cris' LiveJournal

riding past galaxies

At the bike shop, the Frenchman sticks out like a bulldog amidst a pack of greyhounds. The staff's all lean, wiry courier types with long limbs and aerodynamic hair, except for him and his scraggly beard and oversized paunch -- a girth that might either be age or neglect, like he may not have ridden a bike for years because of a bum knee, but he is French and has thus forgotten more about cycling than any of us will ever learn.

The Frenchman was at the shop when, a little less than a year ago, I walked in and said that I was looking to get a touring bike. He looked at me before asking why, and I told him about how my company moved out to the suburbs, and how my old five mile urban commute was now a fifteen mile trek into the suburban wilds. I could probably do it on my hybrid but --

"that ride is no fun, yes?" was the way he finished my sentence before asking in follow-up, "What sort of hybrid do you have?"
"Trek 730."
"Not the 7300?"
"No, 2000 model, before Trek switched the numbering system."
"Ah. That's a good bike. Nice ... pure ... before Trek added the front suspension and turned it into a silly thing. And you want to leave that for a touring bike? You want to ride to Argentina, eh?"
"Maybe," I said -- because in truth, I've thought about it, "but first I just want to get out to Bedford."
"You want to stay with Trek?"
"You're going to show me the 520, aren't you?"

( on touring bikes and blizzards )

totally, like, yeah

I left work ten minutes ago, taking my car out onto on the northbound highway and angling for the most direct route to the Museum of Science. That was when my phone went off and a distraught

silentq told me that somebody had slashed her bike tires and that she needed a pickup for our date at the museum's IMAX theatre. I should've been heading south then, but going in the wrong direction only amounted to an extra ten minutes or so, and we still had time. We just ditched dinner before hand and got a sandwich at the museum. That was a mistake.

Not the sandwich, mind you -- though, frankly, it was in serious contention for one of the most mediocre Chicken Caesar wraps I've had in my lifetime, economy class airplane food included -- it was more the decision to eat at all was a mistake. If one isn't supposed to swim 30 minutes after eating, one really really really shouldn't be eating right before going to watch an IMAX movie. Especially if it's a movie featuring extreme skiing. I'm only glad that they didn't include any BASE jumping footage. That would have ended in tears.

( on extreme sports and the Banff Mountain Film Festival )

from the mouths of babes

It's a slowish reading session today. The TotRodder picked out a book about sea mammals, and I was reading a passage about killer whales, trying to sound lurid and menacing to get his attention, but his eyes aren't on the book or me or his lunch. They're just scanning the room, twitching between pictures of presidents up on the wall of the library. Finally, he asks, "Cris, betcha I know who was the first son of a president to be a president."

"I bet you do know, TotRodder. Who is it?"
"John Quinky Adams."
"That's Quincy Adams. But, yeah, you're right."
"Have any other sons of presidents become presidents?"
"There's W."
"Oh yeah. My daddy likes him."
"That's nice, TotRodder."
"Cris, who was the best president?"

( how to teach geopolitics to a 3rd grader )

good enough excuse for a poll

this is mostly to satisfy a curiosity sparked after reviewing various NGO sites and their responses¹ to the South Asian tsunami.

for anyone who's been making donations to various groups working on post-tsunami disaster relief...
Poll #409716
Open to: All, results viewable to: All

how many agencies did you donate to?

View Answers

one
7 (58.3%)

two
5 (41.7%)

three
0 (0.0%)

a lot
0 (0.0%)

how'd you choose which NGO(s) to make your donation, to?

View Answers

I always donate to this agency whenever a disaster occurs
5 (62.5%)

I worked/volunteered for them in the past
1 (12.5%)

I went to a site that linked to the agency's donor page
2 (25.0%)

I felt that they needed my money most
2 (25.0%)

other

View Answers

if you don't mind my asking, who did you donate, to?

View Answers

Red Cross
4 (36.4%)

UNICEF
1 (9.1%)

Religious aid agencies (Caritas, American Jewish World Service, etc.)
0 (0.0%)

Doctors Without Borders
5 (45.5%)

Oxfam
4 (36.4%)

Save the Children
0 (0.0%)

other

View Answers

¹ There was a segment on the BBC World Service this morning where an Oxfam spokeswoman was asked about how they prioritize their activities with all of the other NGOs and she said, "well, what we're focused on in Sri Lanka is getting water and environmental hygeine repaired because it's one of the things Oxfam does best. It's what we're known for in disaster relief."

Which itself is a potentially fascinating hint about the dynamics in coordinating relief efforts ... like I'm trying to imagine a DR project manager saying, "ok, Red Cross -- focus on temporary housing, immediate food supply and dense population medical triage. Medecins Sans Frontieres -- you're on point for remote population medical operations, make sure the Tamil Tigers know we're on their side ... or better yet, there are no sides in this. UNICEF -- we need you to take care of displaced children, vaccination procedures and quarantine ..." I wonder if it sort of works that way, or if it's just more NGOs claiming dibs on particular trouble spots. Probably a mix of both.

Northern Cross Day Seven: The temple of AAAAHHH!

If you wanted to reinforce every stereotype of rural American youth as the blonde-haired, blue-eyed byproduct of a culture that extols virtue and rewards temptation, part cherubim and part serpent, you couldn't do better than waiting in line at an amusement park in Ohio on a Friday night. We are surrounded by the equivalent of Aryan thoroughbreds, generational products of Norse immigrants that have mated only with each other and have consistently bred true, so that their whites are whiter, their blues bluer and their hair is almost ethereal in its blondeness. Accustomed to the diversity of city neighborhoods, it's a strange sight for me and more than a little unnerving. It doesn't help that it's date night, and the pheremones are mixing with an anticipation of a different sort. When you're old enough to drive, but too young to drink, roller coaster parks sort of become the default destination -- where adrenaline replaces alcohol as the primary means for altering your partner's brain chemistry and provoking them into doing rash, foolish and ultimately pleasurable things. Like ride the tallest, fastest roller coaster in the entire world.

( inside: The Return to the Top Thrill Dragster )

The Northern Cross: Day Five

It took us a day to cross South Dakota, starting off ten miles from the western border in Deadwood, and finishing fifteen miles from the eastern border in Sioux Falls. After our vacation, someone asked me what there was in Sioux Falls, and my kneejerk response was "manure." The city is a nexus of railyards, carrying cattle from Montana and Wyoming into the slaughterhouses in Chicago and the detritus of this economy is an inescapable smell that pervades the entire city, vaguely like rotten mushrooms and disturbingly like overcooked hamburger patties left on the grill to turn dry and flavorless. If one wanted to explore the city, there was a butterfly exhibit and USGS terraserver installation in the area, but we drove out as soon as we were able, thankful for the charcoal filter in the car's AC system.

( Signs of civilization, bacon cheese and the insanity of cities )

The Northern Cross: Day Three

A couple of weeks ago, I was walking to my car as a light snow fell on the parking lot. One of my coworkers, the Indian-who's-not-Indian, was walking next to me, cursing the early arrival of winter.

"Roads are going to be a mess, idiot drivers gonna be skidding all over the place, probably some black ice, too," he said. "Man, I'm not yet ready for this shit."

The Indian-who's-not-Indian is not admitting to his inadequacy because he's unfamiliar with winter. The kid grew up in Wisconsin, after all - hence his moniker, so that he won't be confused for some Gujerati DBA newly minted from some technical institute in Hyderabad. Nope, He's a Green Bay cheesehead through and through, and he's seen his share of heavy-duty snowstorms. He just likes to bitch is all.

"Well," I said in reply, "I'm not thrilled with the snow either, but it sure beats driving through the mountains."

"You got snow during your roadtrip?"

"Yeah, in Yellowstone, pretty bad. Total Misty-Mountains, 'we need to go to the Mines of Moria' stuff."

He got the Lord of the Rings reference, and chuckled along as I told him about Yellowstone.

( yeah, I know, this is hella backdated. Pics inside )


based on a true story ...
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