Monday, May 28, 2012
Our front yard tree
Our tropical jacaranda tree has been alive almost as long as me! Every year, it turns our front yard into a sea of purple fallen flowers.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Walking Around Los Angeles
Aga came to visit. Los Angeles has some great places! Like Tom said in 500 Days of Summer, sometimes you just need to look up to see cool things. 
What you're looking at: A massive, mangled creation above our heads at MOCA, the Museum of Contemporary Art; downtown Los Angeles while strolling in the Theater District on Broadway; Angel's Knoll, Tom's favorite spot in LA he later shared with Summer in the movie 500 Days of Summer.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Riding into Joplin, Missouri
As the sun was setting, five cyclists stood on top of a hill in
Joplin, Missouri. Before them in full panoramic view was utter
devastation from the tornado that powered through several city blocks
months before. A car, in barely recognizable condition, lay upside
down on the sidewalk. An abandoned senior citizens home, stood
windowless and roofless amongst a sea of rubble- most likely smaller
houses that didn’t make it through. In the distance, a tired man stood
amongst the mess, sorting through a pile of debris.
For anyone that felt like riding their bicycle into Joplin today, it
was no stroll in the park. Thermometers all around easily checked in
at over 100. We (once again) traversed the rolling hills of Missouri,
passing by churches with quirky slogans, golden fields with rolls of
hay scattered about, and pastures with every cow huddled under the
lone tree for shade.
The roads in the morning were a welcomed relief to the steeper climbs
days prior. Aaron Miller, my cycling partner in the morning, lead the
way past antique shops and family farms. The first 30 miles passed
with relative ease, and soon we found ourselves checking into the
first lunch stop- an abandoned gas station on historic Route 66 with a
patch of grass and glorious shade.
Soon after taking off for the second stretch, a hot gust of air blew
in my face, a signal to all the riders that the temperature was
heating up at an exponential rate. I double checked that my water
bottles were filled. For people new to cycling (yours truly coming in
at 14 tire flats thus far), riding 76 miles is a mental and physical
challenge in itself. Having what feels like 5 hot hair dryers blowing
in your face while you are trying to rise up to that challenge adds
another element to the cycling game.
Thankfully, there are two establishments that act as beacons of hope
to a tired and dehydrated Bike and Builder: McDonalds and gas
stations. A gas station to a Bike and Build cyclist is like an oasis
to a gazelle in some remote place in Africa. Like flies, riders
Caitlin Stanley, Elysia Glover, and I flock into the nearest Route 66
station, and engage in rituals which include: sticking our heads in
the refrigerator, filling our bags (and shirts) with ice, and pounding
down ice cream sandwiches and icees. None of the aforementioned are
trivial pursuits, but practices that are imperative to finishing the
ride and still remaining relatively mentally sane.
There are 20 more miles left to go, and while the sun’s rays are
coming down harder than ever, the asphalt below likewise decides to
radiate its own heat, entrenching us in a prison of sweat. We let out
screams of frustration from the pain of sitting on a saddle for an
entire day. Heat rash begins to appear on our burning thighs. Fatigue,
otherwise known as “bonking,” kicks in; and the hills that seemed
manageable 2 hours prior now feel like impassable mountains.
Soon, the hills of hay give way to wider roads, and soon we see
stoplights, signifying that a bigger town is near. We ride up to two
local cyclists to ask for directions, and let out whoops of pure joy
that echoed through the streets when learning that our final
destination is close. After a few more long miles, we pedal up to the
host site with sore butts, soaked cycling shorts, and dirt smeared
calves. We set our bikes aside, happy to be done using them for the
day.
Aside from people questioning our sanity for taking on an adventure
like this, another common reaction from people we tell our biking
story to is genuine confusion. Why spend a summer waking up at ungodly
hours to begin a long day outside? Why bike across America and subject
yourselves to heat rash, saddle sores, and odd looking tan lines? Why
venture far away from home to dig a hole or pick nails out of wood for
a whole day?
For anyone that stood on top of the hill in Joplin, Missouri, today,
the answers to those questions are clear.
-Teresa
Joplin, Missouri. Before them in full panoramic view was utter
devastation from the tornado that powered through several city blocks
months before. A car, in barely recognizable condition, lay upside
down on the sidewalk. An abandoned senior citizens home, stood
windowless and roofless amongst a sea of rubble- most likely smaller
houses that didn’t make it through. In the distance, a tired man stood
amongst the mess, sorting through a pile of debris.
For anyone that felt like riding their bicycle into Joplin today, it
was no stroll in the park. Thermometers all around easily checked in
at over 100. We (once again) traversed the rolling hills of Missouri,
passing by churches with quirky slogans, golden fields with rolls of
hay scattered about, and pastures with every cow huddled under the
lone tree for shade.
The roads in the morning were a welcomed relief to the steeper climbs
days prior. Aaron Miller, my cycling partner in the morning, lead the
way past antique shops and family farms. The first 30 miles passed
with relative ease, and soon we found ourselves checking into the
first lunch stop- an abandoned gas station on historic Route 66 with a
patch of grass and glorious shade.
Soon after taking off for the second stretch, a hot gust of air blew
in my face, a signal to all the riders that the temperature was
heating up at an exponential rate. I double checked that my water
bottles were filled. For people new to cycling (yours truly coming in
at 14 tire flats thus far), riding 76 miles is a mental and physical
challenge in itself. Having what feels like 5 hot hair dryers blowing
in your face while you are trying to rise up to that challenge adds
another element to the cycling game.
Thankfully, there are two establishments that act as beacons of hope
to a tired and dehydrated Bike and Builder: McDonalds and gas
stations. A gas station to a Bike and Build cyclist is like an oasis
to a gazelle in some remote place in Africa. Like flies, riders
Caitlin Stanley, Elysia Glover, and I flock into the nearest Route 66
station, and engage in rituals which include: sticking our heads in
the refrigerator, filling our bags (and shirts) with ice, and pounding
down ice cream sandwiches and icees. None of the aforementioned are
trivial pursuits, but practices that are imperative to finishing the
ride and still remaining relatively mentally sane.
There are 20 more miles left to go, and while the sun’s rays are
coming down harder than ever, the asphalt below likewise decides to
radiate its own heat, entrenching us in a prison of sweat. We let out
screams of frustration from the pain of sitting on a saddle for an
entire day. Heat rash begins to appear on our burning thighs. Fatigue,
otherwise known as “bonking,” kicks in; and the hills that seemed
manageable 2 hours prior now feel like impassable mountains.
Soon, the hills of hay give way to wider roads, and soon we see
stoplights, signifying that a bigger town is near. We ride up to two
local cyclists to ask for directions, and let out whoops of pure joy
that echoed through the streets when learning that our final
destination is close. After a few more long miles, we pedal up to the
host site with sore butts, soaked cycling shorts, and dirt smeared
calves. We set our bikes aside, happy to be done using them for the
day.
Aside from people questioning our sanity for taking on an adventure
like this, another common reaction from people we tell our biking
story to is genuine confusion. Why spend a summer waking up at ungodly
hours to begin a long day outside? Why bike across America and subject
yourselves to heat rash, saddle sores, and odd looking tan lines? Why
venture far away from home to dig a hole or pick nails out of wood for
a whole day?
For anyone that stood on top of the hill in Joplin, Missouri, today,
the answers to those questions are clear.
-Teresa
Monday, November 28, 2011
enter Mitch
I made a new friend over Thanksgiving. His name is Mitch, and in some ways, I think we were meant to meet. Mitch seemed a little nervous to meet me too. One could tell that he was dressed to impress by the sleek black cover he was donning, and he had cleaned himself up to shine.
When I first looked at him, I felt this odd connection-- as if an old comrade had all of a sudden walked into the room. Mitch looks incredibly similar to a friend I had during my stint in Micronesia. My old friend and I would sit underneath the porch of our home, and have hours of fun while the rain poured from the heavens a few feet away from us. He would also sit with me as I graded essays and did lesson planning on a lazy Sunday afternoon in my open air classroom. On a special staff luncheon, he even participated in a show with me and some other teachers!
However, like a tide rising and then retreating, my time in Micronesia had to come to an end after almost a year. I said goodbye to my friend, probably never to see him again.
When I saw Mitch, a lot of island memories came flooding back and like a washer on the rinse cycle, swirled around and around my mind. I am so happy to have found Mitch
(or that Mitch had found me)-- because now I can have a new friend over here too.
When I first looked at him, I felt this odd connection-- as if an old comrade had all of a sudden walked into the room. Mitch looks incredibly similar to a friend I had during my stint in Micronesia. My old friend and I would sit underneath the porch of our home, and have hours of fun while the rain poured from the heavens a few feet away from us. He would also sit with me as I graded essays and did lesson planning on a lazy Sunday afternoon in my open air classroom. On a special staff luncheon, he even participated in a show with me and some other teachers!
However, like a tide rising and then retreating, my time in Micronesia had to come to an end after almost a year. I said goodbye to my friend, probably never to see him again.
When I saw Mitch, a lot of island memories came flooding back and like a washer on the rinse cycle, swirled around and around my mind. I am so happy to have found Mitch
(or that Mitch had found me)-- because now I can have a new friend over here too.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
If you wanna bike across the country...
Last week, I swiped my MasterCard to buy some spandex with a huge pad sewn onto the crotch.
I have also been scouring the internet for deals on various creams to rub on my ass.
These are just two purchases I have had to make recently as a result of a decision to do a cross country cycling trip.
...
Recently, preparing for this trip reminded me of concept coveted by my sociology professors at Berkeley. There was a phrase that ruled my college academic life; a phrase that, when used, would ensure that my sociology exams be a whole letter grade higher. This phrase is social construction.
...
Biking doesn't seem to be entirely synonymous with cycling.
Biking is an effective mode of transportation. I learned that last year when hitchhiking became overrated and walking was so last season. I biked in dresses, and held the down the dress in the middle of the seat to avoid giving the world an eco-friendly peep show. I carried a long stick, and occasionally wacked dogs that yipped at my feet.
I realize now that while I have biked, I have never cycled.
If biking is a transport activity that a billion people in China have to do because they can't afford cars, the world of cycling seems to be set up different, with social markers that mark clear distinction from its primitive counterpart.
If the world of cycling is socially constructed, here are some markers thus far. Sexy, sexy markers for that matter:
1. Spandex with bulge.
When I was in high school, boys would come cheer on our volleyball games because, let's face it, all the squatting from the sport ultimately led to killer thighs and toned butts. And of course, the standard southern California outfit for a volleyball girl was ridiculously short spandex (who would have expected otherwise?).
Now take that image of spandex, and stick in two Overnight Maxi-pads. You have my most recent purchase at Sports Authority.
Certainly the anatomically shaped pad at the crotch must serve a purpose for long distances on bikes that I will probably attest to at a later point. But for now, they just feel (and look) supremely awkward. A bulge exists at all angles.
This recent awkwardness is only superseded by the next social marker of cycling.
2. Application of ass creams.
Rightfully named "Assos" and "Butt'r", these are products that are next to show up on my visa.
I just can't wrap my mind around the idea yet that in a couple weeks, I will be applying gunky gunk on my otherwise clean butt. I know they serve an important purpose of preventing saddle sores, and after Googling "saddle sores" I know that is something I definitely do not want. I guess it's one of those things I will understand in a few weeks. But now...gunk all day on my ass. Fancy that.
That, and the idea that the bulging spandex are intended to be worn commando.
Those are just two. But really there has been (and will be) so much to learn!
I have also been scouring the internet for deals on various creams to rub on my ass.
These are just two purchases I have had to make recently as a result of a decision to do a cross country cycling trip.
...
Recently, preparing for this trip reminded me of concept coveted by my sociology professors at Berkeley. There was a phrase that ruled my college academic life; a phrase that, when used, would ensure that my sociology exams be a whole letter grade higher. This phrase is social construction.
...
Biking doesn't seem to be entirely synonymous with cycling.
Biking is an effective mode of transportation. I learned that last year when hitchhiking became overrated and walking was so last season. I biked in dresses, and held the down the dress in the middle of the seat to avoid giving the world an eco-friendly peep show. I carried a long stick, and occasionally wacked dogs that yipped at my feet.
I realize now that while I have biked, I have never cycled.
If biking is a transport activity that a billion people in China have to do because they can't afford cars, the world of cycling seems to be set up different, with social markers that mark clear distinction from its primitive counterpart.
If the world of cycling is socially constructed, here are some markers thus far. Sexy, sexy markers for that matter:
1. Spandex with bulge.
When I was in high school, boys would come cheer on our volleyball games because, let's face it, all the squatting from the sport ultimately led to killer thighs and toned butts. And of course, the standard southern California outfit for a volleyball girl was ridiculously short spandex (who would have expected otherwise?).
Now take that image of spandex, and stick in two Overnight Maxi-pads. You have my most recent purchase at Sports Authority.
Certainly the anatomically shaped pad at the crotch must serve a purpose for long distances on bikes that I will probably attest to at a later point. But for now, they just feel (and look) supremely awkward. A bulge exists at all angles.
This recent awkwardness is only superseded by the next social marker of cycling.
2. Application of ass creams.
Rightfully named "Assos" and "Butt'r", these are products that are next to show up on my visa.
I just can't wrap my mind around the idea yet that in a couple weeks, I will be applying gunky gunk on my otherwise clean butt. I know they serve an important purpose of preventing saddle sores, and after Googling "saddle sores" I know that is something I definitely do not want. I guess it's one of those things I will understand in a few weeks. But now...gunk all day on my ass. Fancy that.
That, and the idea that the bulging spandex are intended to be worn commando.
Those are just two. But really there has been (and will be) so much to learn!
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