A MARBLE IN THE MUD

It was Saturday. Ross was busy turning all the Flexcars into Zipcars. My feet took me to Volunteer Park.


The plant conservatory was open, so I went in.


























I found a marble in a patch of dirt. As a kid, I had a little mesh bag full of this sort of marble, but I never really knew how to play marbles. Something about bumping the little marbles with the big marble. Something about flicking the marble into motion with your thumb. Anyway, this one seemed like a treasure I should keep.



But what if it was marking the grave of someone's deceased pet? I left it there.

MALICIOUS VIRUS COMMENTS

Hello Friends.

Recently I've been getting comments that include a link. I foolishly clicked on the link once, and my computer was immediately infected with a virus, requiring me to reinstall all my software in order to get rid of it. If you see a comment from a strange user name, demanding click "HERE" or "WARNING," don't do it.

PAPER AND PASTE

I've been told that bands don't spend as much time and money on traditional paper posters anymore, favoring myspace posters, as that's where most people get their concert info nowadays. I still discover upcoming shows via paper and staples, or paper and paste, on my walk down Capitol Hill. And I'm always on the lookout for the week's most interesting poster. The posterscape is ever-changing.






This was my favorite last week, and I definitely would not have known about this event if I hadn't seen the poster.

ON THE OUTSIDE

Last week I had an interview for a "real" job.




I could say this photo is a metaphor for the interview process--the little skyscraper cowering beneath the big skyscraper, but in that metaphor I would have to be a skyscraper.




The next day was Valentine's Day. I love brunch, and I love my Valentine, so I took him to Crave for delicious omelets and cornmeal encrusted potato cakes. Mm-mm.


Neither of us had to be at work until 10 that morning, so we got to enjoy a sunny morning.





I thought Dr. Maya Angelou was a band, but I think they mean the real Dr. Maya Angelou, sandwiched between a Led Zepplin cover band and Queensryche.

Men's underwear ain't what it used to be...and no, I did not purchase any drawers from Drawer.

IN THE TOWN OF STUMPS

We went to Portland to check out the Handmade Bicycle Show, and to check out Portland itself.

Carey was there "working" for Raleigh, which, on Saturday afternoon, involved sitting around an outdoor fireplace drinking beer. And talking about bikes, of course.



Brian was working hard, too.




We met Ryan, who is also from Colorado, and has a funny and infectious laugh.

Carey and Brian took us to the Gold Sprints, which was a little bit like a boxing match on bikes.


Some of the competitors were wearing their best designer sportswear.



The bikes are set up on stationary trainers and hooked up to a computer. You track who is winning on a pie chart on the screen behind them. It was very Triplets of Belleville, minus the kidnapping part.



One of Carey's friends, Dylan, was wearing this great shirt, embroidered by his grandma. She made it for him when he was eight--for him to grow into. He has almost grown into it.

I cheered for Team Gentle Lovers, mostly.

They had a thing for unicorns.






Carey let us sleep on the floor of her room at The Ace Hotel.











On Sunday we went to see the bikes. I think this one was cheating. It is so obviously machine-made.


Bikes are really hard to photograph--especially when they are on display in a convention center.















This one was made of bamboo and horns.






Free cookie!

Remember Jessica, the official photographer of the Cowboy Poetry Gathering? She is also the official photographer of the handmade bikes. We got to talk to her a little more at the bike show.


And Ross got recruited as her assistant.








There were so many gorgeous bikes there, and the winning bike makers get one of these awesome trophies.