1 out of 2

It's been a busy week, and I think I will need to reconstruct it in a more thorough way in the next day or so, as I become more introspective in the last day of 2007, as is my sentimental modus operandi.

The last day of the NFL season is usually without import for us Redskins fans in the last twenty or so years, but this particular date was significant for these reasons:  we will read ad nauseum the story of the Skinnies' incredible comeback in the last 4 games of the season to secure the last playoff spot, but it is so much sweeter having done so by drubbing the hated 'Boys from Dallas in this last match.  The other memorable part of this day is that my brother in law who has season tix to the Ravens was out of town so he gave today's tickets to me so that I could watch my other fave team, the Steelers.  These were great seats, especially given tonight's murky weather, as we were under the upper deck overhang.

I'm not a Ravens fan, despite the fact that they're my home state team and the only one to sport the state crest in their logo (very cool).  As a Skins/Steelers fan I'm definitely out of my element in the environs of M&T Stadium.  In fact, when I went to a Ravens game 7 years ago in which they came back and defeated the Jags in an incredible comeback, the victory chant was "Redskins Suck!"  A little insecurity from the Charm City?

It just so happens that my 9 y.o. daughter is a solid Stee's fan, and this was the opportunity to show her a real NFL game, warts and all.  Knowing that the behavior of drunk fans is always a reason NOT to take kids to pro games is something that I considered for about three seconds...I figured she would gain much from seeing such lunacy to learn what not to do in public.  Despite the odd f-bomb and a-hole here and there the crowd was not too bad, though quite intense, especially since about 1 in 4 fans were sporting the Black and Gold and waving Terrible Towels.  My girl proudly wore her #43 Polamalu jersey under her coat, tentative about demonstrating her true allegiance in the hostile crowd. 

Ravens won by 6, though the Steelers made it exciting in the 4th quarter.  By then we were demonstrating our zeal for the Steelers, along with a few friendly Pennsylvanians.  The interception that sealed B-more's win sent us shuffling out in the sucker's walk, taunts (Na na na na Na na na na Hey hey hey Goodbye) cascading upon us.  I think my daughter learned a thing or two about divisional rivalry sprinkled with ugly scenes here and there (two fights and ejections in our section), as well as good natured teasing among strangers.  We made sure to remind the Baltimore faithful that their squad will be home next week twiddling their thumbs...

Which leads me to the highlight of the game.  One of Baltimore's finest came up into our section to look (ostensibly) for some hooligans.  Locals were buoyed by his presence, hoping he would collar some Pittsburgh fan and send him on his way.  When prompted to do so by the crowd, this Baltimore P.D. officer turned, smiled, and said "I'm from Pittsburgh.  GO STEEELERS!"  With that comment, he borrowed a Terrible Towel and gave it a whirl, much to the howling chagrin of the locals.  They weren't happy, and they let the cop know it.

Now that's no way to treat our law enforcement officials.  How 'bout some respect?

Hopper

We went to the Edward Hopper exhibit today, as is our annual rite this time of year to go and enjoy art at a museum.  The most recognized piece of his is "Nighthawks".  Pretty amazing up close.

Even as an architect I don't get to enjoy art for its sake as much as I would like.  In fact, whenever I hit a particular exhibit it seems like that part of my brain is a stiff dried up sponge, only to be replenished by these too infrequent visits.

A couple of things, though, about viewing art in a museum.  I get tired really quickly (the weary type) and my lower back begins to ache as if I rode two cyclocross races back to back.  All of that standing and pondering.

The actual visit elicits  very specific thoughts that distinctly burn into my memory.  This particular exhibit made me think of the following:

Just how dedicated my grandfather was in his own efforts to reproduce street scenes of Braddock PA in the '60's and '70's.  His style was amazingly similar to Hopper's.  I don't know if he knew it, but Hopper's art may have been so pervasive so as to influence his.

The rooftops of New York immediately brought to mind that scene in Godfather II where Vito Corleone, after killing Mr. "I just wanna wet my beak" (I forgot his name--Don something), busts up his gun and all evidence of the crime and stuffs the pieces down the various vent stacks on the roof as he begins his trek home over the rooftop landscape to rejoin his family.

Just how ordinary the scenes that he painted were, though he was able to infuse them with a sense of foreboding spookiness, even sinister.

Go see it.

Recharge time

This is one of those years where Christmas and New Year's fall on a mid weekday, thus pulverizing any semblance of continuity for many of us in the 40 hour, Monday-Friday workaday world.  The ease at which everyone says that no work will be done because everyone will be out (either physically or mentally) makes it a helluvalot easier to take the foot off the accelerator for a week or so.

Or it's a great time to catch up/get a jump.  Me?  I've got vacation to burn, so I'll be out until the 2nd day of '08.  We're facing an intense January with about 6 deadlines, so some of the people at the office next week will be able to do some fieldwork so that we're not too deep in the weeds when we get back.  I guess that's what having elves is like.

Also the perfect time to get back on the bike, after 2 weeks off post cyclocross.  The riding should be good, and the weather doesn't look too bad either, and I'm itchin' to get back out there.  The aerobic fitness has been hurtin' lately especially since the cyclocross has been focused on 45 minute anaerobic efforts.  Some solid road rides will be most welcome.  

And of course, available time to finish these house addition drawings.  

Hope springs eternal.      

Caps on Segways?!?

I was at a meeting on H Street today (marathon session about a scattered sites project that we are doing in Southeast DC) and on my way back to the office, as I drove up north on 14th Street past McPherson Square I saw a bunch of guys with Capitals jerseys riding around on Segways. As it turned out, they were actually Washington Capitals on Segways.

As I drove past them I rolled down my window and yelled out "Vetch!" and gave a thumbs up. Ovechkin gave me a gapped tooth grin and kept on rolling. i circled around the park and snapped this pic of Backstrom, Green, and I forget who #10 is...


What I realized was that we typically see people on Segways riding in a very stiff, staid fashion (kinda dorky looking, especially with the bike helmets) in which minor shifts in weight and leaning forward tentatively control the gyroscope and by extension the forward motion of these machines. Not these guys. They were pushing these machines to their limit in order to generate as much speed as possible. In order to do so they were leaning forward quite aggressively, an awkward coaxing of speed and motion that just looked ungainly.

We're so used to seeing these guys skate effortlessly and generate significant speed with a natural stride that to see them in their jeans, home reds, and bike helmets standing and leaning on these wheeled platformed looked completely unnatural, kind of like pro hockey players in a public park on Segways.

Found time

A couple of weeks ago our friendly Verizon salesperson cheerfully asked us if we'd like to upgrade our DSL service at the office. Improved service. Faster speed. Why not? we said. What could possibly be the downside? Your equipment is compliant, they said. No prob, Bob.

We are now on our 4th day without any web based contact from our office. Our modem wasn't "compliant". Sure, we can use our dopey Blackberries and Treos to communicate, but the antisocial nature of these devices really gets under my skin (ed. note: I'm using one of these blasted devices to write this very post). I've gotta use this thing or even (gasp) the PHONE to communicate with other human beings.

The upside? All of those wasted moments spent "checking e-mail" are suddenly gone, like a cancelled meeting or a rescheduled deadline, revealing those priceless nuggets of irreplaceable found time. Kind of like the syrupy goodness of the liquified sugar at the bottom of a cafe cubano, or lying weightless in a hammock, or spinning a gear in the big ring, or sprinting headlong into a breaking wave, or walking onto a Metro train from the escalator into the car without breaking stride, or talking with a buddy from way back when as if it were yesterday, or having a date with my wife (that's me, not you), or any number of the countless decisive moments that help us decide whether or not we're happy to be here or wallowing in self pity.

If I keep going this will turn into a treacly greeting card, so I'll quit while I'm ahead.

Feelin' like the weather

Warning: This will be boring (but short).

This is one of those weekends where no physical activity takes place, whether or not the weather allows it. I was planning on riding to Herndon via Poolesville and Whites Ferry after starting the N2 on Saturday morning, but I didn't even make it out the door. I figured that with Christmas coming it would probably be wise to take it easy--15 minutes shivering waiting for the White's Ferry crossing would've given me the chills. And cyclocross ended last week, so I'm due for a week off anyway.

Saturday we went to Cath and Bob's in Herndon to bake the annual Christmas cookies. Rainy Sunday morning meant that we chilled at home, and I worked on the permit drawings for the house. Almost done. Karen lost complete track of the days, though, and tried to get me out of bed to take Adam to school until I disabused her of that notion with a simple "but it's Sunday."

The one constant through this weekend is that I felt like the weather--cold and drafty. Snoozed for about an hour during the cookie baking when Cleo the cat parked herself on my chest and took one of her many naps.....

Tale of 2 Nicks

Found myself at the Verizon Center again last night to watch the Caps drop a close one to the Sabres. Once again the largesse of my brother in law Bill allowed me the pleasure of feeling like I was a partial plan season ticket holder like I was back in the '90-'91 season. 3 games in 3 weeks.

As I perused the blogs of the local cycling talent last night I realized that the reason our own Nick M. (ex of BPVC) needs a vacation is because he was busy tallying a goal and an assist against the Buffalo squad (and playing under the "nickname" of Niklas Backstrom). See the resemblance? It often happens that one sees resemblances in people as we pass through our days--the mind's eye catalogs these resemblances and stores them for future reference, which create these synaptic connections that become the landscape of memories.

Or not, and the reader may say "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Frites?"




Anyway, a bunch of us met Nick when he joined us on the Sunday ride a couple of years ago and watched him ride past us on many an occasion. I saw his first win as a junior at Tyson's in 2006, and after that season DC Velo picked him up and he's been placing high and winning races since, including garnering incredible experience racing in Holland and Belgium during the past 2 summers. His accounts of racing in Europe are pretty intense. Yo Agent Mulder--take it easy on us old guys out on the road...

So keep on rolling Nick...you've got a bunch o' fans. Don't forget us.