Today, my blog broke free of the greater design of Vitzy's. It flies solo from this point forward, which is only justified, really, considering it's completely hidden from the part of the site it previously looked like.
Plus, now I can frequently change the design on a whim without worrying about continuity.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Brian is a Genius
So, whilst discussing ways to make my "new" bike as cool as possible, given my current limited means, Brian suggested we make the bike into a single speed. The more I thought about this, the more the idea grew on me. I could get rid of the outdated shifting system, shed some weight, simplify my around town ride and become a little bit cooler every day.
Today, after rolling around on the bikes paths for a while to determine what gear I wanted to be in permanently, we stopped by "Geoff's Bike and Ski," (the bike shop Brian is about to start working at) to order a freewheel. Surprisingly, they had the part in stock and even put it on for me.
We were well on our way.
Today, after rolling around on the bikes paths for a while to determine what gear I wanted to be in permanently, we stopped by "Geoff's Bike and Ski," (the bike shop Brian is about to start working at) to order a freewheel. Surprisingly, they had the part in stock and even put it on for me.
We were well on our way.
After that, all that remained was taking a whole lot of things off of my bike. That part was really quite fun.
Here we have a photo of my almost really cool ride (the bar tape and pedals are on the way, and sooner or later I'll get some new brake levers too).
Finally, as we admired our handiwork, Brian commented that this Fuji isn't a 12 speed anymore, it's a 1 speed. A few minutes with a strait razor added the finishing touch.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
New Member of the Family
Since the morning we woke to discover my bike gone from the porch, I have worked my way through all the stages of mourning. I started out in denial, moved through hope, anger and sadness. After a fruitless trip to the police's lost bike holding facility, I have finally settled into a state of numb regret. Although my heart will always grieve for the loss of my Jamis, there comes a point when the future must be faced.
This morning, Brian and I walked to the Iowa City Bike Library, a commendable organization run by volunteers. One of these volunteers, Steve, is a friend of Brian's, who took us into the back to look at the vast number of donated bikes he would potentially allow me to buy from them. I felt a slight twinge of dismay. Row after row of semi-functional bikes stretched into the dim recesses of the holding room. My heart cried out for my Jamis. I would never find it's equal, this much is clear, but how to weed out a bike with potential from such a vast array?
We poked around for a while, Steve commenting on how few of the bikes were worth anything. He asked after a moment, "Are you looking for a project?" Things were appearing less and less promising.
Then, Steve's girlfriend Cody came wheeling a bike into the room. She said, "This one just came in. I don't know, but it might work." I glanced at the bike in question - a red Fuji "Gran Tourer SE." My reaction was one of wariness. The front wheel was angled sharply backwards, towards the rest of the bike, the tires were flat, there were no pedals to be seen, and whomever named the bike seemed unaware that the word "gran" is usually spelled with a "d" at the end.
Steve said, "Oh yeah, we like the Fuji's." He took the bike from her, straightened out the wheel, tightened the headset bolt and said, "Yeah, not too bad." He checked it over while I considered it. He found the pedals wrapped in the brown paper taped to the top tube. Really, I saw as I looked past the initial impression, the drawbacks were few and easily fixable.
A few minutes later found me riding around the parking garage in the rain, noticing that the brakes worked, the bike fit, even if the stem was a little shorter than might be ideal and the bars have this weird foamy shit on them (not insurmountable obstacles, to be sure). Starting to feel a glimmer of hope, I went back to the Bike Library.
Brian and I talked it over, wrote a check, and walked home. Once on our porch, a closer inspection yielded only more cool aspects of the bike. Everything is clean and in good shape. Plenty of things could be easily upgraded over time. Furthermore, the frame bears the rainbow stripes of a world champion. A quick visit to Bike Nashbar has some white bar tape and some non-shin gouging, non-rusty pedals on the way. A few minutes with some lube and a screwdriver should remove things like the kickstand and other superfluous parts (singlespeed, anyone?).
In short, although my heart still aches for what is lost, a soft spot is rapidly developing for has been found.
*** Update - June 2008 ***
So many people come to this entry looking for this bike I am providing an up to date picture...
... and a link to a more recent post on the subject.
This morning, Brian and I walked to the Iowa City Bike Library, a commendable organization run by volunteers. One of these volunteers, Steve, is a friend of Brian's, who took us into the back to look at the vast number of donated bikes he would potentially allow me to buy from them. I felt a slight twinge of dismay. Row after row of semi-functional bikes stretched into the dim recesses of the holding room. My heart cried out for my Jamis. I would never find it's equal, this much is clear, but how to weed out a bike with potential from such a vast array?
We poked around for a while, Steve commenting on how few of the bikes were worth anything. He asked after a moment, "Are you looking for a project?" Things were appearing less and less promising.
Then, Steve's girlfriend Cody came wheeling a bike into the room. She said, "This one just came in. I don't know, but it might work." I glanced at the bike in question - a red Fuji "Gran Tourer SE." My reaction was one of wariness. The front wheel was angled sharply backwards, towards the rest of the bike, the tires were flat, there were no pedals to be seen, and whomever named the bike seemed unaware that the word "gran" is usually spelled with a "d" at the end.
Steve said, "Oh yeah, we like the Fuji's." He took the bike from her, straightened out the wheel, tightened the headset bolt and said, "Yeah, not too bad." He checked it over while I considered it. He found the pedals wrapped in the brown paper taped to the top tube. Really, I saw as I looked past the initial impression, the drawbacks were few and easily fixable.
A few minutes later found me riding around the parking garage in the rain, noticing that the brakes worked, the bike fit, even if the stem was a little shorter than might be ideal and the bars have this weird foamy shit on them (not insurmountable obstacles, to be sure). Starting to feel a glimmer of hope, I went back to the Bike Library.
Brian and I talked it over, wrote a check, and walked home. Once on our porch, a closer inspection yielded only more cool aspects of the bike. Everything is clean and in good shape. Plenty of things could be easily upgraded over time. Furthermore, the frame bears the rainbow stripes of a world champion. A quick visit to Bike Nashbar has some white bar tape and some non-shin gouging, non-rusty pedals on the way. A few minutes with some lube and a screwdriver should remove things like the kickstand and other superfluous parts (singlespeed, anyone?).
In short, although my heart still aches for what is lost, a soft spot is rapidly developing for has been found.
*** Update - June 2008 ***
So many people come to this entry looking for this bike I am providing an up to date picture...
... and a link to a more recent post on the subject.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Show Opening
As I think you all know, I've been working at the Hudson River Gallery for the last few months. This Friday we are having a show opening for the artwork of Diane Naylor. It's a fun show, very fantastic and imaginative. The opening is from 6-8, open to everyone who likes to look at art, and will include free munchies and drinks of the adult variety. So, anyone who is interested, please stop by. Brian and I will be there, and anyone who wants to come hang out at our place afterwards and fire up the hookah is perfectly welcome.
The gallery is located on 538 S. Gilbert street (right on the corner of Gilbert and Bowery), on the second floor of the mansion.
Check out the Hudson River site for more details.
The gallery is located on 538 S. Gilbert street (right on the corner of Gilbert and Bowery), on the second floor of the mansion.
Check out the Hudson River site for more details.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Grinnell
Brian and I went to Grinnell yesterday to see my dear and wonderful friend Sukha, who is attending a cousin's graduation. We took along my camera and a number of addresses my mother gave us. Below, we have a view of the road as seen via my sunglasses and Brian.
The first place to check out was the house my mother grew up in. She spent most of her childhood here. This is the house from the front . It's hard to see due to the trees, which were planted by her family.
I took a photo of Stan out front, just to prove we were there.
A slightly different view of the front:
As we went around the side we noticed someone working in the garage. To avoid uncomfortable questions, we left at that point.
A little view of the street.
This is the front of the house.
The sign on the door informing us about the house's significance as a part of the University.
Next, we randomly dropped in on the parent's of one of Mom's closest childhood friends. They were extremely happy to see us. We hung out and chatted for quite a while and at the end there were hugs all around. Even after I asked them to pose for a photo.
Then we went to hang out with Sukha. It was great to see him, although it did add a whole new dimension to the surreal sense I sometimes get that no, really, I'm not in Iowa. Why would I be in Iowa?
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Friday, May 18, 2007
Customers
Nick is out of town, which leaves me to deal with everyone who stops by the gallery. I worked from 9-5 today, and had quite a few people stop in. My conclusion - I like it a lot better when Nick is there to deal with the clients.
Some highlights:
A mother and daughter came in to pick up two paintings they had brought to us for repair. I felt bad for them, because whoever did the framing in the first place did a very bad job. The corners were pulling apart and one of the paintings had been framed before the paint dried. I tried to get it out, realized the potential danger and left it for Nick. He fixed it, somehow. The other frame was really beat up. Really, really, beat up. The wood was cracking. We had to replace the entire interior frame. Anyway, these women arrived, I pulled the paintings out and they bent over them as if they were holding magnifying glasses, inspecting every last square inch of the frames. Finally, one pointed to a small dent on the outside corner of the beat up frame and said, "I don't think this nick was here." The other agreed with her. They talked about how they had noticed all the dings before, and finally looked at me and said, "Do you think this could have happened while it was here?"
I wanted to say, "What is wrong with you? That painting has had the living daylights beaten out of it, and now you're trying to blame us for a dent that's right next to the entire corner we had to rebuild?"
I said, "No. We are very careful."
They talked for a while longer, and finally decided not to press the issue. I wrapped the paintings for them and then offered to help them carry everything downstairs.
As soon as I made this offer, these women, who had been unfriendly to the point of not even returning my smiles, suddenly became my best friends. As we walked down the stairs they asked me about the mansion, myself, my house, how I like the job.
The whole thing left me feeling rather confused.
Next came a lady carrying a small box. She said, "Do you do photos?"
I said, "We frame photos."
She said, "No, I need these developed."
I said, "We don't do that here."
She said, "Do you know anywhere that does?"
I said, "I'm sorry, but I don't."
She looked at me rather pointedly and said, "Well, it said in the phonebook that you do restoration. I have some historical film that I want printed."
I wanted to say, "Lady, do you have any idea what you are talking about? Do you know what it takes to print film? We'd need a dark room, an enlarger, all sorts of chemicals. I just said we don't do that here. It's a completely unrelated field."
I said, "We make minor repairs on paintings and work that is already, you know, printed."
She said, "Well, the phone book says you handle historical pieces."
I said, "I'm sorry."
She left, looking at me as if I'd somehow mislead her, deliberately and maliciously.
When I was at lunch the rude lady who wanted a photo of her grand-daughter framed finally came and picked up her piece. She just took it out of the gallery, and left a check. I hope she never comes back.
However, when I am not being bothered by the customers, I rather enjoy it when Nick is gone. I get to hang out in my little sunlit room, cuttings mats and glass, assembling frames and seeing everything leave looking a little better than when it arrived. Not a bad way to pass the time, really.
Some highlights:
A mother and daughter came in to pick up two paintings they had brought to us for repair. I felt bad for them, because whoever did the framing in the first place did a very bad job. The corners were pulling apart and one of the paintings had been framed before the paint dried. I tried to get it out, realized the potential danger and left it for Nick. He fixed it, somehow. The other frame was really beat up. Really, really, beat up. The wood was cracking. We had to replace the entire interior frame. Anyway, these women arrived, I pulled the paintings out and they bent over them as if they were holding magnifying glasses, inspecting every last square inch of the frames. Finally, one pointed to a small dent on the outside corner of the beat up frame and said, "I don't think this nick was here." The other agreed with her. They talked about how they had noticed all the dings before, and finally looked at me and said, "Do you think this could have happened while it was here?"
I wanted to say, "What is wrong with you? That painting has had the living daylights beaten out of it, and now you're trying to blame us for a dent that's right next to the entire corner we had to rebuild?"
I said, "No. We are very careful."
They talked for a while longer, and finally decided not to press the issue. I wrapped the paintings for them and then offered to help them carry everything downstairs.
As soon as I made this offer, these women, who had been unfriendly to the point of not even returning my smiles, suddenly became my best friends. As we walked down the stairs they asked me about the mansion, myself, my house, how I like the job.
The whole thing left me feeling rather confused.
Next came a lady carrying a small box. She said, "Do you do photos?"
I said, "We frame photos."
She said, "No, I need these developed."
I said, "We don't do that here."
She said, "Do you know anywhere that does?"
I said, "I'm sorry, but I don't."
She looked at me rather pointedly and said, "Well, it said in the phonebook that you do restoration. I have some historical film that I want printed."
I wanted to say, "Lady, do you have any idea what you are talking about? Do you know what it takes to print film? We'd need a dark room, an enlarger, all sorts of chemicals. I just said we don't do that here. It's a completely unrelated field."
I said, "We make minor repairs on paintings and work that is already, you know, printed."
She said, "Well, the phone book says you handle historical pieces."
I said, "I'm sorry."
She left, looking at me as if I'd somehow mislead her, deliberately and maliciously.
When I was at lunch the rude lady who wanted a photo of her grand-daughter framed finally came and picked up her piece. She just took it out of the gallery, and left a check. I hope she never comes back.
However, when I am not being bothered by the customers, I rather enjoy it when Nick is gone. I get to hang out in my little sunlit room, cuttings mats and glass, assembling frames and seeing everything leave looking a little better than when it arrived. Not a bad way to pass the time, really.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Happiness is a Horse
Today I got to handle some horses - not ride, mind you, but brush, smell, tack up, lead around, untack, and otherwise do everything I normally do with horses other than ride. It was heavenly. I don't pretend to understand why contact with horses is so absolutely necessary for my sanity and happiness. But... it is.
Last night Brian and I rode with another Brian, Kim, and Jim out to North Liberty for Mexican food and margaritas. This was great fun. Luckily for me, my sudden lack of town bike meant I had to ride my titus. These people are fast, so while they all rode heavy single speed cruisers, I had tons of gears and the sleek quickness of my carbon fiber road bike under me. This enabled me to keep up. Not ride them all into the ground. Oh no. Just keep up.
A silver lining, I suppose.
Last night Brian and I rode with another Brian, Kim, and Jim out to North Liberty for Mexican food and margaritas. This was great fun. Luckily for me, my sudden lack of town bike meant I had to ride my titus. These people are fast, so while they all rode heavy single speed cruisers, I had tons of gears and the sleek quickness of my carbon fiber road bike under me. This enabled me to keep up. Not ride them all into the ground. Oh no. Just keep up.
A silver lining, I suppose.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Stolen Bike
I know the odds are slim that anyone can help, but someone stole my Jamis Aurora off my porch last night. It is dark green, with black fenders. It's a touring style bike with drop bars and there is a little "Johnny Sprockets" decal on the bottom of the downtube. The fenders aren't quite properly installed yet (which is why I had it on the porch) and I'm hoping they'll screw up whoever rode away with it and the thief will ditch it somewhere. So, if you see a bike that answers to this description, please let me know.
I have to say, I try to keep a fairly positive opinion of people in general, but things like this make it hard. That bike is my mode of transportation. I ride it to work, on most of my errands around town. It has hours of time spent cleaning and tuning invested. Whoever stole it took it for money, or just because they could. It bothers me that it will be neglected, abused, discarded. It bothers me that people just don't care enough to think, "Taking this bike will hurt someone else. I won't do it."
I have to say, I try to keep a fairly positive opinion of people in general, but things like this make it hard. That bike is my mode of transportation. I ride it to work, on most of my errands around town. It has hours of time spent cleaning and tuning invested. Whoever stole it took it for money, or just because they could. It bothers me that it will be neglected, abused, discarded. It bothers me that people just don't care enough to think, "Taking this bike will hurt someone else. I won't do it."
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Fenders and Keystrokes
I didn't have much of a weekend. Nick ran off to pick mushrooms with his sister, so I worked on Saturday - which wasn't unpleasant and gave me the opportunity of talking a little bit with two of the regulars who's work interests me a lot. Still, when a weekend consists of only one day, it is short.
Yesterday we put fenders on my jamis and a computer on my titus. These are both exciting things, although I have to say the jamis looks a good deal cooler for the addition and the titus looks maybe a little nerdier.
I am 1/3 done with the novel now, which means Book 1 is complete. (Well, kind of complete. The whole thing is going to need a thorough going over when I have the brute writing done.) It also means I'm more or less right on schedule.
Yesterday we put fenders on my jamis and a computer on my titus. These are both exciting things, although I have to say the jamis looks a good deal cooler for the addition and the titus looks maybe a little nerdier.
I am 1/3 done with the novel now, which means Book 1 is complete. (Well, kind of complete. The whole thing is going to need a thorough going over when I have the brute writing done.) It also means I'm more or less right on schedule.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Printmaking
Today I started making my first prints in my basement. I have a table and a screen and everything that's absolute necessary to print silk screen.
So, yeah, it's a little dark and dirty down there, but I'm pretty happy about it, nonetheless. Unfortunately, I've still got some wrinkles to iron out:
A Sampling of My Thoughts While Screen-Printing in My Basement Today
Oh. Oops. I forgot about that.
And that.
Why do they have to put these stupid foil and plastic seals on everything?
Mmm. I missed the smell of ink. Is that bad? No. It's perfectly normal.
Hmm. Not really the color I was going for. Maybe some more blue.
No. Blue doesn't help.
Whatever, it's a nice color, now that I look more closely.
And, I forgot about that too.
It's okay. I know what I'm doing. Not only have I done this before, I have a piece of paper from a University saying I have earned a degree in printmaking. I'm good to go.
Shit.
Okay, that worked. Mostly. Do they do that when the ink is too thin or thick. Is my ink too thick?
That was a little better.
Wow. Things don't dry nearly as quickly here as they do in Arizona.
Okay. I'm done with three. Really? Only three. Oh, good. Number four is over there.
Why do I always forget to do that?
I'm thirsty.
I'm so glad these inks aren't toxic.
I forgot to wear my apron. I hope I don't get ink on this shirt. Now I will for sure, because I realized I don't want to. Damn.
I'm not sure about this new fangled screen design.
Am I old enough to call something "new fangled?"
I wonder if things dry enough slower here for me to go get a drink without the ink drying in my screen.
Better not risk it.
I'm out of table space . Would it be bad to start putting these on the floor?
Well, I'm done. Look at my beautiful prints. I'll put the perfect ones in this pile, and the not so perfect ones in this pile. Well, my first time printing at home anyone would expect the perfect pile to be smaller. I mean, at least there are some prints in that pile. Some, as in three. Still, I only printed twelve to begin with. That's not a terrible percentage. But that color. Wow. At least, I can always print over it. As long as this registration method that's actually for lithography works the way I think it will for silk screen...
I have a degree in this? Really? A degree?
Even if they're not perfect, this is so cool. I just printed in my basement. Which means I can now print whenever I want to, except for when I'm... Oh no. What time is it? I've gotta get to work.
So, yeah, it's a little dark and dirty down there, but I'm pretty happy about it, nonetheless. Unfortunately, I've still got some wrinkles to iron out:
A Sampling of My Thoughts While Screen-Printing in My Basement Today
Oh. Oops. I forgot about that.
And that.
Why do they have to put these stupid foil and plastic seals on everything?
Mmm. I missed the smell of ink. Is that bad? No. It's perfectly normal.
Hmm. Not really the color I was going for. Maybe some more blue.
No. Blue doesn't help.
Whatever, it's a nice color, now that I look more closely.
And, I forgot about that too.
It's okay. I know what I'm doing. Not only have I done this before, I have a piece of paper from a University saying I have earned a degree in printmaking. I'm good to go.
Shit.
Okay, that worked. Mostly. Do they do that when the ink is too thin or thick. Is my ink too thick?
That was a little better.
Wow. Things don't dry nearly as quickly here as they do in Arizona.
Okay. I'm done with three. Really? Only three. Oh, good. Number four is over there.
Why do I always forget to do that?
I'm thirsty.
I'm so glad these inks aren't toxic.
I forgot to wear my apron. I hope I don't get ink on this shirt. Now I will for sure, because I realized I don't want to. Damn.
I'm not sure about this new fangled screen design.
Am I old enough to call something "new fangled?"
I wonder if things dry enough slower here for me to go get a drink without the ink drying in my screen.
Better not risk it.
I'm out of table space . Would it be bad to start putting these on the floor?
Well, I'm done. Look at my beautiful prints. I'll put the perfect ones in this pile, and the not so perfect ones in this pile. Well, my first time printing at home anyone would expect the perfect pile to be smaller. I mean, at least there are some prints in that pile. Some, as in three. Still, I only printed twelve to begin with. That's not a terrible percentage. But that color. Wow. At least, I can always print over it. As long as this registration method that's actually for lithography works the way I think it will for silk screen...
I have a degree in this? Really? A degree?
Even if they're not perfect, this is so cool. I just printed in my basement. Which means I can now print whenever I want to, except for when I'm... Oh no. What time is it? I've gotta get to work.
All You Need is Google
Last night Brian told me I've been listening to too much classic rock. This is most likely true, as we listen to 101.7 at work and I have slowly started to recognize almost all of the songs they play and even enjoy most of them. And, well, they get stuck in my head.
However, I find them a rather fitting soundtrack for my current self. They are generally upbeat, sometimes goofy and often reflective (even when being goofy). They can apply to more parts of life than I thought possible. So, now, as little things happen in my day, they often trigger the memory of some classic rock song.
The main problem - I don't really know who these songs are by, or what they are called. I often only know a few words.
Last night, I decided that I should list Vitzy's as a small business on Google. This is free, and once complete, when people run a Google search for services in your area, your business pops up. I entered my information and clicked "continue." Next, my browser asked me how I would like to validate my listing. Would I prefer a phone call or a postcard in the mail?
This question disturbed me on a scale that was wholly unreasonable. What? People exist behind Google? Someone could pick up a phone and dial my number and... talk to me, from Google. I did not like this idea. Google is supposed to be a quietly omniscient, pervasive, unapproachable, and possible not entirely real entity - something like a God.
I opted for the postcard.
This morning, after a night's sleep involving massacres and murders (this is why I don't watch horror films - apparently I generate enough disturbing fuel all on my own) I looked to Google for a brighter start to my day. While looking at other people's blogs, I took a leap and experimented with Google Reader. This service (free) allows you to subscribe to people's blogs. You can then visit one page and it will tell you which posts are new, which are old. You can rename people's blogs, sort them, see the whole post without going to their website. In short, it's pretty wonderful.
Then you can add a little preview to your Google homepage and effortlessly keep track of everyone you care to read about. This made me happy, and an appropriate song popped into my head. (Don't worry, I do know the title and artist to this one.)
So, in spite of yesterday's brush with the scarier truths of Google, I remain convinced - Google's all you need.
However, I find them a rather fitting soundtrack for my current self. They are generally upbeat, sometimes goofy and often reflective (even when being goofy). They can apply to more parts of life than I thought possible. So, now, as little things happen in my day, they often trigger the memory of some classic rock song.
The main problem - I don't really know who these songs are by, or what they are called. I often only know a few words.
Last night, I decided that I should list Vitzy's as a small business on Google. This is free, and once complete, when people run a Google search for services in your area, your business pops up. I entered my information and clicked "continue." Next, my browser asked me how I would like to validate my listing. Would I prefer a phone call or a postcard in the mail?
This question disturbed me on a scale that was wholly unreasonable. What? People exist behind Google? Someone could pick up a phone and dial my number and... talk to me, from Google. I did not like this idea. Google is supposed to be a quietly omniscient, pervasive, unapproachable, and possible not entirely real entity - something like a God.
I opted for the postcard.
This morning, after a night's sleep involving massacres and murders (this is why I don't watch horror films - apparently I generate enough disturbing fuel all on my own) I looked to Google for a brighter start to my day. While looking at other people's blogs, I took a leap and experimented with Google Reader. This service (free) allows you to subscribe to people's blogs. You can then visit one page and it will tell you which posts are new, which are old. You can rename people's blogs, sort them, see the whole post without going to their website. In short, it's pretty wonderful.
Then you can add a little preview to your Google homepage and effortlessly keep track of everyone you care to read about. This made me happy, and an appropriate song popped into my head. (Don't worry, I do know the title and artist to this one.)
So, in spite of yesterday's brush with the scarier truths of Google, I remain convinced - Google's all you need.
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