Two. Many. Bikes!

Seems like every few months, we spent most of a day organizing our garage, only to have it overflow with stuff again in what seems like no time.  I accept 95% responsibility for this.  The other 5% I blame on the recession, since it seems our two perfectly lovely commuter bikes aren't going to find a new home for a while.

So, with the help of Rubbermaid, we set out to once again hack a path through the middle.  I'd say we were fairly successful:

While we were in a groove, we went through several boxes and drawers full of bike stuff, and a box of goodies will be making it's way to Goodwill or the Community Cycling Center in the near future.

Then there's the stuff, we're still hoping to get a little cash for.  So if you're in the market for:

Columbia winter boots
Specialized bike shoes
women's bike saddle
Apple Mighty Mouse (the computer kind, not the super hero)
Surly Cross Check Fork

...by all means, click on through.  I also have a bunch of old Star Trek comics I'd love to see get a good home (not so attached to the cash).  Something about dealing with all my mom's stuff has given me a strong urge to de-clutter my life.  It's an ongoing project.

But for now, I'm going to pat myself on the back (and Jess too) and maybe wander back out to the garage before bed so I can revel in the orderliness of it all:

Outside Looking In

I'm enjoying a rare quiet moment in the middle of my Monday, sitting OUTSIDE IN THE SUN on the campus quad. 

I feel like I've been through the wars. Except I got a little perspective on that this weekend, so I'll change that to, 'I feel like I've been through the bougie middle-class-problems skirmish.'

I promised Jess that we would tackle the garage this weekend.  We organized it last summer (sort of) but then we kept getting more and more stuff, until we could barely walk through to get our bikes out.  I think J's eye literally started twitching every time she had to go in there.  It's a good thing she hasn't been riding much these last few months.  We took everything out, rearranged the shelves and then put it all back in, but more organized.  The results are so pleasing that I've gone out there several times just to admire all the luscious space.

Saturday, I had to go to the farmer's market in search of snap peas. The selection at New Seasons is pathetic right now and I've been getting pretty desperate.  We rode our bikes to Lisa's house and then we all car pooled downtown together, J and I hardly fighting over Essex at all.  There were no snap peas, but it was good to get out and see people outside. It's like it's spring or something--crazy.

We also stopped for chocolate at a place (I forget the name), near Cacao that Lisa has been praising for months.  It definitely lived up to the hype.  I will link the name when remember it.

Then we had to rush back to NE to meet the delivery people, who were bringing my new stove from Home Depot. Geahk also met us there so he could take a look at a project I need help with.  The stove has one of those high backs with the controls at the back, and, unfortunately, I forgot about the counter that hangs over the kitchen--right where the stove would fit under, if it were short enough.  Geahk said he could just move the counter top, but after further study, he thought the best option would be to just get a different stove.  I agreed, but wailed silently over the doom that is every house related activity I try to do.

Which is why I get to spend the rest of the afternoon in rush hour traffic.  I found slide-in stove that will work, and it's even the right color---but it's out in BFE Milwaukie and my hired help, AKA my little brother Kenny, isn't available until 3:30. Fun times.

The rest of the weekend was spent either stressing over homework, the garage, or the stove.  Poor Jess had to put up with a pretty cranky, stressed out, and overwhelmed version of me.  I had the final draft of a story due in writing and our second midterm in Math.  Since those classes are back-to-back, there would be no time to cram for the math test before class.  For our second essay in writing on 'place,' I decided to write about Mom's house.  It seemed a prominent subject, since I have been working on the house for the past few months and accepting the reality that strangers will soon be living in it.  I knew it wouldn't be fun to write, but I underestimated just how much it would suck.  Aside from having to view the computer screen through tears much of the time, I also didn't feel like the story was coming together in a technical way either.  I felt like I was floundering through jello and I was sick of rereading it long before I could call it anything close to 'finished.'  The only good news about it was that people in my first workshop responded well to it emotionally.  Fellow classmate Rebecca even said that she really came to like mom through my story--so that made the torture seem more worthwhile. I do feel sorry for folks that didn't get to know her. She was just so damn cool.

Between the help I got from Jess and a fellow classmate, I muddled through to something that is hopefully acceptable.  In our class discussion today, it seemed that a lot of people really struggled with this topic, for one reason or another.  I really related to the person who said that she might not be graded as well, but she was glad she took the risk.  I took this class so I could push myself, so struggle is actually a good sign.  It's just not fun.  Jess strongly suggested I choose a more uplifting topic next time...

I left off halfway through this post to go to yoga, only to find class was canceled.  On the one hand, I definitely could have used a nice yoga session today--on the other hand, I was grateful for the unexpected hour of time which meant a little more time outside, and time to eat before spending the afternoon in rush hour traffic.

I went home and ate, then remembered I promised to cut the lawn, so I did that too.  Then I discovered cat puke on the carpet--not an unusual occurrance, but I so was not in the mood.  I was already exhausted and I still had two stoves to move.

Lil' bro showed up right on time and for bonus points brought his friend C, to help.  She was cute, smart and totally together which prompted me to ask her what she was doing hanging out with my brother. <G> Apparently, I wasn't the first to ask.

I'll say one thing for my bro, he's entertaining.  We had a surprisingly good time on the ride out and back and the woman selling the stove was warm and friendly and not at all a suburban pod person.  We stopped at McD's on the way back and traded bawdy jokes.  Kenny said something annoying that made me punch his leg--at which time he revealed that he'd been campaigning all day to see what it would take to force me to violence.

"Are you FIVE?" I replied.  I promised to hit him on general principle the next time I saw him, so he wouldn't have to work so hard.

The Home Depot folks were surprisingly--no make that astonishingly, nice when I returned the stove, even refunding my delivery charge.  My dad hasn't had quite as much luck--I guess our last name is pretty regularly cursed around those parts now, so I was happy to get no-hassle service.

It was after 8:00pm by the time I returned the truck and came home, stopping at Fred Meyer for ice cream so I could assuage my pain with food like any good American.  I was even prepared to buy the ::gasp:: packaged snap peas--but they didn't have any! Not even any snow peas just to feel the satisfying crunch of a semi-sweet vegetable.  I bought a small bag of baby carrots instead and some canned pineapple.  I've gotten semi-hooked on the fresh pineapples at New Seasons, but that's not sustainable for our budget. 

I was too tired and head-sore to think about homework so I just showered and spend some much needed time catching up with J.

Tomorrow, the first of two deep cleaning dental appointments lasting aproximately two hours each. This week is not the funnest I've ever had.

Productivity

While I would've been perfectly content to wipe the sweat off my brow from making Cory lunch after he finished digging our fence post holes, Jess decreed that I should get off my lazy butt and do a house project. So we hung up the road bikes, which of course took about 1.8 hours longer than it should have and necessitated a trip to the store, which is what happens when the toolbox that's not really a toolbox isn't organized so that you think you're out of #10 two inch screws when in fact you have plentysix of them on hand. But I digress.

Wait, you're thinking. Didn't you already do this project in like, May?

You're so observant! Why yes, we did. But sadly, bikes fall down, go boom. So we bought a support board that's been sitting in the garage for over a month and re-hung them. They better stay put this time.

They don't make 'em like this anymore

There's no denying that when it comes to bike shops, I'm something of a ho. There are so many to choose from and I dabble in several different ones depending on the need of the day, location, price convenience etc. But I've always had a special love for Seven Corners (now on 21st and Powell) bike shop. This is mostly because of Cory, the fabulous guy who owns and runs the shop. When I was searching for a replacement for my stolen KHS mountain bike many years ago, he was the only one who didn't laugh at me when I said I didn't want the 'upgrade' of disc brakes and yes, I really did want grip shifters.

I went to see him and he basically custom built me the exact bike I wanted, and for a great price. Cory doesn't seem to have customers, he just has a lot of friends who need bike stuff. And that's why we still make the almost eight mile trek to have him work on our bikes or pick up some gloves or just say hi.

On one of these visits, we mentioned needing to build the rest of our fence sometime this summer.

"Oh yeah, I have a great post hole digger, I'll dig the holes for you," he said.

When you think about it, it's kind of an outrageous offer, but clearly, he didn't think so. So last week I called him up and sure enough he said, "What time should I come over?"

As I type this, he's out in the yard, working on hole five of eight. He didn't want breakfast, coffee or soda and we'll probably be hard pressed to get him to eat any lunch...although I'm sure we'll have no trouble getting him to take the lemon cake I made, which doesn't seem like nearly enough of a thank you for such a hard morning of work. But, much like my dad was at the grill yesterday, he seems to be happy and in his element.

Still, it boggles my mind a little when I think about it.

So like I said, they just don't make 'em like Cory anymore.