Catchin' up

I noticed that recent posts have been bereft of photos, as this medium allows for great opportunities to express myself through the eye of a lens, though this expression is now ubiquitous and devalued as every handheld gadget allows every Tom, Dick, or Harry to be a "photographer". More on my photog snobbery in a later rambling...

Anyway, here are some snapshots that have been piling up in my phone...

Gratuitous bike shot after Rockburn 'cross race.

Phone booths in the East Wing while waiting for my beloved at the Hopper exhibit. Two observations: 1. You just don't see these things anymore and 2. These particular phone booths are keenly designed in the manner of the rest of the East Wing--no afterthought here.

While looking for a West German set screw for my Mom's towel bar, I spotted this bathroom setup at Union Hardware: TV in your mirror, neon lighting in your vanity. Only $14,500. God save us.

Or how about an aquarium integrated into the vanity…fish in a fishbowl in a sinkbowl…Go

d save us part deux.

Me and my nephew…in motion.

Christmas night, after the carnage of present opening has been swept away. It has been said that cats are living sculpture. The only photograph in this sorry bunch.

Our view at M&T during the Steelers Ravens game.

One week later, the shrine to SuperBowl hopefuls---only to be dashed that same night.

Pomegranate seeds--yet another brilliant example of nature's candy. My sister showed me how to "shell" them without dyeing one's hands (and everything within spraying distance) pink. Submerge pomegranate in water, peel out seeds, voila.

Underground sewer connection on Call Street SE. OK during the day. Don't go at night.

The Metro. I'm always amazed by the simplicity of the tunnels coffers.

Someone didn’t edit…

The season is nigh...

Actually, it is upon us, if one counts the training races at Tradezone today.  Except I wasn't there, but may as well have been, as the blog recaps are vibrant and animatedly detailed.  See the local clearinghouse for the D20 racing scene for some good reading.  Thanks Mike!

Instead, I caught the BP ride at the intersection of Macarthur and Clara Barton and rode in spirited fashion with a decent group.  We rode hard and I felt strong, a fitting end to this cycle.  The upcoming rest week coincides with a visit from my cousin and her family from NYC.  She's an actress who actually had a bit part in one episode of The Sopranos, but that's a story for another time.  Well OK, actually if you remember Dominic's wife in Season 2 Episode 5, in which Furio has to prove himself to Tony by making a statement when he and ChristoPHA make a collection at the tanning salon, that's her.  Unfortunately that statement entailed the beat-down of my cousin and her "husband".

I digress (I'm such a namedropper).  Anyway, as I was time trialing along Macarthur to make the catch I was able to see through the trees down onto the Clara Barton Parkway and saw a small pack slightly ahead of me on the CBP.  Again, another opportunity to observe the landscape of the roads we ride on weekend after weekend.  This was a cool vantage point.

Which brings me to my 2 part rant for the day.  As I passed a group of riders in the opposite direction on Macarthur, I waved to acknowledge their presence and pay some respects to fellow riders out on the road.  Crickets may as well have been chirping as that acknowledgement was not returned.  Now, I get it when your hypoxic, or focused on the wheel in front of you, or actually don't see me.  I don't get it when you DO see me and don't make a gesture.  Are we such hard men that we can't recognize the camaraderie that is inherent in our pursuit?  Are we too cool for school?  Give me the finger if you want, I don't care.  Just something.

All right then.  Numero dos:  While the former complaint is directed toward the sociopathic nature of a very small minority, this one has dire ramifications if the worst were to happen.  I cannot stress this one enough.  QUIT CROSSING THE YELLOW LINE.  We all do it, and it's stupid, and we all know it.  These training rides are not a controlled race situation.  I don't think any of us want to see a headline in the Post similar to today's, which, while altogether different in the situational sense, is a distinct possibility in the tragedy sense if we keep on doing what we do. 

There.  Got that one off my chest.  Sorry to end on such a downer.

Three stooges

"Twas a good day for riding today. According to the N2 regulars, Kay and Jeff showed up on the tandem and gave the group a pacing that is not the usual fare. I'm sorry I missed it, as I've been feeling like a tandem motorpace would be an excellent addition to the training repetoire.

As for me, I've been putting myself through some training paces in a structured manner that I have never done before. Short of actually having a coach, I'm following a plan that I've created from the umpteen plans that one sees in the various mags and rags. This is the third week in my cycle, next week, blessed relief. Ergo I did not meet my N2 mates this morning as my late workout last night tuckered me out to the point that I was getting out of bed at about the time that the group was rolling past the Travilah store.

A parenthetical comment, if you will, about the indoor training methodology: While Instant Netflix is a Good Thing, trying to do miccroburst intervals while watching Dave Chapelle live in San Fran is, while entertaining, not so good for training. Macrobursts of laughter, while always welcome, are not quite timed well enough to syncopate with regular huffing and puffing.

So instead I rode with my friends Kemal and Scott, the former of whom is my cyclocross partner in crime and has not ridden for approximately 407 years, thereby rendering him a shadow of his former self. It is not often that he sees me up the road; it is mostly the other way around. The latter fellow is my colleague at work, quite strong, and the Big(gest) Lebowski fan I know.

Our ride went thusly, from a posting today on the Bicycle Place listserve, as scribed by Kemal:

Johan "Beer Me, but make it Belgian" Maisto
Scott "WWM" Wilets
Kemal "I Hate the Cold" Tuncer

All three attended; all three were late. Zone 1 ride, massive amounts
of espresso, red lined only at the end when we saw time (as defined by
the Mrs.) running out.

Johan sported the retro wool. Scooter sported the retro slicker and
movie lines. K3 sported the retro bike. Yup, about that exciting.

I only add that Scott and I redlined it up Ross Road hill, along the ridge, and to the Nature Center turn as well, and there were a few other moments of manhood measurement, but not the usual plethora that defines most of the group rides in our area. What was most striking was just how blue the sky was in the early afternoon as we can feel that spring will soon awake from deep slumber.

Got home and helped my son apply the decals to the P-40B Flying Tiger that he assembled and painted himself. After the first 12 pointed star on one wing, he knew the drill cold and only needed help with the gaping maw of the tiger teeth, as this decal was a slick, slippery, wrinkly, tricky one that needed to be applied just so, as it is the piece de resistance. For his first model, I am proud. Other evidence that spring is around the corner: we spent a good half hour throwing 4 seam fastballs and digging a few out of the dirt. "Play ball!" is right around the corner.

As has been the case lately, my daughter and her friends have been flitting from house to house, so I don't see them much as I am a foreigner in their world of Webkinz and American Girl dolls...suffice it to say she is happy. As was my wife, who had finished a day-long first aid course that she's required to take for Girl Scouts...

Once again, a great day.

Tone of voice

When I went to vote on Tuesday, the computer screen told me that I was "Non Partisan" and gave me a limited slate of school board members to choose from. That was it. I realized that, in our current electoral system, I have chosen not to classify myself (mostly to avoid the irritation of political junk mail and telemarketing). While the system does not allow me to vote on a national level in our primary season, it gives me a sense that my choices are not beholden to any particular group.

In the same way I approach writing in this here blog. Unlike a journal or a "diary" the audience is both known and unknown. Should I be didactic and pontificatory? How about reflective in a melancholy kind of way? I could certainly be journalistic and report on the happenings of my personal history. Or rant in anger about some horrible injustice to befall mankind, such as the exclusion of brown M&M's from the world of candy. Sometimes I come off as too critical, sometimes too mealymouthed. One day what I think is funny is most definitely NOT 3 days later, and sometimes the opposite occurs, though not intentionally. It's my perceived audience that influences me and ultimately tempers what I have to say.

Which is not too much, at least today.

It was a left/right-brain kind of day (actually the last two days), where I spent the majority of the time tweaking floor plans for a 130 unit apartment building that we're designing. Like a giant game of chess, each move affects future moves in ways I try to anticipate, only to find out later that I've got to undo a bunch of decisions based on those earlier ones. It's not just if or how the flow of space works, it's how these decisions are affected by building structure, building systems, building codes, and building aesthetics. It's a technical exercise that requires quite a bit of flexible creativity, which, to me, is the essence of the practice of architecture. And the audience is the end-user.

So as the week comes to an end work has been busy and rewarding. Another rest week awaits around the corner for my "training" as I've been flogging myself on the bike indoors pretty regularly the past three (42 of the last 49 days on the bike, but who's counting...) Instant view Netflix is a GOOD THING.

So enough rambling. We've got a nice fire in the 'place and it's time to enjoy that.

Long commute

It took me an hour and fifteen minutes to get from Bethesda to Silver Spring tonight.  A little bit of ice on the road and the whole world goes to hell.  What a doozy.  Ouch.

On the way home I talked with one of my buddies from college for about a half hour--he lives in Leesburg and was travelling at 1 MPH from Tysons, so at that rate he should be home the day after tomorrow.  We caught up, blathered on about our favorite team that we need to love but now are growing to NOT love...I related to him that when I was in Pittsburgh this weekend and the sportscasters were beside themselves about the Penguins' other superstar, Yevgeny Malkin, the couldn't help but get their digs in on the 'Skins as they reported the Zorn hiring.  Smirking, the one sportscaster asked rhetorically just what in blue blazing tarnation is going on down in Washington (old south/folksy American slang is purely license on my part - that's not Pittsburghese).  Once again, a laughingstock.  And not unearned, either.

I was pressed into service to help with some election volunteering at school, so I helped break down the bake sale (scoring some chocolate covered strawberries for the effort) and helped a blind woman vote--no I didn't press any buttons, just got her to the registration table and the election volunteers did the rest...While she got to the election site via Metro car(?) I realized that she couldn't get home, so my son and I dropped her off at her place (a block away, but may as well have been 10 miles in the rain, resultant thin sheet of ice and her inability to see).  When we dropped her off and I was helping her out of the car, the car started sliding down the slight  incline of her driveway, much to my alarm.  A small patch of non-slick concrete halted the slide as I was clambering around the car to control it, and all ended well.  Some good karma for the day.

And so ends the evening, after a decent hour and a a half on the trainer which included 2 15 minute intervals at threshold.  Note to self:  A Clockwork Orange is tough to watch while putting forth effort.  Next time, maybe a documentary, like Supersize Me or something.

Priorities again

"If I don't see them by the time I get to Tuckerman, I'm turning around and riding in the park" I said to myself Saturday morning as I motored past the meeting point, Conn Ave, Cedar Lane, Grosvenor, all the usual catch spots.  I had, as has been the usual pattern, a late start.  A late night and the requisite reluctance to leave the warm bed contributed, but I rolled out anyway, knowing that if I didn't ride in the AM it would be curtains for riding the whole weekend, since I was off to Pittsburgh in the late AM.

Sure enough, the group was ahead of me toward the top of Tuckerman and I put in a solid interval to make the catch.  Not bad, I thought, this was something I wasn't able to do much last year, as my miles were so inconsistent.  The Glen rollers were quite manageable as well and I made it to the store with more people behind me than in front of me, so that was good too.  The standard chatter with Eric, Kay, Kathy, Karim, Luis, Scott A, Mark, Phil, Paul, and others who I see but don't always remember but still enjoy talking too while waiting for the re-group and then we were all off again.  While the rest headed to Poolesville and the standard route, I headed back via Glen since I needed to get back for the trip.

Every once in a while it's a healthy change to ride backwards on a familiar route, as you see it differently (obviously).  The view from the Glen rollers going south (or is it east?) really reveals the partial ridgeline that we ride on and the descent to the creek we cross on the one lane bridge.  The DC Velo ride was heading toward the store as I headed away, about 20 of them in a tight pack.  Instead of following Glen, I rode up to Democracy via South Glen, another insiduous little climb that punched things up a bit.  A quick roll home and I had a decent 2 hour ride with good intensity to start the weekend.

Got home, packed up, dad picked me up, and to Verona Pa we went.  Easy drive up.  Great dinner at the Cafe Naples with Grandma.  Even got in a nap before dinner.  Sunday morning after church we met my relatives for brunch where I had a capacole omelette (where have YOU been all my life?).  I will be making this at home on a regular basis.  Another hour of visiting and then we headed back.  It was so windy at the Somerset rest stop that the door nearly came off the hinges when I opened it.  Spending some mellow time with my dad was just what I needed, too.  He tried out a speech on me that he's giving downtown on Monday, for timing and cadence, and it was good to exchange feedback.  We caught up on family stuff too.  

My dad had said to me last weekend "Wanna come with me to see your grandmother before I leave?"  To which I replied, "Well, no."  Then I thought she's 94, my dad and mom are off on a 6 week trip to the other side of the world, I do worry about my Dad driving 4 hours by himself, and all I care about is "training" for "bicycle racing" since my life is oh so incomplete if I can't fulfill this ridiculously obsessive pastime that fuels strange behaviors so patiently tolerated by my family.  I reconsidered as the week wore on.  I thought about how incredibly selfish this was, how the time we have can never be recouped, and that it's important to seize these opportunities when they arise.  I called him up.  "Sure, I'll go.  But can we go at 11?  I wanna get a ride in..."

(In)consistent

Almost 2 weeks since I last posted. The need to post to this blog thing, while gratifying, becomes a persistent voice in the back of my head that turns into a nagging whine. I had gotten used to writing regularly for the last few months, so an almost 2 week hiatus makes me feel a bit...um..stopped up. When I used to write in sketchbooks and journals my inconsistency was only evident to me. Now I know it's evident to all three of you.

As a vehicle for staving off short term memory loss, the wheels have come off these past two weeks. The routine has been so rote that the days just blend into each other. Let's review:

February is always busy at home, busier, it seems, than normal. We all retreat into our cocoons of busy-ness, to the detriment of enjoying each other, or listening, or just talking. But at least we're all together eating dinner and doing homework and all the other things that we do.....

Work is work. We looked at some new office space for a move later this year. We've been in our space for almost 7 years and it's time for a change as our firm has grown steadily since then. Sometimes I feel like a bookkeeper rather than an architect, but that makes the designing/drawing part of the job that much better. Kind of like riding indoors all week and thirsting for the outdoor rides on the weekends.

We were reviewing a set of drawings with the owners and contractors on this big job on Georgia Avenue in DC. Someone asked "What's wall type number 11?" I replied "It's the loudest one." Talk about a joke falling flat. None of them had seen This Is Spinal Tap.

Future work is a constant source of worry, since our business is indirectly tied to the mortgage fiasco. I've always said that if we don't have the next jobs lined up while we're working on our current ones, then we're in trouble. So far we have some things in the works, so we're not in trouble. Yet.

Training's been great. I've tried following a set plan as a framework, and it's working in that it's enjoyable and not drudgery. Of course, when I know I've got a sufferfest on the schedule, it still takes longer to get on the bike and get it done, though the end result is always a good feeling. For the first time in many years I'm actually consistently training as opposed to weekend warrioring through the year.

The Giants and Patriots gave us a SuperBowl that we won't soon forget. We watched it on a friend's projection T V and had bad football food and good wheat beer. The fact that a room of Redskins fans could cheer a division rival so vociferously is a testament to how good this game was. Now we sit back and watch our own team 's ownership continue down the road of bad decisions. At least some of the commercials were good, but I really miss the CareerBuilder.com monkeys.

Meanwhile the Caps crawled into first place (who woulda thunk?) but they're stinkin' it up right now against Carolina. One of the things I love about hockey are the names...Carolina's captain is Rod Brind'Amour...what a cool name. At one point early in his career he played on the 1987 Flyers, a team overflowing with cool names: Ilkka Sinisalo, Peter Zezel, Ron Hextall, Craig Berube, Pelle Eklund, Scott Melanby, Kjell Samuellson...I love names with disonant consanants.

After a morning ride tomorrow with the N2 crew I'm off to Pittsburgh with my dad to visit my grandmother. Mom and Dad are going to the Philippines for almost 2 months, a trip that always rejuvenates my mom, as she really doesn't like winter. So I figure that this is a good time to catch up with my Pops.

Next on Life of Frites: Hamburgers 2 days in a row. Good idea?