Bikes: The Ugly, the Bad, and the Good

Things have been busy.  I moved, I wrote this piece for the Baltimore Fishbowl because I moved, and then it just got hot and I couldn't be bothered to do much beyond eat ice cream in front of my AC unit.

Way back in 2002, in between training for the upcoming high school cross country season and doing important teenage things like buying $4 flip flops from Old Navy, I somehow wound up signed up to do a bike tour across Maine, starting a little outside of Augusta.  My travel companions and I were, somehow, going to bike 50-75 miles a day across the state of Maine for a week.   It also bears noting that I was 14, and that my travel companions were my lifelong friend, Georgia, and my sister, who was all of 19 at the time.

2002: Georgia and I, Summer of the Car Smush

I was down with biking, but I hadn't ever been down with biking.  I was all about the gear shifters that twisted on your handlebars, and never went more than two miles around the perimeter of my parents' house.  When Georgia and I knew we were going to do this bike trip, we began training.  We'd bike five miles.  To the nearest Starbucks, and get Frappucinos, because that's how 14 year old girls train.  That being said, it's still more training than my sister did for this ride.

We drove up from Georgia's parents' house outside of Providence, and began to realize how woefully illprepared we were the first night, amongst hordes of fellow bikers, all middle aged, and all far more in shape than we were, (rightfully) laughing at my mountain bike.

The next day ended quickly.  Within .7 miles of the trip, while we were still biking on the sidewalk of Rome, Maine, I got hit by a car while crossing a crosswalk when he had a red light.  I could not have been going more than 2 miles an hour.  He hit me, I went down, and I'm still not sure how, but the bike landed on top of me, and the pedal gauged my leg.  My sister claims that's the day I began cursing like a sailor.  15 stitches later, and that was the end of the trip.  We stupidly went camping that night, which could not have been good for my thrown-on-the-ground spine, and my sister washed my hair in the sink everyone washed their dishes in at the campground.  It was a very glamorous time in my life.  Somewhere on some 3X5 ultra glossy print from CVS, there's a great picture of the three of us at the beach, post accident.  My sister has her eyes semi shut, Georgia is posing like a teen supermodel, and I'm sticking my leg out to the side at a weird angle while its wrapped in layer of gauze that we probably reapplied in the back of the 1994 Dodge Caravan we drove up to Maine in.  Memories.

I didn't touch bikes for a while.  I was 21 before I got back on a bike again.  I was 22 before I took one on the street, and even then, it was to get groceries in college and go maybe a half a mile, mainly on campus.  The pedal going into my leg left me with a large scar that I was vainly self-conscious about throughout high school.

2005: The Leg Scar Remains
(as does my inherent awkwardness)

I still have this scar, although it's finally begun to fade.  Frequent reactions include, "Ohmygosh you're bleeding!" or "What happened?!"  The first allows me to pretend like I feel no pain, the second allows me a space in which I can create whatever convoluted story I feel is appropriate at the time.  Bear mauling?  Sure! Couldn't afford med school so I tested things on myself? Times are tough, makes sense.

When I moved here, I was still very much skeptical of bikes.  And bikes in the city?  Absolutely not.  A friend of mine was pretty involved in Bike Party, though,  and I got roped into volunteering.  Bike Party is wonderful.  After a few months of haphazardly volunteering, I finally got myself on a bike and partook back in April.  Bike Party is ideal for the faint-of-heart biker.  You travel in a pack at an absurdly slow rate, and everyone around you is supportive.  You have a space to become accustomed with biking in the street, but at 5 miles an hour with a huge crowd of happy bikers surrounding you.  It was perfect for me.

After April's Bike Party (Prom-themed, so I wore my high school prom dress with leggings and tucked it into a fanny pack), I began to warm up to the idea of getting back on a bike.  I bought myself a 1988 Schwinn Premis off good 'ol Craigslist, and through the patience of various people, have begun biking again.  Initially, just some short trips to the lakes or up through Roland Park, but as of last week, I am officially a bike commuter.

Biking to work is not nearly as atrocious as I'd imagined it would be, even with my old school downtube shifters.  Gone are the days of walking a few blocks to the bus, to wait for the bus, to get off and wait for another bus, to walk a couple more blocks to the office.  Biking time is the same as a (rare) good day bus commuting.  I no longer have to wait for 30 minute increments for the next shuttle or Circulator to come find me.  I no longer get drenched in sweat waiting to get home, I get drenched in sweat while actively getting home.  It's wonderful.  The 3 mile ride uphill going home isn't so wonderful, but the freedom from the stupid buses and shuttles most definitely is sweet enough to compensate.

So if you're new to Bmore, get out there on your bike!  Just remember that you're also a vehicle of sorts, so you, too, should be following the rules of the road.  Stop at stop signs, signal when you're turning, don't text - all those things that should be stupidly obvious, but aren't to so many.  Wear your helmet, be aware of people opening their doors into you, and forever avoid paying for parking.

Happy biking!

Liebster Questions

There's a handful of people out in the Baltimore Blogo/Twittersphere who've been nothing but wonderful to me.  Mr. Chop over at The Baltimore Chop, Evan over at City That Breeds,  Ann Marie at Let's Give Peas a Chance, and many others.   Ann Marie is always at the ready with an inspiring quote, a great book suggestion, and of course, a delicious recipe.  She challenged me to answer the Liebster Questions (history here), which is essentially a get-to-know-other-awesome-bloggers, building-our-online-community type of thing.  So, in the interest of building upon this already bountiful community, I've agreed to answer six questions of her choosing, and then must nominate other bloggers to answer six questions of my choosing.

I'm that androgynous child in
what I promise is an elephant costume.

What is the last thing you do before you go to sleep each night?
I love to read, and the periods of my life that are darkest are often also ones where I don't make time to unwind with a book at the end of the day.  This is not an exaggeration - reading before bed keeps me calmer throughout the day.  I hold myself accountable to (at least) one book a month, regardless of the fact that I often fall asleep about three pages into my bedtime reading.

What is it that first prompted you to start blogging?
I started blogging back in 2010 when I did AmeriCorps, at my first and most beloved blog, Snooty on a Stipend. For a year, I religiously posted each week, with generally super mundane things.  Documenting my year was a super cathartic experience, and every now and then, when I'm feeling nostalgic for life in the mountains on minimum wage, I'll reread those old posts.

McAfee Knob, right outside of Salem, VA,
is one of my favorite places on this planet.

I started this blog after I had been in Baltimore for a few months and realized there was a wealth of information I would've loved to have those first few, overwhelming weeks.  A sad part of me hoped (still hopes) that perhaps someone else who moves here with no friends and no prior knowledge of the city will find this and seek solace in the fact that Baltimore is incredible, predominantly because of the incredible people that inhabit it.

Who is your favorite Disney Princess?
Am I allowed to say none?  I have issues with Disney princesses.  (#feminist)  Because Belle is bookish, I'm inclined to say Belle, but she also was suffering some severe Stockholm Syndrome, so there's that.  Ariel is insolent, Sleeping Beauty is just pretty and literally lies there.  Snow White, also, falls asleep (dies, whatever), and has to have a man save her.  Even Merida from Brave is rude to her mother.  If forced to choose, I guess Jasmine's pretty sweet, or Tiana.

When you're cooking for a special occasion, what's your go-to meal?
If I'm cooking for a crowd, then black bean chili.  It's vegan and gluten free, therefore accommodating to various diets, and made predominantly of things already in my pantry.  If I'm trying to impress someone, probably paella.  I've recently been practicing my omelet skills though, and breakfast can always be considered a special occasion. 

photocredit: askgeorgie.com

What is your favorite pump-up song?
This is something that changes regularly, but right now my pump-up song of choice is the opener of my Spotify playlist called "Clean Your Damn Apartment."  Ever since that GIRLS episode where Hannah and Elijah are at the club, dancing their coked-up hearts out, Icona Pop's "I Love It" has been my pump-up song.  It is great for helping one clean an apartment, or pack up an apartment, or likely for exercise, should you be the type of person who's into that kind of thing.

What TV show do you wish never got cancelled?
I LOVE some Frasier.  I don't care that it makes me square, I honestly don't.  Frasier was a great show full of great scenes and lines.  "Hail Corkmaster, the master of the cork.  He knows which wine goes with fish or pork."  
(Also on this list: Wishbone, 30 Rock, Arrested Development)

I'm going to challenge....
The Chop over at The Baltimore Chop  (I can hear you saying "No" already.  C'mon.  Peer pressure!)
My anonymous friend from undergrad over at Be Where You Are
The lovely, one and only, Charm City Cook
Wonderful Brittany from Navigating the Nuances

The six questions I have for you all are:
1. Chunky or smooth peanut butter?  Please justify your response.  It's for science.
2. What is your favorite place you've ever lived/visited?
3. What's the worst job you've ever held?
4. What were you like in 4th grade?
5. Where do you buy your groceries, and why?
6. What is your preferred brand/scent of handsoap?

Blog away!

Going Local - CSA Glory

It's been two months since I've posted - I know.  I'm sorry.  I have a list of excuses, none of which are interesting or justifiable.  But I'd like to think that merely having a list is sufficient justification.

Stock photo because I've consumed too much
of my CSA for a photo do to the quantity justice.

As spring transitions into summer, one of my favorite things is the wealth of produce variety that arises in the weekly market.  Piles of potatoes morph into stockpiles of strawberries.  First asparagus, then blueberries and peas, and the next thing you know squash is long gone and you get to enjoy colorful meals yet again.  So long, beta carotene; I'll see you in the fall.

I love the new produce in the spring.  It's what incentivized me to get out of bed and to the market last year.  This year, I can proudly say that, motivated largely by sloth, I have joined a CSA.  The idea of supporting local farmers is something I've begun to feel quite strongly about.  Not only are you helping your community, you're cutting down on your own carbon footprint by not buying strawberries from Chile in December.  I like being able to go see where my food is grown, or in some cases, where my cows and pigs pasture.  Why buy something that's traveled thousands of miles, was picked before it was ripe so it could ripen on a plane, as opposed to on the vine where that process should be happening?  It just makes less sense to me.  I'd rather pay the premium to help my local farmers and get guaranteed fresh, chemical free produce, and forgo a few meals out or a new pair of shoes.

I have been a member of the Genuine Food meat CSA since April.  Vegetarians, I know you're disappointed in me.  But you know what?  I can't eat seitan, so get off my back.  Once a month, I get 10lbs of pork and beef products, for an average of $7/lb.  $7/lb, mind you, is a steal compared to what the equivalent of organic meat from Whole Foods would cost you.  And, again, I've seen the cows.  They chill in a pasture and have a pretty awesome life.  It's a local farmer, and the cost of transporting the meat to Baltimore is far less than a grass fed cow coming to me from Argentina.  What's not to love?

My veggie CSA also started last week.  After much (some) research, I settled on One Straw Farm.  I had first heard of them back in the fall of 2011 when I went to see a screening of Cafeteria Man, and they were a member of the panel discussion that followed the film.  Charm City Cook always tweets/blogs/instagrams her love for One Straw Farm, and various friends and colleagues had only good things to say.  So from now until November, I'll enjoy 8 shares of local, organic goodness that I pick up weekly at Mill Valley General on 28th and Sisson.

So you're new to Bmore.  You should at least consider signing up for a CSA.  You're supporting your local farmers, keeping money in the community, helping the environment, and putting organic food in your system.  Everyone wins.

For a list of other CSAs in the area, please go here.

So You're a Glutard: Sweet 27

Slightly over a year ago, I was diagnosed with a gluten intolerance.  I tearfully bid goodbye to cakes, pasta, pretzels, pizza and all other deliciously wheaty treats.  I feel lucky to not have full blown Celiac's disease, but it doesn't lessen the general annoyance of the gluten-free lifestyle.  As a result, I cook for myself far more often than I go out to eat.  Salads get tedious, and you just never known when a soup is thickened with flour or your bento box is doused in soy sauce instead of  tamari.  Twitter has been helpful, with various folks shooting their gluten free finds in my direction.  Baltimore, though, is still woefully behind for those of us living the gluten-free lifestyle.  I envy friends in New York and San Francisco with hoards of rice or corn-based options on every corner, and tell myself that it's only a matter of time until Baltimore joins their ranks.  It's not to say Baltimore isn't trying - Brick Oven Pizza in Fells Point offers a pretty solid gluten-free thin crust pizza, and Woodberry Kitchen has an entire gluten-free menu and always bring me a gluten-free snack when everyone else orders the bakery tray.  Artifact Coffee gave me a gluten-free scone once, and I'll never forget how exciting it was to enjoy a flaky, buttery baked good just like everybody else.

Gone too Soon: Dionysus

If I were any good at poetry, an art form I admire but lack the patience to create, I'd compose an Ode to Dionysus.

You'll be sorely missed, Dionysus.

For those of you unfamiliar with both the bar and the chain of events, allow me to explain.

Dionysus, nestled in between that pizza/liquor shop and a rowhouse at 8 E Preston St in Mt. Vernon/Midtown-Belvedere was a cozy little bar.  It was no frills - some questionable looking sofas lived in the lower level, hard whiskey, good beers on tap, and staff that would strike up a bitingly sarcastic and lively conversation.  For you House of Cards fans, if you look ever so slightly to the right of Zoe's apartment entrance, you'll note an orange awning.  That orange awning was Dionysus.

Today, I discovered that Dionysus has closed.  The Sun acknowledged this on March 11th, but I just caught wind of the news today.   It seems odd to be so glum about the closing of an otherwise forgettable bar, but Dionysus had so many things going for it.  It wasn't trying to be a certain "type" of bar.  It let Club Charles hold the trophy for quirky, and graciously bowed out so Brewer's could have the title of "brewpub."

Home is just a few blocks from Dionysus, and when I first moved, I often walked by with Bubba in a feeble attempt to socialize him with the clientele seated outside.  I would go there by myself to have a drink and chat up a bartender - because when you're new to a city, you have no one else to talk to.  My first friends, though they were short lived friendships that consisted solely of conversation over one drink, were at Dionysus.  My first and only 'Boh on tap was at Dionysus, before discovering my gluten intolerance.  The first terrible pick up line used on me in Baltimore was in front of Dionysus while walking Bubba; "Your fluttering lashes are derailing my train of thought."  I had some awful dates there - one guy kept referring to me as "kid" because I was all of four years younger than him.  I had some incredible laid-back weeknights of drinks with friends there.  In less than two years, I have accumulated so many memories of a cozy hole-in-the-wall.  In reading people's posts on their Facebook page expressing sadness about their closing, I learned that Dionysus had other levels.  I never had any reason to go anywhere but downstairs, into the basement bar, where a friend for a night (in a non-suggestive way) always awaited.

Thank you, Dionysus, for being my first friend in the city.  Thank you socializing my dog, for introducing me to terrible men, for always making my whisky-gingers and gin and tonics potent, and for chatting with a lonely Virginia transplant for her first few months in Baltimore.  I'll miss you dearly.  I'm so sad I was never able to have a farewell whiskey-ginger with you.

Cheers.

Mondo Baltimore

Everyone needs some Mr. T on a big screen in their life

There are few things more irritating to me than bloggers who go long lengths of time without posting, and then come back to apologize incessantly.  The one thing that may irk me more are hypocrites  and tonight, I am both.  I'm so sorry.  I could make excuses about poor time management, about working too many jobs in too little time, about my toilet exploding like a fountain yesterday, but it doesn't change the fact that I have dropped the ball.

Hell, indeed, comes to Frogtown

In one of my other lives, I highlight events for the Baltimore Fishbowl.  Because of this, I am perpetually aware of the ongoings in the city, no matter how bizarre.  Let me tell you, though, that many of them are quite bizarre.  One of my favorite finds in scouring local calendars and creeping on people's Facebook events has been Mondo Baltimore.  On the first Thursday of each month, Mondo Baltimore commandeers the Wind Up Space and screens a particularly painful movie.  Since my discovery of this wonderful concept, they've shown "Cool as Ice," Vanilla Ice's "Rebel Without a Cause" 1991 remake, Mr. T's "Greatest Man in the World," and just last week I was lucky enough to catch the incredibly atrocious "Hell Comes to Frogtown."

There was much, "YOU'RE DRUNK MOM, GO HOME"

Not only are the movies so bad they're wonderful, the commentary is top-notch.  It's like a live version of MST3K with quality heckling and mocking.  Drinking game rules are placed around the bar, so you can follow along should you choose.  For $2, you get unlimited popcorn and are entered into the nightly raffle.  Gifts are often related to the movie, or are sometime just $25 to your bar tab.  Trust me, if you go just once, it will instantly become tradition.

Superbowl XLVII

So you're new to Bmore.

Congratulations!  WE'RE SUPERBOWL XLVII CHAMPIONS.

You probably already knew this.

You probably heard the honking on the street well past 2:00a.  You probably were stuck on I83N around 1:30a.  You maybe climbed a tree to better loudly bang a lampost.

A joyous celebration on Charles Street

Maybe you took your dog out to pee after the game, only to encounter a mob of people blocking Charles Street in celebration.  Maybe you brought your dog into this mob and people took photos of him, holding up a paper mask of Ray Lewis to his face for their Instagram accounts.  Maybe you, like me, climbed a fence-like object to get a better photo of this mob, only to split the crotch of your jeans.  Everyone must sacrifice for the Superbowl, even my pants, along any semblance of class I may have previously had.

Flacco may have a fold in his face,
but he doesn't care with that Lombardi trophy in his hand.

Savor this week.  Go to Royal Farms and pick up today's Baltimore Sun, because that's the most quintessentially Maryland way of doing it.  Watch a John Water's movie, put Old Bay in everything you eat this week, and hook yourself up to an IV of 'Boh.  Then sit back, and make fun of these people who don't know where Baltimore is, even with the assistance of Google.  You know, you're proud, and you're CAW CAWing with the best of 'em.  While you may not regularly be a big football fan, right now there is nothing but purple pulsing through your veins.