Lunch Time at Sally's

These photos were taken with my work cell phone, A Motorola RAZR. I think it has the worst camera ever for a cell phone.

We had Lunch at Sally's at 16th and RhodeIsland in San Francisco.


Pasta with chicken and a cream sauce, and pasta on the side. Eat up.

After lunch we walked over to 18th to use the foot bridge over the freeway to get back to work. This climb up 18th at DeHaro street is well over an 18% grade.

I was a Bit Bored on the Train, and I said ...

There's that little freeway crossing at 18th and it's just a few blocks to work from there and HowBadCanItBe?, after all. And I got off the train at 22nd street, which is basically a hole in the ground. From there I looked up at a sign that said steep grade ahead, so I turned right on Pennsylvania, and proceeded to climb a fairly steep grade for a long block or two.

It wasn't too bad. Coast all downhill from there to 15th and Utah. 1.4 miles, with a short, but steep hill.

If you can find a better route, I'd be glad to here about it, the start and end points are marked with a green dot. Notice that the route map is marked in three kinds of red to indicate how (incredibly ^&%#ing) steep the hills are.

Yeah, It's Raining, So What ...

Well, it is.

http://sat.wrh.noaa.gov/satellite/showsat.php?wfo=mtr&area=nw&type=vis&size=4

Date: 24 March 2007
Mileage for the week: 80.24
March total: 325.47
On the Ipod: Nothing

Saturday Morning Coffee

Well, I've been over to the new Cafe of the Beautiful People, for my standard "Tall Coffee with 2 extra shots." In Pullman, WA at the Cafe of the Beautiful, everyone was college aged and the Barista gave out heart shaped love on valentine's day. In Mesa AZ, every one was wearing athletic wear, or race gear, all fit and healthy, and i.e. beautiful. Here in Bahgdad by the Bay (thanks Herb), it's much more interesting. There always is a crowd, and today's crowd was mostly pre-teen girls wearing make-up. There must be a school-sized event over at the Performing Arts Center.

But it is Saturday Morning. Last time I sat down on Saturday morning to write I was sitting at my desk in Mesa, Staring out at the Superstition Wilderness. Today, I am at my desk in California, reviewing the past.

Here's another shot from America's Loneliest Highway.

Somewhere on America's Loneliest Highway

Sobriety Checkpoint

Last night at about 10:50, I spun through the Burlingame PD's sobriety checkpoint on California Ave. at about 18 miles an hour. It was strange and odd. They didn't stop me or even seem to notice me.





This afternoon I rode out to San Carlos Airport and back on the Bay Trail and it was about 30 miles round trip. On the way back we took the frontage road from the Airport to Oracle and my Red-Headed Riding Buddy blew a tire. I had a spare that was not right, that bought him an additional 10 miles. At the bridge my Presta tube on his Schrader rim gave out at the valve, leaving him on foot. I rode to get a car and came back for him, cutting his trip down to about 23 for the day, and leaving me with about 28 all day.


Site of the Blowout.


The interesting bit is this; from my house the bridge is five miles, Oracle is ten, Holly street is fifteen, and where is twenty? Round trip, these are 10, 20, and 30 miles respectively.

Date: 17 March 2007
Mileage for the week: 85.54
March total: 245.23
Max: 29.8
On the Ipod: Neil Young: Rockin' the Free World

The Commute to Work

This is an image of coyote point. It's rediculously small for whatever reason. My commute is 22.61 miles and took me 2 hours. There are three hills, these being my first hill climbing in quite some time.

It wasn't the most pleasant ride, as a lot of it is industrial.

Showtime

I set the alarm for 6 AM, and I laid out the riding clothes for the morning. Padded shorts, tights, a jersey, and some warmers.

I went to the doctor today to tell her that I was coughing in unbelievable fits at night like I had Pertussis (whooping cough), and that I was afraid I was going to break my ribs or something, and that I usually wanted to vomit after I was done turning blue, and she said, oh -- I think you have post nasal drip, take this phergain (sp -- an anti-nausea medication) with codiene (a pint of it, no less), that should help. Sure, narcotics usually help. "You'll be fine."

As long as I don't choke to death on my own phlegm while unable to wake up, cough, or puke.

I said, "Really?, I'll never take it."

I'll be up in the morning, on my bike, trying to navigate 16 miles of unknown urban paradise. Sans codiene. Paroxysms or not.

A long way ...

I am somewhat inspired by Lauren's post describing her commute to work. Did I mention I was jealous, too. It's a very nice ride. For some time now I have been contemplating riding (all the way) to work one day morning a week, in an effort to get my weekly base up to about 125 miles. Currently, if I push it, I can break 100 a week, but even if I am busy, I usually end up at about 75. Adding 15-20 miles will help.

I washed all my riding clothes, especially the padded ones. I never wear the ride specific clothing, but rising temps combined with longer rides seem to imply occasional showers and a change of clothes, and my saddle has been asking me for a little cushioning against my sit bones. So tomorrow I will pack up a shower bag and haul it into work. I have a shower at work.

In trying to plan a route through 17 miles of the SF Peninsula, I discovered several things.

1. There's a bike route map of San Francisco from the SF Bike Coalition
2. San Mateo County has this, which looks like a scary route. I don't like two lane roads with street parking and no bike lane.
3. There are other maps, too, here.
4. It ain't easy to get there from here
5. This is a very nice article (dated) about the progress made in San Francisco for cyclists in recent years.

Maybe this week I will try the full commute. I have something that looks like a route, thanks to mapquest's (thanks fritz, for sharing) "avoid freeways" option. I run the Bay Front trail out to the Airport and then ride Bayshore into South City, and on past Potrero Hill. With an occasional deviation that I'll need to navigate when I get there.

If I can get to work it will mean I can get across the GG bridge which will mean I can get to Alaska... it's all in the journey ...Wish me luck.

Date: 11 March 2007
Mileage for the week: 112.43
March total: 159.69
Max: 29.2
Time in the Saddle: 10:15
On the Ipod: Jackson Browne, Farther On

Fernando's

Behind the Scenes

A bike race seems to leave spectators standing around looking at each other as much as watching the race. Here are a few shots from behind the scenes at the Velogirls Menlo Park Grand Prix . Enjoy.

Velogirls Menlo Park Grand Prix

Is that the leader? I never know.

I started out today with a crazy idea I was going to go get coffee, photograph a womens bike race, have dinner with my folks and be in bed by ten. It all workd out ok except for turning the clock forward. Which meant it was 11:00.

That's Mount Diablo, which I think is about 35 miles away. It was definitely a nice day for a ride so I rode home to an ice pack and a hot tub. The extra ten pounds of camera gear made the long ride more fun.

I took about 100 photos during the CAT 5 mens race, the only race I saw. I'll be looking those over for the next few days to cultivate out a few more good shots, but for now, enjoy these. If you recognise anyone -- I'd like to know so I can add their name to the credit.

Hard to say it Better than this.

5 Miles Out

At about Chestnut and Embarcadero I turned back. For a total of 8.8 miles. That is Coit Tower.

Hi Dive

Lunch Ride

I have an appointment at 11:00 down near the Moscone center, so I am going to take a lunch time ride after that. If I can make it this far, it will be 17.6 miles out to Chrissy Field and Back. It's glorious out. The actual map.

UglyBike

Closed up shop. That, makes me sad. I'll miss you, Gilby. Good luck to you. I'll keep a place in my heart for you.

Flat Tire Paradise

Somewhat as a result of some self reflection, over the past few weeks, I changed the name of my blog. When I started this endeavor almost two years ago, my entire life was revolving around cameras, pictures, photography, and travel -- primarily in the desert Southwest. I am really unsure of the new name, since the old one was just simply descriptive, and the new one is ... well, slightly more philosophical.

Today, my life revolves around ... and around. If I have a camera these days, it's incidental, and more often than not, it's a cell phone and not a 4x5" film camera. Occasionally, I will throw my digital into my bike bag (and go to a bike race in Menlo Park on Saturday). It's a lot more likely I am carrying a spare tube. And some tubes of gu.

My blogging and reading the blogs of cyclists has led me to be back on a bike. Why I was drawn to the cycling blogs, or they drawn to me is a subject needing academic study by someone like Studs Terkel. But the truth is, reading about cycling put me back on a bike. On January 26 last year, I got back on a bike and rode 6 broken miles. I never should have quit in the first place. Those of you that inspired me, I should live longer because of it.

I live in a major metropolitan area -- a gorgeous city -- with a fairly poor transit system, and I rarely drive. My life is much more defined by a bike, my family, caring for my aging parents, and contemplating a haircut, than it is by 30,000 annual miles of desert driving, to get a camera into some crowded backcountry paradise. There's a strong community in my life today, and I haven't driven my own car this year. I live a much different life today, then I did two years ago in Mesa. When I cut my hair my friends said, "Was this ponytail longer than the last one?" and not, "Wow, I didn't recognize you."

When I look to what defines my life today, it's a gritty, joyous ride through wet manhole covers, potholes the size of a basketball, and an endless stream of broken green and brown bottles. Steep little hills that kick the crap outta Arizona. Horns honking, adrenaline pumping, lunchtime brawls into downtown for szechuan. Me dodging hazards and taxicabs to dine at one of 4000 restaurants, each with a Gypsy folk band. Or it's the meal I cook at home, the same one my mother cooked for me twice a month for the last so many years.

It's friendly cafes, family rock concerts, my father's workshop. Always -- I am a mule carrying groceries and a computer, dog biscuits in my pocket, raingear, shoes, a change of clothes, the encyclopedia brittanica, and a potted plant, and Shawn, don't forget to get the milk; It's me on a bike in a flat tire paradise, pushing these yellow bars into the mist.

Ray and Nassir Checking out Boats

Near the Embarcadero.

The Bike Hut

Bike Rentals at $5 an hour. Right on the Embarcadero.

The Embarcadero at Lunch

Trash

I took this with my phone on the way to work. This is a trashed up spot adjacent to the San Mateo Caltrain Station and North Railroad Street in San Mateo. I wonder if it is the resposibility of the Caltrain or the City of San Mateo to clean this up.

Speaking of Writing ... or was I Talking to Myself

It's autocratic, much like riding a bike. You can write me a ticket(thanks for the link, fritz), sure. Provided you can ride on the sidewalk, the wrong way up alleys, through tight spaces made up by fixed objects and moving cabs, into doorways to run up staircases, all the while acting nonchalantly --like it's an everyday thing -- like, "Hey man, I'm just on my way to get some coffee," all at 20 miles an hour. I can write you a ticket -- Mr. Authority, and publish it in my blog.

Seriously. I can write publicly about anything -- I don't need Simon and Schuster. I am a published author and have the equivalent of a novel in print. I have been writing almost daily for about 2 years. About 30-100 (care to hazard a guess?) people read what I write with some regularity. I have no idea why. But, they do. I read what some of them write and I know some of them. I am getting to know some of the one's I have never met. Some of them are my friends. I have friends I have never met.

Many of us having been trying to get out of the more populated areas, and as I grow, my friends have managed to succeed, for the most part. They are spread out like the leaves of an old maple. There are about a 1000 photographs taken by me exposed (published) onto the world, in the form of a casual travelogue, helping my friends and family know what I am doing. I know you've enjoyed some of the photos and some of the stories. I can share the travels, tales and work of my life with a few friends, not to mention an occasional spattering of wisdom.

I really like to hear when you, gentle readers, tell me that you enjoy what I have done. Or that you feel my pain, sorrow, boots, pain, frostbite, glee, victories, anger, adventures, see my successes, fear, dismay, love ... beauty.

I learn and enrich my own life when I read your stories and read what you've done. Or get a happy chance to develop a real relationship via an online world. Or as I develop and craft the stories I must tell to an unseen world.

I have been meme'd (hereinafter pronounced "maimed") by fritz. Frankly, I dislike the tagging activity, but, I am a good citizen. So that's five reasons I blog.

John, Tom, Eclectchick Michelle, Joann. You've been tagged. Five reasons you blog. Since I now have tagged everyone I know. I am no longer allowing myself to be tagged -- at least not until my third bloggerbirthday, which is slightly more than a year from now.

Beef Stew with Dumplings

Date: 25 February 2007
Mileage for the week: 82.68
February total: 286.30
March total: 47.26
Max: 28.3
On the Ipod: The Gypsy Kings, Un Amor

Ummm.

That's the 15" braid.

Leaving me looking a bit straight.

bzzzzzzz, click whirr ...

Night Studio

Back in the day, before Ipods. Philip Guston's daughter wrote a book called Night Studio. I bought a pair of 36" Cerwin Vega speakers. I moved into a warehouse. The warehouse was, well -- It was sweet. Me, a crow, three feral cats, a junkyard next door, a crazy girl, and about a hundred orchids. Juliana Hatfield at volume 11, a screamin prayer from a secret god. The coolest neighbors.

Late night workaholic, seriously loud, no one notices, -- way too cool. One night my friend JT came by and the crow sat on the edge of his cup and drank wine from it. Jim would drink -- and the crow would drink. I told a story about Jim today -- to some aspiring young artists. We talked about making art with our hands and tools like paint brushes, and how much fun that was (it used to be). So I told them a story about Jim and myself.

Jim called me one Friday night late, years ago. He said -- "I need your help. I am painting a 6' tall copy of Norman Rockwell's Home for Christmas".

"You don't need my help for that."

"It's due Monday at 9".

"I'll be right over."

Back to the warehouse.

Grinding sounds, Sculpture. "The Edge of Nowhere". A place where no one notices what you do. Me and a crow. In the warehouse santuary. The Warehouse Sanctuary. "Hello Girls!" Said the crow. The smell of paint. Linseed oil.

I am an expert in turning it up. The shower floods daily. Turn up the music. Neil Young, Prince. No -- really turn it up. Steely Dan. The Doobie Brothers, Marta Sebestyen. Finding a way to an unknown land. A place where hands create a magic that no one explains. Eric Clapton and Cream. Louder, please.

When I was faithful student at Cal State Hayward I met a man with a book that claimed artists were Shamen, and so was I. The book was The Artist as Shamen in the 20th Century, by Mark Levy. Later, as a graduate student, the music was louder. The drum beats grew firmer. My presence grew richer. I became stonger in my way.

"Who will take the only hearts they've got and throw them into the fire,
Who will risk their own self respect, in the name of desire,
Who'll regret everything they've done, and who will get the bill" Bonnie Raitt, Lover's Will.

It's like a switch, the way to making art. The way to knowing more than you thought possible, the way to communicating more than you could before. It's like the Shaman swimming under the ocean to see an underwater demon, to find an answer to some question. The night studio -- you wake in the day and look at what you've done and say, "wow" quietly to yourself so no one will hear you.

My daughter sent me a note today that said, "In the studio again." Good for you. Turn up the music. She knows. I know this. When she could barely talk, she walked into the living room of our old bungalow, and pointed at every painting I had painted and said, "See," as if she had finally put it together. While she was sleeping, I was painting those. In the mist. In the Mystery. She knew. My son never quite knew that. But tonight he played that Gibson in a very accomplished way. He knows something. Maybe he has a secret god. Or simple Voodoo Magic.

"What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away? ...
How do you sleep while the rest of us cry,
How do dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye,
How do you walk with your head held high, Can you even look me in the eye? " Dear Mr President, Pink (with the Indigo Girls)

Turn it up. Crank it up. All the way. There's a paradise. It's a paradise of desire. The band leader looked across at my son tonight and said, "What do you got?" My son hit a note and the man said, "Turn it up" and pointed his thumb at the sky. It's there, where the volume is high.

In the Mystery. There's where it is. Secret God ... Something. I am trying to find my way to paradise. I am trying to find my way into an unknown world where there is a truth I can get to know.

I don't know. But, ohhh, how I do know. Turn it up.

I miss my studio. It's been replaced by an Ipod, which isn't quite the same. The reason I turn it up, is to unleash the angels, and silence the demons.

Green Manalishi -- What Ever That Means

Playlist:

Nina Simone: Wild is the Wind
Elvin Bishop: Stealing Watermelons
Fleetwood Mac: The Green Manalishi
Blind Faith: Can't Find My Way Home
The Cream: Crossroads
Delany and Bonnie Bramlett with Duane Allman: Living on the Open Road
Bonnie Raitt: The Road is My Middle Name
Fleetwood Mac: The Way I Feel
Cowboy Junkies: The Way I feel
Cowboy Junkies: Good Friday
The B52's: Roam
Pink: Dear Mr President
The Cowboy Junkies: Misguided Angel
Patsy Cline: Walking After Midnight
The Indigo Girls: Closer to Fine
Sarah McLachlin: Building a Mystery
Maryann Faithfull: Sister Morphine
Derek and the Dominoes: Got to get Better in a Little While (for mile 85)
Fleetwood Mac: Why (Mile 86)
Blind Faith: Presence of the Lord (mile 87)
Drive By Truckers: Gravity's Gone
Cream: Badge (Mile 88)
Steely Dan: Peg
Steely Dan: Time Out of Mind
The Carnival Steel Drum Band: Under the Sea
Cowboy Junkies: Just want to See
Charlotte Church, Chorus of the Welsh National Opera: Amazing Grace
Fleetwood Mac: Black Magic Woman
Cowboy junkies: A Common Disaster
Fleetwood Mac: Revelation
Cowboy Junkies: Pale Sun
Quiksilver Messenger Service: Mojo
Howlin Wolf: The Red Rooster
Jackson Browne: The Road and the Sky
Niel Young: Cowgirl in the Sand
The Pretenders: Middle of the Road
The Ronettes: Be My Baby
Lou Reed: Sweet Jane
Jane's Addiction: Jane Says
Tori Amos: Winter
The Doobie Brothers: China Grove
The Doobie Brothers: Black Water
Daryl Hall and John Oates: Abandoned Lunchenette
Blind Faith: Sleeping in the Ground
Eric Clapton: Further on up the Road
Duane Allman: Please be with Me
Bonnie Raitt: I Can't Make You Love Me
Indigo Girls: Secure Yourself
The Cowboy Junkies: 200 More Miles

Heel Carving

Date: 25 February 2007
Mileage for the week: 75.67
February total: 251.98
Max: 25.1
On the Ipod: Alison Brown, The Promise of Spring

Riding Home

"Just a moment. Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it's ice-cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon-peel. Got it?"

Pass me the lemon peel. Today's ride home was like a ride in a shaker. "Shake very well till it's ice cold." Add ice pellets and mix with cars, ride until frozen.

The ride started at 6:10 for the 6:33 train -- plenty of time to travel a mile and a half to the station. I stepped out the door to put my purple shower cap on, when a guy standing in the shelter of the door said into his phone, "It's really hailing now." I slipped onto my bike and rode out into it, figuring -- it could never last. It was surreal and strange. Lights and cars and snowpellets in a dark, very windy torrential downpour. A Slushy. The ice pellets, hail, or freezing rain, whatever it needs to be called, added a reflective characteristic to the very air. After the first crossing of railroad tracks it became more difficult to see them as the water on the roads collected to about an inch deep.

As I sorted out the pedestrians and cabs in front of the train station and made my way to the sidewalk, there was easily 2 inches of standing water on the roadway, but the rain was less icy.

Miso Soup

Here is Fritz's contribution to the soup cookbook. Except for adding tofu -- This is his recipe as posted.

Miso soup
By Fritz

Shawn asked for soup recipes from around the world . I'm happy to oblige.Miso is basic, simple to make, and yummy to me. Here's how I do it.

Start water to boil.
Mix in a spoonful or four of miso paste. I like the strong-flavored aka or 'red' miso paste.
Add chopped scallions, mushrooms, soft tofu (added by me) and/or kombu seaweed.
When the miso paste is completely dissolved, remove from heat and dissolve in about a teaspoon of instant dashi powder.

My grandmother would sometimes boil up a big pot of clams and then make miso soup using the clam stock. She also didn't use instant hondashi -- she kept dried, moldy fish hanging on the kitchen wall, and she'd scrape the moldy fish flesh straight into the soup pot. Good stuff before and after a bike ride.Because of the dead-fish flavor, Japanese miso soup typically is not vegetarian. Link to his post.

Trophy Water Bottles and Rain Storms

They are more like trophies of my past accomplishments. In the early days of my life we weren't as sophisticated. Gallon milk jug filled with Tequila Sunrise for three days in a canoe on the Russian River. Vodka to mix with bags of plums on Mount Diablo summit. Gallon jugs of passed around koolaid. Gallon water bottles clipped right onto you belt for fifty mile desert hikes. Waterdog lake and the sand caves, and sawyer camp road when you could drive on it . Freezing cold water blown on the wind for San Bruno Mountain hike.

The stainless "grand canyon discovery" cup that went down the colorado with me, The water bottle I bought for my first century, and the one I forgot. The stainless thermos I bought to drink the coffee on the way to work. The water bottle I carried empty across four mile s of Joshua Tree, and the one I tried to give away to some ill prepared hikers near the oasis of mara. The one that froze solid in Mokulemne, and the ones I carried on the Superstion Ridgeline trail. Then there's the two or three I actually use. I have too many, too.

Did I forget to mention that this drizzle is trying to become a rainstorm.

Head Carving

Another Day in Paradise.

Today was characterized primarily by time spent with my parents. With a 1:30 hair appointment, then an early dinner at Fernando's in San Mateo, it was a great day. If you are one of those people who might want to be jealous of those of us that live in California, today would be a good day to express your emotions. It was incredible out in Pacifica today, at least for a couple of hours. Everyone was out, not just the surfers. Surf's up. This photo is of Linda Mar.

This person is riding his bike backwards while sitting on the handlebars. During the hair appointment, the sun just went away, being changed to fog, leaving a bunch of people in shorts standing out in the cold. It was summer for a split second -- then it was winter again.

Here's a photo of the guitar's headstock veneer being glued into place on the neck blank. This is not the clamping technique mentioned in the book.

Here's the guitar's neck after yet another -- albeit short -- day at the project. The truss rod is now inserted into a routed slot in the neck and a tenon exists to attach to the body of the guitar. I added the Zebrawood veneer for the head and trimmed everything. I think I am about ready to carve the neck.

Nah, silly, that's my mother working a puzzle with her new do.

Date: 17 February 2007
Mileage for the week: 94.67
February total: 176.31
Max: 28.1
On the Ipod: Howlin Wolf, Built for Comfort

Dear Asshole,

Before.

After.

Dear Thieving Asshole,

I could understand that you might need my rear light to put on your cool bike, so that you won't get hit riding brakeless through the night. I could understand that you might be able to sell that light for six or eight dollars and get some beer.

Although the light was basically free for the taking, I wonder why it was necessary to destroy my seat bag by ripping it to remove the light. Did you almost get caught? I actually don't mind that much that the light was taken -- I probably would have given it to you if you had convinced me that you needed it for your bike. You could have easily slipped that light off without damging the bag. Please try to be more considerate when stealing my shit. As you can see, I was barely inconvenienced by the loss of the light, Nick helped me to bolt the new one onto the bike, for lack of a better place. Please try not to hurt yourself attempting to steal the new one. I don't want to be subjected to a personal injury suit.

Shawn

P.S. If you try to sell it back to me on the street tomorrow, I'll do my best to steal it back from you without damaging your hand.

Go Jill

I'll be watching along ... Go Jill.

I look Interesting in Korean

I was looking at the referrals to my blog and I found someone using the Korean version of Google to find my Korean Soup post. The google page offered to translate me into Korean. I of course had to see it. One thing I noticed is that none of the Korean words are translated, which I found quite funny.

My son's in this movie, you might be able to recognize him near the end.