On Biking: Politeness, Infrastructure, and (Special Bonus!) One Really Angry Lady

So I know this probably makes me insane, but I hate having a car. I would one million times prefer to take public transportation. I understand that this is dumb and crazy, because don't all red-blooded American children wait those arduous sixteen years before they can get behind the wheel of a chunk of rolling metal/plastic?! Well, I did. But now I don't like it anymore.

What I like even more than the T is biking to places. Now, there is a difference between biking TO places and biking just because you're biking. When I'm biking just cuz, some part of my brain that I cannot shut up is always like "why are you doing this?" and then I go up a hill and my brain starts in with the "maybe you should quit." Then, since it's me, I get dehydrated/hungry, and descend into the depths of crankiness from which not even my man-friend can pull me. And I get so cranky that I refuse to eat or drink anything to make me less cranky. So I just kind of pedal along with my brain taunting me on my useless bike ride and my stomach growling and my kidneys failing.

No, commuter biking is where my heart truly lies. It has a purpose! It has lots of purposes! Here are some:
- You can get where you're going.
- You can't quit because you HAVE TO GET THERE.
- It's good exercise.
- If you're in Boston, biking is just as fast as driving.
- IT'S GOOD FOR THE PLANET YOU GUYS.
- You get all endorphiney when you're done.
- You can rock the horizontal line across your forehead from the helmet and when people comment, you can be all "I biked in today. Yeah, it was like seven miles, not too bad" when what you really mean is "I am basically a rock star because I drove here with my body."

This is one of Boston's more awesome bike trails. The best part?
The view. No cars.

For me, commuter biking is the difference between lifting weights at the gym, and lifting logs to stack them in your garage. If I pick things up and put them down at the gym, I just keep thinking "why am I doing this?" and also "I wish I was into this like that guy over there. He is really good at picking things up and putting them down." But if I'm stacking firewood, it's like "I am going to stay warm this winter because of what I am doing. It does not matter if I pick up very heavy ones and put them down, as long as I keep going. Without this firewood, my family and friends would surely perish. I am literally SAVING MY OWN LIFE right now." So you can see how my brain lends extra weight (da-dum CHA!) to exercise that is also functional.

So, I love it. But it has downsides. Here is one:
Today, I wanted to go straight through an intersection on a back street in Cambridgeport. I pulled to the right-hand side to wait for traffic to clear. Someone made a left turn onto the street where I was waiting, and at the same time, another car came up behind me wanting to turn right. After waiting for maybe fifteen seconds for me to, you know, not die in this intersection, the driver of the right-turning car honked.  This was not a friendly little "beep beep!" It was an angry "BEEEEEEEEP!!!" When I turned around, the woman screamed out the window, "Some of us f*#(*$g have places to go!"

Now, my normal response would be to give her a hearty dose of my longest finger and some of my own choice words, but I'm trying to be all namaste lately, especially in traffic. So I rolled my eyes and biked away (safely, not in front of cars).

But later, I was like, why would anyone think that that behavior is okay?! It's not okay to honk at a biker! It's not okay to swear at them when they're being safe! Bikes have to use the roads, because it's not like ninety-nine percent of the greater Boston area is bike-pathed, or bike-friendly at all. So here is a checklist for motorists who think they might encounter a bike on the road. It's chock-full of stuff not to do.

This is what the Comm ave bike lanes
look like, a little farther down
from the College of Fine Arts.
Photo: bostonbiker.org

STUFF NOT TO DO IF YOU'RE IN A CAR
- Open your door without looking when the bike lane is to the left of parked cars.
- Swerve into a parking spot through the bike lane without signalling.
- Park in the bike lane.
- Turn right without signalling.
- Ever do anything without signalling.
- Merge without checking your blindspot.
- Honk at bikers.
- Use profanity. Aw heck, let's just say use negative language at all.
- Drive badly.

And because no argument is totally one-sided, here's another list.

STUFF NOT TO DO IF YOU'RE ON A BIKE
- Weave yourself through cars at a stoplight. You are not a macrame plant hanger.
- Run through red lights without looking.
- Bike without a helmet. Ever.
- Bike at night without lights. Or wearing all black.
- Go faster than traffic (I owe my office-mate for this one. She says going at the speed of traffic makes you more visible to cars, and less likely to be tapped by a merging or parking car).
- Ride against traffic (This one was huge in Rochester- people would ride in the middle of the lane, right into oncoming traffic. Why.).
- Ride badly.

This is what all bike lanes everywhere should look like.
Photo credit: change.org.

Combine these two lists, multiply the number of points by about five, and that's how many things I could say to city planners who want to make things more bike-friendly. My university is on a street where three (THREE.) bikers got killed last year, and it's no surprise when you see the road. The bike lane, although it's painted green, gets cut through by parking cars, busses, cars turning right, and open driver-side doors. The cars go down the road at forty to fifty miles per hour, and the bikers are left to race against this and hope that the cars are watching.

Alas, despite all these things, I love riding my bike. Even around swearing, crappy drivers. Even on broken, uneven pavement. Why? I dunno. Maybe because when I'm riding down a hill and get the wind in my face it reminds me of how awesome it was to ride my bike when I was a kid. Maybe because racing cars on Comm Ave makes me feel like I'm riding the Tour de France. Maybe it's both. But I know in my heart that it also has a little something to do with all the adrenalin rushes from multiple, close-range brushes with disaster. And there's nothing better than that.


.

I Think My Soap is CRAZY!

In my quest to be more healthy/eco concious/CHEAP, my hubsand and I have stopped using body wash. I know, I know, body wash is a recent thing. Time was, you'd get yourself a bar of Dove or Irish Spring and go to town, scrubbing yourself until there was only a tiny sliver of soap, which you would try, in vain, to stick to the new soap in order to use ALL the soap.

Like this:


So yeah, I know, body wash is a luxury. But I always felt that it did a better job of cleaning me without drying my already desert-y skin.

Lately the hubsand and I have discovered Castile Soap. It's all natural, sold in large plastic bottles, smells like mint or other essential oils, cleans like a DREAM and as an added bonus, it only takes a tiny amount to clean your whole self. I even experimented with washing my hair with it. Long story short, the stuff is great. We both use it every day, and it has actually helped clear up some of our recurring skin issues.

The soap looks like this:

So I was showering the other...hour ago...and I started reading the bottle. I mean, I've been using this stuff for months, but I'd never red all of the tiny words on the bottle before, despite my love of reading all the words on things.

First of all, "Doctor" Bronner, says his soap is magic. I don't know about that, but I do know it has lots of uses. Their website says that you can even brush your teeth with it. I am most certainly NOT going to try that, but here, for your tiny-word-reading pleasure is the label.



As I was reading some of the text I was tickled by this:

"The 2nd coming of God's Law" Mohammed's Arabs, 1948, found Israel
Dead-Sea-Scrolls & Einstein's "Hillel" prove that as certain as no
6-year-old can grow up free without the abc, so certain can no 12-year old
survive free without the Moral ABC mason, tent & sandalmaker, Rabbi Hillel
taught carpenter Jesus to unite all mankind free in our Eternal Father's
great All-One-God-Faith! For we're All-One or none: "Listen Children
Eternal Father Eternally One!" Exceptions? None!
99. Thos. Paine: An Army of Principles can penetrate where an army of
soldiers cannot! It will succeed where diplomacy may fail! It will always
inspire-evolve-unite the Human race where any other weapon
divides-distorts-decays "ALL-ONE-GOD-FAITH" Inspired by the Messiah,
Halley's Comet, the Blazing Star of Abraham-Israel-Bethlehem & Mohammed!
For who else but God gave man this sensuous passion, Love that can spark
mere dust to life! Revealing beauty in our Eternal Father's fashion,
poetry, uniting All-One, all brave, all life! Who else but God! Who else!
Each day, like a bird, perfect thyself first! Have courage and smile my
friend! Think & act 10 years ahead! And the man without fault? He's dead!
Do one thing at a time! Work hard. Get done! Then teach the Moral ABC that
unites all mankind free! Love is like a willful bird! Do you want it? It
flies away! Yet when you least expect it's bliss, it turns around & it's
here to stay! For centuries, man struggles, half asleep, half living,
small, jealous, bickering with mountains of red tape! To be awakened the
night God chose giving His great reward for hard work: poetry-unity-love,
evolving man above, above the ape! Passions that quicken your senses,
fulfill, quench the thirst of lonesome years! Yet the sun has shadows,
learn to control your will, to enjoy life-long happiness, not tears! For
God alone knows man's far distant future! Towards which love's unfailing
light shows clear the upward path to brotherhood-peace! Great tasks to
nurture, with strength and knowledge happiness can last! Love when
conquered after years of toil-sweat-blood, love can strike like greased
lightning sent by God to spark mere dust to intense blazing fire and create
new  Love, faith-hope-guts-strength as only God Inspire! Unite the Human
race in our Eternal Father's great All-One-God-Faith, as all mankind desire!
Ok, now here's what is written horizontally down the label (each paragraph
is separated by a horizontal line):
Absolute cleanliness is Godliness! Who else but God gave man Love that can
spark mere dust to life! Poetry, uniting All-One! All brave! All life! Who
else but God! "Listen Children Eternal Father Eternally One!"
Einstein, 1939, after Nazis & Commies united, proposed spacebombs that
destroy all, unless we finally teach the Moral ABC's the real Rabbi Hillel
taught Jesus to unite all in All-One-God-Faith. As teach astronomers
Abraham-Israel-Moses-Buddha-Hillel-Jesus-Spinoza-Paine-Sagan & Mohammed,
inspired every 76 years, 6000 years by the Messenger of God';s Law, the
sign of the Messiah, Halley's Comet: "WE'RE ALL ONE OR NONE!" "THERE IS NO
GOD BUT GOD!" "TEACH LOVE THY ENEMY!" "LISTEN CHILDREN ETERNAL FATHER
ETERNALLY ONE!" Israel-Moses-Buddha-Jesus-Mohammed: ONE! ALL ONE!
1st: If I'm not for me, who am I? Nobody! 2nd: Yet, if I'm only for me,
what am I? Nothing! 3rd: If not now, when? Once more: Unless
constructive-selfish I work hard, like Mark Spitz, perfecting first me,
absolute nothing can help perfect me! 4th: Only hard work-God's law can
save us, but if we teach only our clan? We're all hated then! So, we must
teach friend & enemy, the whole Human race, the full-truth, hard-work, free
speech. press-&-profitsharing Moral ABC's All-One-God-Faith,
lightning-like, 6-billion-strong, for we're All-One or none!
All-One-God-Faith, as teach the African shepherd-astronomers Abraham &
Israel, for 6000-years, since the year 1: "LISTEN CHILDREN ETERNAL FATHER
ETERNALLY ONE!" - WE'RE ONE! ALL-ONE! EXCEPTIONS ETERNALLY? NONE! ABSOLUTE
NONE!
5th: Whatever unites mankind is better than whatever divides us! Yet, if
absolute-unselfish I am not for me, I am nothing but classless, raceless,
starving masses, never free nor brave! Only if constructive-selfish I work
hard perfecting first me, like Mark Spitz-arctic
owls-penguin-pilot-cat-swallow-beaver, bee, can I teach the MORAL ABC'S
ALL-ONE-GOD-FAITH, that lightning-like unites the Human race! For we're
ALL-ONE OR NONE! ALL-ONE! "LISTEN CHILDREN ETERNAL FATHER ETERNALLY ONE!"
EXCEPTIONS ETERNALLY? ABSOLUTE NONE!
6th: Absolute cleanliness is Godliness! Balanced food for
body-mind-soul-spirit is our medicine! Full-truth our God, half-truth our
enemy, hard work our salvation, unity our goal, free speech our weapon,
All-One our soul, self-discipline the key to love, uniting All-One above!
Above! So, when your fellow man you measure, take him at his best, with
that lever, lift him higher, overlook the rest! For we're All-One or none!
As teach for 6000 yrs. astronomers Abraham & Israel: "LISTEN CHILDREN
ETERNAL FATHER ETERNALLY ONE!"
7th: Each swallow works hard to be perfect
pilot-provider-builder-trainer-teacher-lover-mate, no half-true hate! So,
each day like a bird, perfect thyself first! Have courage and smile my
friend. Think and act 10 years ahead! And the man without fault? He's dead!
Do one thing at a time, work hard! Get done! Then teach friend & enemy the
Moral ABC that unites all mankind free! Uniting One! All-One! Face the
world with a smile, life is always worthwhile! To the fearless are given
crowns, keep out of the past, disappointments won't last! Help unite
mankind, or we're wandering clowns! Diligent preparation, precede...
spectacular restoration! So, help teach the whole Human race, the Moral
ABC's All-One-God-Faith, lightning-like, for we're All-One or none! All-One!



Ok, so that's about a THIRD of what the label says. And see? I made it small for you!



As a consummate technical writer, I marveled at the obvious repetitions, obvious repetitions. So I looked up Dr. Bronner. It turns out that he was a German immigrant. You can read his history here http://www.drbronner.com/timeline.php.



This pretty much changed my opinion that the label had been patched together from the ramblings of a 

migratory soap/elixir/snake oil salesman. This actually makes sense when you know his traumatic history.



So tonight, remember, "Help unite mankind, or we're wandering clowns!" And the next time you find yourself with

 time on your hands in the shower, feel free to google your soap.

Teaching Preschool, or How I Lost My Mind

So for those of you who are creepy e-stalkers and don't know me personally, basically the deal is thus: I was once a musician, and I am going back to school in the fall to be a musician again. I like the musical lifestyle. I like the quiet (sort of) hours alone in a small room, just me and my instrument and my metronome and tuner and cell phone and facebook. Those last two weren't really so much of an issue when I was in college (#oldoldold). Essentially, I like the freedom and solitude that come as part of the musician package. I went OUT OF MY WAY in college (it wasn't easy) to not be in any major that would in any way cause me to have to have contact with children. I remember once, sometime in my undergraduate career, I saw a child on campus. My jaw dropped. I stared, slack-jawed at this miniature human, the likes of which I hadn't seen in several years. It was a weird moment.

Anyway, in the meantime, while I'm waiting to get back into that whole music deal, I teach preschool.

What? you say. How did that happen? you say. Are you alright? you ask.

Yes, I don't know, and not really.

Here's how I see it. There are, in this life, some sainted individuals who possess the ability to deal, compassionately and kindly, with four-year-olds. When things get spill-ey, they calmly pull out the cloth and go to work on the child's pants. When things get grab-ey, they passionately explain why sharing makes the world a better place. When things get yell-ey, they flick the lights and magically the little guys and girls lower the volume. This is what such a teacher looks like.

His preschoolers are so well-behaved
that they hover right over his shoulders.

Now, I try to be this teacher. But most of the time, our classroom (as a result, we believe, of the unique mixture of children) functions like an asylum, and we are the hapless wards, attempting at any cost to keep the inmates from injuring themselves or others, eating glue, or repeatedly dunking the matchbox cars into a mixture of water, oobleck and sand. Or flying into fits of rage over a toy that they forget about fifteen seconds later. Or saying loudly "I don't want to sit next to HER" causing a volley of gulping sobs by the other party involved.

So this is a closer approximation.

We have a preschooler whose main pursuit seems to be building miniature block structures for Swimmy, our class fish. The limit of his joy is when he is able to, heavily supervised, hurl pellets of beta food into the tank, and should "YAAAY!" as the fish consumes them, one by one. He also loves to try to feed Swimmy people food while we're not looking. Once, both of us went on vacation at the same time and when we came back, the tank was cloudy and smelled terrible, and Swimmy was obviously in respiratory distress. We are fairly certain that our little friend thought Swimmy might like a drink of milk and some crackers.

He made it, thank god.

Another little friend finds his life's fulfillment in the constant attention of others. As a result, when he wants something, he says the name of the person over, and over, and over, and over, ad nauseum. He never gets tired of it. Once, he said the name of a classmate repeatedly for three straight minutes during snack. Another time, when he was waiting for my attention and mindlessly muttering my name on loop, and I finally turned to him, he had forgotten what he was going to say. In the absence of other words, he just continued to repeat my name.

And yet another of my small people finds joy in playing with the bubbles at the bottom of the sink while washing her hands. I love to encourage bubble play, and she's a very sensory oriented kid, but I personally think that rubbing hands all over the bottom of the sink while getting ready to consume snack is kinda gross. So I have asked her, every. single. day since school started, to use soap from the dispenser and not the bottom of the sink. I have explained that it's not clean. It holds up the line. Other friends need to wash their hands. I have said this to her every day. Every day. Everyday. everyday. every day. And today, the last day of school after nine months, I looked over to see her happily raking the bottom of the sink with her fingernails. She scooped up a handful of used soap, held it up to the light, and joyfully exclaimed, "BUBBLES!"

We have a milk-spiller. Every time there is milk in front of him, he will spill it. If there isn't a lot of milk in his cup, it's a good day. If we're having cereal, he has double the opportunity to splash milk on the floor and the surrounding children. We wait anxiously for the midpoint of snack, where we will inevitably hear, "Teacherrrrrrr? I spilled my milk."

REALLY?! YOU DID?!?

Are these individuals precious? Absolutely. It is fascinating and inspiring to watch them change and grow so quickly. They have, despite their quirks, wormed their way past at least one of the heavily barricaded walls around my heart. I will remember their unique personalities, their hugs, and their unexpected wisdom. And I have learned a great deal about the power of memory, the flexibility of time, and the meaning of forgiveness.

And I'll keep those lessons close, and whenever I think of them, I'll also recall the kid with the foot fetish, who liked to ask inquisitively, "my feet?" as he petted women's toenails. Or the sweet little guy who always walked around with his arm twisted behind him, because he was a backhoe. Or the girl who would compulsively steal shiny things from around the classroom and had to be frisked on the way out the door. Or the child who, after having run face-first into the wood chips on the playground, picked himself up and dusted himself off, and asked "That was pretty good, right? Just like the Green Bay Packers."

On Creativity Or Why Cable Saps Me Of It

Have you seen TLC lately? I have. I have a sick fascination with what I lovingly call, "The Freakshow Channel". Let's talk about my favorites. Before (and after) I got married, I watched HOURS of Say Yes To the Dress including the Big Bliss spin off. I briefly flirted with Cake Boss, and Honey Boo Boo and The Little Couple. 

Lately, my favorites have been America's Worst Tattoos, Hoarders and My Crazy Obsession.

This is what the inside of my brain looks like:




Needless to say, I probably need to get a new hobby.

Recently I've decided to cut down on my flagrant misuse of my brain and eyeballs, and have decided to take my creativity back into my own hands. You see, when you are focused on a young man who REALLY wishes he were a mermaid, there is little time for other pastimes.

"What happened to your creativity?" I asked myself, tearing my bloodshot eyes away from Honey Boo Boo's Mom's Face,

"Why aren't you writing a book, or building a house, or making a food, or TALKING TO SOMEONE? That's right, Honey Boo Boo's Mom, this IS killing my brain cells!"

I'm turning over a new leaf, which, I am afraid, will mean less rest and more work. Tonight, for instance, I went to boxing class, made a coffee cake, and did the dishes and wrote a post (my first). Which is MUCH more than I would usually get done after a boxing class. I mean, my arms were so tired that my thumbs were too shaky to text, and I STILL got stuff done.

This is what I'm leaving behind.

So wish me luck on my journey! I am on the verge of, if not greatness, more betterness. As they say, more butter, more better.

Some Things That Are Not Legitimate Bullet Points, or, Apartment Hunting in Boston

JUST FYI, if you are a filthy rich landlord in Boston, and you are posting an add for your apartment on Craigslist, here are some things that you should bullet-point in your list of stuff about the apartment.

- Fee. Is there a fee? What is a fee? Why do I have to pay a fee?! WHO GETS THE MONEY?!

 $1425 / 0br - Very Spacious Sunny 0 bedroom 
Mostly Underground VERY CLOSE TO PORTER, 
some stairs(Somerville)

- Pets. I can haz cat? No? Okay.

- Utilities. Are they included? Inquiring minds want to know.

- Square footage. For most apartments in Boston, this number is not real, because the square root of a negative number does not exist.

- Number of bedrooms. 1? 2? Split? Split, like fee, is a uniquely Boston experience. It means an apartment with a kitchen, bathroom, and two rooms. One could use the apartment as a one-bedroom with a living room, or as a roommate situation for starving students/young adults/middle-aged adults with student loans.

- Number of bathrooms. Hint: if there is fewer than one bathroom, it's not a one-bedroom apartment. Even if it's listed as one.

Leprechauns. I TOLD YOU.

- Porch. I want to know if there's a porch. Porches, from what I understand, are where the magic happens. I imagine leprechauns have something to do with this.

- Floor. Is it on the first floor? Second floor? Fifth story walkup? Is there even a floor? (I'll take a clean tarp as a substitute.)

Here are some things that I HAVE ACTUALLY SEEN that are, I argue, not legitimate bullet points.

- THIS APARTMENT WILL GO FAST. (That is your subjective opinion. It also loses its je ne sais quoi if it's posted on twelve listings in a row.)

 $1650 1 br - Very Spacious Sunny 1 bedroom
GREAT VIEW Downtown, Some exposed Brick,
occasional weather/pigeon issues (Boston)

- Close to transportation. (Now, this one is tricky. It could mean "close to the red line!" or it could also mean "half a mile from your own car!")

- Internet and Cable Ready. (Most apartments/houses/cars/phones/sidewalks/pets are. Or can be shortly.)

- Refrigerator. (OH GOOD.)

Annnnnd my favorite bullet point:

- Do not miss out.

Which isn't even a thing.

Thank you, Craigslist.