quick trip report: Key West, FL

Posted on September 10, 2011 by pagesofjulia

Hello friends! I’m back! Did you miss me?

Husband and I DID, in fact, make it to Florida! Here’s a quick report…

Last Friday night we flew into Miami, got a hotel room and a rental car and a beer, and went to bed. Saturday morning we got up lateish and began the drive down through the Keys. It was a lovely drive, as promised, with water on both sides of the narrow highway for a few hours. We took our time on the drive down, stopping for lunch – fried conch, an outstanding Ahi burger, and some rum – and made it into Key West around 5pm. We got a room, had a few drinks, and walked around Duvall St. before turning in.

Sunday we really began our sightseeing, with my top priority: the Hemingway House. It was very special. I am still trying to wrap my head around the idea that he lived right there. I’ll give you the full Hem House report shortly. [EDIT: Here‘s my report.] Then we rented bikes and rode out to the area where the fishing charters depart, so we could shop for a fishing trip for Husband. Finally, we found some solid pizza by the slice and took yet another dip in the pool at our B&B.

Monday was a lazy day in and out of the pool, the bed, and various books… we rode our bikes around some more and fished off a pier on the east (Atlantic) side of the island. Then we had an early night so we could wake up early on Tuesday to go fishing!

We went out in a little boat with Captain Mike and Husband fished for baby tarpon, bonefish, permit, and maybe something else?? This is not my area but I went along for the boat ride. We saw maybe 5-7 sharks and a whole mess of sting rays, which was cool. This was “flats” fishing, on the Gulf side of the island, with a lot of poleing the boat over very shallow flats, so we could see very clearly what was swimming around under us. Husband didn’t have any luck but he thoroughly enjoyed himself all the same, and has expressed greater interest since we’ve gotten back home, in getting out there more. There’s talk of renting us seats on a local fishing boat in the coming months. And when I got up this morning he was casting in the back yard!

Tuesday night we spent more time exploring the island, catching up on the last of the recommended beer bars, getting our fill. Wednesday morning we had the time to wake up in a leisurely fashion, get Husband a new fishing hat (the other one disintegrating) from a local angler’s shop (so it’s a functional souvenir, good work Husband), and make the drive back up to Miami for an evening flight home. It was a fairly quick trip but we got everything out of it we wanted to (except a tarpon – maybe next time) and made it home with free time to spare.

Nephew Tanner kept all three little dogs alive and didn’t burn the house down, so things were a success all around!

Thursday morning involved some unexpected travel: we drove out west of Houston to Columbus, TX, one of the areas that was hit hard by wildfires in our absence. My family owns property out there and we had to assess the damage. In a nutshell, we were lucky: the hard work of the local fire crews saved our house, literally stopping the fire at the doorstep (as they did for countless of our neighbors). We lost our barn and tractor, and 30 acres of woodlands are spotty, some places nearly destroyed by fire (biggest trees standing but scorched, little else, carpeted in ash) and some places almost untouched. Overall we were most definitely lucky. Columbus lost 11 homes. Nearby Bastrop has lost some 1400 homes; this is almost unthinkable, in terms of all those families who have only what they could carry. We did take some clothes, toiletries, food and books up there with us to donate to the effort.

And now I’m just settling back in. I have several books and audiobooks to write for you. They might be brief reviews; I didn’t take any kind of notes, sadly. It feels good to be home. Here’s hoping you’re enjoying your reading, maybe even a break of some sort, and hoping your families are safe and fire-free…

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and we’re off! literary travels

Posted on September 3, 2011 by pagesofjulia

Here comes a little break, children. I’m going to try to stay away from the interwebs this time. Husband will be facebooking, of course – he has a “smart” phone (harumph), for one thing, and we like to make our friends jealous by posting real-time pictures of things like beautiful beaches and craft beer and bloody Marys while they’re at work. But I won’t be blogging. I will be reading! But not blogging. I’ll save it all up to dump on you upon my return. 🙂

This vacation has morphed a few times. Originally we intended to go to Colorado someplace to go mountain biking. (We both have new full suspension 29ers, yum.) But I hurt my knee way back at the beginning of July, and have had a hell of a time coming back from it. I’m just now coming off a month of physical therapy with the lovely, talented Ingrid, and I’m coming along well – can now ride a bike again, but just a little teeny bit, not enough to go off on a cycling vacation. You can only imagine how crazy this has made me for the last several months. But enough about the bad news. The good news is that we have found another travel option we like: the Florida Keys. This would involve some walking but not as much as the UK (the other considered destination) and I think I’m up to it.

This partly came about, and will be extra-enjoyable, because of the coincidence of my having just read Paul Hendrickson’s Hemingway’s Boat. This is a new book coming out in September, and I REALLY loved it; he brought a fresh, new angle to the somewhat tired (although still and forever interesting to me) field of Hemingway biography. His lens is Hemingway’s boat, the Pilar, which he first purchased while living in Key West; it followed him to Havana of course, but KW plays an important role, along with his residence there, which is now the Hemingway House and open to visitors for a fee. I’ve heard it’s touristy and crowded, but I’m not afraid. My life (and adoration and scholarship) won’t be complete without a few trips to some of his homes; I’d also like to see the finca in Havana one day if they ever let us, and his childhood home in Oak Park (Illinois), and what the heck, the house in Bimini (Bahamas) sounds lovely. Maybe we’ll go there instead, or next.

Hem House in KW, circa 1933, the year before he bought the boat. from Hem House website


So! I’m all fresh now on the Hemingway House, and really hope to see it. Key West and surrounding environs (we’d drive down the famously scenic Highway 1 from Miami) also boast beaches, fishing (that’s for Husband), and some unique ecosystems. I hope to visit several state parks and/or national parks, and maybe go canoeing; maybe we’ll take some sort of boat tour. We would definitely relax, get some craft beer – we’d be there for the Key West Beer Fest, and there is one little brewpub – sit around, and read.

I’ve decided against doing “potential vacation” posts (like I did when we went to Terlingua last year) to come up while I’m gone, so we’re just going to go radio silent here at pagesofjulia for a little while. I’m back to work on Monday, Sept. 12, but likely home before then, and I hope to post again before then, too. [NOTE regarding the Great Gone With the Wind Readalong: I’m going to miss part 3’s scheduled posting on 9/5. It will be up here the next week when I’m home. But go check out the hostess at The Heroine’s Bookshelf.] Meanwhile, many thanks to nephew Tanner who is staying at our house with THREE little dogs, bless his heart.

I think the beaches down there are rocks, not sand. it's okay, I'll take it

But! It’s never that simple. Because the flights (everywhere) are very full, we are not sure we can make it to FL. A second option that has been discussed is Seattle; others are in the discussion stage as well. We’re considering various destinations, in fact. The long and short of it is – when this post posts, we will be I know not where. We are playing airport roulette this week. It will be an adventure, and if it goes well-ish, I shall tell you all about it on the other side. (If you hear nothing about my vacation at all, it is probably because it did not go well.) Place your bets, children! Where do Husband and I end up? I can’t wait to find out.

See you back here in a week or so, then!

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where I give myself away as something other than a reader

Posted on August 13, 2011 by pagesofjulia

Don’t panic. I’m a reader, too.

I found a blog post recently that has inspired me to share.

Some of you may have noticed that I have a great passion for bicycles. I have other passions, too, including high-quality, independent, craft beer, and little dogs. (Check out my personal website here.) I have a friend (Hi, Will!) who once said the man who convinced me to settle down was going to have three things in common with me: beer, bikes, and dogs. He didn’t say books.

Husband in support role. literally


I’ve always been a reader. For as long as I can remember, I read more books than the average bear; read at the table; read in bed at night; read all summer; read between classes waiting for the bell to ring. Read in the car on road trips. I like to discuss books. This is why I very nearly headed off for a post-grad degree in English before switching tracks to study library science; this is why I took some post-baccalaureate English just for fun. This is why I joined a book club; this is also why I quit the book club very shortly after joining, because it wasn’t enough like grad school for my tastes. (My bad.) This is why I have this blog. But perhaps my choice of a reading blog, rather than a book club, is revealing. I feel that reading is a very personal activity or passion. I can talk about the books I read with other people – I like to – but the reading of it is an individual pursuit.

Husband was never going to make it without a love for beer, bikes, and dogs, all of which of course he has in spades. The cycling, especially: during race season (at least 7 months a year) we travel 2-3 weekends out of the month, and I get up before 6am, 7 days a week, for 4 months straight every spring. We drive thousands of miles; we take cycling vacations; we spend our weeknights and weekends on the bike year-round. It is a physical fact that if we did not share this hobby, we would not be together. He shares it. It’s all good.

Husband & I in Terlingua


But reading? He doesn’t share this interest. He barely reads at all. Maybe magazine articles. (We scour Bike magazine’s annual Trails Issue for vacation ideas. Like, that’s how we decided to go to Vermont.) That’s okay; he doesn’t bother me when I read. He watches more television than I do – and is responsible for my recently acquired ability to tune out the television (um, mostly) while I read. But generally he’s a doer, not a sitter. And how great is that? This is a man who, given the day off or to “work from home,” will bake a batch of bread, build a deck in the backyard, change his oil, and sew on a button before he makes dinner. I am not complaining.

We don’t share reading as a passion, but he’s tolerant when I want to tell him about a book I’m reading. And he has actually come around to books, when they’re audio: when he flies on an airplane, he gets me to bring him a few audiobooks for the flight. He’s discovered he likes Michael Connelly and Lee Child (see, we’re like bookends). And we made this discovery in the best possible way: on a long road trip, together, to some of the best mountain bike trails in the driveable world. We listened to audiobooks, together, and shared the suspense, the surprises, and the enjoyment. Together. I guess this is the most important part, to me: that when it does come time for “reading” (eh, listening) to be a shared activity, we share the same tastes. That’s kind of the common factor here: having tastes in common. We like to eat the same foods, drink the same drinks, listen to the same music, go to the same places on vacation, ride the same trails. That’s how we get to spend time together, see?

So while I need for the Husband to share several of the passions that are most important to me, I don’t need him to share the books. Only one of us can read the same book at the same time, anyway! (I mean, physically, the same copy of…) But the little dogs are not negotiable.

Husband's caption for this is, "I'll be right here..."


I love you, darlin.

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different strokes

Posted on July 20, 2011 by pagesofjulia

I’m a big reader. Always have been. I’m pretty sure that our fate as readers – either joyful, voracious readers or reluctant ones – is set firmly in childhood. Those who learn to read hungrily as kids will know how to read hungrily forever – they may get too busy to do it right all their lives, but they can always return to such behavior, and I hope they will. Those who don’t learn to really love reading as children are unlikely to ever learn the same abandon in hours (and hours) of reading later. I’m sure there are exceptions (I certainly hope there are exceptions, to that second part of my theory) but I think this is generally true. I am a reader. Husband is not. He reads magazine articles, sometimes. He has read one book that I know of in our years together. But recently we discovered an ability to share an audiobook on a long drive, and I find this lovely. These days he asks for audiobooks when he’s going to fly somewhere for work. I feel so good about helping him find a way to appreciate books.

So the other night I’m on the couch, as usual, and Husband is on the loveseat, as usual, except NOT as usual, I don’t have a book in my lap to defend me from the television. Rather, I have a laptop and I’m researching a few beers that Husband has expressed an interest in: the black IPA (made by 512 brewing, as it turns out) and what I remembered as the Belgian IPA which turns out to be the BPA – Belgian pale ale – made by Ommegang (as I thought). And I look up and see this crazy whatnot that Husband has on the television and I say, what movie is this? and he says, it’s The Bone Collector. I say gasp! that’s a book! it’s a book by Jeffery Deaver.

This reminds me of that other day when I said gasp! oh boy, the Odyssey on audiobook, how wonderful. He said, Space 2001? I said, Homer!

I’ve never read any Deaver, although I certainly know of him (through the library where I work) as a genre author. I know his serial detective is Lincoln Rhyme. But I didn’t know until I caught this movie that he’s quadriplegic! The movie was quite good – I watched a good chunk of the middle part of it. All-star cast includes Denzel Washington (Rhyme himself), Angelina Jolie (of whom Husband is not a fan), Queen Latifah, and Luiz Guzmán, who I like very much. (I always remember him fondly from Punch-Drunk Love.) I think I might pick up one of Deaver’s books one of these days.

But my real point here is that while Husband and I approach books from very different starting points, we both still see books in our lives. (He’s seen a lot more books in his life since his wife became a librarian.) And I think that’s a beautiful thing. Even if my beer research and his television watching made up our route to books on this particular evening, it’s the destination that’s important.

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Texas

Posted on June 18, 2011 by pagesofjulia

Katie’s post last week really grabbed me. She wrote about her relationship with her home state of Texas: the love, the shame, the pride, what she does and doesn’t miss. I identified so strongly with her feelings that I wanted to share, too. I won’t try to top her very poetic tribute, but I will give a different perspective on my home environment than I did a few months ago.


I’ve lived in Houston, Texas all my life. I take pride and interest in being a somewhat unique creature: both a Southern, and a big-city girl. I have tried to leave a few times but never made the leap, and part of me still really wants to. (For one thing, I feel like we should probably all leave our hometowns at some point, in the interest of personal growth.) But Houston would be hard to top: I’d want another very big, very international city, along the lines of New York City, London, Athens, San Francisco, or Amsterdam, but each of these comes with a cost of living several times that of my hometown. Plus, the miserable, unbearable, humid Houston heat is what I’m acclimated to; colder winters than ours (which would be most of them) terrify me. And all of this times-two, because Husband is also a native Houstonian, who’s never left, and he’s even older and has deeper roots.

I didn’t come to this comfort with my home naturally or without some struggle, though. In high school all I could think of was getting out. (This is a typical symptom of being in high school, I think.) I was so sure that I wanted to leave Houston, and Texas. I shopped colleges all over the country. During this time I had an interesting experience: I was in Mexico with a group of kids from all over, and had asked to borrow something from a girl not from Texas that she didn’t have on hand. I said “thanks anyway,” to which she snapped, “you don’t have to be nasty about it. I just don’t have one.” I was shocked because I really meant… thanks anyway; thanks for checking; no worries. This tiny little moment opened my eyes to the idea that maybe there was something to this “Southern manners” concept. It was just a little thing, but in my 17-year-old mind it made an impression. For various reasons I ended up going to the University of Houston, and by the time I graduated I had no thoughts of leaving.

Several years later, when I got ready to go to grad school, I shopped schools, and places to live, again. This was, if anything, an even more enlightening process, probably because I was a few years older with a fuller sense of myself and what I wanted from the world. I had done some traveling all over the country, and had decided I definitely like a Southern pace and sensibility. The Pacific Northwest and New England are lovely places to visit, but I couldn’t imagine them ever feeling like home. Plus, the cold! I was all settled on North Carolina when, oops, I got engaged (not to mention changing my degree plan) and stayed in Houston, again.

I still get frustrated. It’s literally 100 degrees outside as often as not right now, and the humidity is often over 80%. You will absolutely sweat between the house and the car. On work days, I get up to ride my bicycle before the sun comes up, so I don’t have to do it in the evenings. As a cyclist, this city can be frustrating; urban sprawl, car culture, climate, and drivers’ inexperience with cyclists conspire to make it a deathtrap. And as a mountain biker, I’m thankful for the awesome trails all over this state, but also well aware of the superior options in many, many other locations. (We have a subscription to Bike magazine, which is a constant tease. On the other hand, we can plan vacations around their annual Trails issue…) And Katie was right-on when she referenced the religion-politics axis. For those who don’t know, Houston is a blue (Dem) city in a red (Rep) state, and my politics float left of blue. There are probably friendlier places for me, idealogically.

But being aware of shortcomings doesn’t mean you can’t still feel love. If I’ve had a complicated relationship with Houston, and Texas, over the years, is it possible that makes my love more complex and deeply felt? Because I love that we can ride bikes here year-round, and wear t-shirts on Christmas morning pretty regularly. I prefer to keep snow a novelty, thanks very much (hi Katie, definitely true here too!). I love it when the Husband’s mild southern accent sneaks out, and I guess the Drive-by Truckers are one of my favorite bands because they sing about “the duality of the Southern thang.” In other words, yes, we birthed the Bushes. Sorry, world. Some wrongs have been done in the South, but I’m not sure we have the world monopoly on racism, segregation, hate, or violence – or even ignorance. Let me borrow some more Truckers lyrics: “You know racism is a worldwide problem and has been since the beginning of recorded history, and it ain’t just white and black, either. But thanks to George Wallace, it’s always a little more convenient to play it with a Southern accent.”

Unlike Katie, I haven’t left yet, although I’d still like to. If and when I do, though, I may very well end up coming back. I can’t imagine anywhere else becoming truly home. If it does, it might have to be the Carolinas or Tennessee. Like Katie, I do say y’all, and I expect I always will. I don’t wear cowboy boots but I can appreciate them on my buddy Jimmy. I adore Mexican food, and I just don’t believe I could get it in Oregon the way I can here. It may not be perfect, but this is my home, and I’m proud of it.

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Comfort Guts ‘n’ Glory

Posted on June 13, 2011 by pagesofjulia

Just a quick note to let you know that if you’re interested, my race report is up from the 12-hour mountain bike race I did two weeks ago. Thanks!

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my hometown.

Posted on May 29, 2011 by pagesofjulia

I found the most delightful blog post earlier this week (last Sunday it was), by Susie over at useless beauty (which, by the way, is one of my most favorite laugh-out-loud blogs. I wish she blogged daily! three times a day! more, Susie, more!). She describes her hometown for us: the mundane details, that is, not the touristy ones. I love the concept, and since she’s a loooong way away from me, I found it fascinating because hers is a different world from mine. Here’s hoping you will also enjoy reading about my home. Thanks Susie for the inspiration.

Houston is a big city: the fourth largest in the US (after New York City, Los Angeles, and Chicago, in that order), at some 2-3 million people in “Houston proper” and an estimated 4-6 million in the “greater Houston area.” We make an excellent picture of urban sprawl; we are “car culture” incarnate. (I think this is true of the US in general, and Texas even more so, and Houston more so still). The climate and the sprawl, and the resulting car culture, conspire against bicycle riding as a way of life. And yet, we have a surprisingly large and vibrant cycling scene (in Houston, and in Texas). Maybe this is due to our large and diverse population; maybe if you put this many people in one place you’re bound to come up with some avid cyclists? Maybe Texans are accustomed to going against the grain? I don’t know, but I’m glad.

We also have a lot of non-native Texans here. Houston is a major port city, and a center of oil & gas and energy industries, and a center for health care, too. We are very international; this big city incorporates little pockets of not only Mexican and Latino populations, but also Indian, Chinese, Vietnamese, Nigerian, and more. We are a big, international city. I love that about my hometown. Our diverse population definitely does have a tendency to congregate itself into patches of black, white, and Hispanic neighborhoods. I don’t know, maybe that’s true everywhere.

But I’m getting off track. This is about what neighborhoods look like, right?

Well, so again, as a city not terribly conducive to walking or riding bicycles. There are not necessarily sidewalks in every neighborhood, and when there are sidewalks, they’re liable to be broken, have cars parked on them or trees growing them or be littered with… litter. Susie mentions cats in her neighborhood. Well, in mine, it’s dogs – lots of strays, unfortunately, including some who will chase you on your bicycle and too many who get hit by cars. 😦 But also lots of pet dogs. We don’t see cats much – probably something to do with all the free-range canines.

The city itself is, understandably, diverse; there are “nice” neighborhoods with nice sidewalks, nice pothole-less streets, large homes, and big trees (like River Oaks, which wikipedia claims is “one of the wealthiest zip codes” in the country). There are neighborhoods that absolutely feel like Mexico: street vendors, car mechanics setting up impromptu shops streetside, Tejano music blasting, the whole nine. We are diverse economically, too.

The Husband and I have recently purchased a home in a neighborhood in north inner-city Houston, meaning we’re just inside “the loop”, about 10 minutes by car from downtown. We are in a little pocket: surrounded by neighborhoods that are predominately Mexican and less affluent, our small niche has wide streets, old homes set well back from the street on large yards, and huge old trees. Many of our neighbors are original homeowners, or the family of the original homeowners. It’s a very quiet neighborhood. Having lived for years in artsy, hard-partying Montrose or the hipster, young-professional Heights, our current street feels very calm and quiet by comparison. It feels safer. (It was nice being just blocks from numerous stores and restaurants and bars in the Montrose, but I’m willing to trade a few minutes’ drive for some peace and quiet. Down there, the party’s in your backyard! and on the other hand, the party is in your backyard.)

Montrose and the Heights, along with Garden Oaks/Oak Forest and a number of other inner-loop neighborhoods, are very desirable to live in. Houston as a whole is having a little bit of a return to the city center, as gas prices have gone up and folks are less pleased with their 3-hour round-trip commute in from the suburbs. Thus, we see more and more townhouse complexes, next door to storage warehouses, so that folks can move in from their large (much more affordable) homes in the suburbs and put all their large-home possessions in storage while they live in a smaller home in the city (since that’s what they can afford, by comparison). Certain neighborhoods have done better than others at keeping their original “feel”: the Heights has worked hard (and is still working hard) to limit development to buildings that retain the historic-Heights look, while the Montrose is gradually becoming overcome by cardboard-and-aluminum monstrosities. Some creative and artistic construction, yes, but for every imaginative new home design there are ten Hardie-plank homes, built for the short-term. I’m happy to live in a neighborhood that is largely retaining its look and its feel. Here is our house:


(okay, not an ideal picture, it’s all I have at the moment.)

I don’t know that I’ve done as good a job as Susie did in describing her world, but I love where I live and it’s been fun writing about it. Houston’s not perfect; the summers are miserably hot and humid, it’s not the greatest place to be a bicycle enthusiast, and there are aspects of our culture I would take issue with. But it’s so unique: urban, international, and big-city-feeling, but also Southern and calm in a way that you can’t replicate in New York or LA. I like it here.

EDIT! I should have shared this picture of the beautiful deck that Husband built us recently! Yay Husband!

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The Long-Awaited, Much-Anticipated Julia Jenkins 26v29 Official Opinion. (preliminary.)

Posted on May 27, 2011 by pagesofjulia

This one is for my bicycle friends. My bookish friends are welcome too, of course.

Last night I rode my friend KD’s Epic 29er for the first time, at our local Memorial Park trails in town. I’ll have KD’s 29er for two weeks, which will be a great demo period (thanks KD!!). The question is this: now that I’m ready to replace both my hardtail and full-suspension mountain bikes, I need to decide whether I want to stick with the (standard, traditional-for-decades) 26-inch wheel size that I ride now, or move over to 29-inch wheels (which have gone from new-and-trendy to awfully ubiquitous). So, I’ve been fortunate to get KD’s 29er for some test rides. I have a 26er Epic, so there’s a fair comparison there (though hers is much newer and higher-end, thus my desire to upgrade).

Here’s the background: I am, if not change-averse, very cautious about changes and upgrades in technology and gadgetry. I was the last person I knew to get a cell phone; an email address; a facebook account. (And I have a website and a blog, yes. When I adopt, I do tend to do so wholeheartedly. But late.) After years of working in bike shops and racing bikes, I’m out of patience with gearheads – people who get super-psyched about upgrades and fancy equipment. It’s really a lot more about the engine than it is about your gear, people. I’m an anti-gearhead.

Thus my reluctance to “drink the kool-aid” or “go over to the dark side” or some might say, “get with the times” and get on the big wheels.

I know that 29ers hold momentum better, but I know they accelerate more slowly. I know that 29ers roll over obstacles better (any obstacle is smaller relative to a 29-inch wheel than it is relative to 26), but I also know that they’re less nimble in tight, twisty cornering scenarios.

I rode at Memorial last night just as a test ride, to get the bike set up for me. We adjusted the reach and the rear suspension a little. The real test will come this weekend at Comfort. Comfort trails beg for a 29er: wide-open, rocky, and technical. Great opportunity to roll over things with the bigger wheels, and not really any tight twisty stuff to challenge them. Memorial, meh. I’m not a huge fan of those trails these days; they’re pretty eroded and rooty (not to mention trafficked). And then of course, if I wanted to really challenge the 29er, I should take it to Lake Bryan trails, ha. Super twisty and tight; the joke is you’re looking at your own butt half the time. But that’s another story.

Very quickly during last night’s ride, I found myself liking it. It’s true that the big wheels gave me more confidence and rolled over things easier. There’s a slightly different rhythm or timing to the body English in the twistier sections, but it didn’t slow me down any; in fact it only took a minute to adjust, and it still felt right. The bike, ideally, should be like a 26er, just on a different scale. (KD is my perfect bike-trading buddy because we ride the same size – like, precisely, down to saddle height – use the same pedals, everything. So her bike definitely fits me. And this in a world where we worry about millimeters.)

But I made another odd observation: I was fighting it mentally. I didn’t want it to work! I guess I’m even more change-averse than I thought. Am I just hanging onto the thought of 26 inches because I have for so long, and I don’t want to admit I was wrong? Surely I’m not that prideful. I was looking for places it didn’t work. But I didn’t find them. And I’m sure I’m not going to find them in Comfort. In fact, I’m planning on taking both Epics (26 and 29), but I’m already feeling like the 26 might not see any dirt.

I guess if I really want to push it I should take the 29er to Bryan… and I do have the bike for another weekend.

So what do you think, friends? I want a ti hardtail! Thinking about the Ti Mariachi. And then maybe a Spearfish like Husband? Love the color… Then I’ll need a new singlespeed at some point… this is the fun part. 🙂

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Who are you, and how do you Armchair?

Posted on May 23, 2011 by pagesofjulia

A lovely group of book blogger people has put together a consolation event for those of us unable to attend this year’s BEA (Book Expo America). It’s called Armchair BEA, and it allows for bloggers to network and “meet” each other and share a bookish social event, without traveling to NYC. I shall be playing along by visiting other blogs and following the theme posts every day.

Today we got our first question of the week. Asks Armchair BEA,

Who are you, and how do you Armchair? This is the time to introduce yourself and your blog. Share with us a random fact about yourself. Use the organizer interviews for inspiration. Be creative, share photos, let your personality shine through! A number of new visitors may be hitting your sites, so give us a snapshot of who you are. Simply, share how you are kicking it!

We all enjoy the chance to talk about ourselves, right? 🙂

I live in Houston, Texas, and I love my hometown. I have a wonderful husband and two wonderful little dogs, and Husband and I both love to ride bicycles a lot. I’m a bike racer, too, and although I’m a bit out of shape and struggling this spring, I intend to make a comeback. We spend a lot of weekends traveling to ride and race, and we’re great fans of craft beer, too. I work as a librarian, and aside from cycling, reading is obviously a great passion of mine. Little dogs, bicycles, books and beer, along with my family, make up my life.

To steal a few questions from the Meet the Armchair BEA Team post…

If you could put one book in the hands of everyone you come in contact with, what would it be and why?

There’s always one, but I think it always changes, too! I could name several: The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe; The Hobbit by Tolkien; For Whom the Bell Tolls by Hemingway; The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot; My Stroke of Insight by Jill Bolte Taylor. But right now, at this moment, I am very excited about Fire Season by Philip Connors, and that’s the book I would be placing in people’s hands.

If you could have lunch with any author, living or not, who would it be and where/what would you eat?

The author that I have been most consistently fascinated by all my life is Ernest Hemingway. I am delirious with love for his work, and I like to read about him, too, because not only did he create beautiful art, but he’s an intriguing figure, too. Not entirely likeable, but definitely intriguing. I would most like to meet Ernest Hemingway, and find out if I would be drawn into his spell! He seems to have been a real jerk, eventually, to all of his four wives; but they all married him (three, after being a mistress while he was married to the wife before), and it seems clear that many other women, besides, were convinced that he was wonderful despite his bad behaviors.

We would eat at one of those sidewalk cafes he describes in Spain, in The Sun Also Rises, or a take-out picnic in a similar setting. I love his description of the cold white wine that Jake and Bill keep in the stream while they fish for trout. Something like that. In my opinion, nobody describes food and drink like Papa; I would share one of his many delectably described simple meals with him.

And finally, in the spirit of personal sharing… a few pictures for you.

I just got my first pair of glasses! Not only can I see better – I’m a real librarian now!

This picture is from last spring, but still representative: amid the bluebonnets (state flower of Texas, no it’s not the yellow rose) at Rocky Hill Ranch, where I raced yesterday.

And finally, here I am being a library-tourist at the public library in Den Haag (the Hague) in the Netherlands. (Also not a new picture; this was January 2010.)

If you’re just dying to know more about me, and see more pictures, check out my personal website.

And thanks for stopping by!

Edit: thanks Jenna for pointing this out: I need a pic of my little dogs here!

Hops (in front) and Ritchey (in back)

Hops, Ritchey, and my parents’ dog, Barley (perhaps a hint of Westie for you there?)

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a surprise

Posted on May 21, 2011 by pagesofjulia

I had been in a bad wreck, and had spent weeks at my parents’ house, being waited on and recovering slowly, and then quickly. I had discovered that my plans of pursuing a graduate degree were not, after all, shot by brain injury. I had been researching and even applying to graduate schools out of state. I was, as we say in Texas, fixin’ to make a change.

I was at work at the bike shop late one night. Several of my fellow members of our sponsored race team had stopped by for a visit/meeting/beer drinking session. One of them was The Man I’d had a crush on for quite some time. I told him of my plans to leave town, and he seemed a bit shocked.

Just a few of us decided to go out for a beer when the shop closed. The Man was right behind us, we thought.

We met up at a local dive bar. We’ll call it Linda’s. Linda’s is a dingy, dark place; it’s best they keep it dark to hide the bugs and filth. You have to specify that you want your tequila cold or you’ll get it warm. They do keep their Lone Star beer cold, at least.

I’d had a few by the time The Man showed up; I was beginning to lose hope. But happily, he sat right next to me! After sundry conversation… he put his Lone Star down and sort of squared his body, and he said, “Okay. I need to tell you something.”

This is where it all comes out. In the paraphrased words of The Man, he had this new puppy, oh, five years ago. He took his puppy to the dog park to play around. He saw the most amazing girl there! She had this urban punk look about her (or some such) and tattoos. He thought she was amazing. She had a little dog, too. But he knew what a singles scene the dog park was, and he let it pass.

A few years later, he was going to buy beer at the liquor warehouse downtown. He found Sierra Nevada Pale Ale on sale, yay! (Yes, there is product placement in this story.) He rounded the corner in the beer aisle, and oh heck! There was Dog Park Girl! She asked if he needed help with anything, and he mumbled and fled with his case of beer.

At the register, the cashier rang his Sierra up, but the price was wrong: it was full retail. He protested, no, this beer is $31 a case on sale (or whatever it was). She pulled her PA mic over… “Beer assistance… I need beer assistance on aisle 14.” The Man looked up to see Dog Park Girl striding towards him; he hurriedly paid full price for his beer and flew out of the store.

A few years later, he entered the bike shop where he’d been shopping for some 15 years – the bike shop that had sponsored his mountain bike racing for over 10 years – and spotted none other than Dog Park Girl behind the register. He thought to himself, well, time to find a new bike shop.

Back to me. I remember this day. I was new at work, and I was behind the register with my buddy who was training me. I noticed The Man as he pulled into the parking lot in his Honda Element, a car I’d been admiring for its (bike) cargo capacity and supposed gas mileage. (The Man was later to tell me, not so much on the gas mileage.) He was a handsome man. When he walked in the door, I asked him about his Element, mentioning that one of our fellow bike monkeys drove one, too. My buddy-bike-monkey snidely informed me that this was aforementioned bike monkey’s best friend, duh. I grinned embarrassedly at The Man; but he just grinned back. He didn’t speak. He passed us by and went to find the best friend.

For the first year I worked at that bike shop, I don’t think The Man spoke to me, certainly not in polysyllables. He avoided me and went looking for the best friend; he asked to speak to the best friend on the phone. I began to despair that he was one of those sexist bike shop customers who avoids me on principle, sure that a woman couldn’t possibly decipher which size inner tube with which valve type will fit his flat tire, let alone anything more complex.

But we did gradually learn to communicate. For example, he put his foot in it when he asked about my Valentine’s Day plans on the day that I moved out of my ex-boyfriend’s house. He was clearly flustered when I explained what my plans were.

By the time I was ready to join the newly re-forming shop-sponsored race team, we were friendly, and he was able to accept my application and then we were teammates. We even had a few beers together. Fastforward to the night in question: we had had a few beers together, met at Linda’s, and sat together at the bar. We were drinking Lone Star, and he was spilling his guts.

He said that by the time he had encountered me at the dog park, the beer store, and the bike shop, and then we had become race teammates and learned to speak in complete sentences, he had decided he loved me.

My chin was on my chest. I couldn’t believe The Man I’d admired and crushed on and tried to invite to events only to be rebuffed, The Man who wouldn’t speak to me at the bike shop for a whole year because he was a sexist, was not a sexist at all. He was just tongue-tied! And in LOVE?

Two months later, we were engaged, on a beach in Mexico; and another two months after that, we were married under a big tree in a park in hometown Houston. Then we opened our cans of Modelo Especial. I did not leave town for graduate school. That night at Linda’s was the last time I was really, truly, outrageously floored.

I wrote this in response to The Daily Post, which gives daily prompts for bloggers who might be writers-blocked. I rarely respond to the prompts, but I find them interesting. After sitting on this for a while and getting Husband’s permission, I thought I would go ahead and share it here.

Filed under: musings | Tagged: | 4 Comments »

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