keypad with your palm now.
Hehehe. Life is good.
I told him about my first day in Legal Research and Writing. I was in a neck brace and highly irritated all the time because I was coming down off my pain meds. Plus, I am extremely hostile to forced group bonding activities. What was the first thing the legal fellow did? That's right, a forced group bonding activity. We had to go around the room and say whatever media attorney we most modeled ourselves after. Well, first I panicked because I don't ever watch t.v. There were lots of Atticus Finch's and references to random t.v. shows I've never heard of. When it got to me, I said Lionel Hutz. Those who knew laughed. Those who did not are still publically shunned as well they should be. I still adhere. I used Simpsons as my entire theme for my legal writing presentation - focusing on Lionel Hutz. Damn the formal requirements!! Actually, it went over quite well even though it probably didn't help my grade.
Anyway, some of the gems from the seasons so far have included (but are not limited to):
But the dank Moe, the dank!
I bent my Wookie.
My cat's breath smells like cat food.
No beer and no t.v. make Homer something something.
In America, first you get the sugar, then you get the power, then you get the weemon.
The fingers you have used to dial are too fat. To obtain a dialing wand, please mash the keypad with your palm now.
Hehehe. Life is good.
Mmmm, classes
I have to drop one in the spring because my clinic is 10 creds - very upsetting. Can't decide what to drop at all. Here's what I'm taking my FINAL year of law school! Whoot!
Fall:
This is the first time I've gotten every class I want. I'm psyched!!!
Yes, I realize that makes me a dork. Shove off.
Fall:
- Litigation with the Federal Government
- Corporations
- Environmental Research Workshop
- Drafting and Negotiating Commercial Transaction Documents
- Professional Responsibility: Ethics in Public Interest
- Advanced Environmental Law
- Criminal Enforcement of Environmental Laws
- Supreme Court Advocacy Seminar
- Domestic Violence Clinic
This is the first time I've gotten every class I want. I'm psyched!!!
Yes, I realize that makes me a dork. Shove off.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
They don't call me "that guy" for nothin
So I got called a guy today. But I was in biking gear when I was called "that guy" - as in "Hey Bob, so that's the guy...'" Ouch.
As many of you know, I'm a little sensitive about this, as it seems to be a theme in my life. Today is was exacerbated by the fact that I was in spandex via riding gear. And I was wearing my cute "girlie" top!!! How completely depressing. Yes I have short hair and I realize I ain't no Dolly Parton, but when wearing skin tight biking shorts and a tank top, you'd think the bubba in the hardware aisle would at least realize you're a WOMAN.
Or not.
I was there because I am working on restoring Triumph's Brooks Saddle. It's gone in to horribly embarassing disrepair, I'm ashamed to say. I did another 20 mile loop today and swung by a really freakin' cool bike shop on the way home (the bike ride was completely hot and painful - not worth getting in to). Basically a guy's house with a bunch of restored vintage bikes and some random parts for sale. He uses a lot of Brooks saddles so I got a little wrench to tighten the leather, and leather squishy to make it happy, and a cover to prevent future...issues. But I needed a tool to scrape the rust of the steel rivets and my homeslice suggested I use a paint scraper. So off to the hardware store I went:
So. After finding my metal paint scraper, here Bubba comes again. This time with a friend. His "buddy" looks at me for a sec and says "so that's the guy that needs the rust removal?" He's holding a bottle of corrosive chemical in his fat little inbred hands.
Every muscle in my body must have tightened up and I know my eyes bulged because Bubba murmered something to his "buddy" who promptly turned and apologized while stammering that he had not really looked closely at me.
Since WHEN do MEN wear blue cycling shorts with a backless orange halter??? Argh.
Ok. I'm over it. Really.
As many of you know, I'm a little sensitive about this, as it seems to be a theme in my life. Today is was exacerbated by the fact that I was in spandex via riding gear. And I was wearing my cute "girlie" top!!! How completely depressing. Yes I have short hair and I realize I ain't no Dolly Parton, but when wearing skin tight biking shorts and a tank top, you'd think the bubba in the hardware aisle would at least realize you're a WOMAN.
Or not.
I was there because I am working on restoring Triumph's Brooks Saddle. It's gone in to horribly embarassing disrepair, I'm ashamed to say. I did another 20 mile loop today and swung by a really freakin' cool bike shop on the way home (the bike ride was completely hot and painful - not worth getting in to). Basically a guy's house with a bunch of restored vintage bikes and some random parts for sale. He uses a lot of Brooks saddles so I got a little wrench to tighten the leather, and leather squishy to make it happy, and a cover to prevent future...issues. But I needed a tool to scrape the rust of the steel rivets and my homeslice suggested I use a paint scraper. So off to the hardware store I went:
Lyco: Hi, excuse me, hi. I need a scraper - I'm trying to clean up some steel rivets but they are embedded in leather. I guess I need something softer than steel so it won't scratch but will still take the rust off. Also, something small so I don't damage the leather.This has been my way with hardware store peeps. There was the manager of the gardening department who didn't know what an 8" standard terra cotta flower pot was. There was the electrics guy who didn't know what a plug adapter from a two prong to a three pronged plug was (he suggested I rewire my house - I then picked up an adapter from the shelf and glared at him).
Bubba: Well what about this here plastic paint scraper.
Lyco: Err... I think that is not quite hard enough to scrape the rust off.
Bubba: Well is it stainless steel er whaat?
Lyco: Umm.. well if it was stainless steel, wouldn't it not rust?
Bubba: Yew cood use a heat guun.
Lyco: (ahem) Umm, that might damage the... how the hell would a heat gun... never mind. Listen, would you just tell me where I can find the scrapers?
Bubba: The heat guns is on aisle 11.
Lyco: (twitch) Yeah. Thanks.
Bubba: Need me to...
Lyco: NononoNO. That's cool, I got it. Thanks. (twitch)
So. After finding my metal paint scraper, here Bubba comes again. This time with a friend. His "buddy" looks at me for a sec and says "so that's the guy that needs the rust removal?" He's holding a bottle of corrosive chemical in his fat little inbred hands.
Every muscle in my body must have tightened up and I know my eyes bulged because Bubba murmered something to his "buddy" who promptly turned and apologized while stammering that he had not really looked closely at me.
Since WHEN do MEN wear blue cycling shorts with a backless orange halter??? Argh.
Ok. I'm over it. Really.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
What Has My Life Become?
It's a beautiful day on Saturday, and I'm sitting here listening to the most heart-breaky estrogen music I can find while writing a memo on EPA regulations.
Plus my tea is cold.
Just sayin.
Plus my tea is cold.
Just sayin.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Summer Running in the South Post Surgery
Ugh. That was awful. That was disgusting. That was awful and disgusting. The river trail was muggy from an earlier rain and covered in swarms of midges. To top it off, I only ran 2.5 miles. The longest 2.5 miles I have ever run. It's about 81 degrees outside but with the humidity it "feels like 90." And it does. It's positively wet out there. Surprisingly, I actually ran faster than I have in a long while - I think it was just because it was so awful I had to go faster so that it would end sooner. I've also been trying to only breathe through my nose for half the run. I did it, but it wasn't fun. I read somewhere that controlling breathing through your nose for as long as possible makes your muscles more efficient users of oxygen. Whatever.
But complaints aside, I'm really glad to be running consistently again. I had a stress fracture in my fifth metatarsal which took me out for a couple months. Then finals happened. Basically, I did too much too fast after my surgery. Plus, the hip surgery means that the tendons in my right leg are all screwy, which is making everything go funky in the right leg. Which is where the fracture was. It was highly embarassing because it finally happened when I was on a bike ride with Team Takoma. I had to stop and wail on a busy street at dusk while the others glared at me. Highly embarassing. To my credit, I then rode the rest of the way home. The GULC med peeps wanted me to wear a walking cast but I refused. I did ok but it was exceedingly painful for a bit there. I just basically leaned on other people for a couple weeks. I had enough time with an awkward neck brace. But to be honest, it's still bothering me, so maybe that would have been a "good" idea. Stupid good ideas.
This time I'm forcing myself to take it slow. Although I'm increasing each run by 1-2 minutes, I'm plodding along at a snail's pace. 10 minute miles is mostly the fastest I go (except for this one part of this one song where I *have* to sprint). And I'm not ever running more than 3 days a week.
So *if* anyone out there is recovering from hip (or spinal fusion I guess) surgery, you should take it slower than your doc probably says. My doctor told me I was fine to do whatever kind of activity I wanted, but I guess I think he thought I wasn't being serious when I told him my exercise regiment. Or something. My physical therapist was far more reasonable and told me I needed to back off - of course she was the one to whom I did not listen.
Anyway, it's seriously key to pace yourself. I use my music (I know how long the songs are, etc.) but a stopwatch is probably better. It's worth taking the time to invest in a nice piece of machinery that will tell you your pace and distance and then BE PATIENT and crawl your way back. Do *not* push it or you'll just end up with more problems. I highly recommend doing this in conjunction with a physical therapy program.
But complaints aside, I'm really glad to be running consistently again. I had a stress fracture in my fifth metatarsal which took me out for a couple months. Then finals happened. Basically, I did too much too fast after my surgery. Plus, the hip surgery means that the tendons in my right leg are all screwy, which is making everything go funky in the right leg. Which is where the fracture was. It was highly embarassing because it finally happened when I was on a bike ride with Team Takoma. I had to stop and wail on a busy street at dusk while the others glared at me. Highly embarassing. To my credit, I then rode the rest of the way home. The GULC med peeps wanted me to wear a walking cast but I refused. I did ok but it was exceedingly painful for a bit there. I just basically leaned on other people for a couple weeks. I had enough time with an awkward neck brace. But to be honest, it's still bothering me, so maybe that would have been a "good" idea. Stupid good ideas.
This time I'm forcing myself to take it slow. Although I'm increasing each run by 1-2 minutes, I'm plodding along at a snail's pace. 10 minute miles is mostly the fastest I go (except for this one part of this one song where I *have* to sprint). And I'm not ever running more than 3 days a week.
So *if* anyone out there is recovering from hip (or spinal fusion I guess) surgery, you should take it slower than your doc probably says. My doctor told me I was fine to do whatever kind of activity I wanted, but I guess I think he thought I wasn't being serious when I told him my exercise regiment. Or something. My physical therapist was far more reasonable and told me I needed to back off - of course she was the one to whom I did not listen.
Anyway, it's seriously key to pace yourself. I use my music (I know how long the songs are, etc.) but a stopwatch is probably better. It's worth taking the time to invest in a nice piece of machinery that will tell you your pace and distance and then BE PATIENT and crawl your way back. Do *not* push it or you'll just end up with more problems. I highly recommend doing this in conjunction with a physical therapy program.
Finger and the Moon
I learned a very important lesson in statutory interpretation today. My supervising attorney in a very Kung Fu teacher kind of way showed me a recent opinion that seemed very clear and very against our proposition. The holding seemed to really hurt us and I sat there trying to figure out how to distinguish us from them. While I was looking at the (quite explicit) language of the holding, he calmly asked me what the holding was pointing to. After I thought about it for a second, walked me through it. The question was "why" did the Court interpret the language of the statute the way it did. After you have that piece of information, it's pretty irrelevant how the language was interpreted in that particular case. So even though we may have a seemingly identical question before the Court, the policy behind answering that question leads the decisionmaker in our case to an entirely different conclusion.
Suddenly, what looked like a detriment was yet another cornerstone to our argument. Always remember when there is a finger pointing to the moon, don't get stuck looking at the finger.
Suddenly, what looked like a detriment was yet another cornerstone to our argument. Always remember when there is a finger pointing to the moon, don't get stuck looking at the finger.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Lyco Hits the Real World. Hard.
Last night is the first night I've gotten a full night's sleep in a while - turned out I'd need it.
I had my first client contact today. And my first government contact. And met a potential future client. During a meeting that went over an hour overtime. With no water and no bathroom breaks. Phew.
The scary part is that the memo I am writing right now is going to the government official and the client. This just makes my stomach turn. When did this become so...real? I mean, yes - this is what I've always wanted to do. But it's kind of scary when it actually starts happening. I've worked jobs before, lived on my own before, but those jobs have never mattered. I've never tried to build a career before, so I was feeling pretty overhwelmed. Especially when the high-level government official and the extremely bright client turn to me and say "we look forward to seeing your product."
GASP.
So to reduce stress, I drove down to Maymont Park and took a nice loooong walk. I saw the most amazing trees and breathtaking gardens I have seen in quite a long while. The Italian gardens would make the perfect setting for a wedding. Sigh. A couple of the trees were types I had never seen to such magnitude before. For one, I thought that Fortune's Osmanthus was a BUSH, but apparently it's an ENORMOUS tree! Also, their Persian Ironwood is like nothing I've ever seen. The trunk was comprised of 6 or so smaller trunks that twisted out into branches that could hold a sleeping person. As was their red cedar. I had to go and touch each of them. And every time I'd get to one, I'd see another mammoth off in the distance that I felt compelled to go explore. I also found my patron tree: the weeping scholar. Heh.
The other thing that drew me was their Koi collection in their Japanese garden. They were the biggest Koi I have ever seen. One purple shadowy guy had to be three feet long. He was something out of a story involving a young man, a fishing pole, and a wish. You could see the white Koi floating like ghosts out in the water. Others had dragon's fins and detailed armor-like scales. So much of Japanese imagry and myth makes itself apparent in such awesome creatures. I found myself completely mesmerized by them.
Needless to say, it helped balance my stress. The drive home was through some torrential downpours, but I got here ok. It was completely hot, but the night was that classic southern night where it's hot and muggy but perfectly comfortable if you're wearing light clothes. It's the exact kind of night that would drive a teenage version of me and all my friends to sneak into an apartment complex pool at 11:00 pm. This is the kind of night I think I would miss the most if I ever left the south.
I had my first client contact today. And my first government contact. And met a potential future client. During a meeting that went over an hour overtime. With no water and no bathroom breaks. Phew.
The scary part is that the memo I am writing right now is going to the government official and the client. This just makes my stomach turn. When did this become so...real? I mean, yes - this is what I've always wanted to do. But it's kind of scary when it actually starts happening. I've worked jobs before, lived on my own before, but those jobs have never mattered. I've never tried to build a career before, so I was feeling pretty overhwelmed. Especially when the high-level government official and the extremely bright client turn to me and say "we look forward to seeing your product."
GASP.
So to reduce stress, I drove down to Maymont Park and took a nice loooong walk. I saw the most amazing trees and breathtaking gardens I have seen in quite a long while. The Italian gardens would make the perfect setting for a wedding. Sigh. A couple of the trees were types I had never seen to such magnitude before. For one, I thought that Fortune's Osmanthus was a BUSH, but apparently it's an ENORMOUS tree! Also, their Persian Ironwood is like nothing I've ever seen. The trunk was comprised of 6 or so smaller trunks that twisted out into branches that could hold a sleeping person. As was their red cedar. I had to go and touch each of them. And every time I'd get to one, I'd see another mammoth off in the distance that I felt compelled to go explore. I also found my patron tree: the weeping scholar. Heh.
The other thing that drew me was their Koi collection in their Japanese garden. They were the biggest Koi I have ever seen. One purple shadowy guy had to be three feet long. He was something out of a story involving a young man, a fishing pole, and a wish. You could see the white Koi floating like ghosts out in the water. Others had dragon's fins and detailed armor-like scales. So much of Japanese imagry and myth makes itself apparent in such awesome creatures. I found myself completely mesmerized by them.
Needless to say, it helped balance my stress. The drive home was through some torrential downpours, but I got here ok. It was completely hot, but the night was that classic southern night where it's hot and muggy but perfectly comfortable if you're wearing light clothes. It's the exact kind of night that would drive a teenage version of me and all my friends to sneak into an apartment complex pool at 11:00 pm. This is the kind of night I think I would miss the most if I ever left the south.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Pre-Lagomorph Action
So I wasn't sure if I should post this, but I think it's best given my recent experiences.
I am sitting in a coffee shop working on editing down a brief for Monday morning (shut up - it's important). I just finished eating a lovely brunch with a coworker and her sweety, and yet I'm nervous and shaky. Why? Well, on the ride in to town, I met a MTB'er which we shall name "the Neurotic MTB'er" or NMTB. So I'm riding behind NMTB, preparing to pass her (because, as we all know, MTBs crawl up hills). All the sudden she SLAMS on her brakes. I mean skid line and wet hissing. Now, you all know the recent incident has me a bit nervous, so I hit my brakes pretty hard and even harder when she screams "STOP!!! STOP!!"
I'm looking for long ears.
But no, instead, there are about eight full grown geese fifty yards ahead of us. That can't be what she's freaked about. However, when I note no long ears and realize it's actually unnecessary for me to wreck (my rear tire was slowly becoming horizontal), I calmly slow down and stop at my own pace and ask her if she's ok. She's wide-eyed and pinched.
"Those geese are crossing the road! I don't want anyone to scare them! Aww! Look at the wittle geese!"
You have got to be kidding me.
Another biker behind us slides to a stop and asks us if everything is alright. I gesture to NMTB to tell her story and she repeats. The other biker looks at me, I hold up my hands and surrender; she blinks, slides her shades back on, and takes off. I am... irritated.
I turn to her and inform her that Canadian geese are quite equipped to contact human beings, that bikes don't take 50 yards to stop, and that it's *really* dangerous to do that. She gets really worked up and says that we should value nature and protect it and whatnot. Meanwhile these geese (full grown) were staring at us, beaks hanging open, and shaking their little avian heads. I'm pretty sure I saw a couple nudging each other and snickering. I cringe and hop back on my bike and take off. If my neck wasn't anchored in the forward position, I would have turned back and glared at her (stupid neck). The geese scuttle forward as I rode by, admittedly a little startled by my zipping past them, and wander into the yard across the road. Unharmed.
This is the embodiment Resurgere was talking about - when she dies, she's definitely going to be reincarnated as a lagomorph.
(in other news, a really big jock in full-on UVA gear just mumbled under his breath - clearly hoping no one would hear - "and a tall raspberry mocha..." Hehehe. Own up to it man. He's now glancing around and slurping off the whipped cream. Aw. Ok, back to work!)
I am sitting in a coffee shop working on editing down a brief for Monday morning (shut up - it's important). I just finished eating a lovely brunch with a coworker and her sweety, and yet I'm nervous and shaky. Why? Well, on the ride in to town, I met a MTB'er which we shall name "the Neurotic MTB'er" or NMTB. So I'm riding behind NMTB, preparing to pass her (because, as we all know, MTBs crawl up hills). All the sudden she SLAMS on her brakes. I mean skid line and wet hissing. Now, you all know the recent incident has me a bit nervous, so I hit my brakes pretty hard and even harder when she screams "STOP!!! STOP!!"
I'm looking for long ears.
But no, instead, there are about eight full grown geese fifty yards ahead of us. That can't be what she's freaked about. However, when I note no long ears and realize it's actually unnecessary for me to wreck (my rear tire was slowly becoming horizontal), I calmly slow down and stop at my own pace and ask her if she's ok. She's wide-eyed and pinched.
"Those geese are crossing the road! I don't want anyone to scare them! Aww! Look at the wittle geese!"
You have got to be kidding me.
Another biker behind us slides to a stop and asks us if everything is alright. I gesture to NMTB to tell her story and she repeats. The other biker looks at me, I hold up my hands and surrender; she blinks, slides her shades back on, and takes off. I am... irritated.
I turn to her and inform her that Canadian geese are quite equipped to contact human beings, that bikes don't take 50 yards to stop, and that it's *really* dangerous to do that. She gets really worked up and says that we should value nature and protect it and whatnot. Meanwhile these geese (full grown) were staring at us, beaks hanging open, and shaking their little avian heads. I'm pretty sure I saw a couple nudging each other and snickering. I cringe and hop back on my bike and take off. If my neck wasn't anchored in the forward position, I would have turned back and glared at her (stupid neck). The geese scuttle forward as I rode by, admittedly a little startled by my zipping past them, and wander into the yard across the road. Unharmed.
This is the embodiment Resurgere was talking about - when she dies, she's definitely going to be reincarnated as a lagomorph.
(in other news, a really big jock in full-on UVA gear just mumbled under his breath - clearly hoping no one would hear - "and a tall raspberry mocha..." Hehehe. Own up to it man. He's now glancing around and slurping off the whipped cream. Aw. Ok, back to work!)
Saturday, July 08, 2006
So A Roadie, A Hybrid, and A Fixie Walk Into A Bar...
I went on my first long ride of the summer! Yay! I rode 29 miles. It was supposed to be a big intern event, but slowly (and expectedly) we dropped down one by one so that it was just three of us. One of those three wasn't even an intern! He was the other intern's fiance. The other intern, Heidi, is working towards being an environmental reporter, so she is in our correspondence department. She has a blog you can read as well. Anyway, she was on a hybrid, I was on Quesce (my roadbike), and her fiance, anticipating our sluggishness, arrived with his fixed gear. And he smoked us. Heh. We were quite the motley crew in comparison to the many clown-looking roadies out that day.
It was absolutely perfect weather. About 63 degrees and a slow warming. It was probably about 75 when I got back home. The ride we all did together was just over 19 miles, but I had to ride out to the place where we met and then back into town - and home - afterwards. Which was another 10 miles. The ride was along a gorgeous country rode which passed farms and lakes and streams, and which and ended in a state park. It was, as Heidi put it, "chocked full of unadulterated hillage." And she was right, though there were only three hills to speak of: one was a loooooong but steady hill, another was a pretty long steep hill (granny gear and standing), the last was the worst because it was both. Steep, then steady, then steep, then steady,then one more steep for ev.er. I wanted to cry. Or get off my bike and curl into a ball. I did neither. The nice part was that we didn't do a loop, we just turned around, which meant that the ride back was, for the most part, really fast and fun. We actually kept a really good pace. Mostly 15-18 mph except the hills... which were more around 25-29 on the downside and 6-8 mph on the upside. I'm not ashamed!!
All in all I'd say it went really well. I'm still having some probs with my gearing (sometimes I have to manually put the chain on the granny gear) and my neck is still really pinched when I finished riding (nothing can be done for that one), but I didn't burn out, I kept up just fine, and I even could have kept going!
I have a 25 mile route I want to do. Unfortunately, you need a car to do it. I gotta find someone with a car and fast.
Yay!
It was absolutely perfect weather. About 63 degrees and a slow warming. It was probably about 75 when I got back home. The ride we all did together was just over 19 miles, but I had to ride out to the place where we met and then back into town - and home - afterwards. Which was another 10 miles. The ride was along a gorgeous country rode which passed farms and lakes and streams, and which and ended in a state park. It was, as Heidi put it, "chocked full of unadulterated hillage." And she was right, though there were only three hills to speak of: one was a loooooong but steady hill, another was a pretty long steep hill (granny gear and standing), the last was the worst because it was both. Steep, then steady, then steep, then steady,then one more steep for ev.er. I wanted to cry. Or get off my bike and curl into a ball. I did neither. The nice part was that we didn't do a loop, we just turned around, which meant that the ride back was, for the most part, really fast and fun. We actually kept a really good pace. Mostly 15-18 mph except the hills... which were more around 25-29 on the downside and 6-8 mph on the upside. I'm not ashamed!!
All in all I'd say it went really well. I'm still having some probs with my gearing (sometimes I have to manually put the chain on the granny gear) and my neck is still really pinched when I finished riding (nothing can be done for that one), but I didn't burn out, I kept up just fine, and I even could have kept going!
I have a 25 mile route I want to do. Unfortunately, you need a car to do it. I gotta find someone with a car and fast.
Yay!
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Momentarily Depressed
Decided not to apply for clerkships this year. Kind of sad because it's always been a dream of mine. I can be kind of traditional and stuck so I am resistant to not following the normal path of applying right out of school. But my grades suck and so off the traditional path I go. It's fitting I suppose.
I'm still applying next year and all my professors agreed to write for me then as well. But I'm feeling really dissapointed.
This made me feel better; it's possibly the funniest thing I've read all summer. Depressing moment gone. Hehehe.
I'm still applying next year and all my professors agreed to write for me then as well. But I'm feeling really dissapointed.
This made me feel better; it's possibly the funniest thing I've read all summer. Depressing moment gone. Hehehe.
poem - stuck like so much pig
Eh. I've been messin with this for a couple days and I'm stuck. I figured I'd post it and hopefully that would help me figure out what I want to do with it now. I know it needs to be tightened up considerably but I think I may need some distance because I'm in that place where I'm just staring at it and pushing things around the page. Like so much child and brussel sprouts.
First Ride in the Rain
Two weeks after a man
whose smile and papers seemed genuine
presented my portrait lit from behind,
tapped a kitchen fixture (supposed to be
my spine) and mouthed the word healed,
It was not a new-found courage I felt
standing to push up the hill,
but rather, a lack of fear
that surprised me.
I did not feel invincible: I remained
aware of my helmet, how the air cut
my bare neck, feet bound
to spinning metal, and yet
not afraid.
It is not the errand I remember now, but
how my tires picked up
the wet shine off the road and
how the earth flattened as I stood to
continue on.
First Ride in the Rain
Two weeks after a man
whose smile and papers seemed genuine
presented my portrait lit from behind,
tapped a kitchen fixture (supposed to be
my spine) and mouthed the word healed,
It was not a new-found courage I felt
standing to push up the hill,
but rather, a lack of fear
that surprised me.
I did not feel invincible: I remained
aware of my helmet, how the air cut
my bare neck, feet bound
to spinning metal, and yet
not afraid.
It is not the errand I remember now, but
how my tires picked up
the wet shine off the road and
how the earth flattened as I stood to
continue on.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Attack of the Suicide Bunny!!!
So I'm riding along, casual-like, on the Rivanna River trail. It's a lazy 4th of July and the Scop-unit was down visiting, so we were taking a little stretch-the-ole-legs ride. Of course, when he takes a stretch the ole legs ride, I work out so hard I have to try not to throw up.
But anyway.
He has this greeeaaat idea for a workout exercise which involves only lifting the legs in the highest gear. This, of course, is difficult and makes it a little harder to control your leggage after a bit. So I'm holding up okay, kicking and lifting with all my little chicken-legged might, when I spy a rabbit on the edge of the bike path. I make eye contact. The rabbit looks wide-eyed... you might even say...
desperate.
I look squinty. The rabbit is frozen, so I think it's ok, but nonetheless I prepare to slow down and hit my brakes. The rabbit, instead of going into the nice safe brush, hops out a little onto the road. I hit my brakes harder and swerve to the right. That's when the rabbit bursts forth, with all its little walnut-sized brain willpower and launches it's little fragile bunny body towards my wheel. The harder I brake and swerve the farther towards me it runs. I am now full on skidding down the pavement, tires locked, trying to find a non-brambled area in case I need to go flying over my handlebars, when I hear BLAM come from behind me! I unclip as fast as possible for the following fish tail. The bike stops and amazingly I'm still standing.
Apparently I burned right through my tire and my tube. There was about 3-4 inches of burned throughness on my back tire. I stopped two inches from the bunny, who then cursed me for spoiling its suicide attempt and hops BACK THE WAY IT CAME. To find a bottle of asprin and some whiskey no doubt. I was highly irritated. HIGHLY irritated.
Luckily, I wasn't far from the end of the trail, and walking the bike back was easy (except for the blinding heat). The real pain was dragging the bike with said flat tire to work. Why? Because that's where the pump is. No I don't have my own pump. Shut up. My work has one in the storage room for the commuters. I took the bus (Rt. 4) to the local nice bike shop (the gungy one has been pissing me off) and I buy two tires and a couple tubes and some rim tape (that just begs for a sick joke). I go to an appointment and come back to work later on in the eve when no one is around and turn my office into my own personal bike shop. I got all excited because the first tire goes on really fast. So I decide to put on the second one, you know, just because. This one of course takes for-freakin-ever and THEN it starts to POUR rain. Sigh. I hate insta-ego-karma. So I figure I'll try and wait out the rain by tightening my brakes.
Yes, we have officially established that I am the dumbest woman on the planet. So I'm sitting there covered in grease with an internet step-by-step print out of how to adjust el brakerinos. It's easy enough and it seems like I did a nice job but it's still pouring rain. I eventually give up and go out in the rain. With two brand new tires. And brakes that are, unbeknownst to me, too tight. I gave new meaning to the term "fishtail." But again, made it home. Sqeaking brakes, both tires and Lyco intact.
I'm gathering recipes for rabbit fricassee.
But anyway.
He has this greeeaaat idea for a workout exercise which involves only lifting the legs in the highest gear. This, of course, is difficult and makes it a little harder to control your leggage after a bit. So I'm holding up okay, kicking and lifting with all my little chicken-legged might, when I spy a rabbit on the edge of the bike path. I make eye contact. The rabbit looks wide-eyed... you might even say...
desperate.
I look squinty. The rabbit is frozen, so I think it's ok, but nonetheless I prepare to slow down and hit my brakes. The rabbit, instead of going into the nice safe brush, hops out a little onto the road. I hit my brakes harder and swerve to the right. That's when the rabbit bursts forth, with all its little walnut-sized brain willpower and launches it's little fragile bunny body towards my wheel. The harder I brake and swerve the farther towards me it runs. I am now full on skidding down the pavement, tires locked, trying to find a non-brambled area in case I need to go flying over my handlebars, when I hear BLAM come from behind me! I unclip as fast as possible for the following fish tail. The bike stops and amazingly I'm still standing.
Apparently I burned right through my tire and my tube. There was about 3-4 inches of burned throughness on my back tire. I stopped two inches from the bunny, who then cursed me for spoiling its suicide attempt and hops BACK THE WAY IT CAME. To find a bottle of asprin and some whiskey no doubt. I was highly irritated. HIGHLY irritated.
Luckily, I wasn't far from the end of the trail, and walking the bike back was easy (except for the blinding heat). The real pain was dragging the bike with said flat tire to work. Why? Because that's where the pump is. No I don't have my own pump. Shut up. My work has one in the storage room for the commuters. I took the bus (Rt. 4) to the local nice bike shop (the gungy one has been pissing me off) and I buy two tires and a couple tubes and some rim tape (that just begs for a sick joke). I go to an appointment and come back to work later on in the eve when no one is around and turn my office into my own personal bike shop. I got all excited because the first tire goes on really fast. So I decide to put on the second one, you know, just because. This one of course takes for-freakin-ever and THEN it starts to POUR rain. Sigh. I hate insta-ego-karma. So I figure I'll try and wait out the rain by tightening my brakes.
Yes, we have officially established that I am the dumbest woman on the planet. So I'm sitting there covered in grease with an internet step-by-step print out of how to adjust el brakerinos. It's easy enough and it seems like I did a nice job but it's still pouring rain. I eventually give up and go out in the rain. With two brand new tires. And brakes that are, unbeknownst to me, too tight. I gave new meaning to the term "fishtail." But again, made it home. Sqeaking brakes, both tires and Lyco intact.
I'm gathering recipes for rabbit fricassee.
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