Some well-deserved gratitude

WABA's Cider Ride was on Saturday--it was a great ride, and if you want to know more about it, my friend Rootchopper does a nice job covering it on his blog. I was assigned as a sweep to the 47-mile route, and around mile 34, I got into a wreck.  As we were riding down Arena Drive near FedEx field, a driver hit me square-on from the rear, and he was traveling at about 25-30 miles per hour.  He did not brake before he hit me. He was old and couldn't see very well. This was the second accident I've been in in about a month--the last time, it was due to some really shoddy road construction.

First, what sucks about this--having a scraped up face, sore shoulders and giant bruises down my butt and legs, feeling shaken up and freaked out by cars and loud noises, having the crash replay again and again in my head like a 4D horror movie experience, having a wrecked bike that I was really very attached to, and having to deal with police reports and insurance bullshit.

But what doesn't suck about this is that I got incredibly lucky--blessed, if you will. If the car had been anything taller than a sedan, it would have crumpled me instead of knocking my bike out from under me.  If I had managed to take off my rack that morning, like I tried and failed to do, the car would probably have done more damage, but the rack took a lot of the force. If I hadn't been wearing a helmet, I would have smashed my forehead instead of the helmet.  If the weather had been warmer, I wouldn't have been wearing all of the layers of clothing that very literally saved my skin.  After a quick ride to the emergency room, I got to get up and go home.  I am fully aware that many (most?) of these accidents do not end so well.

Mostly, what doesn't suck about this is the reminder that I have one of the best support networks anyone could ask for.  From worried parents, grandparents and a livid sister/brother-in-law out west, to a close (and also livid) friend in Indiana, to a worried boyfriend who offered to come get me (and waited for 6 hours at the ER the last time this happened), to the two cyclists who were with me and took care of me at the scene, threw themselves in front of the car to make sure the driver stayed there, then came to the hospital, to the staff of WABA who took care of my bike and drove us home from the hospital, to the housemates who offered to make me tea, to the friend driving me to pick up the police report tonight, to the many friends who have called/texted/emailed/tweeted at me to see if I'm OK and/or have offered to bring me food and/or alcohol and/or to keep me company--it's kind of overwhelming, in a good way.

I try not to gush, but I can't remember a time when I've felt more grateful.  There's not enough flour in the world to churn out the number of baked goods that I want to make to thank these people.  A blog post doesn't really cut it, but guys, I just have all these feelings.  So--thanks, everyone.

Thoughts on a shooting

Typically, as we watch shootings happen across the country, empathetic sadness sinks in as we grieve for those who have lost loved ones, but we’re grateful that we have never had to experience anything quite so horrible, and that our friends and family are safe.  This morning, for at least 12 families in the DC area, that tragedy hit home, and for the rest of us, it came disturbingly, frighteningly close.  It’s a cruel game of fate, and with the increased frequency in violent mass shootings around this country, you start to feel like a number on a very large roulette wheel.   

Shootings are something that crop up all too commonly in the news these days.  I started grad school last year, so since my life is once again divided by semesters, this frequency has been more noticeable for me.  My first semester of school, finals were marked by the school shooting in Newtown.  The next semester’s finals, just four months later, were marked by the Boston Marathon bombing.  Now, in September, the beginning of the third and current semester, we face a similar situation here in Washington, DC.

Over the last two months, I’ve been working with 4 others on a grant that sends us out to the off-street bike trails in DC every single day.  Since two of those trails, the Anacostia Riverwalk Trail and the Suitland Parkway Trail, are located east of the river, we’ve taken to spending a lot of time biking through and hanging out in the Navy Yard, which connects to the newly opened 11th Street Bridge.  This morning, around 7:30 AM, 2 of us biked past the Navy Yard and over the bridge.  Nothing seemed amiss.

Coming back, around 9:50 AM, I wanted to grab something to eat before we went back to home base.  “We’ve got some extra time,” said my coworker, “Let’s head to the Potbelly in Navy Yard.” As we biked that way, we noticed an usual amount of helicopter activity, starting at the US Park Police headquarters right off the Anacostia Riverwalk Trail, which runs underneath the 11th Street Bridge.  We got closer and noticed that there were flashing lights on the road, but the trail was still open, so we biked up the hill to see what was going on.

The bridge, which is usually quite busy that close to rush hour, was closed to vehicle, foot, and bike traffic. There was a police car sitting a ways past us, and traffic on the adjacent bridge had also been halted by a police car.  To be honest, the people who live and work in DC are pretty used to street closures due to accidents, bomb scares, presidential motorcades, or whatever else.  Since there was no one running up to us telling us not to be there, we talked about crossing. It was cold, rainy, and we were tired. But this situation was unusual, and something didn’t feel right.  As we stood watching, I noticed two or three police boats in the river, and across the river, one of the helicopters hovered over the Navy Yard.  It appeared to be lifting something, or someone, in the air. The ambient sound of sirens served as a backdrop for the whole scene.

I looked down at my phone to check what was happening on Twitter while my coworker went to go talk to the policeman.  There was a text from our supervisor--“Hey, stay out of the Navy Yard this morning.  There is a shooter on the loose and they’ve closed 11th Street.”  My stomach sank.  What?  A shooter?  On the loose?  Where?  Immediately my thoughts turned to the safety of those that I know who work in and around the Navy Yard, as well as for the safety of my coworker and me--standing by ourselves on an otherwise closed bridge, with emergency vehicles zooming around, we felt like sitting ducks.  As my coworker came back to report, another police officer on a motorcycle pulled up next to me and asked what we were doing.  Turns out they hadn’t realized there was a trail there, so they hadn’t closed it off.  After the officer told me there were “several bodies down,” and that we definitely shouldn’t cross that particular bridge, I asked him where we should go.  “I don’t know,” he said, “I don’t have to pedal.” Unsure what else to do, we turned around and headed into downtown Anacostia for safety.

After about 15 minutes of scrolling through confusing and mixed updates on Twitter, we consulted a map and headed back across using Pennsylvania Avenue, which took us into Capitol Hill and skirted around the dangerous area. It’s a terrible connection for bicycles, but it was either that or South Capitol Bridge, which is right next to the ballpark and the Navy Yard, and we weren’t about to risk that.  I found out later that the area we were biking through was also under lockdown advisory, but there wasn’t really any other way to get back up to where we were going.

Everyone that I know, at least so far, is fine.  Once again, I feel lucky to be in the group of people that can sit on the sidelines and feel empathetically sad, and that the roulette ball hasn’t landed on me.  I am so, so grateful for the police officers who closed that bridge down on time, for the first responders and security guards that were in the middle of the situation, and that my coworker and I were fortunate enough to not be near the Navy Yard while the shootings were going on.  

I’m angry at news agencies for reporting conflicting and in many cases, wrong information for the sake of getting a “breaking” story.  I’m angry at whoever did this for terrorizing the city that, after seven years (almost a third of my life), I now call home. I’m angry that people are allowed to exist who have no conception of human life or its value.  I’m angry that the people I know and love who work near the Navy Yard had to be so scared. I’m angry at the NRA for merely existing, especially with their headquarters so nearby.  And I’m angry that there’s nothing we can do except offer condolences to those who have not gotten so lucky.  

It’s an existential kind of anger, the sort that nothing can really quell.  News stories always come out after tragedies like this about people helping out other people, and about heroes in times of crisis. These stories, I think, are meant to focus on the good in humanity, and to help us forget that people are actually capable of committing totally senseless acts of violence.  And the stories help, to an extent, and they honor those who deserve to be honored, but as these shootings become more and more frequent, I find that my own anger is growing, and that my faith and trust in other people, which once upon a time was almost boundless, is diminishing.  Events like this are tragedies not only because of the lives lost, but because of the pure, deep evil that they represent.

Where does it all end?  Are we fated to just wipe each other off the planet entirely?  Isn’t that what we’re talking about, after all, when we want to give guns to schoolteachers?  Do our governing bodies actually harden up and pass laws that might prompt some change?  Will that even solve the problem, or is the human tendency towards violence something that runs deeper than what our country’s laws say we can and can’t do?  

There are so many questions, and so much doubt, but in an attempt to end this on a hopeful note...

An event that happened on the 11th Street Bridge a couple of weeks back was called "One City," referring to the fact that the newly-built bridge connects both sides of the river. Today, that phrase seems to take on a deeper significance. As we sought people and information out in Anacostia (a part of the city that, upon coming here in 2006, I was told never to go into), and as we greeted everyone that we saw outside on the way back from our shift, in an attempt to bring some small kind of cheer to a very dark situation, I was reminded of what connects us and that we are, in fact, one city. I hope that there’s something in the empathy that we can all still feel for those who are grieving--maybe that ability to love and grieve together is what we're supposed to stake our hopes in.  

That being said, my thoughts and love are with the families and friends of those who were killed or injured today here in DC.

Spring has sprung...

...the grass is riz.
I wonder where the birdies is.

Here are a bunch of pictures of seasonally appropriate things.  Why, you ask?  Because I have a paper due, of course.  Also, the wind chill was 37 degrees this morning and DC just can't seem to get it straight.

Cherry blossoms.

Cherry blossoms and the people who go to see them.

Tulips at the Floral Library near the paddleboat station on the Tidal Basin...

At the National Basilica

Posing my bike with some cherry blossoms...

What up.

The Omni Shoreham and their ridiculously pretty landscaping

...I think they could use some more tulips.

Magnolia blossoms (NB: Not a cherry tree).

Fun with templates

I don't update, I just reformat.  I'm reminded of when I was 13 and had a Xanga site...when you opened up the page, the background was clouds, the cursor turned into a chick, and Billy Joel's "Root Beer Rag" (MIDI style!) started playing in the background. That was shortly after I taught myself very (VERY) basic HTML. Seriously, who needed templates when there were curly purple fonts to display?

I hope this is slightly less offensive.

DC Tourists

The other morning, when it was snowing, I was headed over to Barracks Row to spray paint the ground, and I was stopped next to some tourists on 15th Street.  They were obviously from out of town, because you can always, always tell, and a little girl remarked, "Daddy, there's SO MUCH SNOW.  Look at all that snow on top of the car!"

Never mind the fact that whoever the guy in the car was should have shoveled his roof (they never do), I was moved by this very cold but eager family with their rainbow umbrellas and DC sweatshirts shielding them from the misery of the late wintry mix.  The level of snow wasn't even that impressive--it was just wet and awful, but this little girl was nevertheless determined to be impressed by her surroundings.

When the light changed, I rode slowly next to them and asked if they were here to see the cherry blossoms (it was March 25th, and I think that was the original predicted peak bloom time).  The dad sadly remarked that there really weren't any around, and the grandma of the group said, "Maybe not, but we got some really cool t-shirts!" 

And that's what I love about tourists.  They're a breath of fresh air from my usually cynical internal monologue, they have different perspectives on life because they all come from different places, and (when they're not standing in a clump in the cycle track) they can be quite fun.  So sometimes I stop and talk to them, or I ask obviously lost people if they need help finding something.  Tourists, unlike most locals who inhabit the downtown area during the weekday, don't look at you like you have broccoli growing out of your ears should you dare try and engage them in conversation.  They seem, by and large, to be OK chatting with locals as long as the locals aren't condescending pricks--I know I welcome help and someone who knows what they're doing when I travel to different cities.

This is what I keep telling myself as I gear up for another season of giving bike tours--I seem to keep going back, and I think, aside from the money, that's a big part of the reason why.
 

Fruit and shit

As Kate pours her homemade jam from a pot into a beer glass to stick in the fridge that will sit alongside another beer glass full of homemade raspberry syrup from the Super Bowl:

Me: "I'm getting you a funnel and Mason jars for your birthday. So...enjoy those."

Her: "Alternatively, you could just get me a card and write, "Hey, stop boiling fruit into shit' on the inside."

I should perhaps explain that recently, she's taken to making sugary products that are usually store-bought (i.e. pop/soda and Nutra-Grain bars) and making them herself from scratch.  Personally, I'm enjoying this trend.

Is it a cookie? Is it a pie? It's both!

Last week, I made a pie with a hazelnut crumb topping, and it was so tasty that I was inspired to make some sort of Nutella-inspired pie.  But all the recipes I was finding were for icebox pies or cream pies (neither of which I especially like), or they called for lots of ingredients that I didn't feel like buying.  Then I ran across this recipe, which the blog author writes came from a baking experiment gone wrong.

One of my favorite recipes that I make in the fall is a pumpkin chocolate chip cookie that feels like a muffin--I call them mookies or muffkies.  Therefore, since these are a combo of pie and cookies, I hereby deem these "pookies."  Maybe that's a terrible name.  Suggestions?

The author makes her little cookies with cream cheese, strawberry jam, and Nutella.  I decided to leave out the cream cheese, and in the spirit of gilding the lily, I decided to drizzle some melted chocolate (I didn't have dark, so I mixed milk and baking chocolate) on top.  

This is what I wound up with:

Verdict: Good!  Next time, I'll try 'em with the cream cheese, and I might add more strawberry jam because you can hardly taste it. Instead of Nutella, I wound up using Whole Foods way-too-expensive ($8.49 a jar "on sale" from $9.99, but I was desperate) knock-off organic whatever whatever brand, and I think it held up in the oven better than Nutella would have.  It also has less sugar, so it kept the filling from being too sweet.

In the spirit of experimentation, I tried a batch with Speculoos Cookie spread (if you haven't tried this yet, go out and buy a jar immediately).  Since the first batch burned slightly, I turned down the temperature to 340 instead of 350 and baked them for a wee bit longer--about 27 minutes.  I melted some more cookie spread and drizzled it on top, along with a couple puffs of cinnamon sugar.

I'm excited about this recipe because it showcases the pie crust, whereas for most pies, the crust is kind of an accessory.  Plus, it doesn't involve fussing with the pastry dough in order to create an attractive fluted edge, so the pastry dough has a better chance of staying flaky and holding together.  I was pretty damn proud of this batch--it takes a lot of patience to make a decent crust, and patience is something I absolutely lack. Lots of refrigeration, and a lot less water than you'd think...you just have to work to disperse it through the pastry, but you have to do so without overworking the gluten in the flour.  I also refuse to use shortening because yuck.  The ingredients on a can of Crisco are horrifying.

The other fun thing is that this recipe can be played with.  I'd like to try something with raspberry, and potentially a peanut butter version.

Additionally, pies are a bitch and a half to transport by bike.  These, on the other hand, just need to be fully dried/cooled and tossed in a box.  My goal in life, if all else fails, is to open up a bike/bake shop and call it the Bikery...we'd specialize in portable baked goods.  Or fancy devices that would make portable baked goods portable on a bike (I have an idea for a rack-mounted rectangular pie pan that suspends the pie on springs).  It's probably a niche market, but whatever.

Anyway, thanks From the Little Yellow Kitchen for the inspiration!

Sidewalks: Not for cars

I've been bitching about this on Twitter with some regularity, but after spending a morning with a chisel, a hammer, and concrete bits flying into my face, I feel that this warrants a blog post. Presenting exhibits A through C....

 Take a good look at the rack furthest from the bike.  

 Someone pointed out that this looks like a string of licorice

 There's an alley directly across from this...

Aside from the bike racks merely being broken, here's what's wrong with this.  First of all, these three racks were all busted within two weeks of each other.  Second, in order for any of these to get as busted as they are, a car would need to go full-up onto the sidewalk and hit them.  DC regulations require bicycle racks to be placed 2-3 feet from the curb exactly for this reason.  We've all had the experience of running car wheels over a curb on an especially tight turn, but this is just BAD driving.  There is absolutely no reason at all why anyone who is driving sober should have their car that far into the travel lane intended ONLY for pedestrians and, occasionally, bicycles.    

For the first (on 11th and U), I have absolutely no idea what happened, but the vinyl coating on the rack was torn and bunched up towards the bottom. 

For the second (24th and L, outside District Hardware), that's a rack sitting in 10 inches of concrete in a brick sidewalk, so it's wedged in there pretty firmly.  In order for a car to exert that much force on it, it had to be moving at a good clip. I talked to the folks in District Hardware, and they mentioned that some guy was teaching his girlfriend how to drive, and she somehow got the car up on the sidewalk and drove halfway down the block that way.  

For the third (14th and Q, outside the Bike Rack), there's an alley directly across from that rack.  I'm guessing a truck was trying to back out.  That being said, there's a parking space right next to this rack, and since it looks like it was hit straight on, that means whatever it was backed directly into it.  This means that there was no car parked there at the time, which means the vehicle had the ENTIRE STREET to back out of the alley, so how the hell the driver wound up knocking over the bike rack, I haven't a clue.

I passed yet another bent rack downtown today, but I forgot to snap a picture.  It was one of those radiator style racks, so unfortunately, I won't be able to replace it.  Since August, there have also been struck racks at 25th and N, on Thomas Jefferson Street in Georgetown, and along Georgia Avenue near the Petworth Metro stop.

The nonchalance with which these racks are struck annoys me because 1) what if a pedestrian had been standing there instead of a bike rack? and 2) because I have to go in and fix them.  I realize that this is part of my job, but making up for other peoples' intense stupidity makes me unhappy.  It's at least twice as hard to remove and reinstall a rack as it is to simply install a new one.  Particularly for situations like the second one--that's going to require a good 45 minutes or more of chiseling to simply get that thing out of the ground.  In the meantime, that's one less bike rack for people to use.

I guess the point of this post is that if you drive in the city, CHECK YOUR MIRRORS and DON'T DRIVE LIKE AN IDIOT.  Otherwise things like this happen:

Thus ends my rant for the day.