Just A City Girl

World Water Day

2011-03-22T10:59:00.003-05:00

Spring is here in Chicago. Today that meant a chilly commute to work. It means I'm still not breaking out my Humble Frameworks bike for fear the salt/dirt from winter is still out there mucking things up. All it takes is a few hours of rain and thunder to stir all the nasty street sludge up into a perfectly good steel frame.

Isn't it pretty? His work is amazing, artistic, and worth it. Check him out if you are looking for a new bike frame.

Mostly the rain doesn't bother me. I hate how it amplifies the sounds of cars and trucks, but really it keeps things in perspective. It brings you back to the feeling that you are a part of an ecosystem. This rain is going places, making things grow, washing away into the Chicago river and down to the Gulf of Mexico. I won't be drinking any of it unless it happens to fall into Lake Michigan. And here's where I become the lucky one. By and large, our water source here in Chicago is secure. We aren't monitored, rationed or desperately building dams to send the water thousands of miles to our homesteads. It's cushy. Comfortable.

It takes days like today: World Water Day, to remind me how supremely lucky we are here in the Midwest. About 5 years ago I attended my first documentary screening that hammered home the issues we all hear about: disease, starvation, drought. As the saying goes - if you aren't angry, you aren't paying attention.

I could easily keep going on about the importance of clean, accessible water sources in troubled areas around the globe - but we've all heard it. I hope this reminds you to shut off the faucet while brushing your teeth, to install $6 aerators to the faucets in your homes, or make a small donation today. You can find out ways to build on this at the official site: http://www.worldwaterday.org/ (also the up to date tweets are blindingly hilarious and ignorant at the same time.)

So - ending in a happy note. I'm going to reflect on happy water usage. The first is how water helped to bring about my salad last night. My salad greens came from Living Water Farms - grown by aquaponics (a hot topic here in Chicago lately, because raising Tilapia isn't an easy permit to get.) I added microarugula - which tastes almost like wasabi in its infancy, and pea shoots. Both from The Gary Comer Youth Center Rooftop Gardens:

Without water, these greens never would have made their way to the Chicago Farmstand, or to my plate. And the funds would not have been given to the GCYC or to the family operating Living Water Farms. It really is liquid money. A commodity to be appreciated.

And speaking of appreciation:

Via Science Friday (if you don't know, now you know - they are awesome), this lovely video that shows artist Shinichi Maruyama creating his temporary sculptures of water. I think it's a lovely way to round out World Water Day. Enjoy.

Water Sculpture from Shinichi Maruyama on Vimeo.

Wishing you thirsts quenched and no more taking anything for granted...

Love love love,

K.

Lunch Lunch Lunch

2011-02-24T18:34:00.003-06:00

**Warning: In order to rush to go see Laura Palmer and the Kate's at Boulevard bikes in five minutes, I have not proofed this post. I apologize for all typos and weird phrases hereafter**

I ate a salad almost entirely from Illinois or Wisconsin today.

Chicago has had a whole swing of temperatures lately. The blizzard snow we had melted off and what tried to be another snow blanket suffered the same fate. It seems every morning the sidewalks are slippery and covered in a few flakes, but by evening they are dry as a bone.

Thankfully what has remained constant for me is the success I'm having eating out of our cupboard and chest freezer lately. I've been eating asparagus, kale, applesauce, oven roasted tomatoes, peppers, and even some fresh items. I keep saying it's easy - mostly because I've forgotten about ten hour Saturdays cleaning and blanching and sanitizing jars in 85 degree weather - but I really want to convey to anyone who laments buying a bell pepper from Chile that you really can do it. You can still eat fresh items grown closer than the average 1500 miles your food travels to get to your plate.

One terrific resource I have found is the Chicago Downtown Farm Stand. This tiny store offers locally made baked goods and farm direct veggies/fruits/purees/cheeses/eggs for you to buy. DOWNTOWN!! Really. It's right across from the Cultural Center* and hidden away between the elevated tracks above Wabash and the Theater next door.

I've saved quite a bit of time avoiding the grocery store for ingredients to cook with, but I do still need basics every once in a while. Today I had no time to pack lunch, and no food ready that would have been adequate. So I took my lunchtime stroll past the tourists and their cameras craned to the skyline to pick up some potatoes and fresh greens (yep - fresh from Living Water Farms to make a salad. The last few nights I've dined on cheese, crackers and wine - so a salad was in order.

As happens to the best of us - I left with more than that. Here, dear readers, you can see what local goodies you can get for $27.10 on a Thursday in the last week of February here in Chicago:

1. A dozen medium eggs from local, humanely raised TJ's chickens. ($3.50)
2. 50% off $2/lb Potatoes (Purple, Red, Mini-Russet, respectively) - The Farmstand offers 50% off produce that needs to be eaten right away. These potatoes had a few small eyes coming out... barely. ($3.20)
3. One 50% off salad mix and one full price ($3.75 full price + $1.88 half price)
4. Small slice of raw milk cheese from Wisconsin. ($2.08)
5. Probably not locally sourced but locally made Spicy Chickpea Snacks ($3.00)
6. Large Jar BCC Honey from Illinois ($9.25)

With tax this came out just over $27.

The farmstand still has local potatoes, garlic, squashes, yams, onions, mesclun mix, kale, bean sprouts, cornmeal, frozen Seedlings blueberries and all the normal canned goods from Tomato Mountain and that super great Co-Op Hot Sauce our house can't get enough of. If you go there, look for the 50% off produce to make into soups or eat right away.

The red potatoes are seriously almost sweet and buttery on their own. So creamy. They would make the worlds best creamy potato soup or go with a spicy Thai curry like nobody's business.

So start there, and look for root veggies at your own local market that are grown somewhere closer to you than Idaho (unless you are my Montana friends then hey good job.)

Wishing you resources previously unknown for whatever your passion may be - mine apparently is parentheses in this post...

Love love love,

K.

If you happen to be in the Farmstand neighborhood before the end of March, check out the exhibit of arguably the finest street photographer in Chicago: Vivian Maier. I haven't made it yet but intend to when I get the first opportunity. More Info here: http://www.explorechicago.org/city/en/things_see_do/event_landing/events/dca_tourism/FindingVivianMaier_ChicagoStreetPhotographer.html

Spring Thoughts...

2011-02-18T13:10:00.002-06:00

Raised Bed Building Day - May 2010
Originally uploaded by pinkzilla

I wish it could be this. Instead of this:

At least the snow is melting and things are looking up. I can't wait to carry you along with me this year. I'm trying to actually document all I know and do so you and do too. Woo-hoo.

Wishing you short sleeves and sun...soon...

Love love love,

K.

SIgh.

2011-02-01T11:43:00.001-06:00

Originally uploaded by pinkzilla

Everyone is talking thunder snow and the sky is falling (THE SKY IS FALLING)!

Meanwhile the weekly flower arrangement for our office has a branch of cherry blossoms mixed with mums and roses and other creamy white and pink flowers.

It made me think of this. Blossom time.

I want to go to there.

In other news our office closes at 1pm today! Time to go home and do some cooking and baking!

Wishing your skies that say put...

Love love love,

K.

Bike and Chicago

2011-01-28T09:41:00.002-06:00

My Bike and Chicago
Originally uploaded by Dream Dottie

Just a morning pick me up. I saw this photo and really wanted to share it with you!

Dream Dottie runs a great blog (http://letsgorideabike.com/blog/) here in Chicago about biking around while still being fashionable. Between that and the Copenhagen Cycle Chic (http://www.copenhagencyclechic.com), I never run out of inspiration for keeping it cute on two wheels.

Speaking of cute! Chicago Ladies, make sure you mark your calendars for the next quarterly Clothing Swap at West Town Bikes (www.westtownbikes.org)!

This coming Wednesday - February 2nd - 7pm until 10pm! Bring $5 and your unwanted clothes, shoes, accessories to trade! All proceeds benefit the wonderful youth programs West Town provides all around the city. Also there will be wine.

See you then!

Wishing you pretty views and inspiration from those around you...

Love love love,

K.

Grey Skies Are Gonna Clear Up

2011-01-27T21:38:00.006-06:00

I think I can speak for a few of you when I say the winter blues reared their evil little heads this week. We're almost a full month into 2011 and one of the coldest weeks of the year is now behind us but the grey skies and thin veil of slick salty snow remains to keep us company should we take the warmer temperatures for granted.

For me, the ugly faces of these winter blues came with a side of rejection on a personal endeavor basket I placed my hopeful eggs into. A job that matched my skills, experience and interest had been handed to someone else. Not even an interview. I felt the largest of pains - mostly in my ego. Flowers from the boy (I can smell their almost chamomile pine scent right now and they are wild, wily and lovely looking) helped, but like an aftershock I kept feeling these waves of disappointment shake me out of nowhere. I could be riding my bike, looking up at the gorgeous Chicago skyline and BOOM - I've wasted my life.

So it was with a dis-proportionally large amount of relief that I came across a few woodblock posters on Etsy that seemed to say just what I needed to hear. I thought I would share them with you. Remember to bookmark this page for when life throws you a punch to the gut every once in a while. It happens to the best of us. They also do a great job of making what would normally be corny motivational phrases seem simple and well... motivating. For me anyway.

*Note to self: be more daring.

*I like this one a lot.

*Short and to the point. Don't dwell on your failures... blah blah blah...

*You can still make a difference even when you feel like you don't matter.

*This is even better because of the awesome pink color.

*If all else fails... fake it until you make it.

Most of these came from Etsy Seller The Big Harumph. I am not linking directly to the Etsy pages as they sell out fast so your best bet is to go to their shop page and navigate from there. Other sellers featured are: Orange Beautiful, Book Fiend, Fifi Du Vie, Happy Deliveries, EvaJuliet, & The Ink Society.

I'm pretty sure if all these cruddy days keep repeating themselves before springtime comes, I might have most of The Big Harumph's stuff on the walls of our apartment. I apologize in advance if anyone doesn't like the Sh-- words on some of their stuff.

Now I press on - held higher by these kind creations by strangers. Also I made caramels. And curried lentils. Those help too.

Wishing you happy words at the most opportune times...

Love love love,

Here we are again...

2011-01-21T22:55:00.004-06:00

I'm trying to find a rationale for how excited I was to be experiencing some of the frigid below zero temps I have heard so much about from the friends and family back in Minneapolis and Montana. Perhaps homesickness at some level. Perhaps boredom. I am firmly settling on it's the rarely seen adventurous streak; the one that comes out only once it knows what to expect.

Either way - today was to be the coldest day in many months in Chicago. Not since my trip to Disneyland (or meeting Regis Philbin) has my outfit been chosen with such care. Last night I spent half the evening tearing apart and reassembling any possible spot where my mitten liners might have been tossed, including the garage, the bike room, the hallway and the sock bins in my wardrobe. I was out of luck. Right before bed I settled on a pair of One on One socks. They could fit over the four primary digits on each hand inside the mittens and be fine. Along with that bright idea, all my layering and planning worked out splendid as I pedaled my way through my freezing breath and down Milwaukee Avenue to work today.

So well in fact, that I wasn't cold. My eyelashes didn't even freeze together. My neckwarmer was damp but not icy. I was left disappointed at the "winter cold front" the media touted as a practical Armageddon. I guess I will save my outfit for a repeat when I return to Minneapolis if the temperatures stay so chilly as they have been this week.

See! No frozen eyelashes!!!

And while I normally love the lake effect Chicago enjoys, today I keep thinking of six years ago in Minneapolis. There was a blizzard I have yet to see the equivalent of here in Illinois during my stay. And on that day, I had chosen a whole slew of activities for my friend Sarah's birthday. Brunch. Shopping. Ice Skating. Happy Hour Manicures. Dinner. Concert. It was all ready. And I was the chauffeur and event organizer. If there was ever a day to have a foot of snow fall - that wasn't it. 10% of participants showed. It was laughable and still a truly awesome day to celebrate.

For the last few years I have sat down to recognize my dear friend's birthday on this blog - I didn't realize I did it until today looking back at my archives. It seems only fitting that I continue the tradition on the cusp of her bringing life into this world herself.

While birthdays come every 12 months... it only takes 9 to make one. This is a feat I am happy to say Sarah and her husband knocked out of the park between last year's birthday blog and now. The kid is adorable as adorable can be. He brings out the most ridiculous surprised baby faces of any child I've seen on the internet... and that includes a lot of cute kids. I can't wait to see him grow alongside his mother - and pick up her wit and charm and effortless conversational skills with people from all walks of life.

I promise to steal him only to teach him the ways of parallel parking in a blizzard, layering warm wool outfits while still looking fashionable, and how to change a flat tire on a bicycle.

No matter what climate our respective locales will be - we all will keep a little piece of our history and our hearts wherever good true friends reside. Even if where they happen to reside is -25 with windchill. Yes really.

You better be keeping my history and heart warm there lady. I don't want a bestfriendpopcicle waiting for me when I come back in February.

Wishing you days worth celebrating in the middle of the bleak white winter...

Love love love,

Resolve. 11 times over.

2011-01-03T10:09:00.005-06:00

Last night the boyfriend told me I wasn't allowed to add beekeeping to my list of extracurriculars. Chickens are out as well. Pretending that I will take his advice, I give to you the list of big hairy audacious goals for this city girl ... most of which are permanent fixtures in my to do list. But they make a nice post for my quarterly update so here we go:

1. Make macaroons. Gluten free. Soft whispers of flavors. Real. Parisian. Macaroons.

2. Learn to sew.

3. Stop looking into the mirror so close I can see my pores.

4. Learn foreign language. In order of importance: Spanish. German. Italian.

5. Floss (everyone has this I presume.)

6. Get back into yoga shape.

7. Read before bedtime instead of watch David Attenborough specials.

8. Add more written correspondence to my regimen.

9. Write more.

10. Learn how to use my Canon Rebel XS camera.

11. Keep my closet from throwing up all over the bedroom on a daily basis.

There you have it dear readers. I hope you're going strong in your resolutions and you'll find yourselves the picture of success by midyear.

Now - on the outset I want to say that this next part is 100% not intended to sound preachy or in a tone of bossiness. But change comes from a small voice speaking up so if I may...

If I can ask one thing of you and your personal goals for this new fancy year we have in front of us, please take a second to look where and who your food is coming from. 365 days of 2-3+ meals per day adds up and all that dough you pay for your food goes into someone's pockets and the quality goes into your health. Change something little. Maybe Meatless Mondays? Maybe happy eggs from a local farmer? The extra $2 might seem tough at first but it finds it's way into your budget without much growing pain at all. I promise. I've been there. Broke and cheap seem to go hand in hand. But it's worth it. Find locally sourced food nearby you ... with farmers who have real names and family to boot.

http://www.localharvest.org/

Compare your products with others and see how they rank: http://www.cornucopia.org/

Wishing you only the most accomplished of awkward growing phases in 2011.

Love love love,

The Cold Before the Winter

2010-09-09T09:48:00.009-05:00

Here in Chicago (and by the looks of status/tweets from my loved one around the nation, where you are as well) the temperatures have dropped to about low 50s in the morning and mid 70s in the afternoon. The sun has once again settled itself right in my eyes during my commutes southeast and northwest, respectively. I feel like I'm flying blind when a ray hits a manhole cover and shimmies under my bike hat brim to get in my line of vision. This happens every spring and fall.

It's ok though. I get to break out my jeans and that feels pretty nice indeed.

It also has kicked my domesticity (see post from last week) into full gear. Whatever speed I've lost by biking slower due to that sunny haze, I've made up for in putting together ideas for what to pack/prep/freeze before it's too late. I couldn't do it all myself, and I've had the best partner in Marie. She keeps calm when I spill salsa verde out of my food processor. She doesn't laugh when make little old lady-isms without irony. I truly would be overwhelmed and more than a little bored without her company and that of others stopping by to watch the preserving process.

Also she tightens a mean jar.

Per Marie's idea, our next week of food preservation will leave the boiling water alone and focus on freezing fajita mixins and pestos. Rather than scribble down our list for us to see, I thought I would share the process of determining what items we need, how much, and how local we can keep the supply chain. Enjoy our list. Come over in February for some tacos!

The below list will have an end result of sage/pecan pesto, lemon/cilantro pesto, vegan mint pesto, basil/garlic pesto, frozen onion/bellpepper mix, frozen roasted tomatoes, and frozen summer squashes*.

Farmers Market/Green Grocer:

20 Summer Squashes (unfortunately our summer squash plants fell victim to squash worms)

3 large handfuls sage leaves

6 Heads Garlic

2c +1/3c + coarsely grated Parmesan or Romano cheese (hard to find locally)

2 cups fresh cilantro (if able to find locally grown)

1/3 cup pine nuts

20-25 paste tomatoes

20 Bell Peppers

15 Onions

Cilantro

In Stock At Home:
3/4 cup unsalted pecans (or almonds)

1/3 + 1/4 + 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
lemon juice

1C + 3C Basil (from Marie's garden)

Thyme (from my garden)
Sea Salt

1/2 cup fresh mint leaves (from my garden)
1/2 cup fresh parsley (from my garden)

Really the hardest part of doing all this preparation is budgeting the cost and taking that big hit at first. My mantra of "this means less money in the winter on food" keeps punching back any monetary pangs from the wallet. For example - last weekend's salsa verde broke down to this:

$16 Tomatillos (a price I am proud to say I negotiated by offering to buy all their supply)

$3 Lime Juice

$4.50 Jalapeños

$7 Pint Jars

$3 Onion

$1.00 Garlic

Total: $34.50

Output: 9 Pints

Cost Per Pint: $3.83 (also - no tax y'all!)

Overall, the cost evens out. Search online for cases of salsa and you'll find $30-$40 for 12 jars on average. Not to mention the cost of the jars is an investment in itself, I stand by my decision.

And to be blunt and preachy - I feel better for having bought everything, except for the lime juice, from a local farmer. (Mmmmm smug self righteous and satisfying salsa). But really. For me personally, I place a large amount of importance on giving my money to a real person, who is doing what I wish I could, and making their income through labor and devotion to sustainable agriculture. I would love if others put an equal amount of value on buying as much locally as possible but everyone has their own budget, their own upbringing, and view on that. No matter how fashionable it is in the media. There is still quite a bit of work to be done showcasing and convincing others of the benefits of purchasing locally grown food.

For now. I'll just dream of winter roasted tomato with pesto pasta and summer squash and hope some of that locally grown garlic stink rubs off on you.

Wishing you full and happy heads and stomachs...

Love love love,

* I cannot recommend the Pick Your Own site enough for those of you looking to go forage at a farm near you or learn more about freezing/canning from a great source. It's truly amazing and a wealth of food preservation knowledge. True story.

This is my dream...

2010-09-02T11:39:00.002-05:00

2006 harvest canned goods
Originally uploaded by 7thswan

While smack dab in Chicago might be the furthest away from this flickr member's life, I can't help but find solidarity in the obsession/overwhelming nature of the summer harvest every year.

To be blunt, I've become even more of an addict for canning and freezing as much local food as it takes to keep us away from trucked in veggies once the red leaves and white flakes start to fall.

I'm not kidding. I might need an intervention.

I've bought at $170 chest freezer, dozens of mason jars, countless vegetables and fruits and yet all I can think of is all the foods I still haven't processed (badum dum).

I want those onions too!

Wishing you summertime bounty and good, healthy, delicious enjoyment of what grows around you...

Love love love,

K.

Thank You & 60647 - A Night Eating out In Logan Square

2010-06-08T10:49:00.005-05:00

Something happened at about 2pm yesterday. Somehow the word "tamale" whispered itself into my ear. It landed softly in my brain and wouldn't leave. A quick yelp search and I realized the restaurant we've been waiting to try has Spinach and Artichoke Tamales! Quickly a plan was hatched. These tamales with all their internet praise, would me mine. Joel just went along for the ride. After all, he had Taco Bell on the drive back from Indianapolis. How can you follow that?

As we walked alongside Greystones and converted churches-to-gym-community-centers on Altgeld, my cravings were overwhelming. I was practically drooling on the fresh mowed lawns under my feet. And then something clicked. A tiny sliver of rational thought seized me and I checked the hours of operation. My heart collapsed under two common words used here in Chicago restaurant land: Closed Mondays.

I literally sat down on the curb and almost cried. Joel offered up suggestions - all places I've eaten at over and over again since being diagnosed with Celiacs. All now overplayed on my palate. I wanted tamales. I wanted them more than anything. I wanted to punch a wall with my misplaced anger and hunger.

At last, we decided to triple our budget on dinner and go to Longman & Eagle, who apparently had listened to the complaints of the hipster hippies of Logan Square and added an entire vegetarian menu. It was surprisingly gluten free friendly.

Overall the service was extremely pleasant. Everyone was kind, suggestive and polite. The drinks took longer than expected. We ordered two courses each. Pretzel Rarebit for the Mister and cured olives for me. I finished with a lovely tomato preserve risotto topped with baby broccoli (the food runner said dandelion greens, which they were not), garnished with black garlic puree. It was al dente and creamy and all encompassingly tamale crave staving. Joel's ricotta gnudi with preserved meyer lemon, miscellaneous sauces of green and cream, was too sweet for his taste and less memorable than our hostess implied when she recommended it as a departure hint for our dinner. I could definitely see how it would be nice on a hot summer night, but with the cooling temperatures of late, it fell short.

A pretty good dinner, no? You would think so. Had they not accidentally fed Joel pork rillettes for his amuse bouche. Really. They said "vegetarian" as they presented me with mine and we both nodded. When he said "pork", we both heard "port". It was pretty loud in the restaurant and it slipped between the dark wood rafters overhead.

Apologies abounded. Everyone was very sorry. It came down to the food runner's neck, who understood his blunder since his "roommate is a vegetarian". But here's the thing. Two appetizers. One whiskey flight for the now pork eater. One $6 whiskey for him again, and two Gin Fizz cocktails for his lady, plus two entrees. And not one single apologetic removal of anything from our bill.

I'm trying to be nice here. After 7 years working in restaurants, and comping entire meals when people made fusses, I feel like this instance would have made me at least taken off his $6 (which means $2 to the house most likely) whiskey. I rarely, if ever, expect comps or free things when dining out. But feeding someone pork - and only his girlfriend telling him it was meat when she tries it and stops him from eating more - is not kosher (no pun intended)! It just seems careless - surprisingly so since there is obviously so much concern for the menu and spirits offered up here.

We have been trying to like this bar. It's 5 blocks from our house. The owners are local and nice and left a "Thank You 60647" sign out front. It is everything we want from a neighborhood restaurant. But it has already earned two strikes (they offered literally nothing vegetarian but a salad on our first visit). Maybe three. I just don't know if we'll be coming back again.

Chicago is full of restaurants, it's true. I've said it before, but you could eat at a different place for every meal, every day, and still not try them all. But finding one that is done well (which the L&E is, in theory) is hard. It just needs to try harder to forget that pork is delicious and realize vegetarian money is pretty tasty as well.

Wishing you a nice night out...with no bad surprises and no apologies...

Love love love,

Ridiculous.

2010-05-27T15:26:00.001-05:00

Ridiculous.
Originally uploaded by pinkzilla

Two years ago ... no wait. Three. Oh man. Three years ago I wore sunscreen every day. I also biked around the Minneapolis/St. Paul region about 3x as much as I bike nowadays. On my way to my serving jobs selling locally farmed wonder foods that I still can taste, or after - I would rack up 20, 30 miles in a day without blinking.

I miss this tan. It was so satisfying to look at. To know it meant time spent under the sun and going places.

This memorial day weekend the beaches of Lake Michigan are opening up to throngs of pasty Midwesterners... myself included. I'm biking 20 (40 if we're motivated) miles each way to get to one that doesn't have Wrigley Field in a 10 mile radius of it. What once would have been a day in the life of a Kim has become a destination day.

Living in the larger cities is hard when everyone else has the same idea as you. Get hot and bothered doing something active and jumping into a lake seems to be on everyone's minds this weekend. This was much easier in Minnesota. The lakes were warm and there were multitudes of them. You could bike in any direction and come upon a beach within 10-15 miles. Now it seems our choices are either north or south and nothing in between.

Either way, I'm excited. I scored some gluten free bread from a secret supplier and I'm going to make sandwiches. I'm going to put them in my jersey. I'm going to bike to the beach and I'm going to make the most of this heat. If I want that tan line to come back by August 9th for its three year anniversary, I better get cracking.

Wishing you safe skin practices and silly goal setting...

Love love love,

K.

First Homemade Cold Press of the Season!

2010-05-25T11:45:00.002-05:00

First Homemade Cold Press of the Season!
Originally uploaded by pinkzilla

I have this dirty habit.

I hate it. It makes me feel out of tune each day.

I drink office coffee.

Watery. Burnt. Not Fair Trade or Direct Trade. But Barely wakes me up and I hide it under layers of sugar and cream... office coffee.

Here on the 10th floor, the last one to empty the air pot is required to brew the next batch. This happened to me three days in a row last week. That cruel sound of the last of the coffee coming through the straw and out into my only half filled Otter mug was just like a knife through the heart. I found myself settling for decaf. Twice.

Despite the fact that I complain about the coffee. It's free. And I won't pay $4/day at St@rbucks for something with a stronger, equally not enjoyable, flavor that doesn't benefit a company based in my 10 mile radius.

But the weekends. Oh, the weekends are such a stark contrast. Joel works above an Intelligentsia (http://www.intelligentsiacoffee.com/) and brings home a pound of sustainable, lovingly roasted, kick my eyelids open smelling beans. We grind them fresh. We use the French press. Oh yes. You would be quite impressed....

I don't even make a mess. (sorry, couldn't resist)

Anyway - if my fawning and rhyming didn't clue you in. I just hate having to leave my weekend coffee ritual. The Otter mug just doesn't deserve such beverages of poor proportions.

Which is why today I am happy to say. We had our first batch of Toddy coffee for me to bring. And while some of it did spill inside my bike bag and get my slip smelling like ultra-concentrated coffee beans, it was worth it. Today was so hot and sticky - the cold press was enough to make me blurt out quietly to myself with a smile, "Nom".

I do believe I've started a new era of less guilt and sadness at 8:25am Monday thru Friday. After almost two years. This milestone was perfectly complimented by my birthday card from Kimberlee (http://www.kimberleemunnillustration.co.nz) in Berlin. Thanks Kimberlee!

Wishing you the joy of well sourced and happy beverages (or the feeling it inspires if you are lucky enough to not be addicted)...

Love love love,

K.

Excuses

2010-05-03T11:43:00.001-05:00

They've left us!
Originally uploaded by levi mpls

Levi caught a great capture of our moving truck yesterday. The entire process of looking for an apartment, losing out on the one we wanted at first, looking more, packing, more packing - planning and packing, and finally moving has kept me busy these last three months.

I keep looking forward to when the next big hurdle of everyday existence will be over... when things will die down... but there always seems to be something I suppose. But I have hopes. High hopes for settling into our new apartment - getting things unpacked, and using the lovely HUGE kitchen we have at our disposal (garbage disposal included!)

Right off the kitchen will be our new office - complete with desk looking into a lovely brick wall. Here's hoping I have more time.

Wishing you more time....

Love love love,

K.

So Good.

2010-02-24T16:15:00.002-06:00

Please. Enjoy this video. It made me sectretly look around to make sure no one saw my jaw opening as big as it could while smiling. I held in the laughs as much as I could. I loved it.

It's also a reminder of all the things going pretty well these last few weeks. The trip to Minneapolis was filled with ups. No downs. We may have found an apartment that I keep imagining a whole new life in (a sunroom, a 3 season porch, a dining room!) One with no upstairs neighbors.

I bought a real, bonafide, grown up table from This Guy Michael.

I heard birds chirping the other day.

All these things and more. Watching friends get happier. Seeing snow still falling just to make sure we remember it's winter in Chicago. Eating butter we brought back from the lovely and incredibly missed Co-Ops of Minneapolis. Making garden plans (please start saving your pennies because next week is fundraiser for the garden week) involving copious amounts of vegetables for the raised beds.

Looking forward. Trying to imagine possibly coming to a point where the fact that I hate biking in this city can be overlooked for all the art, architecture, events and people that come along with this package with big shoulders.

This is me. Probably at my most optimistic in the last month. Cross your fingers I get that apartment or you'll be bringing me gallons of chocolate ice cream for me to cry into.

Wishing you big dreams. Big. Huge...

Love love love,

K.

snomens

2010-02-10T10:30:00.001-06:00

snomens
Originally uploaded by Jowels

My boyfriend made this after his flight to Baltimore was cancelled. That means I get to have him around instead of being productive. That means there will most likely be no valentines to hand out this year. I was a bit too late on the ball on that one.

In other news. The windsor has been relocated to WestTownBikes, look for that pretty thing to rock gears and be on sale in the near future. This leads to the current quandry of what to do for my fixed gear ride. Torpado or not to Torpado. That is the question.

Perhaps our trip to Minneapolis this weekend, complete with Twin Cities Bike Swap will lend a few ideas. I've got a little offer on the side I'm considering as well but don't want to say anything yet.

Instead, let's pause to think about all the Minneapolis Eats I'm going to enjoy in 48hours. I can't wait. Spicy Golden Tofu, Vietnamese Salads, Mashed Potato Pizza, Craftsman Cocktails, Victor's 1959 Cafe Brunch, and the best will be homemade dinner from a few friends.

Wishing you food fantasies & fulfilling friends... forever...

Love love love,

K.

Tough Guy Challenge 2010 - The Big Picture - Boston.com

2010-02-05T13:31:00.002-06:00

Tough Guy Challenge 2010 - The Big Picture - Boston.com

Posted using ShareThis

Seriously - you should see all these pictures. There's enough mud to make you keep hoping for freezing temperatures no matter what city you live in.

I think I need a shower.

Wishing you dirty fun...

Love love love,

K.

Thurspiration... The one about food mostly.... and lots of links.

2010-02-04T13:19:00.005-06:00

Do you think Thurspiration sounds too much like perspiration? I was going for Inspiration... maybe that one will have to work itself out.

It's time for the first of what I hope to be a weekly inspiration series. I must admit this idea stems from all the pools of envy that pop up whenever I visit Kimberlee and Lies blog or see what Flickr holds in its pockets. That isn't just camera tomfoolery. That, kids, is slap you upside the head pretty. It's that sort of pretty that kicks the gritty to the curb. You know, the one you almost fell over onto when the bus decided not to wait the 5 seconds it would take you to proceed at your rate of speed and get out of their way. But I digress. Before the biker angst and sense of self importance rears it's way onto this blog, let's see what else can fit inside my head.

So internet. Please tell my boyfriend to get me this for Valentine's Day (thanks to dancypants for the picture):

(I want the bento box, not the the eats... also I want the egg mold.)

Rather than going back to Minneapolis for Stuporbowl this Saturday, I'll be thinking fondly of all my racing friends and living vicariously through their drinking stops. Maybe drafting up a few sketches to try and make these types of things a reality for girls riding all over the world (Panone you better be ready for these.)

(Photo courtesy of Karl)

And when the boyfriend is out of town next week. I will be doing something like this:
(from Flickr User: ShiShi All Rights Reserved)

But before he goes. There's some lovely beets (wishing they had come from this photo by lobstar28) on day two of marinating in olive oil, chives, and thyme for dinner tomorrow:

It's just enough to make me consider planting way too many root vegetables in the Thomas Street Garden

(please donate!) in a few months.

Wishing you hungers satisfied...

Love love love,

K.

Oh Dolly.

2010-02-02T11:41:00.003-06:00

My mind is wandering with all that has to be accomplished in these next months. Winter is meant to be time to bring your brain together to make things happen come spring. Get those ducks in a row, blah blah. But what happens when you can't keep track of how many ducks there are? Like today. Nerds Eye View's Pam makes me want to learn the ukelele. It seems attainable. Reasonable even.

Until you factor in the two languages, garden planning, bike shop working (Womens/Trans Night Tomorrow at West Town, don't forget!), apartment finding, vacation saving, grant writing... and home cooking to save money that seem to quack at me daily. Sometimes. A girl needs a break.

It seems today watching Dolly Parton sing with Disney characters did the trick. Enjoy:

Wishing you the ability to not let it drive you crazy. All of it...

Love love love,

February!

2010-02-01T15:36:00.002-06:00

P1020809
Originally uploaded by pinkzilla

Oh thank goodness. January is over. I can tilt my forehead towards the salt stained streets, bum rush through February and before I know it I'll be saying happy spring to everything!

Winter in Chicago has overall been uncharismatic. Sure it's cold as to be expected. The ladies of downtown either wear a stuffed sleeping bag for a coat or the skin of something that now needs its own sleeping bag to keep it warm. I tend to drift towards the vagrant style during my trips off the bike.*

Being as this is my second winter in Chicago, I've come up with a nice pretty summary for how it seems to be going:

Really it seems an annoyance more than a season. The few and far between major snowfalls make it worth it. Soggy dog dutie covered sod shows up just enough to make you disgusted with how Chicagoans don't seem to care about the appearance of their neighborhoods, but then comes another 6" winter blast and all things are virginal and pretty again.

The Chicago river's frozen icebergs making an exit from that massive lake Michigan are pretty too. It will never get old, the walking across that river while flakes coat the broken ice. Watching people scurry from offices to trains/cabs/cars. You have to hope they find it equally beautiful. That something so simple doesn't only cheer you up but maybe someone having a total crap day also.

This last weekend teased us with full frontal sunshine. It was wonderful. It was deceptive. It was still freaking freezing. But at least way back in our brains we remembered. We remembered what Google street view unfairly shoves in our faces - how green and lush the trees and boulevards were just six months ago. It's as if we haven't had caffeine or cupcakes... and then smell fresh roasted beans... or see the really cute pink frosting in the grocery store when all you go in for is Indian rice recipe ingredients. (i.e. Me, last night... the frosting part at least. Note to self - make cute pink cupcakes ASAP)

It's damn annoying. I would like my spring soon. Channeling Atlas holding the world while I try to remain optimistic enough for all those fellow winter sufferers is proving more work than I have time for. Everywhere you turn around these parts something or someone is having a mid-winter crisis. Soon enough the bulbs and blossoms will come slap us out of it. But until then I think everyone needs a weekly trip to the Conservatory or the Butterfly Room.

Or stop by the Art Institute of Chicago - February is free. Yes. Free. All month. You're welcome.

Wishing you sunny dispositions under grey weary skies...

Love love love,

K.

*Here's how my winter week commuting tends to be going:
Monday: Wake up - nothing is ready for biking to work yet. Take the train.
Tuesday: Possibly bike, possibly train.
Wednesday: Bike
Thursday: Bike
Friday: Bike.

It's not my best at-bat average. It's enough to cost me some of my winter riding cred but not enough to teach me how to dress without 10 layers and holes in my gloves and boots that don't match. So I got that going for me - which is nice...

PSA of the day: WEAR YOUR HELMET!

2010-01-21T12:46:00.002-06:00

PSA of the day: WEAR YOUR HELMET!
Originally uploaded by bluebike

The weight of life seems to be crushing my lungs almost as much as the 30mph gusts on my commute these last few days. Things I worry about, friends I don't want to offend, all things that swirl around inside my brain. It seems suffocating even after the headwind has ceased.

These seem the times when big decisions and changes should be made. That horrible feeling where something has to give. And really in the grand scheme all this weight - it's nothing. I should be so happy to at least have my brain. And you should to. Please get a helmet if you don't ride with one already. It will take a weight off me indeed...

Wishing you light loads upon shoulders...

Love love love,

K.

nothing amiss here

2009-10-19T16:45:00.001-05:00

nothing amiss here
Originally uploaded by levi mpls

Wonder why I'm not blogging? Too many nights hanging out I suppose. Living not writing. Although some nights... some nights I miss it. Those are the night I remember writing was how I used to live.

I'll be back. Until then keep an eye on the twitter. It's perfect for my ADD.

Wishing you bean bag wrestling, or the emotional equivalent...

Love love love,

K.

Thomas Street Community Garden in Humboldt Park

2009-08-10T11:26:00.002-05:00

Thomas Street Community Garden in Humboldt Park
Originally uploaded by Metropolitan Planning Council

VOTE FOR ME:
http://www.placemakingchicago.com/places/vote-for-your-favorite-photo-2.asp

Scroll down and click the dot above Thomas Street Community Garden so we can win prizes for our space!

Spread the word and help my place be seen!

Love love love,

K.

I Hope They Find Buster :-(

2009-08-04T13:56:00.001-05:00

I Hope They Find Buster :-(
Originally uploaded by JOE M500

I ran across this after my lovely long walk and errands during lunch today. This car was hit and the dog inside went out the window and now they can't find their pet pit bull Buster. I'm hoping all you Chicagoans can spread the word and keep a look out. Poor puppy. Poor young man wondering about his dog.

Tonight I will hug Penny just a little bit tighter as she jumps in her pen when I unlock the door, shoots out and scampers towards me with her legs bent close to the ground and her tail whipping at painful levels. She'll snort and have no idea how much I would be at a loss without her. Even as I'm noticing small short hairs covering the interior of the car, the couch and our bed. Even when she purposefully doesn't heed my calls to heel - I wouldn't trade her for the world. Ambassador Penny*, my little lovely lady.

Wishing you unconditional love from something warm and furry (if that suits you - fish are nice too)...

Love love love,

K.

*Penny graduated doggy training classes from The Barking Lot on Sunday. She has a wonderful diploma now. Upon saying our goodbyes to the staff, they thanked us for bringing such a wonderful dog to class to show people that Pit bulls aren't what they think they are. She was better behaved than 90% of the yellow labs in there and they called her "an Ambassador for the breed". Now it's official. She's an Ambassador indeed.

Oh How it Grows...

2009-07-28T14:57:00.003-05:00

Recently I volunteered to write a quick summary of the garden I grow in for a movement called "Placemaking". With only 250 words, it was so hard to convey how happy I was to find this place. It really did add a piece of pie to my pan - as it were. Slowly I am stacking blocks of things I have always wanted in my life.

Often I wonder if it is because I have so much emptiness after leaving my brothers and others back in Minneapolis. But really, I think it is trying to bring some of the normalcy I had there to a new and bigger city. A city that doesn't open itself up easily to new citizens. Like most cities/towns/metros - it takes time to find the secret places that feel like they complete you.

This garden, however much I can't even find time to visit like I want, answers the call I had to have a space that was more than just a wooden back porch. Come visit me and I'll take you there. Call me and I'll get your hands dirty.

You can read my entry below:

Thomas Street Community Garden in Humboldt Park

With tens of thousands of people sharing space in one of the largest cities in the world – it seems impossible that anything so public could also feel personal. And yet a plot of land surrounded by rehabbed apartments offers rare commodities here in the City of Big Shoulders: tranquility & a sense of contribution.

At 2655 Thomas, there lies something more than just an urban respite. Transplants and native Chicagoans who yearn to see something grow, but have no space, can find their cravings fulfilled while fostering a place for all to enjoy. Through the years it has avoided development and instead the protected land has transformed from a scene of broken glass and garbage to a real honest to goodness getaway around the corner.

Carefully planted flowers and loved plants creep and grow under the shade of several trees lining this entire city plot. Walking in (the gate is always open) you pass through a rock and mortar circle that doubles as seating for those with weary feet. Herbs and vegetables grow in hand built raised beds on the sunny south end, cared for by those all too eager to show off various species of edibles scattered about in the soil should you catch them on a workday (usually mid morning on a weekend).

In this Humboldt Park place there really does bloom a sense of creation and care that is certifiably one of a kind in a city where one is a very lonely number.

TRANSIT:
The garden lies less than 2 blocks away from two major CTA bus lines: The 52 (running north/south on California, walk 1.25 blocks east down Thomas), and the 70 (running east/west on Division, walk south down Washtenaw 2 blocks and turn left). Residential Street Parking only. Strollers and bikes are welcome and their owners are asked to respect the surroundings when visiting.

For my readers who can't hop into a car, onto a bus, or onto their two-wheeled steeds, I also offer up the flickr group managed by our fearless garden leader: Rob K (last two photos below are taken by him).

(Photo Credit: Works Magazine)

(Workday in the garden. From left to right: Me, Fred, Robb, & ?)

Wishing you some place very special...

Love love love,

K.

Missing Al,

2009-07-24T13:37:00.001-05:00

My fave..
Originally uploaded by pinkzilla

I found this picture today because there's another one of her on this day titled Madonna Arms. Apparently that got two hits via google images search today.

Looking at this photo reminds me of how warm and sunny it was over two years ago. We grabbed coffee at the Mayday Cafe and walked down to Powderhorn Park to sit under a huge tree.

Since then we have both cut our hair, moved (she bought a house in Minneapolis), adopted dogs, and have only seen each other twice. It always feels like I never left when we sit down and catch up. Between her, Cate, and Sarah (and all the others out there I didn't mention) I don't know how I've made it so long on my own.

Thankfully, there are wonderful ladies in Chicago as well. Not to be forgotten by any means. My mind keeps looking ahead, to the time where I will have known them for equally as long. There will come a time I won't want to say goodbye to them either. In fact, come September, one will be moving away. This realization that time has sprinted across this last year is hitting home. Not only did I manage to foster a friendship with Emily, but now I sadden thinking of her leaving.

Now I know how my Minneapolis friends felt when I was called to move out of the city to live and breathe other sights and sounds. It stinks. My apologies to you - and to myself because I miss you. Yes you.

I only wish this country wasn't so big - that the length of land and highways between us were smaller. I wouldn't have to worry about who was going to help me eat the cherry pie I made (pictures tomorrow I promise). But at least I know who will be using our soon to be acquired craigslist sleeper couch and the guest room. I'll keep a light on for you, Minneapolis girls.

Wishing you unexpected nostalgia and long reunions...

Love love love,

K.

Pinkzilla & Crash Handsome

2009-07-14T13:01:00.002-05:00

Pinkzilla~
Originally uploaded by bluebike

During Tour de Fat I had an opportunity to meet a Chicagoan I only knew via flickr: bluebike. It really was only a matter of time with all the bike culture events here in the city. What's wonderful about this "interwebs meets real life" occasion is she happened to snap a picture of Joel and I literally right before I introduced myself. I happen to love this shot.

This split second in time - where I knew who she was - but she thought I was about to scold her. I never could. She takes beautiful shots of this city. It makes me scold myself when thinking about getting a nice SLR camera now that I have my four essential bikes practically built up:

Winter: Miyata (thanks to Pete)
Fixed Gear: Windsor (thanks to mplsminx)
Heavy Pretty Hauler: Carabela (thanks to badger)
Fast Roadie: Battaglin (the only one never before owned by one of my friends!)

Until I find time to fit that in with the three or four languages, yoga, college credits, financial investing, obsessions that come up - I'll live vicariously through her lens. She captures it leaps and bounds better than I have the attention to.

Wishing you meetings that take you away from the computer screen...

Love love love,

K.

Baby Boom of Endangered Species

2009-07-13T12:44:00.002-05:00

Baby Boom of Endangered Species
Originally uploaded by Smithsonian's National Zoo

After a wonderful bike-packed weekend where I entirely forgot to tweet (OMG what will happen NOW!) or take my camera out of its case during the Tour de Fat Saturday and doggy daycare, farmer's market, bike building of Sunday, I am happy to feel settled once again. And entirely in love with all the postings from the Smithsonian National Zoo.

It's a good day when an endangered species get a cute little diversification of its gene pool.

Wishing you a Monday appreciated after a weekend well spent...

Love love love,

K.

That Time Again

2009-07-08T16:29:00.002-05:00

Ah yes. July. Hot hot ... er ... cold, camp July. I would swear it was May or even April if I wasn't obsessively watching the Tour de France (like last year, and the year before, and the year before: http://justacitygirl.blogspot.com/2006/07/le-tour.html). It seems so long ago that I started discussing it with Sarah and rooting for people later banned for doping.

Today one of those who I rooted for on Bastille day 2004 won a stage again. I swear it's like watching a kid grow up and mature and become a better person. I have such a soft spot in my heart for Voekler. I think it was his tiny biker butt, out of the saddle, trying to hold onto his yellow jersey in the mountain stages and just not being a good enough climber.

Fingers crossed he's made his peace with the burn and can rip up those passes now that 5 years have passed.

Wishing you nerdy sporting hopes and prayers...

Love love love,

K.

Clouded Leopard Cubs are 12 weeks old!

2009-06-18T09:40:00.001-05:00

Clouded Leopard Cubs are 12 weeks old!
Originally uploaded by Smithsonian's National Zoo

Seriously. If you have a Flickr, you should be adding the Smithsonian Zoo as a contact. Best part of the day today so far.

And for the record, today a fully grown up 29 year old, annoyed, heavy legged, wet Kim rode to work. My youth must have slept in. Or it's at home playing with Penny.

It seems fitting that I'm listening to the Beach Boys "I want to go home" right now. Sleep. Sleep would be good.

Wishing you a lovely day even if you're tired. It seems we all are...

Love love love,

K.

Singing in the Rain!

2009-06-17T08:56:00.002-05:00

It's amazing what just a few or 17 degrees will do to a commute. Life has been so full of lovely timess with friends, the Mulder Family, drives and days with 3.5 year olds who refuse to say thank you and repeat all you say instead (until they really want it and miraculously remember what the "magic word" is), and hours upon hours of dog trainings/walking/feedings, that those 30 minutes early in the morning and right after work have fallen to the wayside of my memory bank. Several weeks ago all I could remember was how cold and wet the mornings were:

On one hand because I am rushing to or fro, I focus less on the annoyances of helmetless, mp3 wearing "squirrels" sharing the bike lanes or the cars that don't want me there and instead press on towards my destination with no time to lose.

Except for a precious few lovely days when Joel has met me and we bike together, joking under the sunshine - that rare rare sunshine as of late.

Or yesterday.

Yesterday the heavens opened up, as the term so aptly states. The city grew loud with cars and sirens and the palpable fear of pedestrians running for cover while sheets of rain came at them from all directions. There must have been something in that energy and in the air surrounding those drops because I lost about 20 years in 20 seconds. Suddenly I reverted to the stormy summer days in Missoula and being yelled at by motorists for playing in intersection puddles (they were the size of lakes I tell you!) In all of those moments, where I saw not one other cyclist once I left downtown, I shared the road nicely with the cars and made my way with renewed memory of why I love biking instead of mass transit or driving.

Out of my mouth came songs about rain, songs by Mariah Carey, songs substituting Penny instead of "Honey" (awwww sugar sugar. You know the one right?) Meanwhile I laughingly sprinted through puddles; covered my shoes and knee high socks with grit and sand. I reminded mother earth (out loud) that she owed me a tailwind from my morning torture down Milwaukee Avenue and finally got in in the last push homeward.

If every day could be that joyful and make me happy to be the crazy lady who talks about the joy of feeling like a kid again - I would never again have a problem with this city and it's snail pace at progressiveness.

For now - I've got my fix. Let's hope it sticks around for a while.

Wishing you all the best whatever your forecast calls for...

Love love love,

K.

Happy Earth Day

2009-04-22T16:42:00.001-05:00

Originally uploaded by pinkzilla

I just exhaled a heavy heart-ed sigh thinking about my failure to take a picture for the last week. With all good intentions I will continue the rest of the spring season to capture a new city during my favorite part of the year. I love watching the rain clouds hover over the Chicago skyline and obscure the tallest buildings around only to see a sunshine filled daffodil the next day.

I love even thinking "oh there's another bulb coming up, I've seen those all over". How remarkable it is to look at these living green plants awaking from the soil. So what if the soil is toxic? That's why I have a new community garden to go work in - complete with wonderful new people to meet and a world full of potential meals to make from the spoils. Had you asked me in February if I could possibly imagine having not only a garden, but the fixtures of our apartment repaired and a green light to get a dog in the works, I would have hugged you still doubted. It was quite bleak, my outlook for continued settling into this Midwestern metropolis. So many major aches were unfulfilled. Life was too busy to try and relocate. Worse yet it seemed still no garden would be possible. No roof. No sun. No tomatoes. No dirty fingers from soil (rather than the usual bike grease).

Today the sun is coming out in time to usher in several days of warm spring weather. I find it a fitting metaphor for the peace I'm feeling. A year ago I would tear up thinking about how much I wanted a settled life. My taste buds could image it. My eyes could see it when the lids closed. And yet it seemed so far. That hardship is why I moved in the first place. To once again appreciate the life I can build. This year has sped past me thanks to all those steps I had in my mind to take. And I can't imagine doing it without Joel. Or the new people I have met.

All this waxing nostalgic and appreciative must have come from the gift card I received for Administrative Professionals day. Or possibly it's the giant tree they put on Michigan Avenue - adorned with flaming green ribbons in honor of earth day and the Arboretum. Either way, I can feel it. Ease. Happiness. That old sneaky contentment I looked for around all the corners of debt and jobs and apartments.

Now if only the blossoms would bloom. All cities look better dressed in blossoms. Also, I need to fix the wheels for the new bike. But I swear, after that, I'll relax just a bit. (Once we have a dog, of course.)

Wishing you not only Happy Earth Day, but happy on the earth day. I hope next year's honoring of our air/trees/natural resources we deplete too fast finds you feeling half as good as I am right now.

Love love love,

K.

What a Weekend

2009-03-16T11:37:00.001-05:00

Gah - grumpy.

2009-02-04T14:09:00.002-06:00

Yesterday I found myself blinking sometime in the afternoon and opening my eyes to a world filled with annoyances and let downs. I wondered to several of my friends if perhaps it was too much caffeine - maybe a disillusionment of some sort started it out. For the first few moments I gave in - and it consumed me. Despite feeling against the idea, I made myself bike home from work. Typically this revives me - makes me happy to be active and outdoors and not on the train.

Unfortunately my slow and happy summer route (found out of sheer need to avoid the arterial bike lane street that squishes bikers between parking meter spots and one lane of traffic) lead me into a confrontation with a woman who had a large book open and was driving with her interior lights on. I made her roll down her window, consciously maintained my composure and niceties, and wanted to make sure she wasn't driving and reading. She told me I wasn't supposed to be riding in the "industrial corridor" and wrongly assumed I had no lights. Once corrected - she told me my Planet Bike lights should be replaced with "bigger ones".

Things only got worse after I stopped at a local bike shop to pick up a nicer headlight - and was honked at and run out of my lane by a car with a "support cyclists - share the road" bumper sticker. I think the old white car was purchased by some young kid who failed to get rid of the bright yellow signage on the bumper. Joel had the unfortunate displeasure of dealing with me when I stormed home declaring how much I hated Chicago and biking here. My words made no sense but sounded angry and resentful of this city's pace and flow and traffic and selfishness. It took until way after my fingers were bleached and pruney from a very hot shower to calm me down.

But today is a new day. And it is sunny out. And life is short. I read this today (courtesy of the New York Times).

“He loved the street more than anything.”
It helped that he had a voice like a radio announcer’s. “His voice really carried,” Mr. Hughes said. “Joe would say to me, ‘You have to not be afraid to talk to yourself out loud.’ He said that once he started talking out loud, somebody would stop, and once he had one, he’d have a crowd, and once he had a crowd, he’d sell peelers.”

It reminded me how swift - and how full of delightful people I'll never meet - life is. I'll try my best to remember the good ones when all I want to do is fly away from the mean ones in Chicago.

Wishing you reminders of the good - whether in the big city, or tucked on the side of Cinderella Mountain...

Love love love,

K.

All planned out.

2009-02-02T15:50:00.004-06:00

Again I find myself with no clean laundry that doesn't stink all because I was (in order from Friday to current) :

Biking
Dive Bar Happy hour - listening to the best jukebox in Chicago. All oldie/goodies.
Biking
Dinner at Twisted Spoke (cheese curds not as good as MN - they were breaded)
Riding in old car to Aurora, IL
Eating bland grits and cheesy hash browns at Denny's.
Driving new car back on Joel's tail (first time driving since the moving van drive to Chicago)
Moving a bed and boxes into a friend's new place.
Stopping at Target for a new set of T-Shirt Sheets and some Bread sticks.
Napping and waking up grumpy.
Attending a "Hot and Cold Beverage" Party for a drink.
Biking with 8 other cyclists down busy streets on a Saturday at 11pm.
Dancing for 4 more hours at the Hideout Dance Party.
Biking home. Eating cheese and crackers.
Sleeping.
Biking to the Urban Cafe - probably my favorite small spot yet in Chicago.
Petting puppies at "Let's Pet Puppies" - getting depressed because they seemed like they were from somewhere that rhymes with Huffy Hills.
Biking home.
Refusing to leave the bed for the rest of Sunday.
Eating Tater Tots - in bed still.
Biking to work.

Can you see why I have no laundry clean? It was a full weekend. And this week doesn't seem to be declining in commitments. Thankfully Joel has planned out our evening:

I have a sinking suspicion I won't be blogging from the laundromat this evening.

Wishing you making up for lost time happy and homebody alike...

Love love love,

K.

Laundry and a new battery!

2009-01-23T18:40:00.002-06:00

Working off of just the slightest fraction of the smallest bar on my airport card in this laptop I thought I would take as much time as I can until the Internet goes away to describe to you the scene I find myself in almost weekly - my neighborhood Laundromat.

Normally Joel acts as the work mule and carts our pounds and pounds of bike tights, work shirts, wool socks and favorite t-shirts in the rapidly decaying wooden box from Ikea that was once our laundry cart. Since our visit to San Francisco we've resolved to find a metal cart with four wheels and a softer handle. Proving once again that the best way to find out what you really need is to nit pick the thing you obtained thinking it would work. And since finding out there was in fact NO laundry on-site as the rental agent told Joel almost a year ago, this particular cart has been very good to us. But weekly trips over potholes and listening to us curse the illegal activity of drivers never stopping for crosswalks here in Chicago - has caused the little blonde grained planks too lose their ability to go on much further.

I'm looking straight at it - pool of melted snow and anti-freezing chemicals drying on the brick colored tiles that line the entire room. To my left are two vending machines: one terrifically retro with "COLD Drinks" sandwiching mod stripes of blue, purple and pink; the other a plastic ad for Pepsi with a NASCAR guy - Jeff Gordon I just remembered - offering up your "Choice of Victory Lane". Neither one has worked since our second visit here. We shared an orange Crush. It was lovely. I don't think they have been stocked since.

For how laundry mats go - this one has more charm than any other I've frequented. From Montana ones as a kid, through Minneapolis all around Lyndale Avenue and Grand - nothing has such touching attempts at making it look like an extension of one's home. The front window is large and clear with close to 10 large species of tropical plants acting as a living curtain between the washers and the 4 laned California Avenue (a thoroughfare in Chicago running North/South). For sitting spaces, the proprietors have offered benches that look like what one would buy when overhauling their massive garden to a more European theme.

You hear the hum of the machines - feel the floor vibrating during the spin cycles, and hope the next high pitched beep you hear will be yours - calling out to put your clothes in the dryer. Promising you are 1/3 of the way done! Like me. Right now. Excuse me.

Now as the thick tempered glass is steaming up and I watch the two loads of lights and darks try to dry as soon as they can, I can think of one thing that is quintessential "'mat" stereotype. The Argentinean owner and his wife play the same radio station every day here: smooth 70s and 80s and jazz. 95.5 W...something something. Sometimes we get lucky and the songs are the very select few you actually enjoy from that genre. The rest of the time I think of my little brother Jacob who can play the saxophone and who asked for Kenny G CDs on Christmas a few years back. I wasn't thrilled with the assignment. But, I do count my blessings that there is no TV mounted on the wall. Several security cameras (of questionable states of working order) yes, television shows showing only the worst of selections to America: no. You don't even know how happy I am to hear melodious solos of wind instruments rather than watch another Judge themed show, or a repeat of that show with the brothers and the kid - the one that still - STILL is on the air and popular!

Most of the time people disobey the posted signs and leave the premises between loads. And by "people" I include Joel and I. Guilty. We pop next door to our favorite affordable and amazing wine shop and pick out a bottle to have that evening. Usually reds. Tonight I'm having white. But only because I already purchased Joel his six pack of beer from Michigan that he requested. If the man gets beer. I get white. It's an even trade. Sort of like folding our own individual clothes even though we wash them together. Or me using the cold cycle when he's not around because I am determined that it is gentler on the clothes.

It's here towards the front I sit looking at the expanse of this facility - a full restaurant size - while watching a young mother and her daughter helping put the clothes into and out of the dryers along one of the walls. I feel calm here in this quiet. Much calmer than I can say for riding home last night and almost getting flattened sideways by a Suburban. But that's another post of course.

Wishing you quiet calms and soda machines stocked wherever you are...

Love love love,

K.

Once a year dear Hadley

2009-01-21T11:24:00.002-06:00

Today is special. Today this calmly dynamic, red headed, pretty faced girl I know has a reminder of how wonderful the world is because she is in it for another year. Today is Sarah's birthday. So far it's the second one I haven't been able to be around in person for and I have a feeling it won't be the last. These occasions remind me of just how complicated it is to not only grow up - but grow apart (literally speaking only of course) as we move towards building our adult lives. I completely falter in my conviction to see how life can be in other locations. How much easier and sweeter meeting for a cup of coffee at Cafetto would be instead of chatting online with capitalized abbreviations showing the height of my excitement (OMG!! Happy Birthday!!!, etc. etc.)

I must admit this is the part of life I wasn't fully expecting. You think phone calls and witty banter over the internet is enough. How grossly I underestimated. Yet, I am still excited for how far we really have come. Years ago I would pick Sarah up in the 1991 Ford Tempo I drove, fully lined with red wine colored upholstery, and we spoke on and on of hopes and wishes for what was to come. Through birthday blizzards we laughed at the ridiculous nature of how much we really are the best of buddies and can pick up on unsaid jokes and disappointments.

With all of Chicago's splendor and heightening sense of home, I can't help but think the only missing part is the support beams of people like her. She was one of those perfect pairings in life - to bring out the schoolgirl shrieks and giggles yet stand firm with a shoulder and something for the blue and gray days. Not to mention her electric abilities to bake the meanest sweets of anyone I know. My dessert life has severely suffered from this move.

Oh dear friend - I hope you understand how truly happy I am that you were born on this day a few decades ago. I can't imagine enjoying my life in Chicago without first learning how to enjoy life as my own person: loved, liked and sometimes irritating as I was. Happy Happy Birthday!

Wishing you all someone equally suited to call your best friend...

Love love love,

K.

A Chicago Weekend

2009-01-11T18:06:00.004-06:00

Winter really has come as it pleased this season. At times my fingers would stiffen beyond feeling after 10 minutes of riding, and 72 hours later the snow would be melting fast enough to prompt flood warnings for parts of Chicago proper. Even so, I'm sort of enjoying winter riding for the first time since I made myself aspire to ride year round (out of peer pressure and brotherly support). Perhaps it's my 5 mile commute each morning that makes me less wary and more used to the wiggle and wag of my rear wheel on salty crunchy snow. Because of the week filled with gradually stiffening and white dyed bike tights, I find my weekends taking on a particular pattern.

Fridays usually I'll ride a few miles in any direction to drink down a few beverages with the friendly fellow riders. Saturday is a day for sleeping in. And here is where the remaining 36 hours can go in opposite directions. I can end Sunday night on my pillow satisfied with completion of various home projects and recipes finished. Or, I can kick myself for sleeping up to 13 hours in a day. This weekend I stepped up and raged against the nap machine to sloppily clean up the bathroom before taking a shower... which started me on the path to constructive tendencies.

Now as I await leaving in 90 minutes to go ride 5 miles to play a 45 minutes indoor soccer game, I look happily at the clean dishes and think about the massive bowl of red pepper hummus and other foodstuffs ready for workday consumption this week. Finances are ironed out and the wonky cord of this laptop will soon be replaced with a new one from ebay... and it will have a new battery buddy to boot...up. Ha! Boot. Up! It seems not just watching movies and drifting between meals and consciousness has a positive effect on my funny factor as well.

This weekend Joel's work is flying us out to San Francisco for his annual work retreat. This back and forth of temperatures, mixed with a trip to Colorado for the new year, and this upcoming getaway, are all holding off a bonafide aclimation for me. I shouldn't complain, but I'm wearing wrist warmers... inside. In the kitchen. Where I turned off the oven an hour ago after roasting garlic. My body has lost it's ability to buck up and bike the winter bullet without feeling the effects. But I'll whip it into shape. I even walked half a mile in the fresh 8 inches of snow that fell Friday evening into yesterday morning. After spending the precursory "never less than $50 a visit" stocking up on miscellaneous necessities around the house, we had fun looking at all the flakes stacked onto tall iron fences and oak trees surrounding the old mansion style buildings on Logan Boulevard. I almost made it inside without Joel attempting a snowball fight... or really just a dump of snow onto Kim. Let's be realistic.

See:

My life is so hard.

Wishing you all "hardness" as easy as mine...

Love love love,

K.

Permanence...

2008-11-25T17:07:00.004-06:00

You know what the strangest feeling is? Seeing list of things/items/projects/occasions that were once put off due to saving for moving, moving, (repeat 2 times)finally being widdled down. Things like a waterproof shell for when biking outside. Or paying down credit card debt. Obtaining a new camera (off the back of a truck?) from someone wearing a bluetooth set advertising on Craigslist. Hey - it looked brand new to me. I don't care if it's $100 cheaper than Amazon - no guilt for me.

I can't tell you how good it feels to start to make out a firm life again. Between moving back and forth across half this country, I not only promised myself to hire movers from now on, I plum forgot what it feels like to not be suffocated by things I couldn't possibly start to address in my life. Now I find the trick is making sure I don't make (in my opinion only) the mistake that plenty of Americans seem to make, and keep adding new things whenever I cross something off.

When I sold off 8 years worth of belongings last year, I couldn't believe how much stuff I had acquired. Deep down I was happy to see some of it go (but Julie, I'm glad you still have that couch for me to visit). Only just yesterday I thought about how much new stuff my pretty and permanent paychecks purchased. I'm starting to acrew again.

So this week, after what I hope will be a family feeling dinner with vegan foodies for Thanksgiving I'm staying home to work on projects in lieu of shopping. It just so happens to get one more to-do-when-I-have-a-free-day items erased from the guilt trip chip in my head. Stay tuned for more. And send me your plastic bags.

Wishing you small chips devoured - with dip or otherwise...

Love love love,

K.

Soon soon oh city city...

2008-10-09T09:50:00.006-05:00

An unexpected bout of homesickness has washed over me since about Tuesday. Small hints of missed streets and riding fast without (as much) fear of close car confines and of being surrounded by those whom I've spent years of my life enjoying the company of are jumping into my mind like popcorn.

Twice I've teared up.
Five times I've said "I miss Minneapolis".

And although there's not a part of me that is wishing to live back in the Twin Cities metro, I think my brain feels that since I'm going back this weekend for a visit, it can wax nostalgic in the middle of my workday. It's becoming disruptive I tell you. Especially when I see pictures (Courtesy of Deplaqer) like this:

Meanwhile, I'm finding tasty bits of Chicago to add to the fledgling memory box up inside my head. Each day I ride home I take pictures for my Fall Picture Project. And once our internet is ironed out at home, I'll be able to upload them properly without missing any (as is not the case right now) on my flash drive. Through my lovely but beaten up camera I see wonderful signs of nature, city dwellers, urban architecture and sites roughed up and gentrified.

On the days where I take the train, I'm reminded of this life I lead. It's only a small percentage of the geographic area of America that trek across and under streets full of such a variety of people. Moving up escalators, standing as the train lurches into and out of stops, walking/riding through taxis and delivery trucks...

How easily you forget about life without all this excess and busy behavior. As much as I love it, I am reminded more now that I am part of this swell of humanity rather than the quiet of towns where my other family members habituate. What a large and diverse world I have moved myself into. I'm looking forward to stepping back to Minneapolis to evaluate the differences that I've grown accustomed to since I moved here in April.

Also I hear there will be cake. And I get to dress up. I think I'll need to procure a curling iron.

Wishing you fondness of recalling what you might have left behind (for now)...

Love love love,

K.

Snibbets...

2008-09-26T10:18:00.004-05:00

Today allow me to presume what we might have in common. While it certainly isn't politics, or longitude and latitudes, I have a suspicion all you loved readers can relate to this week's realization of mine.

Sometimes you feel like the moon is playing tricks on the tide of commitments and deadlines around you. One day the salty waters of things weighing on your mind seem shallow and clear. You can see your toes pruning under the softly lapping waves. And then out of nowhere the water his the bottom of the jeans you rolled past your knees. Those peaceful and harmless ebbing of the oceans is quickly forgotten with demanding swirls coming from what seems like every direction. It takes great strength to stand upright and look at it from an objective perspective (detective - sorry, just had to rhyme that). My days and weeks here in the city seem to involve plenty of dealing with rising waves and disappearing sea anemones. One day I feel like I'll never learn how to categorize and invoke self discipline. The other, I'm floating on my back, listening to my breath as the salt water evaporates on my face.

And while the imbalance isn't disarming or annoying, it's noticeable. The measure is enough that I strive to find a way to tame it, to break it down to bite sized pieces, to line them up and knock them down...

You get the idea.

Until then, I almost prefer the high tide. It doesn't let me think about all the other smaller projects I wish I could get to. The intensity masks the depth. Oh, how horribly vague that reads! Shall we move onto dry land?

It's been a wonderful week here in Chicago. The weather is warm with fog that rolls in overnight, and scurries away under the heat of the afternoon sun like a kitchen pest when the lights come on. I find myself wishing for cooler weather so there might be less people out and about, thereby simplifying my routes over and under and across this city. I fear it might not make much difference. Maybe I'll be surprised by no decline of fellow commuters. This is indeed a year of surprises.

Fall started Monday. I set a goal of taking a picture every day for the entire season - same premise as the 2007 Spring photo project:

I quickly found that less Kim on Kim time, and more social commitments, means less opportunity to pull off the side of the road and snap a picture. Hence - it will be 7 pictures a week. Perhaps two one day, five the other. I'll upload my progress as it grows yellow and falls off the tree or frosts over on the first night below freezing.

Lastly, my friend Rachel (The Clegg Family blog on my link list) featured this automated drawing featuring common blog entry words. Here's mine. It think it looks dandy.

(Care of http://wordle.net/)

I know there are constant reminders to how easy it is to pick apart our lives by statistics and equations nowadays. But still, this made me smile when thinking about what words it chose to pull out of this blog. I suppose Chicago get's its due. Even if it is missing what is automatically listed ad nauseum after its name on public places here in the city: Richard M. Daley, Mayor. That guy sure gets a lot of press. It's even on posters for concerts going on in public parks. I'd wager his tides are even more off kilter than mine.

Wishing you preciously predictable ebbs and flows...

Love love love,

K.

Miracle on Milwaukee Street (actually Avenue)

2008-09-19T16:43:00.002-05:00

Last night I really had a great time. I went solo shopping for tap dance shoes for a Community Ed Class I'm taking later on this month. I found not only the tap shoes I was looking for (right at the end, at the second shop on Milwaukee Avenue nearby my apartment) but so much more. I found magic.

It's been a while since I've felt like something happens that wouldn't happen for other people - like something special occurs in my day that is completely extraordinary. It happened in between the used toys and electronics... right amongst the white plastic shelves barely fit to contain the number of used shoes of all sizes and of absolutely no organized placement. I found the exact same boots I purchased in November, 1999 from a Nordstrom Rack in California. These last three years the boots I almost threw away five years ago became a cherished and appreciated winter barrier against slush and grit and rain and cold while snuggled into my bike's toe clip pedals.

It was in a puddle last winter that I realized they were beginning to say their goodbyes. At first my socks were a bit damp. Sure the zipper pulley snapped off after a -20 degree ride several years back, but they were still ok. I would put a plastic bag over my socks for a while. Eventually my denial was as easy to pick apart as the stuffing coming out of the fleece lining... through the outer parts of the boots. I've kept them only for the sake of hoping to find a replacement online...

Discontinued.

I swear every good and happy and true point of my live was relived last night as I looked up to see two replicas - a bit dusty - smiling at me above the stacks of heels and sneakers. A cry of "NO WAY" directly followed by trying to explain my entire story to a quiet and smilingly polite Hispanic woman who just wanted to look for her damn shoes herself thanks came out of my mouth with the luster only comparable to a child's on Christmas day upon finding out they receive extra presents this year!

With this, and a feminine and professional blazer score, I left and rode home feeling like Chicago had welcomed me into its open arms. The city of broad shoulders... extending them to give me a hug. I don't care if they do say it's the most Depressing City (Forbes, look it up.) It's only depressing if you don't know how to dig at a thrift store.

Wishing you miracles...in whatever shoe size you wear...

Love love love,

K.

Meringue, Cut Outs, Pot Holes

2008-08-28T09:11:00.005-05:00

In about 16 or so hours (18 if they lollygag) I'll be sleepily welcoming 5 guests into our Chicago apartment for a weekend of merriment and bike culture. By Monday evening I'll be worn out and presumably sick and tired of trackstands and messenger bags. Maybe.

One topic of conversation between Joel and I has been the three major factors of awful street states here in our big big city. We've come up with the big three to always warn out of town bikers of:

Hazard Numero Uno: "Meringue"
This consists of squares of any length and width, cut from the street surface and replaced by what can only be described as a blind and drunk cartoon elephant - oozing the concrete from it's trunk like the child of you imagined they do to put out fires when serving on the volunteer zoo fire brigade. The pachyderm staggers away from the unsettled mixture without so much as smoothing it out. For good measure it probably steps in it too. The dried result is ours to live with. See...

Hazard Two: "Cut Outs"
I'm hoping the reasoning behind this failure of urban infrastructure maitenance is intended to actually help our good city's streets. But so far I my hopes have been pretty empty. One morning you'll ride on your regular route - before any coffee to wake you up - and quickly notice a massive (10ft x 10ft sometimes) square missing from the street... coming up in about two seconds worth of riding time. Without proper notice, you have little or no choice but to slow down as much as possible and ride through the square of pinchflat-dom. Tomorrow you'll know better. You'll signal to the cars behind you that you are actually avoiding this gulf of scratched up pavement 2 inches below the rest of the road. You'll go around it and all will be ok. Unless they box you in. Then you pray you remembered a tube and you can change the flat in time to get to work.

Hazard Three: "Potholes"
You know them. We all do. They don't really get covered for a while and when they do they leave a pock-marked post-adolescent complexion to stretches of neighborhood streets. You choose your paths wisely to keep to the center, swerve to the left and then to the right, just to keep your teeth from falling out of your jaw during the bone shaking 20 seconds it takes you to get to the end of the block.

(Photo from a flickr search: Thanks to Hacocayb!)

So now, dear two wheeled loved ones. Take heed of my warnings. The streets are waiting for you. I am too! Drive safe.

Wishing you all safe travels this Labor Day weekend!

Love love love,

K.

What a Settled Day Feels Like...

2008-08-21T20:56:00.002-05:00

There have been many glimmers of life finally cumulating into a real solid experience here in Chicago. I've been finding myself happy and satisfied with the swiftness of making not only nice, but quality friends. This week I get paid for a job I started a week ago. It has been months of disappointment and revamping of my entire work history on a piece of paper 8.5" by 11. For the first time in my adult life I realized the hardships of a down-turned job market. The sigh of relief coming out of my mouth could knock over a poorly constructed card house I'll have you know.

A week ago I was visited by Chelsea and we relied solely on the elevated train system (the "L" for those in the know) and found ourselves dropped smack dab in the middle of pre-Cubs game mayhem next door to Wrigley Field. While being courted by scalpers and wondering aloud to one another if we actually looked like baseball fans, we trekked all the way to the Chicago Diner to feast on vegan dinner and a peanut butter/cookie dough vegan milkshake. Hours later, and finally back downtown to drop off my layover friend, I hopped onto my trusted Windsor and proceeded to storm up Milwaukee Avenue with the help of 2 glasses of Pinot Grigio.

By now the night has gone very smoothly and nicely. I fondly stared up at the skyscrapers of downtown Chicago while sitting on a stone bench nearby the Chicago river and sharing said wine with my Minneapolis friend. I shared laughs and memories, called my boyfriend who was out of town on business and even managed to tie my broken headlight onto my handlebars with a piece of torn off shirt (I wasn't wearing it.) All in all, you could say the day was a success. A nice quick flash of impending normalcy in a new town. And you would be right.

I found myself even more thankful for the work it's felt like these last four months have been as I seamlessly swerved to avoid a line of cars, complete with taxi guests opening their door into the bike lane. I saw it coming. I knew how to react. I even found time to tell them that opening their door wasn't safe. They apologized. I kept my pace all the way up to the red light (one of 6 at this intersection) and pulled gracefully in front of the bus at the head of the line. As the traffic surged forward on cue, I heard my name called. In the three seconds I had to process this, I saw new friends. I yelled my hello/goodbyes and informed them (a bit amped up on riding and the little bit of wine I had) that I was due for my bedtime.

The next mile or so until home, I couldn't help but tally up how thankful I was to already have good people around who recognize me and say hello in addition to a job with health insurance for when my bicycle antics don't always include me seeing it coming. Finally I began to feel how I did before all this moving and trying out living in other cities began. It's been a long long year. I'm ready to make this next one even better.

Oh. And did I mention my work has indoor bike parking? And a gym with a shower. Life is good. Now all I need is wheels for my road and winter bikes and we'll be on a roll. Ha ha - literally I suppose. Man, that was not intentional.

Wishing you tallies of only the best kind.

Love love love,

K.

For Z...

2008-07-03T15:22:00.006-05:00

My friend mplsminx has an adorable half clone. This week is her birthday week. Happy Birthday Zoe!

See a full, legible version here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/78162310@N00/2634446275/sizes/l/

Love love love,

K.

The Box...

2008-07-01T10:22:00.001-05:00

Picking Up the CSA
Originally uploaded by Bart King

Just to give you an idea. My stickers would be a bit different. Definitely a Minneapolis Bike Love or two...

K.

Oh Bakfietsen!

2008-07-01T10:16:00.004-05:00

IMG_0153
Originally uploaded by c_a_t_a_l_y_s_t

(Photo Courtesy of http://dutchbikeseattle.com/weblog/)

Nearly every few months I waver in and out of obsession with something. French Bulldogs. Viniculture. Recycling plastic bags to use as presents in some way. (True.) But bikes... bikes are more constant.

This summer marks year three of rotating bicycle wheels as a mode of transport, an unintentional connection to my siblings, and an earmark of memorable events and rides with friends. I do love zipping along on a sleek metal frame. However.... I want an SUV. Er, well, a Bakfiet - basically the Suburban of bicycles.

In the front of these here beauties would sit a wooden box, perfect for hauling obedient dogs (kids), groceries, potting soil and tomato cages for my backporch garden, and even bike-less friends. Rather than find a cargo bike, I would love to ride the streets of Chicago with a skirt guard and a step through frame. What a lovely dream. For when I have an extra $3000.

The dream wil have to wait until I've recoverd from this relocation to Chicago, and follow up perhaps a celebration of a year working for a greater good in a full time capacity, actually using my time to help and to make rent.

Speaking of, my friend Kristin organizes community forum building for New Tactics.org. You internetters with time and non-proftit tactical development advice pleast check it out to learn, share and contribute. This month's featured dialogue: Video Advocacy .

Today is beautiful in Chicago. Early 80's and sunny with a wind that pushed me downtown with little effort. I love early Summer and the lake effect on the weather.

Wishing you obsessions of the healthiest nature...

Love love love,

K.

Late Spring Mornings...

2008-06-17T07:28:00.003-05:00

Good Morning! Like my new blog look? I decided it was time for some spring cleaning and all that! The martinis are a bit much since I much prefer wine, but the overall look was just what I wanted. So there you go. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. You know what else I enjoy? Mornings this time of year. They are as crisp as those wedge salads you know aren't any good for you, covered in some sort of caloric dressing and crumbles but so refreshing you just can't comprehend it to be unhealthy. That is my Chicago morning metaphor - a big ol' head of iceburg lettuce. With coffee... and healthier. Yup. Perfect.

I remember distinctly the several times I opted to sleep on an air mattress tossed onto the lawn of my childhood home in Montana. Or when I tied sheet ends together around a tree branch of the monstrous maple tree at the edge of it. I would either get too cold and uncomfortable and sneak inside at 4am, or stubbornly sleep outdoors to prove my idea was a good one to my mom. On those days, or in the hot August nights where outdoors was better than my shared bedroom and trundle bed, I would wake up at 7 or so, with smells of dew and a surround sound nature track telling me I was sleeping in by their standards.

Years and years later, when the air cools down and smells dewy and syrupy just for seconds at a time, I always get that mental image of waking up in the middle of the wet blades and clovers. That smell memory is quite possibly the strongest I have. I can't shake it. So when I sit nearby a window, even though I hear the roar of morning commuters heading to and from the Loop (Downtown Chicago for those playing along at home), I feel like the skinny attention loving girl of my youth. Ready to complain about mistreatment from my brothers, or pass it on towards my little sister.*

The sun is starting to break through the morning clouds and my plants are recently watered. Today will be a grand day. Not too hot. Not too cold. No possibly life altering storms rolling across the horizon. I only wish everyone in the Midwest could wake up so sweetly while sipping coffee instead of sifting through their belongings, waist deep in river overflow.

Today I'll be hopping the Blue Line train and hauling my business–attired self into that hope once again that my luck and happiness with all my previous careers will be with this newest adventure. Trying to break into a field where you have little direct experience, but plenty of skills is harder than it seems in a major metropolitan area. More people means more Non-Profits, right? And more opportunities, right? Finding that perfect fit is the key, however. And I seem to be temporarily locked out. But! Oh, but, if there's anything I love more than bikes and smooshed face looking dogs, it's possibility of wondrous outcomes. That clean and beaming light of the future unknown. And today is no exception. Wish me luck.

Wishing you safe and dry homes and friends, and hot clean hope...

Love love love,

K.

*Sorry about that, again I apologize.

All Quiet with the Lava Lamps

2008-05-08T10:58:00.003-05:00

Right now dimly overhead I hear a R&B/Soul song, only slightly faded by the hum of about six laptops.

That's right... I'm temping. In a hotel lobby. There's a woman in a navy blazer taking our picture. Beside me a man with a shaved head and a black button down shirt makes a joke (he's in improv here in Chicago - so is the girl on my right). Here in Temp Land, the elevators are space-age with Easter egg hued lava lamp like bottoms that shoot from the sky when landing here in the Lobby. Ornamental plants are lit up with artificial lighting and frosted skylights are cut out amongst the smooth veneer of the ceiling. I'm sitting in an amplified dentist's office, minus the old issues of Highlights and Parenting Magazine.

It feels wonderful really. Mostly just to have something to do other than plant vegetables* that may or may not thrive on the second floor back patio of Joel's apartment - surrounded by brick walls of nearby housing structures. Going on week two of no work is starting to take its toll on me. Without a direct promise of upcoming work or paychecks, I do that thing I always do: obsess and worry. Together, it's a recipe for fun... Add rainstorms and flat tires and you might as well be giving me a ride on a unicorn - or a hairy dragon... it's almost magical really.

Other than my tendencies towards the negative, Chicago has started to feel quite like home. The neighborhood I'm in love with is Logan Square. Here's a quick look at it:

I won't mention how frustrating it is to have an extreme lack of neighborhood coffee shops in comparison to Seattle or Minneapolis. I'll instead entertain you with talk of tulips, blossoming trees along Logan Boulevard (two blocks from the apartment) and the howling pitch of 10 school-age children playing in the belly of the sidewalks in between four apartment buildings each day. It's deafening. It includes a "who can yell loudest" contest apparently. And some plastic bikes they push each other around on. I'm hoping daily they stay away from my tomatoes. I'll cry. Huge tears. Promise.

The days have been filled with either sunshine or a thunderstorms, with trips around town to drop off recycling, pick up foodstuffs, or explore which place really has the best burrito? Our neighborhood is filled with cheap eats for meat and veggie lovers alike. Avocados come in slices or in guacamole form or somewhere in between depending on where you dine. For those with a higher taste in dining, there are more spendy establishments to frequent as well. Twice I've dined on the best thin crust pizza, with free RC Cola and $2.10 delivery, that lends grease to the bag it comes in. It's awesome. I'm still looking for the Thai food place of my dreams. A bit of a let down so far. I'll find it. Until then, I'll make lasagna:

Now all I need is a Local & Sustainably Minded, Bleeding Heart, French Bulldog and Bike themed job to pay me enough to support a one bedroom apartment and my very own dog and I'll be good to go.

Oh, and I put together a pink and red bike to replace the fallen Torpado. Pictures soon. But first - the Torpado: let us all have a moment of silence.

Wishing you small spurts of sanity, in whatever obsession you are playing a part in...

Love love love,

K.

*My drastic undertaking of growing organic veggies with only about 4 hours of sunlight a day includes this laundry list of good green guys:

Russian Striped Heirloom Tomatoes
Juliet Red Tomatoes
Italian Sweet Peppers
Red Leaf Lettuce
Spinach
Romaine Lettuce
Basil
Cilantro
Mint

To-Do's!!!

2008-04-23T10:25:00.002-05:00

I have 10 minutes to write this. I meet friends who are graciously helping me pick up rouge boxes from an old residence before I work tonight. And I work tomorrow after doing laundry and packing up the kitchen and taking apart furniture. In between today and tomorrow, I get to pop into a BBQ, that is, if it's still going on at 10pm tonight when I wearily wander out of work.

Tomorrow is Dining Out For Life - which benefits research for HIV/AIDS. Local restaurants donate a portion of their proceeds to the fundraising efforts. We'll be busy. I'll be going crazy. I'll be worrying I won't be able to properly say goodbye to my brothers or my friends, some of which I still haven't seen in these last 6 weeks here back home.

Friday I ride my bike to Uptown, pick up keys, drop off wheels, load up the moving van w/ a mattress I get from awesome Julie Kate care of the wonder of Minneapolis contacts. After that Joel and I load up the van and clean up his apartment. I guess we'll be sleeping on the floor boards tomorrow night.

And Saturday, dear Saturday, we wake up bright and early to drive to Chicago. We'll bring change for the toll booths - which aren't rounded to the nearest quarter, but require nickles and dimes as well. Saturday night is pretty Ms. Jolene's birthday. Sunday. We rest.

I'm excited. But also kicking myself for being so silly as to work the last few days before I move. Last October I regretted it. This time I do too. When will I learn my lesson? I guess next time? Please remind me to never, EVER, work the 72 hours before I move out of a city.

Or just hire me an assistant to do all the dirty work for me. That seems to work for many people.

Wish me luck!

Wishing you.... luck. For whatever you are tackling this week.

Love love love,

K.

A father of one's own...

2008-04-14T13:00:00.002-05:00

Several years ago I attempted to broaden my list of exposure to "the literary classics". I bought A Room of One's Own by Virginia Wolfe. I read it in spurts. At this moment it sits, only 3/4 finished, inside a box alongside the great majority of the 600lbs of my life. That's how much it weighs - my life. Approximately 600 pounds including cardboard boxes. Amtrak weighed it for me when I shipped it out to Minnesota shortly after my last post.

My mind is at this time wandering back to Ms. Wolfe and her opinions as I ponder why exactly I have been so reluctant to sit still and tappy tap the keys on my lap top to form blogs. Near about six months have gone by with few blog entries to show this progress of my life. I would get frustrated at not having internet when inspiration struck, or just plain didn't crave writing when my present surroundings didn't feel my own. After a while, it seemed a bigger deal than when only a week goes by, and I just got out of the habit. I think I've come to realize the importance of having a space to write in. The importance of feeling comfortable enough to unzip the words from my bike bag.

Truthfully, it should be that bike bag writing this. I'm sure it's seen just as much of the action over these few months. It traveled in rain and snow, in overhead storage bins of airplanes, and alongside me on the buses after my bike was taken out of commission a few weeks ago. The white waterproofing fabric went to Chicago last weekend to see her owner's boyfriend settling into his new apartment. And she offered inanimate condolences as I wearily spent the next few days alone back in Minneapolis. She's seen a lot. Unfortunately, you haven't. You've been left in the void of an inactive blog.

But today - as the air and lawns dry and warm on this one in a hundred type of spring day in the Twin Cities, I aim to make amends. With winter finally losing its hold on me, I feel ready and anxious to pick back up and start all over again. And while I would like to say this comes from finally allowing myself to be comfortable feeling unsettled and unrooted. I will have to admit that it comes from one the classic motivators for all people. Parental guilt. Well, partially.

This last weekend over brunch at the Bryant Lake Bowl, with four tables made from bowling alley flooring, a honey-voiced and femininely tattooed vegan friend of mine threw back and forth the descriptions of our families and fathers. Our common bonds and differences were fun to discuss. I found myself wishing I had more time carved out to call dad, but my day ended up taking longer than hoped for and before I knew it I was leaving work 12 hours later and it was past time to check in.

I've realized that this blog is the closest thing to a regular update that he and others in this world have since my communication tools are less than punctual and committed. So for the next few weeks, as I leave for Chicago the last weekend of April, I will imagine myself writing for dad, who is so lucky as to have a room of his own to read it in.

And dramatic apologies abound of course... sorry daddy. Sometimes daughters get lazy.

Wishing you a spring awakening, wherever you are...

Love love love,

K.

117 Days...

2008-02-29T14:16:00.002-06:00

Right now I'm destroying what was once a beautiful eclair. My fork has been implemented to cut it bite by bite while forcing the custard filling out the sides. The pathetic pastry is in two pieces, chocolate sauce smudged and cream oozing under it. It's wonderful. Really the perfect desert for me at what has become my favorite brunch spot in Seattle: B&O. It seems fitting that I am here having brunch at the same place I came to on my first real day in Seattle... 117 days ago.

Fitting because today is my last day in Seattle. While I may have not expected to leave only 1/5 of a year later, I'm excited to be flying back to stay in Minneapolis for a short term before exploring Chicago next. Really this is the most fun about why I chose to leave Minneapolis: because then I would have no regrets. Of course I regret not giving Seattle the year or two it would take to feel at home. I regret that I didn't' blog more, lost my motivation to write down the sweet things I saw each day from my bike or while being jostled on the city bus. I didn't take enough pictures. I didn't explore near as much as I could have. And I as my time here is measured in hourly increments, I have decided it unhelpful to think of all the things I didn't do. There are times where you have to choose what will make you happiest overall, and what will be better to suffer through.

And while I will never memorialize these last four months as suffering, I see that this city, at this time, is not mine. It's lovely. The spring tease is in full effect and the sun is finally blessing us with daily appearances. This is a truly breathtaking city. You look one way and you see a ridge of mountains in the distance, under a pale blue sky. Turn your head another direction, and the Puget Sound lulls under the downtown cityscape. Cars disappear down hills you could sled down back in Minneapolis right now. There are daffodils and miniature tulips blooming. Pink flowers adorn massive trees like they were put there for a special event. In all directions there are trees and hedges against brightly painted garages and raised houses. One could never get tired of this city.

Unless one were to become deeply concerned with their immediate happiness and relationships. You see. I met a boy. He's like that perfect sock you've been waiting to go with that one outfit that looked great on you but needed that something extra. He's my argyle in green against my vintage fabric. And while I tried deeply to enjoy my time here in Seattle, it seemed overly stubborn to stay here when I could very easily start new experiences in a city I almost moved to instead of here... and get to wear my awesome socks. Well, you see what I mean.

So - I am closing the door* on this chapter of my life. I'm going to always be happy I avoided most of what was an awful winter back in the Midwest. I'm going to be happy I ventured the road less travelled and decided to take the hiking path next to it instead. Sometimes you just have to choose. And it's not the city, but the person who makes what they want of it. Don't hate me Seattle. You're pretty and you know it. I have a feeling many more will be here to take my place.

Now that I'll be back in the Twin Cities for a bit, I can almost guarantee my blogging to increase. I want to apologize for all you who check often for my entries and come up empty handed. You'll be compensated, I promise. Maybe with eclairs.... who knows how to make eclairs?

Wishing you wise road choosing...

Love love love,

K.

*After I decided to return to the Twin Cities, I immediately wanted to memorialize the city and go on a crazy excursion to take pictures and write more about what I enjoyed here. And day by day I didn't do it. I only felt better after reading this article in the New York Times on Tuesday. I encourage you to register (it's free and the email updates are great) and read it to, so you can see why I have no regrets about leaving.

Clear Celebration.

2008-01-22T02:40:00.000-06:00

Today is a day of noteworthy events, ranging in size and importance.

First - (well now that it is after midnight, it is technically yesterday but you'll pretend right?) My very dear and lovely friend Huber is another year pretty. I do declare her to be the best looking girl ever born on January 21st. I will break bottles on bars to whoever dares challenge me. Or at least raise my nose to the sky in uncooperative acknowledgement that anyone else could share that birthday and still be attractive, sweet, sharp of wit and true of heart.

And speaking of sky. Today was day two of a sunny sunny crisp city. The people of Seattle seem to incline themselves to being polite and happy when the clouds burn off. Even if it did so happen to bring about news reports on how long to allow dogs out in the "cold", and how to dress, what activities to participate in... you can imagine the rest. I bucked the trend and wore shorts just to help my co-winter bikers live vicariously through my 33 degree temps. There was even frozen puddles along my normal route. Watch out now.

When these skies clear up - I love looking out onto the dockyards of Seattle. I bike past them each time I commute to work. Semis sometimes honk (was it the argyle socks today?) or get annoyed at my presence on the street that cyclists frequent but share with the drivers picking up large metal cartons from who knows what port around the world. When it's sunny, the colors of all those boxes just pop. I like the transition between seeing them right alongside me, to becoming almost toy-like when viewed from 500 ft. above them. I do enjoy this the most about my commute. Those docks are grand.

Today was the first day at work in a few days where I could relax and things went well. And for those wondering a bit about my job (since you know I don't blog about work). Here is a picture. I'm putting boiling water into the candle holders so I can clean them out and put new candles in them. It's terribly exciting. But also carefully timed. You see, one cannot simply fill all the glass (read: heat absorbing) holders with the water at once. Not only will the ending ones be too cool to ensure all the wax is dumped out, but they will be near impossible to pick up in the first place. My OCD way of doing candles involves three filled at a time. With rotations.... fill three. Wait. Fill three more and then dump the other ones one at a time - using a dry towel to sweep the inside dry and residue free. Repeat. Fill. Pour out. Dry. Fill. Pour out. Dry. It's actually pretty zen. I like doing candles.

So what is number five today? It isn't my commute and hill conquering becoming easier. Or the blackened underpass right by Chinatown with police tape blocking off the next intersection. Nope. Mine is pretty gross and unattractive. You may wish to stop reading if you want to ever think of me as a proper lady and void of any human functions. Today I worked on perfecting my snot rocket. You know, the act of shooting a runny nose's effects (most common while biking in cooler temperatures) out the side of one's nose while using the gloved fingertip of a cyclist's finger to close up one nostril at a time. I'm actually quite impressed with myself. And no, I didn't take a picture.

Wishing you active days that make you feel like a little kid again...

Love love love,

K.

Today...

2008-01-19T23:23:00.000-06:00

While I tried to comb through my 6:35am wake up and then 7:30pm return to home, I only really have thought of four things about my day.

Ravioli. Today it was stuffed with beets and Gorgonzola. It came paired with my first favorite type of wine: Malbec. It was hard to eat it slow. I even left half to take it home for tomorrow's dinner. Look at me go. Whoever Mr. Ravioli maker was. Perhaps someone too embarrassed to slurp up spaghetti while taking the "bella senora" out on the town in Rome one day. I love you. I love you Ravioli Man.

I rode my butt off to get downtown by 8:05am. I left at 7:37. I arrived at 7:53. Success and then cold sweat.

"Everything has its limits." That's a line from the chapter I have been reading out of Absurdistan.

Today it felt like that at work. Every time I felt like it was time to stop, and close down, another table walked through the door. Just enough to keep the side work at bay so nothing was ready and clean by 1:40pm. In a way - it was an exercise in perseverance. Life has been pretty easy to keep at bay as much as I feel comfortable. I need to remember that one can go further than they want and still come out unscathed. Maybe a bit sore, but still.

I addressed several cards and smoothed down the self adhesive Jimmy Stewart stamps. When will they make those with Jimmy eating a ravioli? Now THAT I would flip over.

Until tomorrow. Wishing you a day that resonates in your muscles, or if necessary, your mind.

Love love love,

K.

Can you believe!

2008-01-18T21:08:00.000-06:00

Well my biking was only about 5 or 6 miles today - but I visited two places I know I'll be back to bring out of towners and guests. Feel free to comment on flickr or just enjoy:

So I rode downtown and stayed within a 5 block radius of Jackson and 1st Avenue. First was the deli, and then a few errands and a nice coffee at Elliot Bay Bookstore and Cafe. I even got a puchcard for the bookstore! A punch for every $20 spent and then you get $20 off!

There were bookshelves all over the walls - wherever there wasn't brick... or even if there was. Next time I won't need a book.

And I checked out Salumi (read post before)

(Mole and Provolone - it was good)

Wishing you fun filled radiuses wherever you are...

Love love love,

K.

What I should be doing....

2008-01-18T15:30:00.000-06:00

Is visiting a few places around the city I chose to bike to. But then. Oh but then my friend realized she had to work. Oops. And then, Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations is focusing on Portland and Seattle. So I figure... I'll wait another hour to leave the house so I can watch it since this is the repeat. You can too!

Now Mr. B is visiting Piroshky Piroshky here in Pike Place Market. He's having Borsht and Piroshky, but no vodka. Sorry. And now... onto the fish throwing.

I admit, I haven't seen much of this in person. It's always been slow when I go down to the market. Mr. B. thinks they are thowing all the fish and then ruining the quality of the fish. He's relieved to hear they don't throw all the fish... just one over and over until it's ruined. Nice.

Now he's at a non-restricted "Gypsy" dinner. No FDA rules. Just obsession. Smuggling stuff from France. I don't know how I would do at these dinners. I would probably only eat about 1/5th of these things. "Imaginative and whimsical" "Chicken hearts" "Pig blood" Nope. No thanks. I'd eat the cheese though. And dessert: Lime Cheesecake with pop rock crust. Awesome.

And now picturesque scenes of the Puget Sound and Mr. B's narration of the the goo yuck (spelling?) which means "dig deep". Mollusks 2.5-3 ft. below the surface of a mucky muddy waters edge. And they are ugly. But I might try them if they were fried and covered in morel brown butter. I think so.

And now his visit to Salume. Mario Battali's dad's lifelong dream personified. Going to Italy to learn how to cook and cure. And now he allows people to wait for an hour or so have gnocchi (only made once a week) and salami. I don't crave meat much. But salt cured aged stuff? That looks good right about now. Dang. Maybe I need to go here. Ugh. Um salad of pig's ears? Maybe not. I'll stick with the red sauce and the gnocchi.

And now it's over. I will be back on track now. Promise.

I'll take lots of pictures when I do go out. At least five.

Wishing you diversions sans guilt...

Love love love,

K.

And then there were five...

2008-01-17T20:29:00.000-06:00

There must but wild and varied speculation on how Ms. K. has been spending her time here in days that measure far and above the negative temps of my former city. How many espressos* have I consumed? Miles biked? Raindrops absorbed? Friends made and relationships fostered?

And had I paid better attention along the way, I could probably have given you those statistics. Unfortunately, you'll have to trust me that all those have occurred several times over. I do remember biking 30 miles last Thursday, 18 on Saturday and promptly waking up Sunday morning with the beginnings of a cold. These last four days have confined me to long sleeping nights of recovery and witnessing streets frozen alongside sidewalks of preserved footsteps with no salt or sand to help. I almost fell on my denim covered bum. It was a flashback to what I would be going through had I not moved two months ago. Not exactly the vivid almost realistic memory I would prefer.

Seattle has offered up about four days of bird's egg blue skies and insanely wide vistas of Mount Rainier or whatever other mountains surround this hilly habitat. They really do take your breath away, especially when paired with sunshine and dry surroundings. Whenever I find these mountains saying their hello to me and my co-dwellers of the city, I sigh with appreciation. And it is this memory that inspires me to start an assignment aimed at keeping you in the know on a day by day basis as much as possible.

Each day I will attempt to record five things about my day. Little or grand, superficial or through deep observation - you will see my Seattle day in a quick flashback. Starting tomorrow. Today I sat on the couch and cleaned house all day. What can I say, it's my Saturday and I felt lazy.

I'm wishing you a day worth noting...

Love love love,

K.

Merry Merry Quite Contrary...

2007-12-26T00:26:00.000-06:00

Today was another magical Kim day. Things that happened seemed like they just happened for me. And by things I mean snowflakes. Wet, slushy ones. They stuck together well indeed on our taught green lawns of Seattle. Thick mosses were cold and icy and white tipped. It was even quite festive to see crystalline holly berries huddling together under flakes of frozen rain. And to be honest, I needed that special feeling of a White Christmas just for this day.

Last night I wandered through the Medrona (read: affluent Lake Washington overlooks and million dollar homes) neighborhood just up the hill from me and piped holiday tunes through my iPod earplugs. A short while later I was whipping up sugar cookies in perfect assembly line style while swooning over you-know-who in It's A Wonderful Life in all his handsome greyscale glory. It was an excellent diversion from missing my friends and family back home. I felt for a moment like I was surrounded by a manifestation of my old holiday spirit back in Minnesota. It was sweet and happy. It was sigh worthy at moments - perhaps fueled by the Pinot Noir bought in conjuncion with three curry kissed somosas at a deli that happened to still be open after dark on Christmas eve. They were so filling I could only eat two.

This morning I woke up feeling no change. Sensing no spirit. No unhappiness or self pity underneath the empty, but just like any other Tuesday. The general consensus seems to be many of us felt this way today. Whether I was two hours away or not, no matter, my brothers, my friends, many of us were flying solo today. And when the temperatures here obliged, I was able to feel like we were sharing not only a quiet day called Christmas, but the same environment too.

Ok ok ok, so the actual accumulation was insanely imbalanced. I see that. And at this point I would like to mention that I am in no way equating my 1/4" of white stuff with that 10x as high back in the area codes that own 612, 651 and 952. I understand my delight is answered louder with groans and complaint, car accidents, and fishtailing back home. But oh golly, how much I was taken away with glee when I saw it come my way for just a few hours. The clouds connected us today. It made me yearn for another walk through the sidewalks of Seattle.

And as the trees dumped thawing clumps of water into that annoying space between your neck and your sweater neckline, I realized how much I simultaneously needed the snow to feel at home now, but hated the cold. It was a good match. Firm and fair in its moral to me on this day celebrating Christ's birth. The sound of slushy puddles taught me well today. A story well worth remembering and living through. An experience worth adding to a life lived. And exactly why I needed to move in the first place. Even through the pain and countless people missed, this is what widdling out a new chapter is about. Next year I can't wait to see what happens. Another miracle I'm sure.

Wishing you small miracles that seem custom tailored...

Love love love, (and ho ho ho)

K.

Oh and....

2007-12-19T19:15:00.000-06:00

Someone buy me this:

http://cgi.ebay.com/Vintage-Road-Bicycle-with-Campy-Restored_W0QQitemZ120197203336QQihZ002QQcategoryZ98084QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem#ebayphotohosting

$800 by December 22nd. You know you want to.

Or I'll take waterproof bike tights too. Whatever.

Wishing you wishes and Christmas Lists...

Love love love,

K.

Lazybus..

2007-12-19T18:53:00.000-06:00

One of my reasons for moving was to up my 365 type status of cycling. While I rode all last winter, I didn't particularly look forward to winter riding. But it seems the rain here in Seattle is just as dampening to my spirits... pun intended.

Today, yesterday, and come to think of it.... Monday too, I caught and transferred my way to work over an hour each way via the bus. It's been slick or windy or cold and annoying and I'm not in the mood to ride 8 miles each way with hills in between me and my workplace. It all gets me wondering: Would I be riding more in Minneapolis right now? Would I have invested in a better winter bike and gear and actually enjoyed it with motivation to go meet people? It's hard to say isn't it? You never do know what your alter ego could be up to in "what if" land. So I'm going to just stick with that, overall it's nicer to bike here in the winter. Even if I do take week long breaks from the Torpado. I made a promise to myself to actually do a recreational ride tomorrow. We'll see how that pans out.

I made a whole list of what my bus ride is like today. I was dressed in a spylike trench coat and scribbling my thoughts onto my Moleskin notebook with attention to detail. But unfortunately after my lunch, and a phone call, I ran out of time. I'll have to continue another evening with a play by play of the Seattle Transit Magic. You won't want to miss it. Exciting stuff I'll have you know.

For tonight, I'll just wish a happy week of Christmas lights, snow, hot cocoa and sugar cookie cutouts to those who are "christmas people" like me. I can't do any of that really this year. It seems strange to not have a tree for the first time in years. To not have a holiday party or meet the girls to check out the Macy's Display in downtown Minneapolis. But I can envision it. All of it. It makes me happy to pretend and remember. I think of all of you and probably don't blog because I miss it all so dearly and dreadfully. Down to the last slushy street corner and the sound of Nokians on the icy driveways. You are my Christmas, Minneapolis and in between. Have a very merry Wednesday! Don't start getting tired of it yet. Soak it up for me.

Wishing you appreciated holiday cheer...

Love love love,

K.

Pros... Cons....

2007-12-05T18:31:00.000-06:00

These last... what... 16 or 17 days have been busy. I've moved to my permanent abode - cleaned and satisfied my animalistic cravings to nest up the place within my first two days. In between working shifts at the restaurant and sitting on my butt watching the rain pour from every direction, I've been meaning to update the blog. Heck. Everything is worthy of a post. My whole world is new. My city is big and full of details to record over the Internet. My energy and drive to do so however, seems at a record low. Time spent actually chatting with those I care for and miss intensely overshadows me trying to capture a coffee shop (the one I'm in is close to my work and lovely and I frequent it a lot) or a walk around my neighborhood.

I miss people more than I miss blogging. So I think the latter loses out. But I am resolved to make sure that doesn't keep being overshadowed by Google Chat or readings of Bike Love and wistful sighs. This incubation has to end sometime. Right? I can't hole up on the couch all the time. History shows I eventually stop drinking hot cocoa (now coffee) and venture to explore my city and make real true friends. It took a good month or so when I was 19 and moved to Minneapolis. My brother was probably excited when I wasn't perpetually inside his then basement apartment. Kid sis must have been annoying.

So then. With many subjects to cover where to start? How to tie that neat little bow around it all? Thanks to Wendy Waitress' suggestion, I'll just run down a comparison of my two cities. Today marks the month long anniversary since I moved here. Seems as good a time as any. Here we go:

The Most Obvious: Weather

Seattle: Today is dry and 46 degrees F.
Seattle: It just rained for 3 days straight - hard. It was a near record rainfall.
Minneapolis: It's snowy and way colder and a pain to ride around in sometimes.

Rideability

Minneapolis: The streets are flat and way better maintained. By comparison way less potholes, strange bumps and glass/objects in the road. Also, actual stop signs in residential streets so I can expect a car to be either going through or slowing.
Seattle: Here you just have to make sure you look more aggressively to see if cars are coming. However, cars are way more cautious at red lights and pedestrians rarely jay-walk. True. There are, however, massive hills that make riding feel like more of a chore than ever before.

City Pretty/Gritty

Minneapolis: White snow before it melts makes everything pristine and pretty. Even after it's been mucked up, it makes the cars quieter and life more insulated sounding.
Seattle: With no snow coming, fallen leaves are left to rot and decay all over. They are washed to bottoms of hills and sit there brown and squishy to walk over.
Seattle: It's still green and grass and moss grows out of every crevice: stone retaining walls, sidewalks. Tree's bark glows lime green with minute patches of moss on them.
Seattle: When the clouds clear - you see the ocean. And the mountains.
Seattle: The industrial loading docks are fascinating.
Minneapolis: The quaintness of downtown all done up for Christmas is something to be sure to catch.
Minneapolis: The walks around uptown/Wedge/Caffetto and the Lakes in the dead of winter.
Seattle: The buses are cheaper.
Minneapolis: The bus system is easier with less rules and longer transfers.

Wishes and Dreaming:

Seattle: More dogs. Cute ones. Many of them Sweatered.
Minneapolis: More Brownstone buildings to add romance to the city.
Minneapolis: Small, independent and cheap places I know I like to go to to shop.
Seattle: 8.8% Sales Tax.
Minneapolis: No Tax on groceries or clothes.
Seattle: Sunsets.
Minneapolis: More houses decorated for Christmas.
Minneapolis: Savers.
Seattle: Nutcracker statues scattered around downtown with various decorations. I guess all the big cities are doing this.
Minneapolis: Macy's 8th Floor Show.
Seattle: Cupcake Royale.

Friends:

Minneapolis: Wins.

I'm sure there's more. I'll post a new quicker version on each month anniversary. Be especially looking out for February when I go back to the motherland to race/sit out the Stuporbowl.

Special love to Pops for helping me get settled last week. And to all you who put up with me taking 80% of your workdays to talk to me, or say up 2 hours later to talk to me. You have made all the difference. I'm enjoying this journey and full of complete and utter cluelessness on how it will all turn out. So far things have been flowing my way. I'll take you along with me... promise.

Another post Friday. Guaranteed or your money back.

Wishing you nothing but Pros wherever you are...

Love love love,

K.

Post Dog and more...

2007-11-15T20:04:00.000-06:00

Last week I thought everything would make a good post. Everything is new. Everything is open to Kimterpetation. But what is actually interesting? I mean, how much of me riding up hills and describing the pain in my lungs can you actually stomach before hightailing it over to some blog about the goings on of some other person in your life? Goodness me, I know it. You know it. We've got to keep this blog interesting by George*!

Meanwhile... my pocketbook continues to mock me with it's diet and consistent weight loss. Hence our first Seattle post. Not the (free) Library, which proved itself too stimulating to wrap up into a single post. Nor the (free) pretty Lincoln Park with it's steep trails down to the beaches of sand, surf and driftwood. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you: Cyber Dog. Featured in the "cheap eats" section of many restaurant guides. Those of you playing along in Minneapolis can think of a love child between The Wienery (but no meat options) and Electric Fetus with an upbringing by Caffetto. Not quite there with me? Good thing I took notes...

Nestled into the bottom of a tall concrete and nondescript building/underpass/parking garage next to the Seattle Convention Center, our happy little cyber cafe and disher of dogs sits. The space is as large as a two floor condo's living room. It is stuffed with plush puppy toys and ceramic mutts. They contort themselves, wedged into pipes that line the ceilings underneath ripped silver insulation. More are stuck onto lamps of popping colors and styles. Parisian on moment, middle eastern the next. Whatever seemed to be left over from a family friend's move or on sale at the Pier One.

Cherry or sunset orange dipped walls give the room depth and a solid background. Red buckets hang from where the air conditioner must drip in the summer.

Framed reviews below movie posters and music posters keep the colors from overpowering your vegetarian hot dog experience:

Bob Dylan
Stanley Kubrick
Radiohead
Cute puppies (not a band)
The Doors Album push pined into the wall.
Janis Joplin
Audrey Hepburn
David Bowie
Marilyn Monroe

In between the dogs, posters and the foodstuffs, wind chimes umbrellas, typewriters, gumball machine and about 6-7 black flat screen computers fill any remaining walkway areas. Here, you to pay to use the Internet. Here, you might be too distracted to actually use it.

As I look at my dog covered entirely in chili, in a huge paper boat in a plastic basket. Slices of fresh and soft avocado and crunchy green onions sprinkled on top of the melted cheese and tomatoes, the proprietor carries on conversation to keep the rain outside from dampening our spirits. (Yes. I just used that joke. I make no apologies.)

Tania talks with a fab Russian Jewish American (?, she said she was a Russian Jew... I made a guess) accent and makes jokes with the patrons one minute, and points out the subtlety of the Russian Operatic melody/harmony that starts after the samba a moment before.

We start talking about movies, Marlon Brando and the fact that People Magazine's Sexiest Man of 2007 was Matt Damon and none of us think he should have it. How Mickey Rourke is not attractive anymore. I like her a lot. I want her to be my grandma or aunt. She points out the television in the corner playing a classic black and white movie I can't place. It's Crime and Punishment. She volunteers the moral of the story. Actually three of them, using her fingers to list them off.

1. Thou shalt not kill.
2. Crime leads to more crime.
3. Punishment is within yourself.

...

Good to know.

SO! They give you a peppermint patty with your knife and fork and napkin. How sweet is that? What else? Well...

A mini van 3rd seat sized couch has a selection of hippy pillows flattened against the blanket covering the upholstery; and one with a bulldog cross stitched into it.

The counter is crammed with wrapped pastries and cookies.

A professionally printed menu board that looks exactly like the website's menu is mounted high above the espresso machine and syrups.

Running along the perpendicular wall is the Coca Cola machine stocked with juices and colas of higher quality. No Diet Dr. Pepper though:

Several stands that have bags of chips and cookies are set in front of the 4ft high counter. There's barely enough room to order from the counter girl before sitting down and using the net. You pay when you leave.

A LIFE SIZE James Dean cut out "leans" against the wall to greet people who walk in.

This may be my new favorite place for cheap food... as long as I'm not required to kiss anyone within 24 hours of consumption.

See? This city can't be so bad with a place like this. This city will be good to me. If it's good to two ladies just out to sell healthy hot dogs to people, it will be good to me. Or else.

Wishing you hot dogs, veggie dogs, corn dogs, wiener dogs, hot rods and all the fixings...

Love love love,

K.

*I tried hard to find the real origin of this phrase. I couldn't get a definitive answer. Anyone want to help me out? Julie? Sarah? Dad? Anyone?

Kiss it.

2007-11-12T01:49:00.000-06:00

This evening my lungs drew in so much moist sea air that they hurt and created coughs an hour later in protest.

But this evening I made it up my hill. Without stopping. And stroke by stroke. Pedal by pedal.

This evening made my week...almost as much as long awaited phone calls to people I care about. But within a hair's width of difference.

Holy buckets. I feel great...

And a bit congested.

Wishing you mountains crumbled...

Love love love,

K.

What in the hill!!

2007-11-10T21:30:00.001-06:00

Today was the first day where I felt like I accomplished a few things on my own besides spending money on necessities while sadly saying goodbye to unsupplemented dollars in my wallet.

"Oh. Fenders. Right. Plus labor, and the chainring and that pesky installation training session - $126 with the chainring price. Gotcha. Oh that? That's just my heart crying out for my bank account. Don't mind it. It dies down after a bit"

But the Torpado looks all kinds of protected and pretty with the matching black plastics covering my wheels. And the new gear ratio is already proving helpful. I can't stand the moment that comes when working my way up a hill and the realization comes to me that I won't make it. Such a sad moment - the unclipping of my right foot and the sound of grinding cleat on asphalt or concrete sidewalk as my hamstrings groan with dissatisfaction. It's defeating but awesome for the endorphins. I only wish my excitement and optimism while speeding up to the inclines could push me further than my own power can. But thinking ahead, I can see the sweet sweet day where my lungs pace in and out with my leaning frame left and right up and past the horizon. No dismount. No man asking "Isn't that cheating?" with a cheeky smile.

Until then, it's pretty to look at the views. It's nice to have something actually challenge me rather than intervals. Even 10 miles today felt like 15. And that was just errands like normal. A wrong turn here and there. Learning and feeling my way around. It takes my mind off of missing those I care about. Off of races in Chicago. Off of friends and their new cogs winning the skids competition. Of first snows that now seem romantically sweet and exciting, and missed opportunities to catch a hot cup of coffee with family and friends.

Going into a move, you know it's going to be tough. The obvious trials of loneliness, solo meals*, the courting of new friends and awkwardness of mistaken intentions are part of the list of expected things to conquer. How much more it stings when you are going through it though. I feel 19 all over again.. just with a much better resume and more defined interests. How very surreal. How very real. How very very funny 'eh?

Funny? Oh yeah, I forgot to be funny. Um....

Wishing you humor to cap the realities of your day...

Love love love,

K.

*After $118 of groceries (primarily carbs), I have stuff to make magical energy inducing dinners each night. Bean thread noodles with wilted collard greens, spinach and sesame/soy broth made my night all kinds of yummy. Too bad all you readers weren't sitting in the wood paneled and calico rugged basement to eat it while watching the Oxygen network. Don't be jealous. Stop hating. Seriously. No noodles for you 612 fools**.

**Just kidding. You know I love you. I can't pretend any longer.

A Video is Worth A Thousand Words

2007-11-07T22:33:00.000-06:00

I promise promise promise more. But for all you going through Kim withdrawls (I hope not yet), here's a 2D substitute. Not as sweet as the real thing but...

Special thanks to Mike for the idea. It was super fun and I can't think of a better way to remember my last absolute evening with Minneapolis friends before I'm on my own.

Oh boy. This is getting sad all the sudden. Better wrap it up...

Remember, you can check my flickr to keep up on my goings on.

Until then, I wish you thankfulness for your jobs, your friends, and your own bed to sleep on...

Love love love,

K.

Come with me and you'll see...

2007-10-18T11:16:00.000-05:00

This is multitasking. Not as much as Mad Hot Multitasking, but here it is. Come follow along as I blog but also make a list of all the things I need to do since I'll be moving out of my apartment in a week:

Post things I need to sell on Craigslist
Call ARC to set up a pick up time for all my give away items
Find boxes to ship books and unnecessary items in
Sort things I'm keeping into what to take now and what to ship later
Change utilities to my roommate's name
File change of address form
Mail rent check to sublet
Email friends about my goodbye party (ahem: October 28th, Bedlam Theater, 6pm-1am)
Sort paperwork and file away
Find important paperwork and put in a safe memorable place.
Close TCF bank account
Pay bills in advance
See friends
Eat
Sleep
Race tomorrow

Yikes. This is going to be a busy week. I apologize in advance for not calling back or emailing right away.

Wishing you a clear list conscience...

Love love love,

K.

Oh - I got a new tattoo to commemorate Minneapolis and my almost 8 years living here.

What do you think dad? Mom? The dragonfly is from when I was 18 and moving out of Montana after my first ever attempt at living alone, paying rent, bills, balancing a checkbook. The skylines of my next cities will be added as I go onward and outward.

Post #1 - Mending Fences

2007-10-18T10:32:00.000-05:00

This post is overdue. I meant to write it Saturday after meeting Monty at my friend's house and having an exchange that lead him to seemingly immediately hunt down my blog (kudos to you, I don't know how you did it sleuth) and post a comment. Rather than reply back and forth, I'll just write what I was originally going to post and hope the residual effects of Minneapolis being too small are addressed appropriately. Ahem.

So it turns out you can write all you want about a stranger, and how they may have frustrated you, how you just know that they were acting a certain way, but you can be drastically wrong. If you live in Minneapolis, you will eventually get the chance to meet them and find out how wrong you are. Mr. Dill Hole is actually a nice guy. He wasn't chasing me. He was just another biker.

It's funny how small this town is becoming for me. Seven years and about 2 major, 4 minor jobs later, I feel like I can't go anywhere without spotting someone in the room. Usually it's a blessing and I enjoy catching up with people I haven't seen or love to see. But sometimes, it just reminds me that I shouldn't be making snarky posts on my blog. Sometimes I am too big for my Minneapolis britches. I liked having the reminder.

Wishing you reminders well needed...

Love love love,

K.

Thursday Thursday... um and Sunday.

2007-10-11T10:19:00.000-05:00

Tonight I attempt to sell all my belongings that aren't coming with me to Seattle. Sunday is another event to follow it up. If you are in this city. Reading this blog. Thinking about swinging over to where I live (email me if you don't know kwerst(at)gmail.com) but not sure let me help you decide.

DO IT OR I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU.
I NEED FOOD IN SEATTLE.
AND LODGING IN SEATTLE.
AND BIKE MONEY FOR SEATTLE.

Oh, and man oh man won't I love to see your bright shining face too!

Wishing you a day with no more threats...

Love love love,

K.

You never call, you never write.

2007-10-02T14:28:00.001-05:00

Have you felt properly ignored? I'll bet it's not as much as the dill hole who tried to follow my wheel yesterday as I pedaled down 42nd street yesterday. I stopped at the Hiawatha lights, hopped onto the sidewalk to push the button, and rode back to the front of the car line to trackstand until I could cross. Mr. Man w/ his mini messenger bag stayed on the sidewalk and then gave chase after.

I was not amused. I was sweaty and annoyed and I had to push down my arm warmers (they match my bike thanks to Allysen). Next thing you know, I look left and he's right behind me, but overlapping my wheel. I was doubly annoyed. So I skidded for about 20 feet and hoped he would move over. Instead I just took a hard left on my street and was glad he didn't follow. I don't know what comes over me. I get mean sometimes when someone wants to play and I don't know them. I'm commuting. I'm not just riding around to have fun - I'm on my way to work. Something about my ride changes when it's not an option, it's work.

Today though - today is a bike free day. Resting the legs and so far successfully procrastinating my huge mountain of to-do's in order to sell all my stuff. I move in less than 30 days. It took 5 carfulls and 2 pick up truck loads to move me in here. That's how much I have to get rid of. Little things like egg beaters (not the pedals) and collanders. Like placemats and wine glasses. Like votive candles and shower curtains. All of it.

So I finished the part time job last Friday. It was long and tiring and completely necessary. It padded my wallet enough for me to be able to move but how comfortable I am to move will all depend on how much I make off of selling my pocessions. Even if it's not a lot of money, it will be cathartic. I'm looking forward to not relying on my stuff to make me feel comfortable and nested.

In all this whirl of stress and friendship time outs, I'm actually happy for the commute home each night. Last night only took me 23 minutes and I enjoy just riding because I need to - I can't feel bad about not doing some project or another because the ride is part of the day. It's not an option. The tasks can wait. And it helps that my roommate gave me a few good CDs to put on my iPod. My favorite song right now is Energy by Apples in Stereo.

Want to hear it? Ok:

Sorry there aren't more posts. I'm trying to do so much lately. And I want to train for the first ever All Girls Alleycat so I can beat anything I've done before. Wish me luck... with everything. I'll be missing you.

Wishing you days where you know the sun is going to come out soon...

Love love love,

K.

Letters make words... (aka Kim's Two Posted Tide You Over)

2007-08-22T23:47:00.000-05:00

Want to buy me something useful as I prepare to sell off everything I own? It won't be difficult to move around and fits easily amongst my meager belongings of the future. I need a hand-held recorder to trap down all the lines I've imaginary-ly typed out to you throughout my day. Today there were at least four. Yesterday more. And boy were they golden. Almost as golden as:

http://www.meikomusic.com/ This girl's entire album streaming online for you to listen to and me to have as a soundtrack this evening. I heard her on Nick Harcourt's Morning Becomes Eclectic. She's a little L.A. based songstress.

Or:

Rilo Kiley having a new album and this single (ahem... gold... ahem) for me to hunt down the mp3 online and wear out on my bike rides to and from my two jobs.

Yes. Two jobs. Little Miss "can't hang out because I'm already meeting two separate groups of people today and then I'm baking a pie and then I'm polishing my bike off from the grains of rain induced sand all before trying to blog again but pushing it off until the next morning and then night and then week" Kim decided it would be best to make minimum plus tips from 6:30am - 2:30pm each and every week day until money is saved for upcoming goals.

I like the place enough and the work comes easy to me. It makes me more confident going into any future interviews at other restaurants where I might second guess my abilities. If it were a tasty treat with cream cheese frosting it would be a cake. Perhaps a piece of it. That, however, is all you get since I don't blog about work. But my pants were 4 inches too short and had pleats (thankfully hid by an apron. Human sacrifice may have been necessary to the polyester Gods to have saved me from that humiliation). I couldn't leave that part out.

Pre-pleats, yesterday it all began to dawn on me:

You have just over 2 months.
You need to sell your stuff.
Things will begin to wrap up soon.
You are going to cry a lot.
Everything is going to change.
Try to remember everything.
You really should devote more time to seeing those you never see.
And writing about what areas you find most memorable.

But I'm running out of time. I'm clawing at those curtains of falling hours and minutes and days and weeks and they won't open to my whims. Their strands of thread are turning my world dark and suffocating my air. It's terrifying.

That said, I do believe my time spent is more importantly with real people and not guilt trips brought on by myself for not keeping up on the blog. So... for the first time since I started (save for the initial span of months for not having a computer) I am declaring a break.

Hence, I need a tape recorder. So I can type my memories later when I'm lonely and it's grey outside. I only need one, but all of you can mail me those little tapes I'll go through like JELL-O at a church picnic. With blueberries. And whipped cream. So it looks like a patriotic American Flag of jiggliness. You know that one went first of all the public desserts.

Be well. You have no idea what I'll be wishing for you. For a fix, you can always check my flickr - which I'll be able to update way faster and sans spellcheck.

Love love love,

K.

Sentences make paragraphs... (Part One of Kim's Tide You Over)

2007-08-22T22:29:00.000-05:00

Do you think it's possible to plan a miracle? People buy lottery tickets every day in hopes of instant and ultimate rushes of gold and greenbacks. Others trek hundreds of miles to holy landmarks to pray and be touched by an angel or whoever else can bring them what they so truly desire.

I eat carbs.

And drink water.

To point of using a porta-potty in the rain three times in two hours at a Garlic Fest on a wet and wild Saturday.

Bowls of pasta the night before, yogurt, fruit, sandwiches, potatoes, granola bars, you name it I made myself eat it in hopes that my legs and lungs would pay me regards during my first real attempt at a bike race (not the Stupor Bowl which I never counted and wussed out on last year). I took two days off last week and left the poor pretty Torpado standing motionless against the 1960's style radiator cover of our dining room. I had visions of racing around sweaty and hot and exhausted. The latter one came true.

Saturday started out grey. It began to get worse as the morning unfolded and I was driven out and back to Howard Lake, MN by our Executive Chef Mike P. - I grilled said Racer Man about his hints on racing that day. He made a big sacrifice to let me have the night off in the midst of our understaffing crisis. Standing out from all the words of advice* was one mantra that helped me get through the day:

"In every race, I reach a point where I am in pain and tired and I want to quit. You'll reach that, but if you can go another five minutes, you'll be fine."

After a brief nap and stop at home to get ready, I met up with friends old and new at One on One and paired, all last minute like, up with my brother Jer for some sibling bonding over soggy asphalt and the hum of car engines and full blast windshield wipers.

The details in between are as muddy as the puddles that blurred the uneven curbs and almost caused me to spill my butt onto the street as two lanes of traffic followed my fender and reckless weaving/red light running/swearing/teeth gritting/heaving chest/wet black knee socks falling down with water weight.

I do remember head wind. I remember getting turned around - and twice regretting not just walking back over a bridge instead of trying to map a route to the next stop without crossing again. Both times it proved the wrong idea. Both times Jer and I muttered "we should have", in addition to at least ten other hindsights. By the time our 3 hour limit was creeping up, we were soaked through and through. The rain was now literally streaming 1 inch high down any hills we stormed up. I was fading.

My speed was high and then low.
I was all over the map.
But I was proud.
My food fared well in giving me legs ready to plow across the city of Minneapolis faster than they normally would take me. My internal promise to at least make myself proud was fulfilled halfway through the course and I came to grips with the fact that finishing all the stops was impossible but I was happy with how it went. My ego was self-propelled and giddy with adrenaline from almost biffing it down the Franklin Hill with one foot unclipped; mini-skirt exposing leg splayed out 45 degrees to the right like I was signaling a turn.

So when we realized a full finish wasn't in the cards, we sailed past the Walker Sculpture Garden, through Loring Park and behind the Target Center and pulled up to where we had just raced to grab our bikes off the ground 2.5 hours earlier. We only made 11 stops. We were freezing and teeth chattering for the next few hours as people rolled in. Only one other girl before, and three girls after, made it in before the 8pm cut off. Others (male riders too) complained as they arrived to find their stamps and scribblings were for naught. Inside - my stomach crunched. My blood sugar dropped and blood thinned out of my brain enough to make me think I might have had a real chance at winning. (photo credit to Summerinside)

I'm surprised I could even jump as high as I did after eating a gigantic slice of pepperoni pizza from Pizza Luce. But miracles do funny things to those pure of heart and hope. They put a smile on your face only possible when you're already happy with how you did. Hearing Jeff announce "she did it in heels" took the breathe out of my doubts and filled up a little piece of my heart I didn't know existed. Racer pride. A feeling of finally feeling worthy of the lifestyle I have lived with my friends and brothers.

Racer pride for me was made by a million little miracles. Others rode harder, didn't ride at all, had to change their tires, chose other stops, or didn't focus on obvious details like when the ride ended (Jer and I asked one stop worker, or we would have been DQ'd too). You can look at a real win as something that shouldn't belong to you because you know someone out there is way faster and they deserve it too...

...but in the end, your friends will threaten to push you over if you keep belittling it as luck or chance. So it's best to say thanks to those who rode with you and made it possible because you love them harder than you rode that day, and more than the rain that fell on your heads. Alone I never would have finished like I did, or been happier with the wet wet wet evening ride of my year. Dare I say, my life.

Nah, there have been several rides that might top it. But those are for me to know and you to speculate about. You were probably at them. One of them at least.

So that's all you get for now. I hope this tides you over. Think about pretty blue wheels in the meantime.

Wishing you a real - honest to goodness - miracle. Something little and meaningful. Everyone needs one every once in a while.

Love love love,

K.

No More Promises...

2007-08-15T11:18:00.000-05:00

Apparently my word is not bond because I don't follow through on the blog promises.

In other news, I just blow dried my hair. It's getting long and I've been wearing it up so much that I looked in the mirror and hardly recognized myself.

Also - I've had the same hairbrush for about six years now. I keep trying to buy a replacement, but they all come up short and I end up using the one that is a mere shadow of itself instead. It just works better. Of all the things I'm going to have to give up when I move across this country, that danged hair brush will not be one of them. Believe you me.

Oh, and my kitchen smells like a grandma's kitchen and looks like a food show set. I just visited the farmer's market and stockpiled my fresh veggies. Dry goods, dairy and fruits not of MN orgin were purchased yesterday from the grocery store. And yet... I have no idea what to make for lunch.

Later today I'm making Lemon Meringue Pie for a special lady's birthday. Today will be a good day indeed!

Wishing you sweet days full of all kinds of pie...

Love love love,

K.

To tide you over...

2007-08-09T13:39:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow I promise to post. I spent 2 hours walking around Lake Harriet taking notes and pictures. It will take me just about that long to write it up too so you'll just have to wait. I need to head into work early... and buy a blizzard too. Until then... will you just look at my tan lines:

Granted - the inside part of my wrists are much darker than the undersides since bike riding has been the main contributor to my darn darkness... and the bike gloves to my stupid looking tan lines. It probably helped that I can't find my sunscreen at the moment. And that I've biked about 25 miles each day. Now if I could only find my spf 30...

Wishing you UV safety...

Love love love,

K.

My Kilimanjaro

2007-08-06T13:37:00.000-05:00

On the chalk board that advertises the bean of the month, special of the day (extra shot of espresso for free) and tea of the month, is the quote of the day:

"A dramatist is one who believes that the pure event, an action involving human beings, is more interesting that any comment that can be made upon it." - Thornton Wilder

That quote is all I am lately. All me, friends, family, workmates, lives lost and cut off short, people exiting my life for the time being... but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Radiohead's 'The Bends' album is playing over the speakers here at Espresso Royale on Hennepin Avenue. It's supple voiced Thom Yorke is helping to dissuade the itchings and guilty knife points of un-blogged thoughts and events that have plagued me for a few weeks now. If you only knew, friends, the saved draft and even more unstarted conversations I've had in my head about all the little things happening I find interesting and consuming:

I'm tired of having bike grease on my legs. No matter what I do, I will end up with black chain marks and smears on my skin.

I rode to Excelsior, MN (15 miles each way?). A butterfly ran into me on the way back and I literally screamed loudly in horror and fright. I thought I might accidentally kill it.

Kids are wearing clothes more expensive than my entire wardrobe and they don't seem to realize worldly need outside of their lives. It annoyed me.

I need to organize my clothes.

I need to organize my mail and my paperwork.

I need an eye exam and contacts.

I saw a sweet Asian older woman riding a Razor scooter (the ones that were really popular a few years ago) and thought only older Asian woman should be allowed to ride those. She could pull it off.

My feet have a tan line from biking in the same shoes for several months now. It runs just below my toe cleavage. My toes are pale.

It felt like fall the other day. 70 degrees is hardly fall, but you need to put it into perspective. Dark skies, rain, cooler days... I can taste it coming.

I'm free from my servitude to Harry Potter for the rest of my life. No more books to keep me up late reading until my eyelids close up on me while I protest.

I'm not as good as I want to be about saving up for moving to Seattle....

Hold up. "What's that" you say? Well that brings up a nice subject doesn't it?

As I was riding around a few days ago, I couldn't believe that even now, after 7 years in Minneapolis plus 5 months, I'm still discovering parts of the cities and suburbs I never knew existed. I rode on a crushed limestone path all the way to large lake Minnetonka (the riches go there to relax and play on their pretty boat toys) underneath a canopy of trees and flanked by houses/ponds/cattails/backyards. It was such a lovely ride but I really began to feel sad that my decision to move in the next three months to avoid another winter will prevent me from further finding parts of my state to enjoy.

However, that next day, I had to ride over a newly graveled and tarred road. The tiny pebbles weren't crushed into the sticky black sludge yet and my tires fought to continue on their straight path. In a flash of a second I was brought back to what it feels like riding in the snow. Only I wasn't freezing too. I didn't have to worry about my digits rewarming and causing extreme pain while doing so. I was reaffirmed. I remembered.

I can't handle another winter. Though others will argue that summers in Minnesota are worse ("you can always add a layer in winter, you can only take off so many clothes in the summer") I stand by my personal preference. I hate looking outside my window at hibernating branches and naked shrubbery. Curses and cruel comments flow out of my mouth far more frequently when the temperatures dip below freezing. Truth be told, I never enjoyed winter. Even as a little girl in Montana I never looked forward to snow and the latter calendar months. Ok. Maybe Christmas. But those reasons are transparent.

This list. The list above was hindered a bit by time spent with a friend who was moving. A good one. One I just met a few months ago who already took root in my life as if there had been a pot reserved just for them all my life. There's a great and grand luck I've had with finding other residents for other pots since I've moved to Minneapolis. Had I followed my two year plan for Minneapolis and then Chicago at 19 years old, I never would have found such wonderful mates to have in my life. I'm confident of that at least. But, because I never moved on as always expected, my wanderlust has become deafening. Each year (primarily in the winter of course) I shout out to the world that it will be my last cold spell. Yet, we humans crave comfort and familiarity as well, and each year I become sidetracked with enjoying company of friends and making plans.

If we can be lucky enough to be inspired by our friends to the point of major change, I think we should consider ourselves not only brave but blessed. This spring made for a wake up call on me wanting to move and a stark realism that I am not getting any more close to the idea than I was when I quit my job a year ago. My best decisions have been made quickly and when I decisively followed my gut. Several months ago, I chose to leave when my lease is up on November 1st. I waffled between cities east, west, and in between. I settled on Seattle after Huber's recommendation and for it's size, climate, bike-ability, and that big bad beautiful ocean.

Oh. And it's green year round so I get to see more of this:

The problem is, with all my previous schemes of moving and starting over, I'm afraid to tell close friends of mine. I don't want to have to give up and tell them I was wrong. Telling them I'm not moving again would feel awful. So I've kept quiet. Like a pregnancy in the first term (something else on the list, though obviously NOT for me) I feel like it will jinx me to reveal my plans to anyone but those absolutely closest to me. I've bottled up my energy and excitement and massive fear.

As a result, all I can think of is getting another job, saving money, wrapping up ends, trying to pack as much living in Minneapolis into my several months here as possible, and starting to build a foundation in a new town. It's a mountain. It calls me to climb and feel accomplished but it's choking me each day. I fight to whip it back to smaller, more obtainable hikes. But I'm not very good at it.

Now isn't all that exciting? Aren't you about ready to burst with anticipation for the soon to be ramblings of Seattle Kim? You better prepare yourselves. I plan on getting a dog. There will be pictures and cooing.

Until then, Minneapolis Kim still laughs at everything remotely funny and keeps thinking of more items to list off to you. I'll be back in a few days I think. I feel things coming back to normal. If there ever was a normal in my case. You should have seen me lip syncing on the bus the other day to Mariah Carey. It was awesome.

Wishing you small mountains. Easy ones. With ski lifts...

Love love love,

K.

Broken.

2007-08-01T12:00:00.000-05:00

Yes it's been a while. I'm sure others of you are thinking the same thing as Snakebite:

Yo,

My fixie is almost done!

Report here http://lifebikin.blogspot.com/2007/07/almost.html

What's up? You moving somewhere? You have cryptic blog posts lately.

Yo.

Lately I've felt broken. Not in a sad way or a serious way, just broken. There has been so much to write about I don't know where to begin or what I actually feel like sharing. For as open as I am about almost everything, there's quite a bit of stuff going on in my head that I like to keep there. Just for me.

Last night I was riding home sans iPod (dead battery) and about 20 minutes into it was like "man, I need to press the next button.. this music is boring." It was almost instantly after that when my mind pointed out I wasn't listening to the iPod. The silence was there to stay...

Sarah says she thinks I need to spend some extra time being alone and introspective. I'm sure she's right. I'm at the coffee shop for that reason - to think and be alone. But I'm not doing a very good job. Sarah's coming to meet me in a few minutes. We're going to do the crossword.

After that, I promise to write you allllllll about it!

Wishing you un-broken motivation...

Love love love,

K.

Just a teaser...

2007-07-20T13:02:00.000-05:00

My day didn't go as planned yesterday. I ended up fixing up my old Silver Sisty Ugly for a girl whose bike was stolen at work Sunday and Mr. Nice Guy Steef ghost-rode it as I kept him company to drop it off at the restaurant. I met a dear dear and darling friend for sandwiches at her work downtown, rode around for a bit and then read my book before watching a German foreign film that is now being remade starring Catherine Zeta Jones. In theaters near you soon!

Now, I'm due to work at 3, but will go in at 2:30, and still want to pack my bike bag, do my nails (they need it), shower, get ready, and bike to work.

Do me a favor? Remind me to grab my spare set of keys before I go. And my library card. I forgot it yesterday when I hit up the library to rent the DVDs. I'll need the keys for my friend Stacy who is visiting from Chicago this weekend. It's a good thing my roommate is out of town or I would feel bad about having a house guest so soon after my other Chicago friend was in town.

I have a feeling that I will get little to no alone time this weekend. Part of that is my choice, part not volunteerful at all. Is that a word? Think about it while you watch this video with my newest song I'm in love with:

Sorry again for no real postings this week. I'll try with all my might to type out a right and proper one later on when things die down.

Wishing you a weekend full of friends, but time alone to appreciate it...

Love love love,

K.

P.S. Tom Boonen won the stage today! He's soo dreamy and fast!

Sometimes when I freestyle I lose confidence...

2007-07-18T12:47:00.000-05:00

You see, blog readers, things get complicated in my head and I just can't focus on my blog because there is simply too much that I want to tell you but can't. There's the Tour De France, and my cyclist crush: Tom Boonen...

Or the Montana raised Levi Leipheimer who I really hope busts it out soon and takes some names out there in France.

There's a lot of personal life changes going on too, moves planned for in a few months, worldviews being analyzed, friend and family relationships undergoing big changes. There are so many different subjects to think about, I'm having trouble sorting it out in my day to day life, yet alone on my blog. So until tomorrow, when I can update you with a sweet and proper post, I'll leave you with this:

Enjoy (seriously watch them, it killed me this morning)!

Love love love,

K.

Soo hot!

2007-07-08T13:19:00.000-05:00

Humidity can kiss my butt. It can go jump in a lake. Oh wait, it's me that wants to go jump in a lake. I did yesterday. Oh boy did it feel nice. Too bad I ended up scorching my back a painful pink in the process. I think it was worth it.

Here in the city the weather has brought many of us to our knees. Chores, projects, venturing outs, they are all put aside as our skin sweats and clothes feel heavy and uncomfortable. I just want to run around in as little amount of clothes as possible. Don't get me wrong, I'm not typically an exhibitionist when it comes to underclothes, but they seem so cool and free. So sweat-less and airy. If only... man, if only.

Until we are all free enough to waltz around in our knickers, I guess I'll have to be contented with ice cubes, aloe, and water. Seems like an OK trade... NOT.

Wishing you dry heat...

Love love love,

K.

I'll bet fireworks don't effect you like they did me...

2007-07-04T23:08:00.001-05:00

Instead of biking to watch the main fireworks down by the Mississippi tonight, my friends and I all fizzled out and headed our various directions home, fat and happy from a pleasant picnic by Lake of the Isles. After three others and I lit our sparklers and parted ways, I hopped onto my freshly de-greased and cleaned up baby (I was caught in a rainstorm yesterday, she got very dirty and sandy) to ride home. I could almost taste how sweet my pillow would feel.

I'm so happy to have taken this quiet solo time riding through dark streets while average civilians lit up the skies to my left and right rather than sharing my personal space with moms and dads and their lawn chairs. Riding down Bryant I could hear high pitched missiles and see their puff of light and sparks above all the remodeled 1920s homes that now pass as duplexes and fourplexes. There would be crackles and pops at either side of my head and they complimented my slow and soft music choices so well. It really was touchingly simple and an invitation to my inner "imaginator" to come visit for 10 minutes.

I felt surrounded by magic. I felt light and fast in the tailwind. I felt optimistic and embraced a type of naivete that sometimes I try to kill instead of foster. When friends, strangers, and the world remind me that my choices, my viewpoints on issues and love/friends/boys/futures/life decisions might be a bit on the unrealistic and hopeful side, I try to bring it down a notch. But tonight was so beautiful. It was so enjoyable and old fashionably sweet that I found myself thankful for that part of me that still believes in happy endings and the integrity of the human race.

It's funny what fireworks can do huh? Bits of sulfur, explosives, light and fire can blow up even the hardest of mindsets. Looking at this slight epiphany tonight, it pales in comparison to the major drive and passion that our forefathers had for their families and future. They dared to keep focusing on a better world, a better system. Why, then, shouldn't I? Ok... maybe mine is majorly less significant and selfish but let's continue shall we?

While I can relate and empathize with any hardened view of romance and opposite sexes others may have, it doesn't mean that my worldview should eventually mirror their findings. The outlook may have dimmed for some, but I refuse to change mine at this point in time. I still enjoy wishing for things to turn out swimmingly while surrounded by 4th of July fireworks. I won't retire that little girl in me. I like the fact that she's still around and makes is happier overall in my life. But, thanks to those friends, now I can learn to balance her out with her older sister Reality.

Wishing you a firm grasp on something close and personal to you that others might have lost long ago...

(oh, and happy Independence Day my friends!)

Love love love,

K.

Side note: It should be addressed that, although I remain ever-vigilant in my vision of good endings, I am not immune to seeing the dark underbelly of many parts of our society concerning the motivations of other people in my peer group, and the subsequent reasoning behind the attitudes my close friends have on dating and reality. Last night I joined a friend from out of town for a drink at a popular Uptown establishment. It was packed with people 5 years older/younger than I and it made my skin crawl.

Seeing the degree of superficiality (I generalize) that suffocated any originality or truthfulness of character in such a large group of people who could be focusing on so many better things than drinking cocktails and sizing up everyone around them, just reminded me of what corners of Minneapolis I am happy to avoid. I found myself more contented to sit there and take down notes than to play along with the waste of time and effort going on behind my bar stool by hundreds of guys and girls up on a rooftop. I have not forgotten that there are people out there who just fulfill their own desires while not caring about the feelings of the person they choose to make them come about. That is something I'm happy to have learned, but am always saddened to be reminded of firsthand. Thanks to pretty Huber for completely understanding my text message, and at the same time, me. All of me. Even the parts and hopes I don't see. yet.

Two Wheels To Take For Granted.

2007-07-03T12:38:00.000-05:00

My blood sugar is low. Ok... well it was until I've had a few bites of my turkey sandwich. I accidentially just typed "bikes" instead of "bites" Freudian slip anyone?

So - Chicago. Bikes. Ready?

Originally, my pretty Torpado was to tag along and provide me with hours of fixed-wheeling pleasure on the streets of that old windy city. Unfortunately, after all my finagling to arrange for a bike box, and 90 minutes of covering myself in grease from my freshly lubed chain while swearing at my sticky pedals, my seat post decided to stay put and kill any hopes of bike freedom for my trip.

See:

So instead, I was left sitting on busses or the el. I don't mind the el actually. But the busses were annoying. I sat on fabric benches with my purse and my iPod looking out onto the happy faces of people wizzing by with no helmets and an extra $2 in their pockets. The bus system treated me well, but I was left wondering why so many people don't have mp3 players popping into their eardrums. Is it illegal in Chicago? Was I the only one who needed that layer of "don't talk to me" wrapped around them? Strangers seemed to be getting along, chatting over children in strollers and comparing routes and destinations.

I, however, sat with my uneaten pita full of veggies still in the To-Go box and a stomach cursing me for teasing it with food so nearby but so unavailable as Chrome bags and brakeless steel frames passed by me. My bags felt heavy with disappointment and my liberation evaporated as much as the rain from the two torrential flash flood rainstorms that came over my visit. The thought of being without the bike I so lovingly carry up my two flights of stairs each day struck me as strange and a bit lonesome. I've visited my friends in Chicago a total of 4-5 times over the last three years and this visit alone was the one that formally announced my dependency on my bike for my personal edification as well as my actual transport. A year ago, I wouldn't have cared if Bubblegum (that's her name, but you pronounce it in Italian: "booble gumma") was sitting alone 8 hours away by car.

But what a difference a year makes. A year of getting off and walking the bike over icy patches, white knuckles matching the snow beneath them as tires waffle between left and right slushy roads. 365 days of chatting all about bikes, routes, parts, upgrades and gripes with freshly made friends. Fostering my new found social circle of true and earnest buddies who relate to my crazy ways. It's been a year of looking at each bike I pass to see if I recognize it and then the rider. I found myself in Chicago, surrounded by people made me think "I would like to be friends with them. They have a cool bike and look like a nice individual even if I like my bike better. Man, I wish I could show them my bike.."

It left me thinking. There really should be a universal sign for "Look! I bike too! I just don't happen to be on mine at this very moment! Let's smile and nod and silently recognize how much we can relate and then continue on with our days!" Like a secret gang sign. Anyone know how to make a bike with two hands? Or maybe just show off my pretty bike glove tan? I don't think they could see that from afar though. I'll keep working on it.

Until then, I'm back and bike-reunited. The first two days were a dream of riding around with fresh legs. Today was a bit tough heading into St. Paul and up all those hills on my fixie. With only half a bagel in my belly, I was a bit disoriented by the time I arrived at this coffee shop and about 10 minutes after I had paid for food, set up my laptop, drank 1/4 of my cold press coffee and even washed my hands, I realized I hadn't locked up my bike! Stupid stupid stupid. But thankfully it's safe and sound now... as long as it doesn't rain. But those clouds are grey and grumpy. We'll see about that.

Wishing you a united visit with whatever makes you happiest today. Hope you feel complete.

Love love love,

K.

Wanna see my Chicago? Do you?

2007-06-28T23:11:00.000-05:00

A preview... and a giraffe:

I neglected posting while in Chicago, so now I'm looking up at a metaphorical pyramid of ideas to write you all about my visit. We're just going to have to break it up into several posts so as not to overwhelm you with my awesome depictions of the Windy City as seen by the City Girl. I'll give you a preview (and don't worry, I took notes along the way. I'll remember):

1. Bikes. Bike Envy. No-Bike Suffocation.

2. Colors of Chicago. Here's a clue: they seem to like blue a lot. Or maybe I just noticed it more.

3. Eating. You all know how much I love eating. I visited several of my favorite Chicago haunts, skipped some I wished I could have hit up, and said hello to a couple new ones that I'll be recommending to you.

4. "Get your butt in gear and move somewhere"-itis. I think it got worse while I was out of town. I want it now and I want it bad. Someone throw me a winning lottery ticket and a flat downtown on the west coast. STAT.

Intrigued? Piqued? Full of all kinds of crazy suspense? Naturally. Try living my life. I'm a bucket full of interest and wonderment. My bucket spilleth over all onto these sidewalks of Minneapolis. Watch where you step.

Wishing you a long list of equally enjoyable experiences this week...

Love love love,

K.

One year... another idea...

2007-06-21T19:57:00.001-05:00

So it's been one whole year since I last worked at the Local. It's pretty dang wierd if you ask me. Today I went back by chance when I went looking for my BFF Huber and found her chilling next to a guy in a cowboy hat who had "personal space" issues... i.e... didn't understand people don't enjoy you sitting next to them when there are plenty of open tables nearby.

Anyway, it was great to see some old co-workers and reminisce about that life I lead. Nice and strange. Anyway, the last few days have opened up an idea for another book. You know, besides the 4 others I've started and scrapped in my lifetime. But this one might just stick. Care to guess what the topic might be? I've give you a clue: Kevin Bacon.

Wishing you happy guessing...

Love love love,

K.

A big bowl of buttah...

2007-06-18T12:34:00.000-05:00

I'm damp. It's sunny out now and there's a kid actually playing with a large stick across the street from me, but about 30 minutes ago it was torrentially raining. Felines and canines were dropping from the sky. It was amazingly fun and quick enough that it didn't annoy me. For just over 8 blocks it went from a slight brush with what we like the call rain to a grey curtain of wetness that left nothing less than sopping when it was through.

What gave me more satisfaction than the actual rain riding was wetly walking into this coffee shop/cafe (Butter on 36th and Grand) all breathless and soaked to the bone while people seated at tables tried not to look. I thought it was hilarious. My shoes were leaving footprints of rainwater on these blond wooden floorboards as I took my rhubarb coffee cake and ginsing tea to the wall table I chose. I like the wall tables here because they are next to this beautiful mural with robin's egg tones, greys, and chocolate brown silhouettes of child book looking versions of nature. The mountains are actually perfectly round. The trees stand on spindly legs and have Farrah Fawcett wings for branches. There are birds and bears and daisies and a castle in the clouds. The effect is whimsical and calming.

Now, Minneapolis has quite of bit of mural-clad coffee houses to choose from but where they might offer better versions of food or whatever (I've never been blown away by the fare here, but also never ruled it out for future visits) this one 's interior and layout give it that something special we all want in a NCS (Neighborhood Coffee Shop). The chairs have holes in their backs that mirror the 9 side of a die. Their simplicity goes well against the backdrop of painted rainbows and clouds, potted plants against the windows, and natural woodwork that frames the archways and window tops. One said archway divides the place into two rooms. Smack dab between the pastry case and the register, but before the selections of lovely teas, the a large open wall jettisons perpendicular to the counter. If you follow it back towards the front door, you'll find all those coffee fixings/straws/lids on a shelf. They block the other door so you can't use that one. Sorry.

Choose to not follow it back, and you'll head left-wards around the counter until it turns into a bar for 6 comfortably... probably about 2 feet from the teas. The surface is black lacquer but the wall of it is a nice earthenware medium blue ceramic tile. There are 8 tiles from the footrest to the bartop. I'm not going to count how many there are across. Although I definitely would if I didn't have my laptop or if I worked here. I like to count how many tiles are in public bathrooms and things. Is that too much information? Let's change subjects.

So, as already stated, I had a rhubarb coffee cake. It was not too crumbly or cinnamon–y. The rhubarb was soft and mild, thank goodness. It is gone now and I am still hungry. I do believe I will be ordering a sandwich next. Yes, a sandwich sounds quite nice doesn't it? Butter's sandwiches feature organic ingredients. It is so very "in" to be organic and local now. While I'm not complaining, I hope the fad doesn't fizzle out and leave all kinds of small farmers out of jobs come 10 years from now. I'm not about to begin a whole debate about gas prices and the impact on food in our grocery stores, but in a way I hope that really does revolutionize the way people think about where they get their food and what they pay to eat. I'm just happy to take part in it now and in my day to day life. It's more enjoyable and guilt-free to eat... which reminds me, I'm hungry. Talk to you later fools, I think I'll try to ride somewhere for my next course. Might as well change it up and take advantage of the lack of rain. I hear it's coming back later.

Wishing you a day getting caught in the rain or caught counting tiles...

Love love love,

K.

A father by any other name...

2007-06-16T22:37:00.000-05:00

If I were writing this from my dad's house - this is what it would look like. But I'm not. I'm here in Minneapolis and tomorrow I have to work. Work is going to be busy enough that I now need to be there in the morning as well as the night. Take a look at me now - working a double y'all! Can't wait.

Thankfully, things in the land of the sick are on their way up and onwards... onwards and up. Rising to shine. Shining to rise. Look! Even my sense of internal humor in my writing is keeping me entertained again. I'm back!

Being that I was indisposed on Thursday/Friday, and too lazy for my own good on Wednesday, this makes the 3rd or 4th consecutive year where I have failed to send my father his card on this - the holiest of fatherly days.

But I did take a picture of it knowing he'd be reading my blog in that office of his that overlooks Cinderella Mountain in Montana. He'll no doubt be drinking coffee. Probably eating some crackers and cheese or sausage and wearing the same jeans he wore yesterday. Dad's a man of simple pursuit and self-sustainability. That there office is located in a 2 bedroom flat home attached to several acres of land he has sown with seeds that will feed him throughout this year. He'll grow stuff. He'll can stuff. He'll eat said stuff in December with a smile on his face. "Mmmm... jalapeno jelly and cornbread with venison chili."

See - I know how my dad works. I know more than he thinks... although he'll do that methodically slow and deep chuckle that tickles the back of his throat when he reads that.

I think for as long as I can remember, I've been trying to make my dad laugh like that or more each time we converse. It's like a split personality it is. But I very much enjoy it. I like rooting out the corny lines like truffles under trees. Those true and genuine laughing moments don't happen in every bi/tri/monthly phone conversation we have, but when they do - it's a feast. Hearing that laugh that I've inherited over the earpiece gives me great satisfaction. I first heard it come out of my own mouth a few years ago and instantly credited it to my old man. Whenever he laughed like that, it was usually at M*A*S*H* or some other show. Care for a flashback? It kind of goes like this... let me set the scene:

We're in Missoula, Montana. Living on a block of small trailers, 2-3 bedroom houses, one major apartment, and lots of gardens. Our house is on the corner. On a slight hill. With a large maple tree in front and a garden in the back. The light would shine through the large windows of the living room about 4-7pm depending on the month of the year. It would always land on the TV screen and show how dusty and in need of a wipe it was.

Dad's melded into his upholstered recliner. Again, depending on the season, he's either got his flannel button up on, or no shirt at all. Heck, he's probably been pulling engines apart, or swearing a streak* of obscenities at the automobiles in his care who fail to reach is expectations as he repairs them.

After his meal that no doubt included peppers and onions and avocados (when in season), dear ol' dad is contented to watch some shows before playing his bluegrass guitar for a few hours or singing Jim Croce songs.

At the peak of his ease, and probably after the sugar high from the 1/4 gallon of blueberry waffle chip, or tin roof sundae ice cream, his sense of humor finds it's home. Something Hawkeye says might rile him up and here it comes... the inhale laugh. Usually a set of 3-5 short "humh humh humh"s all in a row. They sound like the mating call of a testosterone charged goose or something.

Dad is lucky enough to be able to pull this off with his low voice. I, however, sound like someone who jumped out of Revenge of the Nerds. Thankfully, this only happens when jokes come at me fast and furious. Otherwise, I can rely on my normal giggles, guffaws, and chuckles that actually sound like they come from a girl. One who's not a goose. But one who really enjoys remembering her dad every time she does happen to sound like waterfowl.

Every time daddy. Every time I'll think of you. Thanks for taking me to Pioneer Pies when we had daddy/daughter dates and always letting me order the Chocolate Silk Pie, even when you wanted me to branch out. I think I got my fill...ing! BADUMBUM!!!!! Huh??? Like that dad? Funny huh??? Oh man... I know you laughed at that one!

Happy Fathers Day everybody... and especially you dad!

Love love love,

K.

*I inherited that too. Man, you don't want to be around me when I get extremely frustrated and backed into a corner. Words that make you blush will be shot at you at breakneck speed and it won't be pretty. But MAN - does it feel good sometimes.

Thanks..

2007-06-14T23:32:00.000-05:00

So I'm sick. Like feel-fine-when-lying-on-the-couch-sipping-water-but-might-faint-if-forced-to-stand-up sick. I have a headache and my stomach hurts. I hate being sick.

To stop me from spiraling further into feeling sorry for my sick state, I thought I would do something I haven't done since the blog stopped w/ E. and Jolene... my everyday thanks at the end of the night. So here are my five things:

Today I'm thankful for...

1. Friends and family who drop their plans to help a sick girl out whether it be picking me up from the coffee shop or picking my bike up when I can't ride it or just calling me to check in and see how I'm feeling. Many people don't have that support system at the ready but I seem to have it around always when I need it.

2. Ice packs to cool down my hot head.

3. Google Chat to keep my mind off of feeling awful.

4. Water water water water. Potable. Drinkable. Brita-filtered and delicious water.

5. Clean laundry.

Wishing you many things to be thankful about...

Love love love,

K.

I'm alive!

2007-06-08T14:02:00.000-05:00

Ok - 6 miles later and riding fixed is a little of each of the following:

Fun (this more than the others most likely)
Hard to stop
Hard to clip my right foot into my toe clips
Slow
Scary
Fast
Powerful
Unnerving

But I made it to work in one piece and I'll post the picture of a major hill I had to go down/up about 1/3 of the way through my trip. Good times.

Love love love,

K.

Anything and Everything...

2007-06-08T11:49:00.001-05:00

I'm in one of those moods where all the little songs/bike rides/mild accomplishments/friendships are hitting home to make me thankful and hungry for more. I'm addicted to fitting as much as possible into the hours of time I have free as possible. For the last few days, I've:

Ridden around longer than I anticipated in areas I'd never been before,
Meandered through antique malls in suburbs,
Hauled a load of personal belongings for a bike guy who was moving,
Received a sand exfoliation into the 30-40mph winds while riding alongside a few guys on bikes,
Took a dip in the lake for the first time this year,
Laughed and appreciated my best friend Cate over chicken and risotto, and
Listened wistfully to my iPod while walking around the lake at night in a swirl of wind and swaying trees.

And each song I hear seems to be written for my own personal enjoyment. Each line, each note and inflection in their voices feel like they were pulled from my own head. Quiet songs, big songs, happy songs, love songs, all of them. Well, maybe not Paula Abdul, but that one makes me smile. I can't help it.

So to keep up the momentum of intensely paying attention to my stumbles and successes, I'm trying to go ride around on my bike (see pics here, Snakebite) as a fixie instead of the comfort of my freewheel. I need to step it up a bit and keep on doing something I didn't think I could do without falling or failing. I hope this makes me feel as accomplished as the last 72 hours have.

You know what it feels like? It's just like when you chuck a ball to another person, and a game of toss starts up, and you don't want to stop. You can't stop. You just. Have to. Keep. Throwing. The sheer thought of stopping mid-game is insanity pure and unadulterated. And so it goes. Until winter comes and knocks the wind out of me, this is how I see my summer playing out. Any ideas for things to improve on that are functionally scary, let me know.*

I hope your week builds you up to be a force reckoned with too...

Love love love,

K.

*Things I will not do:
Bungee Jump
Stop showering.
Stop brushing my teeth.
Public urination.
Video games.
Wear mesh clothing.

PROcrastinaTOR!!

2007-06-01T10:16:00.000-05:00

If you yell that really loud and authorative like, does it sound like a comic book announcer? Maybe it takes away the negative connotations? Let's go with that shall we?

So there you have it: another facet for you Snakebite. I procrastinate pretty much anything of major importance. Ok, maybe 60/40. I'm not that messed up.

This morning, the subject of my:
dabbling
delay
frivolling
idling
loafing
loitering
pottering
puttering
trifling... seems to be cleaning my house and doing laundry. Gross. My house isn't even that dirty, but I think it will make for a nice weekend treat for my roommate so here goes. While I may become numb to the little bitty things I leave lying around the house, I'm sure it can be annoying so it's only fair that I put them away and scrub the tub while I'm at it. Now where did I put my scrubby? Man, that thing is always wandering off. I am soooo putting it on restriction. No more fun filled lysol parties till 3 in the morning.

Wishing you hours full of acomplishments! Now get to work...

Love love love,

K.

Update... now with Video!!!

2007-05-30T01:55:00.000-05:00

It was awesome up on the hill tonight. There had been a bit of rain, so I took off my kitten heeled white mary janes and fanned my toes out in the grass while soaking in the moonlight. When you sit on the bench, my bench, there's a small maple tree just growing up about 10 feet high. The moon was straight behind the top of the branches on my left. Further right and the little dipper was just hanging out behind a veil of wispy clouds. I always like seeing clouds at night. It reminds me that things are constant on this earth even when we don't see it.

Anyway, my songs of enjoyment tonight were pretty darn good thanks to Sarah giving me a few cds in homage to my birthday. A few included:

"Circles" by Soul Coughing
This is maybe the best ever video for a song that doesn't seem to correlate at all which makes it a bit creepy:

Jimmy Eat World's "Table for Glasses"
(no clue what this movie is about - but the song is on it in perfect clarity)

"I Will Follow You Into the Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie

Mason Jennings crooning "Hospitals and Jails"
(this is NOT Mason, but there's no video otherwise...)

The last song is my favorite of them all. It's an instrumental version of Tupelo Honey (Van Morrison) as done by David West. Sarah knows that song brings me to my knees. I think it's because I wish that I could be that sweet. Some people naturally have a disposition to be sugary and lovingly kind to everyone. I have enough of that, but just as much of the opposite at times. But maybe someday, I'll be as sweet as Tupelo Honey. It's kind of a fantasy of mine that whoever I end up falling in love with will think of me when they hear that song. But, for now, I'm 1000% happy with just listening to the song with no lyrics attached. It seems better for me at the present moment. Here's the original:

I was reminded as I sat on the wooden planks I had wiped off with a loaned washcloth, of my fondness for silhouettes. Tonight with the sky not entirely black, all the trees and all the dozens of bats flying around me made me recall the background my mom made for my 8th Grade musical: Scrooge. She did a London street and skyline at dusk/dawn/whichever was convenient for the scene. There were jet black building fronts and hollow windows. I love that approach in art and even more when it happens around me in real life. I only wish it could photograph as prettily as it looks in person. It never does, now does it?

Now you see why I love my hill and I love sitting in the middle of the night when no one else is around? It's a magic lost land! Serious.

Oh, and first person to get my hidden joke gets major bonus points from me...

Love love love,

K.

So hot!

2007-05-29T20:09:00.001-05:00

Outside that is. Those summer nights where you can still wear a tank top and ride your bike as the clouds cover up the sky and surround the moon are popping up in my Minneapolis world right now. I'd forgotten all about them to be honest. The chill of winter and cut of rain took away my memories from last year and the short shorts.

So, each night I can, I've been biking around in the darkness and stopping short of my home to sit alone and look at the trees swaying along to the drums. You all do that too right? You pretend that the world is a movie for just five or ten minutes a day? That's perfectly normal and human of us, hmm? I just love it. I love it when my chest sits almost hovering out of my body and I breathe slow and soak it all in.

These nights make me forget about the excessive sweat of riding around during the day, the shirt changes I go through when I get home just to feel dry and cool again. It lulls away the stress of all the other bikers who I have to pass, and the cars who blast past my right side as the sun reflects off their hoods just melt away. It's my own personal decompression chamber with walls of mellow mood and a ceiling of pure optimism and a 180 degree turn from the hype of racing next to buses and delivery trucks in the downtown zone as I speed through and around the pedestrians.*

After I get back tonight from my friend Jessie's house, you better believe I'm stopping there again for a lounge on the lawn and a stare at the moon. I hope you do the same.

Wishing you a chance to be still and happy too...

Love love love,

K.

*And don't get me wrong, there's a definite appeal and enjoyment that comes when I show off how fast I can go from one block to another as cars sit in a line waiting to get their commute started. Even if I'm dripping wet with salty perspiration, I feel happier than when I used to drive around in the Tempo (Frankie) and blast the same songs. "Watch me take that lane. Watch me pass between you and that UPS truck. Watch me zoom by and wish you were me. That's ok. Go ahead. I won't tell anyone you fantasized about having a bike all your own. It's natural."

Come on baby let's get away.

2007-05-24T10:20:00.000-05:00

Today is day two of rain that makes the leaves turn a bright and shiny green and coats the branches in crystaline drops all in a row. One of my favorite things when it's raining is to lace up my running shoes and do some damage. But, for being such a joyful pastime, I sure don't do it very often. I was going to do this this morning - promise, but then I saw a Jimmy Stewart movie on the television and you know how that cancels out all other plans.

Now, I have only an hour and a half until I need to be downtown to meet a friend for coffee so that won't allow me enough time to run/shower/dress/bike downtown. I still stand by my decision. It was a great way to start the day. Better than Wheaties. Or V8. Or calisthenics.

And now that I have all this extra time, I thought I would post an update for those of you unaware of my flickr account. My birthday. It really was a profoundly uplifting day. The morning was made up of white clouds of hydrangea in a bright orange vase brought to my door. And then coffee. And then an escapade* around Saint Paul for pancakes/omelettes/bacon/confusing driving directions/zoo life/giraffes/watching kids go crazy for the cheese wiz....

Ok maybe not cheese wiz, but definitely for the seals. You should of heard them trying to imitate and stir up those sea lions and seals. "Arr Ooarrrpp Oooaaahrhhrrrp Orrp". It was pretty adorable. But not as adorable as seeing their firsthand exposure to the birds and bees. Or lions and lionesses, whichever. Right there in the sunshine on a cool spring day where Sarah and I were under dressed those lions were playing doctor. It was a very short game.

After our stint at the zoo, I piled into the passenger side of Mini (the car's name is Mini) and enjoyed the air from the sunroof passing over my head on the way to a bright and simple bakery for lunch and cake. Instead of cake I had a brownie and a cookie. In fact, I don't think I had birthday cake at all. Huh.

Later on in the evening, with an already exciting day behind me, I rode out with friends to catch a good old fashioned ball game by the St. Paul Saints. I even had the sorry costumed Muddonna The Pig come dance with me to help commemorate my birth. That, AND they announce my birthday over the speaker with a matching message lit up on the score board. Pretty much I was the coolest person there. Pretty much.

The ride home was quiet and dark. I like having that solitary time at the end of a perfect day. It cements things that meant a lot to you and keeps them from being replaced later with memories not nearly as worthwhile. Like what you had for breakfast but later end up just falling asleep because you really had nowhere to go and nothing to do of great importance and after all rain naps are the best in the summer when you have a couch under a row of open windows....

Anyway, it was a good birthday. You can see pictures here.

Wishing you a day of rain to play in instead of getting rained on...

Love love love,

K.

*You know you wanted to see this:

Classic? Really? Really?

2007-05-20T09:43:00.000-05:00

My roommate and I are sitting around having a lazy Sunday morning. We're watching the ESPN Classic channel. Guess what's on? American Gladiator. Which means a perm–mullet, "human cannonball", names like "Gold" and "Lace", sequined headbands and plenty of patriotic colored sets. At this point in time the challengers are swinging from one end of the arena to another on a large rope in hopes that their form and velocity will be enough to knock off the gladiators who stand on pedestals with a foam "shield".

So this is what America tuned into to cheer for in the 80's? Watching this is depressing. I'm really hoping in ten years people of the future will be watching something more worthwhile and classy than spandex clad and super tanned muscle heads trying to use massive objects in mock battle. Oh god I hope so so much.

Wishing you a day of actions you won't regret 20 years later...

Love love love,

K.

Creative Cookie Naming

2007-05-15T11:59:00.000-05:00

This is my second take at an introduction to this entry. The first went something like "Hi. Welcome to....", which I realized I do way too frequently for my own good so I used my right pinkie to pound upon the delete button and tried again. Now, don't get me wrong, I am all for welcoming you solid friends and family and voyeurs out there into my coffee shop world. I've practically roasted the beans myself for you and laid down fresh carpet for your tired feet. Come. Relax and read you who are weak and bored. It's just that I would hate to fall into a literary rut and at the same time cause my blog to go stale. Fresh coffee or not, a stale blog is something to be on point against.

So here I am at a plastic table about 4 times larger than I need, but which was the last possible place to plug in my laptop when I came into the Urban Bean about 90 minutes ago. The white plastic is stained with coffee circles that fail to reach a full circumference. A few yellow smears and what looks to be pancake batter on the edge furthest from me add to the wear and tear of said surface.

This here spring day is overcast. Not only cloudy, but gusty and threatening of rain. I've wrapped my bike seat* with plastic in expectation of precipitation soon. A few birds have made their nest in a house across the two-laned street outside. There appears to be a 5" square hole in between patio floors of a duplex and the birds flitterflutter in and out of it. It seems to be nice setup. All those other birds are stuck out in between branches, at the weather's mercy, but the swallows behind the stucco are living the high life. They must be hated by other birds. I'm sure they talk about how spoiled they are. How they should have gotten that spot this year. Nest envy.

Inside, my first cup of coffee has gone cold inside the porcelain mug they gave me. I have a half eaten Montana Bar a few inches away. Montana bar you ask? What is such a thing? Well I was curious myself. To be quite frank, I only purchased this dessert because they had no brownies. And you know how I love brownies. Since I wasn't quite sure what I would blog about, I figured what better thing to discuss than this cookie/bar/thing as a metaphor for the real Montana. Who better than a girl from the namesake state right? Here we go:

My 3 minute Google search yielded no results for a Montana Bar, Montana Cookie or anything similar. My attention span yielded no interest in spending more time loading pages of white and blue text about bars in Montana or cookies not named Montana.

This particular confection starts at the bottom with a layer of oatmeal cookie softness. This, I interpret as the mineral and fossil filled landscape that supported the late 19th century mining boom, the Rocky Mountain Dinosaur Museum, and countless mountain trails to go walking on. Hidden amongst the caramel colored batter are large whole rolled oats. They stick out like boulders if you turn the cookie upside down. The base is chock full of them, like jems just waiting to be rooted out and turned into sell–able materials. This is most definitely the land and makeup of the Big Sky Country.

Moving upwards, you come into contact with a thick layer of melted semi-sweet chocolate spread over the entire bar. After much deliberation I'm going with the area that covers 3/5ths of the state: The Great Plains. No mountains. No major hills. Just dirt, grasses, rivers, streams and farms. Maybe horses. It's simple when you look at it. Just like chocolate. We all know what it's like. It seems so simple and brown. But just a taste opens up a dozen different flavors, one after another. Sweet and a bit earthy and tannic. The more you look into it, the more diversity you find. The same goes with the flatlands of Montana. They're easy to try to nap through if you're not the one driving (believe me) but if you look out the window long enough, you'll see the little variances. You will.

A thick sprinkling of toasted coconut sits over the sugary chocolate. It smells like marshmallows on fire. They crunch a bit and get stuck behind your molars till your tongue fishes them out. This ingredient (never mind the fact that the chances of a coconut surviving in a forest in Montana are just about the same as a socialite with five different electronics in her designer handbag thus it seems inappropriate for it on a Montana Bar, but whatever) looks like the sides of mountains after a wildfire has ravaged the trees. They are scorched, fallen and look a mess. Montana's state tree is the Ponderosa. When we were children we delighted in seeing one - like it was a gift, a treasure. Montana's evergreens, birches, maples, oaks, fruit trees... they're everywhere. But if you go walking in the mountains and see where logging swept them away, or a fire continued the grand cycle of life - it's a sight to see. It takes your breath away for a moment. Like a giant grew bored and plucked them one by one out of the earth and left the dirt exposed, the animals homeless and the landscape scarred.

Just to top off the array of flavors on the bar are about 3-4 cashews per piece. Again, NOT a product of the state. Where are the huckleberries I want to know. Those are amazing. Ok. So nuts. Cashews. Well, my dad loves cashews. He likes pistachios more I think but the makers of this cookie couldn't have known that. So instead there are cashews. They add something major to the taste of the bar. The strong flavor is impossible to ignore. So what in Montana is impossible to ignore? I'm going to go with those crazy-ass mountains. They come in waves as you drive around the state. I grew up surrounded by them in Missoula. They helped keep the weather warm(er) in winter... but also the air polluted. Our mom would point out the Mission Mountains that loomed surreally high into the sky on long drives. Glacier Park's were amazing. So were all the others I can't recall the names of. It's what people remember isn't it? Those mountains. Even though they're not everywhere, they're substantially part of the landscape.

And there we are. Maybe not the most perfect choice of ingredients, but it's tasty and I'll eat all of it. Much like my feelings towards my home-state. I like it every once in a while but it's not what I choose for my every day dessert. I like brownies like I like major metropolitan areas. I will not be making the Montana bar my best friend. Feel free to enjoy one yourself though. It's got plains, trees, mountains, and gold. GOLD I tell you!!

Love love love,

K.

*An early birthday present. My actual birthday is tomorrow for all you wondering.

Smells like wonderland...

2007-05-08T00:02:00.000-05:00

The air is surreal around Minneapolis tonight. It's a syrupy oxygen-meets-lilac-and-cherry blossoms. You can even see it settling amongst the trees in your headlights. Whether yours are blinky Cateye bike lights (such as mine) or hi-beamed auto illuminators makes no difference. That fog is creeping in before the rain hits. It's making it hard to find a proper amount of cover coverage at night for me. Too hot. Too cold. Wake up at 3am to walk into the living room hoping my roommate doesn't also happen to walk out and see me in my little boy underwear as I'm stealing a thinner blanket from the dark wicker basket in the even darker front room.

I hate waking up at 3am. I hate waking up hot and uncomfortable.

But man, the rides home after work...

When the cars are few and far between. When the need of an extra coat isn't pressing. And that flower-kissed wind passes over my head and increases my cadence and spirits simultaneously. It's inside this secret and personal world of mine that I can take my hands off the drops, breathe in the that coined expression of "perfumed air" that we hear all too often about this time of year and almost burst with satisfaction and edification.

That makes it all worth it. I could live in that 25 minute commute. I guess I'll just have to find a lighter comforter.

Wishing you a night of perfectly tempered linen selection...

Love love love,

K.

I'm a cheater...

2007-05-02T19:09:00.000-05:00

Today was so beautiful I rode all around under the sun with my oil-free sunscreen - spf45 liberally applied. So I'm sorry I didn't have time to offer you a bonafide "Kim-post". I know you've been waiting. I know you've been hoping. And praying. And wishing. But you don't understand. Riding along with my new bike with a strobe light effect overhead from where the sun jettisoned through the blossoming trees* was like a drug for me. I couldn't stop. I wanted that continual high. Is it so wrong to be addicted to springtime flowers and the lush grasses that surrount them? Am I that horrible?

Apparantly yes. Yes I am.

And now I better change into jeans so I won't get cold biking home later on tonight.

Wishing you a day out of a picture book illustrated by an extreme optimist with way too many garden fetishes...

Love love love,

K.

*All the trees had a nice rain watering the other night so their blossoms are in full effect. I wanted to take a picture of each one, thinking it would be the best I would see all day. But each was better than the last. They are all over. And it's almost like your Senior year of highschool for me. During those last few weeks everyone seems to abandon their cliques and attitudes for positive reinforcement in yearbook form. But you know... ooooh you know that school will be over soon and you'll be on your own. That's how it feels for me with the blossoms. I know they'll be gone. But I so dearly and earnestly want them to stay forever. I've never been a big fan of fruit anyway.

If this blog were a library book...

2007-05-01T12:06:00.000-05:00

I would have quite the fees to pay now wouldn't I? There has been so much to talk about since last post... alas I have no time at the moment. But I will tomorrow. Promise.

Until then... something that made me smile today:

'selfish jean" by travis

My boyfriend. Isn't he...cute?

Love love love,

K.

Here doggy doggy!

2007-04-21T20:05:00.000-05:00

I counted 60+ dogs as I walked around two lakes this afternoon. Thankfully, none of them quite fit my "I'm about to grab a bottle of ether and go about planning to steal that dog" standards so they were safe...

Doesn't quite get rid of that IAGBEGAPSTD problem I've been having lately. I really really really want one. More than I wanted a Barbie Mustang when I was little. More than I wanted to be Celine Dion's Opening act when I was 12. Even more. And it keeps growing with each warm and sunny day. I need third party help with this issue. Recommendations?

Love love love,

K.

Eggsellent!

2007-04-21T10:47:00.000-05:00

I had a dream last night where I was making egg burritos but at the last minute I accidentially dropped the entire pan of scrambled eggs onto the floor - face down. They were the last eggs I had.

So now I'm going to be all nervous when I make breakfast. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Love love love,

K.

Words I'm thinking about...

2007-04-18T13:10:00.000-05:00

ser·en·dip·i·tous [ser-uhn-dip-i-tuhs] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation

–adjective

1.	come upon or found by accident; fortuitous: serendipitous scientific discoveries.

2.	of, pertaining to, or suggesting serendipity.

3.	good; beneficial; favorable: serendipitous weather for our vacation.

hap·pi·ly [hap-uh-lee] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation –adverb

1.	in a happy manner; with pleasure.

2.	by good fortune; luckily; providentially.

3.	felicitously; aptly; appropriately: a happily turned phrase

sov·er·eign·ty [sov-rin-tee, suhv-] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation –noun, plural -ties.

1.	the quality or state of being sovereign.

2.	the status, dominion, power, or authority of a sovereign; royalty.

3.	supreme and independent power or authority in government as possessed or claimed by a state or community.

4.	rightful status, independence, or prerogative.

5.	a sovereign state, community, or political unit.

What are your words?

Love love love,

K.

P.S. I lost count but I'm pretty sure it's 44:16. Perfectly comfortable.

Yo Yo Yo!

2007-04-17T14:00:00.000-05:00

I'm just about to go re-check my gear ratio. 54:11? I think not. And dis: the pain is right under my kneecap area about a 3 inch area. It feels like the bone just jolts pain and my whole body sense heightens whenever a pulse of it happens. Usually later in the evening, after I've been walking or riding all day.

Since the sun is shining, but there's really not much going on in my world, I'll ride on down to my hill. Which hill? Where hill? What the hill you ask?

There's one about two blocks from my place. In the summer it will overlook the lake, the rose gardens and the surrounding green grasses. It's probably only 30 feet high but I have declared it mine. I will be Queen of the Hill. No scrawny kid better get in my way or they'll be going down. I can take 'em.

Until you find your hill:

Read some poetry or something and it will feel like we're sitting right next to each other. Cozy.

Love love love,

K.