Critical Mass

Friday night marked the 10th anniversary of Critical Mass in Chicago. If you've never heard of this, Critical Mass is basically a mass rally of cyclists who gather on the last Fri of every month to bike through the city, take over the streets, block traffic and generally have a good time riding without fear of being hit by cars. The movement (if you can call it that) aspires to advocate cycling but has no official "platform" or "organization" or "leaders." In fact, the biking route isn't decided until the day of the rally, when people suggest possible maps and a general vote is taken. As you can imagine, the unregulated, unpredictable nature of the Mass tends to put the police in a bit of a bind, but in Chicago (unlike NYC) the cops are generally supportive and help block traffic, rather than arresting people for disorderly conduct.

This sounded like a massive block party on wheels, so I grabbed some fellow bikers and we headed out to the Mass start point at Daley Plaza. Problem: when we headed out, we discovered that Charles' bike seat had been stolen. Ack! I feel vindicated now for being paranoid and taking my bike seat with me whenever I leave it outside. Luckily, the Millennium Park bike station was still open, and the mechanic was miraculously able to find a fitting seat and post for his bike. This was the same guy who patched up my bike after I got hit by a cab; have I mentioned lately how much he rocks??

Meanwhile, the Mass was in full swing and heading north. And by "full swing," I mean traveling at about 5 mph - thousands of bikers don't make it anywhere particularly fast. Plus, we were surrounded by all kinds of sideshows. There was a marching band, people passing out organic sodas, skinny hipsters toting patched messenger bags, suburban lawyer types in spandex, parents with wagons of small children, bikes with subwoofers attached, short trick bikes, 5' tall 2-tiered bikes, and that guy you always see on Lake Shore drive with the "Hi :)" flag on his bike.


The Mass wended its way through downtown and headed toward Wicker and then Humboldt Parks, alternatively pissing off cab drivers (who were prevented from driving forward by cyclists who "corked" intersections) and bringing good cheer to kids who ran out to shout "Happy Friday!" (the unofficial Critical Mass greeting). I was surrounded by bikes on all sides, there were no dump trucks bearing down on me and no cars opening doors in my path, and for the first time ever, I felt completely safe while biking in the city. By the end of the night, I was definitely feeling One with the Mass or the Universe or whatever.

We made a quick pit stop at Charles' apartment to pick up beer (appropriately enough, he had large quantities of PBR). I have now perfected my technique for opening a can of beer with one hand while riding a bike.

That was without a doubt the funnest thing I've done all month.

There are rumors flying that this 10th anniversary Critical Mass might be the last one ever in the city, since some feel that the ride has become too large for its own good, and more closely resembles a frat party, rather than focusing on cycling advocacy. Personally, I think the Mass will keep assembling so long as there are cyclists who keep showing up once a month at Daley Plaza. (see proponents of the "Last Mass My Ass!" campaign) I didn't stick it out till the end of the ride (we had plans to meet up with people), but if you stay till the end, I hear the horde eventually ends up at say, the North Ave beach and then breaks up into lots of crazy after-parties. Yay, biking community culture!

intj

I think too much and I don't take enough risks. I ponder this and I am troubled.

Bells Reunion, Chicago-style

Viki dropped into town last weekend, and since we both tend to have short attention spans for anything not involving food, I quickly drew up a list of 9 potential restaurants to hit up. We didn't get to all of them of course, but there's always next year...After nabbing her at the Damen El stop, we swung by La Pasadita (one of the three on that block) for $1.85 steak tacos and drumline gossip. It was a good primer for Homecoming weekend in three weeks.

The next day, I wanted to show off all the best (non-touristy) parts of Chicago, which obviously meant going back to Wicker Park. For the unfamiliar, the Wicker Park neighborhood is filled with all kinds of uber trendy shops and bars, and might be infested with hipsters who are more pretentious than you. (See definition #4 of "hipster" in Urban Dictionary.) No matter, even though I try to aspire towards hippie-dom, this is still my favorite part of town. We wandered through Mojo Spa and checked out their birthday cake soap (which looks and smells like vanilla cake), strolled through an artsy furniture store with statues made of rolled-up magazines, and looked at baby clothing. More specifically, there was a Google knock-off shirt that caught my eye, complete with rainbow "Googoo" logo and a search button labeled "I'm feeling silly." Just think, with that outfit, the kid is practically guaranteed to be spouting off Star Wars quotes! For the first time ever, all my maternal instincts were rising to the surface. Finally, I am in love with the Bongo Room, which had a ridiculously good brunch menu. It was one of those rare places where I wanted to try everything on the menu: lump crab eggs benedict, strawberry & mango french toast, chipotle black bean breakfast burrito...yum!

We met up with Matt & Co. for the rest of the afternoon and did the usual tour of Millenium Park and walked down the Magnificient Mile. To be honest, the Mag Mile, filled with lots of designer stores, interests me about as much as watching paint dry. Hence, Viki and I decided to take a detour to Trader Joe's, which was also conveniently giving out bruschetta samples. Then we rejoined the rest of the crew for dinner at a tapas place. I'd been there just 2 weeks before for Alex's birthday dinner, but I figured I had a rare opportunity to take 10 people to dinner, so tapas would be appropriate. Tip: when you're done drinking the sangria, try eating the leftover fruit. Rob started doing this as a joke, but it's actually surprisingly good (so long as you don't eat the orange peel).

While at dinner, I was kind of struck by the number of serious couples surrounding me. I guess I'm not used to being completely outnumbered by couples, plus George and Kerry had recently gotten engaged so that was big news. And I'd just heard that Kelly had gotten engaged. Also, while walking around the parks downtown, we ran into at least 3 wedding parties. And just a few nights before, Jen and I were discussing the price of engagement rings at dinner (general rule of thumb: spend 1-2 mos salary).

Maybe I should join that facebook group. The one titled "All my friends are getting married, and I'm just getting drunk." :p

Green House

Some people save up for that BMW convertible. Others splurge on designer clothing...well, I can't wait to completely redesign my kitchen. It'll be ridiculously pimped out, wait and see. I've got my heart set on hanging pots, a stand-alone freezer and magnetic strips for knives, for starters. Then, let's throw in lots of extravagantly cute Alessi products, like their classic bird teapot or this coffeemaker. And I'll finally have space for all those impractical one-use-only kitchen appliances and gadgets. Paella pan, juicer, ice cream maker, egg slicer, creme brulee torch...this is starting to read like my Christmas list.



Viki visited Chicago over the weekend, and had read a magazine article about a new "Fit House" that was recently built in Lincoln Park. Basically, this is part of a series of eco-friendly homes that have been constructed around the country with the help of corporate sponsors, and the Chicago Fit House is the sixth home built. It features local construction materials, triple paned windows, and rooftop gardens. Unfortunately, the house closed for public tours on Sept 2, otherwise we would have gone to check it out. Although, now it's for sale on the market, so I suppose we could call up the agent and pretend to be interested in buying a 4-story, 5400 sq ft home.

Anyway, here's a shot of the kitchen. I am in love with the chalkboard walls. You can post recipes and shopping lists on your walls, or write notes to other people in the family. How awesome is that?



For all the talk of building a green house though, I do think this home is too ostentatious (read: big) for a single-family home. 5,400 sq feet? That is a megaton of space, and it just reeks of American consumerist excess. And the sauna and temperature-controlled wine cellar can't possibly be energy efficient. Don't get me wrong, the house is very nice and I'd love to live there, but it's still a long way from what I'd consider truly green construction practices.

Fairytale Ending plus omgnails

I had a kick-ass Fri night because I:
a) cooked
b) cleaned
c) watched a few episodes of Arrested Development
d) got into a fight with Joe via text message

To explain the last point, last weekend went something like this:
Joe: There's a wine tasting in the park, want to go?
Me: Oh, when/where/how?
Joe: (fills in details) It's expensive but it might be fun to do another picnic in the park. Or we could just do another movie night and cuddle?
Me: Um, actually, I'm going to Wisconsin this weekend. Catch you later?

Next, I will preface by saying I went out all week and really did have my heart set on cooking/cleaning Fri night. So this weekend went something like this:
Joe: There's a really great jazz pianist in town from France at Green Mill Fri/Sat night, interested in going?
Me: Hey, I know this is going to sound really lame, but I was planning on cleaning and stuff tonight, and I have plans on Sat/Sun..

Hmm. Does it sound like I'm blowing him off for a 2nd weekend in a row? Maybe because I am blowing him off for a second weekend in a row?? I'm just so damn lazy, I don't feel like making the effort to hang out every weekend. How do you tell someone they've been downgraded to an acquaintance? At any rate, the response was:

Joe: Who said anything about Sunday??

My reading of this was that he was pissed. Although Matt suggested that maybe he was implying that I was implying a Sat night hangout would extend into an awkward Sun morning breakfast. Uh no. I thought about not responding to this, then Warren convinced me that would be awkward and I shouldn't leave things like that. So, I debated texting "Well, want to do something Mon night?" or better yet, to answer the question:

Me: I did haha.

No response so far!

Well, I hadn't quite expected things to end like that, but it's resolution to something that's been weighing on my mind, so I'm happy even if Kelly insists "you can't text message brake up" (sic).

Anyway, the rest of the weekend was full of similarly awesome firsts, including my first game of flipcup (apparently it's all in bouncing the knees) and my first mani/pedi. Basically, the Fed females decided to get nails done as an ensemble, so we trekked to a nail place and spent an hour inhaling chemical fumes and watching dead skin get sloughed off our feet. Hot! I don't think I'd ever pay to get a mani/pedi on my own (actually, I made Katherine pay yesterday because she owes me money), but it was a fun group experience. Color-wise, I thought about some shade of siren red then decided that me being in a nail salon was enough effort on my part, and settled with light blue fingernails and seafoam green toenails. Also, we've determined that I have unusually large pinky toes (my "jew-toe," if you will). (Everyone else's toes sort of shrink dramatically in size while mine are reasonable and stay sort of the same length.) Check it out:

WILCO

I had a hot date with Haley tonight at the Wilco concert in Millennium Park. Well, originally she'd invited some other people and her roommate along, but through a series of unfortunate events, it ended up being me and her hanging out for the bulk of the night. Maybe for the best, actually.

The concert was one of the best shows I've ever seen, with a ridiculous set that spanned the entire Wilco catalogue. Admittedly, I am mostly familiar with just one of their albums, but it's a sign of a good concert when you can enjoy the unfamiliar material. My neck is sore from extreme head-banging.

The usual slew of highly special concert goers was present. This included the overenthusiastic constantly screaming Wilco t-shirted girl, the dancing machine, and the avid air keyboardist. (If you've ever seen the World Air Guitar Championship, you'll know that this is serious business.) Lots of smoke filled the air, people took multiple pictures of their palms, and bottles of mouthwash with suspiciously clear contents were passed around.

Tonight also marked the start of Rosh Hashanah, and Jeff Tweedy took ample jabs at the "non-observant" Jews in the crowd. "So, for all the Jews out there, why are you here? Don't worry, this is like being at temple, really...Well, you just listened to a song called 'Jesus, Etc.' But don't feel guilty, just remember that Jesus is also an interjection, as they say in Schoolhouse Rock!"

I hadn't realized that Wilco was a Chicago-based band, but as it turns out, Tweedy still lives in town and they even have a song titled "Via Chicago." The open-air lawn at Priztker turned out to be a great setting, with the skyline in the background as the sun set.

The (first) encore ended with a phenomenal rendition of "Spiders," which is about 10 minutes of pure jamming. At the end, the audience started clapping along, with Jeff's encouragement. "Come on, it's ok to clap, you're only at a rock concert. For once, you're going to do something as part of a group, something together. Not as two, or four, as one..." And as the band faded out, the sound of clapping echoed through the air.

Roadtrip!

Friday afternoon and I was yawning lazily when Haley and Britton sauntered into my cube and announced they'd been thinking about taking a road trip to Wisconsin. Sounds fun, I said, when were you planning on going? The response was, ohh…how about, tomorrow?? Well heck, I figured this most accurately reflects the spontaneous, poorly-planned nature of road trips, canceled the rest of my plans for the weekend and started looking up directions.

What I learned in Madison:
-People are really, really nice in the Midwest. Not that Chicago is a particularly unfriendly city, but in the parking lot of a state park, an elderly couple walked by us, then turned around and apologized for not saying good morning. Now I'm confused.
-Avoid making superior statements such as "You'd really have to be a moron with a capital M to fall into the water." when you are about to go kayaking because it inevitably means you will fall into the water. And as we found out, it's extremely difficult to climb into a water-logged kayak, and even more painful/embarrassing to swim back to shore sans boat.
-Wine tours are more fun when you're not the DD. Also, our tour guide sounded exactly like a flight attendant in tone. It was so distracting, I don't remember anything else she said.
-The mosquitoes mean business. After a valiant attempt at picnicking in the park (near water), we decided to have a cozy picnic...back at our lovely insect-free Econolodge room.
-I was a lot better at picking up the rules for spades (which actually involves strategy) than for kings or the other drinking games (which do not). Perhaps this was because I started drinking during the latter.
-Hiking in the Midwest involves walking through prairie. And a few forested sections and minor hills, but mostly a lot of flat prairie. "Don't worry, you won't get lost," we were told, "You can see the entire trail from here anyway." All right, note to self, next time we attempt hiking and kayaking, we're going some place with elevation changes.
-I lost my Cracker Barrel virginity, and although I was kind of disappointed in my food, the kitschy general store littered with Yankee Candle products, lemon heads and Halloween costumes more than made up for the bland food quality. If only I could bring a rocking chair home with me.

Driving back to Chicago was rather depressing. On the plus side, we could easily go on another road trip pretty much any weekend we want. Let's hear it for living in the real world!

Bitten by the Biking Bug

So, I've been on the watch for a new bike for a while, but became really motivated to look for a new one when both Katherine and Joe picked up new bikes last week and my current bike got a flat. Don't get me wrong, my bike is a perfect commuting bike in many ways, a solid vintage English 3-speed which came equipped with fenders, a chainguard and a rack. (All of these features are rare in contemporary bikes.) However, it's a bit of a heavy clunker and the brakes are questionable at best after rain. Last time I went into the bike shop, someone commented that the bike could very well be put on display as an antique. And okay, buying two bikes in two months? I'll admit that I have a not-so-minor case of cycling fever.

After a decent amount of research, I decided I was limiting myself to spending no more than $250 (I could have easily blown $1000 on an entry-level road bike), which meant I wasn't buying a new bike. My second problem was trying to figure out proper bike sizing (frame size? standover height? top tube length?), made all the more tricky since European bikes use metric measurements and American bikes do not. Then I took a crash course in bike mechanics to try to understand the differences in component quality. Rim or disc brakes? Front or all suspension? Steel or aluminum frame? How the hell do they build bikes that weigh in at 21 lbs?? Christ, that's lighter than my bag of rice at home.

Luckily, after scouting Craig's list for a couple days, one listing caught my eye, a 21-speed Giant Yukon hybrid (all-terrain) bike with a smaller 17" frame. When I called about the bike, the owner seemed a little distracted ("Which bike?"), and asked me to describe the bike extensively before saying "Oh yeah, it's available." So, I showed up tonight at the address given, and ran into another girl who was looking at a single-speed. The guy went down into the basement to retrieve our bikes. Meanwhile, the other girl commented nervously, "I really hope this guy isn't dealing stolen bikes...but uh, the price is definitely right." It hadn't even occurred to me that the guy could be dealing stolen goods, but when I asked him why he was selling the bikes, he said he was a dealer and every summer he fixed up bikes and resold them as a hobby. Shrug, it seems plausible enough? Besides, when I hopped on the bike, it was pure bliss. Light as a feather, silk-smooth shifting, and a beautiful dark green finish. Stolen good potential be damned, one quick spin around the block later, I was completely sold. Forget buying a new car, buying a new bike makes me super happy. Besides, according to the other girl, it's really hard to retrieve stolen bikes unless the owner happens to look at it and knows it's theirs. Oh well!?