Monday, April 30, 2007

it's like riding a bike

I want to extend a thanks to my pals Allison and Chris, who put up with me on Saturday! They took me out, and taught me to ride a bike. When I was leaving my house on Saturday and told my roommate I was going to learn how to ride a bike she asked, "You never learned how to ride a bike?" So, let me start at the beginning.

When I was younger I had a big wheel - you remember big wheels, right? I didn't have the Knight Rider one, I don't think that I wanted the Knight Rider one even. I had a Kermit the Frog one - I loved Kermie. But, I used to remove Kermie from the front, and stick him on the side (the little pole that held him on the front fit into the hole in the handle bars) and I would ride around the driveway talking to Kermie (and calling him Kitt). I progressed up to a shiny red tricycle. I used to ride this up and down the driveway, sometimes standing on the back and pushing with one foot, like it was a scooter. Then I got a bike. It was purple. It said Buttercup on it. It was a bike with training wheels, and I think if I had my way it would have stayed a bike with training wheels until now. But I didn't have it my way. One day my dad made the training wheels lopsided, so I could learn to not use them. And then, one day, they were gone.

I was never one of those kids who rode my bike everywhere. I rode it up the driveway, and back. I rode it to the corner (our house is the last one on the street) and back. I was a daredevil, sometimes I went around the corner...but never to the next. We lived at the bottom of a few great big hills, I rarely ventured over those. One time, we were vacationing on Block Island, and had rented bikes. This was way back before "helmet laws" - back when us kids used to sit, unbuckled, in the front seat of a car while playing with BB guns. After a full day of riding and swimming at the beach we were headed back to return the rented bikes. Like any tired 10 year old I was begging my mom to let me take off the stupid, itchy, hot, too big helmet. She finally gave in. It was about this time that fell off. I'm going to save the details of this story - because they are good enough to warrant their own post - but let's just fast-forward to the end.

Stitches. in. my. head.

After I was healed, like any good mother, my mom wanted to make sure I wasn't ruined on bike riding forever. She would suggest that I ride to a friends, or go down the street. I used to ride to the corner, hide my bike in the bushes, go for a walk, and then pick up my bike and ride home. After a while of doing this, I think I just dropped the act. I eventually got too big for the purple bike that said Buttercup. Years later I used my own money to buy a pair of rollerblades. I used to use these inside of our cluttered 2 car garage.

So, back to Allison and Chris. Basically they had to deal with me - someone who has never used a bike (or similar thing) to do anything useful or even exciting. Ever. I was using my mom's old bike (circa 1974) - made by Panasonic. It's a great bike. If I were about 3 inches taller it would be awesome. As it is though, the seat is as low as possible and it's a tad too high. The three of us spent about 45 minutes going in circles around a playground where there was a baseball game going on. And when I say circles, let me point out that we surely stopped EACH TIME we made a complete circle. One time I was following Allison, and she kept going. I remember I said "oh, around again?" I proudly announce each time I was able to shift the gears (which I never really knew if I did right) and use the brake (singular because one didn't work!) Then - we rode up the street for ice cream.

And my neuroses about eating an ice cream cone are worse (right, Al?) so I'll stop now.

THANKS GUYS!

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Update

On Monday I wrote about the make-out session that I witnessed at work, and made claims that it's always exciting where I work. On Tuesday a super-computer that we have blew up. Well, OK, it "caught fire" - there was some faulty wiring, and it caused some power component of the machine to ignite. Pyrotechnics are fun. I was blamed for the excitement, I'm always blamed when something happens to this particular computer. A legacy I hope to be known for long after I am gone from here.

And today, during our Brainmap seminar, I won a pineapple.

Monday, April 16, 2007

fast times at ridgemont high

I work in a somewhat large building, about 10 stories, full of various types of scientists. There are lots of people in the building all doing research of various types on various topics. Somehow though, there never ceases to be excitement in the building, like the day there was a bomb scare. Last week I had plans to have lunch with a friend of mine. After we walked out of the cafeteria, with our lunches in hand, we had to search for a table. This activity always puts me back in the lunch room in high school, where you desperately scan the crowd to try and find your friends, or a table you can sit at, anywhere.

Today I was innocently walking downstairs to meet another friend for a snack. I walked out one door into a common area (with lots of tables for people to eat at) and I see two people "going at it". I don't want to simply say that they were kissing, I mean this was "Saturday night at the disco" quality making out.

At 3pm. At work. At a lunch table.

I did what anyone would do, I stopped and starred. I starred from a few different angles trying to see if I knew who it was. I mean, it's my opinion that if you are going to make out here, then I have every right to stare. I proceeded to go downstairs, where I told my friend (in my ever-so-soft indoor voice) that "there are totally two people making out up there!" When he asked where, I then pointed (loudly), and the two of us burst out laughing. I'm not sure who made more of a scene - the two of us pointing and laughing, or the two people "getting busy" upstairs.

Either way, the conclusion is the same. Scientists are fun.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Sunday, April 01, 2007

The captain has turned on the fasten seatbelts sign

1/8/2007
BOS STL BOS CMH STL BOS LGA RDU LGA BOS ORD SDU LAX BOS AUS JFK BOS STL AUS ORD CDI ORD BOS
3/31/2007
4/1/2007