The details are here.
Fence Stays, Path to be added
18 minutes ago
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Friday, November 06, 2009
Freewheeling Roundup
"This is so much nicer than being trapped inside that gas-guzzling Millennium Falcon, right Chewie?" Or you write the caption.
DC Beer: Our top story - black Belgian double IPA comes to D.C.
Skepchick: Asks meateaters what animals they wouldn't eat, and how they draw the line. Now up to nearly 200 comments.
Planetary Gears: Predicting the evolution of transportation bikes.
Velo-Orange: Claims that the best Taiwanese-made frames are equal to that of many U.S. custom builders.
U Street Mom: Lessons learned on her new Madsen cargo bike. (BFROU also has a blurb about Madsen).
Chasing Away Saltwater: A compelling memoir, with a guest turn by E, formerly of Talking Budgie, now of Running Budgie.
Cycle Jerk: DC has a tweed ride!
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
The Flu Shot - A Pain In The Neck?
On Tuesday, October 20, I got a flu shot. It was the last time I was not in pain.The next morning, I woke up with neck and shoulder pain. For two weeks, I had spasms starting on the left side of my neck and going down my left arm, with tingling sensations and numbness all the way to my fingertips. I could not turn my head left. Even now, after more than two weeks on painkillers, I still have neck pain, although not nearly as severe.
Could the flu shot have done this to me?
Sunday, November 01, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
Freewheeling Zombie Roundup
Photo credit: Stevey.com
ed. note: This is a rerun from 2008, but most of the links are still good. Enjoy.
The Zombie Drivers viral email is off to a slow start. I posted it at bike forums where it was met with a mix of heavy skepticism and open hostility. While we wait for it to go viral, here's some other zombie news:
Dan Savage: Nice cartoon about zombie drivers dooring cyclists.
Zombie Co-op: Some zombies prefer bikes.
Flickr: Zombie driver on the front lawn.
Beer and Sympathy: Zombie drivers invade Sydney.
Zazzle: Zombie drivers suck. Get the t-shirt.
Fox News: A fair and balanced report on zombie drivers who take prescription drugs.
Ehowton: “These lethal zombie-drivers were using their vehicles to run down pedestrians and other cars on the freeway.” Just a dream?
Boingboing: High school student in Kentucky arrested for writing story about zombies. True story, and truly scary.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Ghosts in the Old Senate Chamber
This year’s Halloween story is for Ann at Beginning To Wonder.
It was nearly midnight when I left Union Station in search of a cab. Outside, it was a dark, starless night, and a light breeze swept dried autumn leaves across the avenues. As I stood in a long line of weary travelers waiting for the next available taxi, I looked across at the Capitol Dome, its lights blazing in the night.
Such a magnificent sight! Yet I couldn't help feeling that the building, despite all its grandeur, seems destined to always be occupied by utterly flawed men and women.
At that moment, as I was caught up in this dreary thought, I spotted a familiar figure -- a famous senator -- strolling across a dark grove on the capital grounds. As I turned back to my wait for a taxi, a feeling of amazement and terror slowly rose up inside of me.
Wait!
It could not be!
I could barely see the figure now, but I was sure I had seen him. I would have recognized his distinctive face and silver mane of hair anywhere! I turned to the woman standing behind me and blurted out:
“Ma’am, look over there! Isn’t that... Isn’t it... Teddy Kennedy!!!”
The woman quickly moved away from me, as if I were just another crazy person insanely ranting outside of Union Station.
I decided I had to go see for myself. I ran across Columbus Circle toward the trees where I believed I had seen the visage of Senator Kennedy. When I arrived, out of breath, to the place where I was sure he had been, I looked around and found no one. A chill wind swept over the place, rustling the dry leaves.
And then I saw him. He was walking toward the Senate side of the Capitol with a thick briefcase in his hand. I chased after him, not sure what I would say if I actually caught up. I ran hard, but just as I reached him he passed right through the solid wall of the Capitol Building and disappeared.
For a long moment, I just stared in disbelief at the spot where he had vanished. Suddenly, a fire door that I had not noticed before swung open. I was so frightened I could not move. And then Kennedy appeared at the doorway, eyed me impatiently, and in his distinctive baritone, reproached me.
“Keep up with me! The session has already begun!”
He turned and the door began to close behind him. Although completely stunned, I seized the doorknob and entered. Inside, Kennedy moved slowly, one step at a time, up a cold, empty stairwell which was illuminated only by candlelight. At the top of the stairs, Kennedy pushed open a heavy wooden door and entered a small, ornate chamber that was also lit up only by candles. A sign plate near the doorway identified it as the Old Senate Chamber.
We entered in the middle of an eloquent speech given by an apparition behind a lecturn. At the front of the chamber, a pale, bald and wrinkled figure rose from his seat and, speaking in a southern drawl, interrupted the speaker.
“The senator has expired,” he said. “And so has his alloted time.”
It was Strom Thurmond! Ted continued his way down the aisle, and I heard whispered greetings as well as the comment that “Strom’s just keeping the president pro tem’s seat warm til Senator Byrd gets here.”
“The chair now recognizes the gentleman from Massachusetts,” Senator Thurmond said. I thought Teddy would turn and take the lecturn. Instead, he continued to make his way to the back of the chamber.
Another familiar looking figure, who I later learned was Daniel Webster, rose to speak.
“I wish to respond to the good senator’s remarks...” he began, but I quickly became distracted. Teddy was finally taking his seat and was being welcomed by his neighbors with warm embraces and handshakes. And then I noticed that his desk was between those of his brothers, John and Robert, both of whom, I recalled, had also once served in the Senate.
As the session continued, I stood at the back of the chamber, behind Teddy and his brothers, as I supposed an aide or page would do. Senator Webster finished his speech, and then a Senator Haynes replied to Webster at length, and then there was a pause in the proceedings.
The president pro tem rose and again recognized “the gentleman from Massachusetts...”.
I thought Teddy would rise to speak, or maybe his brother John, but neither of them stirred. Instead, it was Charles Sumner who approached the lecturn, his face bloody and contorted as if recently beaten. He held up a cane, which appeared to be covered with his own blood, and then, with inhuman strength, he snapped it in two over his knee. I later learned that the bloody cane belonged to pro-slavery Senator Preston Brooks, who had thrashed Sumner nearly to death with it right in this very chamber in reprisal for Sumner’s speech demanding the repeal of the Fugitive Slavery Act.
“In my time, I was called a radical for denouncing the barbarism of slavery,” Sumner began. “A radical! The years have intervened and tombs have opened, and finally our great nation has ended that barbarism. I am not here to take credit, although I suffered greatly for my undying opposition to slavery; rather, I only remind you all, whether among the living or among the dead, of this truth: The sacred animosity of Freedom and Slavery can end only with the triumph of Freedom!”
Thurmond, who clearly seemed uncomfortable with Sumner’s oration, informed him that his time had expired and then acknowledged the “gentlewoman from Georgia.” A remarkable woman, with her white hair drawn up in a bun, took the lecturn. I later learned that she was Rebecca Latimer Felton, the first woman to serve in the Senate (albeit for a single day in 1922).
She looked over the chamber of all-male ghostly senators and declared:
“Let me say, Mr. President, that when the women of the country come in and sit with you, as they are now sitting in the Senate chamber of the living, I pledge you that you will get ability, you will get integrity of purpose, you will get exalted patriotism, and you will get unstinted usefulness.”
Following her graceful speech, Thurmond rose and, yet again, acknowledged “the gentleman from Massachusetts.”
I saw Senators Webster and Sumner still milling about, and wondered whether either one had more to say. Instead, this time Teddy rose, and slowly made his way to the lecturn.
“My fellow senators, my fellow Americans, it is so wonderful to be here. And nothing -- nothing is going to keep me away from this special gathering tonight.
“We are told that health care for every man, woman, and child in the United States is just too difficult to achieve and too bold of an endeavor. But when my brother John, sitting right over there, called of going to the moon, he didn't say ‘It's too hard to get there. We shouldn't even try.’
”Our people answered his call and rose to the challenge, and today an American flag still marks the surface of the moon.
”Yes, we are all Americans. This is what we do. We reach the moon. We scale the heights. I know it. I've seen it. I've lived it.
”We can do it again. And I will haunt this chamber, and the chamber of the living, until we do!”
Then, looking at me, he added: “For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die.”
And so I left, and inspired by Teddy Kennedy and his fellow Senate ghosts, I quickly wrote this tale. Teddy has passed, and there is so much left undone. My message from Teddy, however, is do not be afraid...
The dream shall never die.
R.I.P. Edward Moore Kennedy (Feb. 22, 1932 - Aug. 25, 2009).
It was nearly midnight when I left Union Station in search of a cab. Outside, it was a dark, starless night, and a light breeze swept dried autumn leaves across the avenues. As I stood in a long line of weary travelers waiting for the next available taxi, I looked across at the Capitol Dome, its lights blazing in the night.
Such a magnificent sight! Yet I couldn't help feeling that the building, despite all its grandeur, seems destined to always be occupied by utterly flawed men and women.
At that moment, as I was caught up in this dreary thought, I spotted a familiar figure -- a famous senator -- strolling across a dark grove on the capital grounds. As I turned back to my wait for a taxi, a feeling of amazement and terror slowly rose up inside of me.
Wait!
It could not be!
I could barely see the figure now, but I was sure I had seen him. I would have recognized his distinctive face and silver mane of hair anywhere! I turned to the woman standing behind me and blurted out:
“Ma’am, look over there! Isn’t that... Isn’t it... Teddy Kennedy!!!”
The woman quickly moved away from me, as if I were just another crazy person insanely ranting outside of Union Station.
I decided I had to go see for myself. I ran across Columbus Circle toward the trees where I believed I had seen the visage of Senator Kennedy. When I arrived, out of breath, to the place where I was sure he had been, I looked around and found no one. A chill wind swept over the place, rustling the dry leaves.
And then I saw him. He was walking toward the Senate side of the Capitol with a thick briefcase in his hand. I chased after him, not sure what I would say if I actually caught up. I ran hard, but just as I reached him he passed right through the solid wall of the Capitol Building and disappeared.
For a long moment, I just stared in disbelief at the spot where he had vanished. Suddenly, a fire door that I had not noticed before swung open. I was so frightened I could not move. And then Kennedy appeared at the doorway, eyed me impatiently, and in his distinctive baritone, reproached me.
“Keep up with me! The session has already begun!”
He turned and the door began to close behind him. Although completely stunned, I seized the doorknob and entered. Inside, Kennedy moved slowly, one step at a time, up a cold, empty stairwell which was illuminated only by candlelight. At the top of the stairs, Kennedy pushed open a heavy wooden door and entered a small, ornate chamber that was also lit up only by candles. A sign plate near the doorway identified it as the Old Senate Chamber.
We entered in the middle of an eloquent speech given by an apparition behind a lecturn. At the front of the chamber, a pale, bald and wrinkled figure rose from his seat and, speaking in a southern drawl, interrupted the speaker.
“The senator has expired,” he said. “And so has his alloted time.”
It was Strom Thurmond! Ted continued his way down the aisle, and I heard whispered greetings as well as the comment that “Strom’s just keeping the president pro tem’s seat warm til Senator Byrd gets here.”
“The chair now recognizes the gentleman from Massachusetts,” Senator Thurmond said. I thought Teddy would turn and take the lecturn. Instead, he continued to make his way to the back of the chamber.
Another familiar looking figure, who I later learned was Daniel Webster, rose to speak.
“I wish to respond to the good senator’s remarks...” he began, but I quickly became distracted. Teddy was finally taking his seat and was being welcomed by his neighbors with warm embraces and handshakes. And then I noticed that his desk was between those of his brothers, John and Robert, both of whom, I recalled, had also once served in the Senate.
As the session continued, I stood at the back of the chamber, behind Teddy and his brothers, as I supposed an aide or page would do. Senator Webster finished his speech, and then a Senator Haynes replied to Webster at length, and then there was a pause in the proceedings.
The president pro tem rose and again recognized “the gentleman from Massachusetts...”.
I thought Teddy would rise to speak, or maybe his brother John, but neither of them stirred. Instead, it was Charles Sumner who approached the lecturn, his face bloody and contorted as if recently beaten. He held up a cane, which appeared to be covered with his own blood, and then, with inhuman strength, he snapped it in two over his knee. I later learned that the bloody cane belonged to pro-slavery Senator Preston Brooks, who had thrashed Sumner nearly to death with it right in this very chamber in reprisal for Sumner’s speech demanding the repeal of the Fugitive Slavery Act.
“In my time, I was called a radical for denouncing the barbarism of slavery,” Sumner began. “A radical! The years have intervened and tombs have opened, and finally our great nation has ended that barbarism. I am not here to take credit, although I suffered greatly for my undying opposition to slavery; rather, I only remind you all, whether among the living or among the dead, of this truth: The sacred animosity of Freedom and Slavery can end only with the triumph of Freedom!”
Thurmond, who clearly seemed uncomfortable with Sumner’s oration, informed him that his time had expired and then acknowledged the “gentlewoman from Georgia.” A remarkable woman, with her white hair drawn up in a bun, took the lecturn. I later learned that she was Rebecca Latimer Felton, the first woman to serve in the Senate (albeit for a single day in 1922).
She looked over the chamber of all-male ghostly senators and declared:
“Let me say, Mr. President, that when the women of the country come in and sit with you, as they are now sitting in the Senate chamber of the living, I pledge you that you will get ability, you will get integrity of purpose, you will get exalted patriotism, and you will get unstinted usefulness.”
Following her graceful speech, Thurmond rose and, yet again, acknowledged “the gentleman from Massachusetts.”
I saw Senators Webster and Sumner still milling about, and wondered whether either one had more to say. Instead, this time Teddy rose, and slowly made his way to the lecturn.
“My fellow senators, my fellow Americans, it is so wonderful to be here. And nothing -- nothing is going to keep me away from this special gathering tonight.
“We are told that health care for every man, woman, and child in the United States is just too difficult to achieve and too bold of an endeavor. But when my brother John, sitting right over there, called of going to the moon, he didn't say ‘It's too hard to get there. We shouldn't even try.’
”Our people answered his call and rose to the challenge, and today an American flag still marks the surface of the moon.
”Yes, we are all Americans. This is what we do. We reach the moon. We scale the heights. I know it. I've seen it. I've lived it.
”We can do it again. And I will haunt this chamber, and the chamber of the living, until we do!”
Then, looking at me, he added: “For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die.”
And so I left, and inspired by Teddy Kennedy and his fellow Senate ghosts, I quickly wrote this tale. Teddy has passed, and there is so much left undone. My message from Teddy, however, is do not be afraid...
The dream shall never die.
R.I.P. Edward Moore Kennedy (Feb. 22, 1932 - Aug. 25, 2009).
Credits: Laura Padgett on flickr (Capitol photo); Senate Historical Office; wikipedia.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Freewheeling Roundup
"A party on two wheels"... or you write the caption.Throwing Hammers: Hammer apparently believes that he's about to end his blog. We’ll let him buy us all a beer first and then give him the news that Throwing Hammers must go on.
Up In Alaska: Two things she knows about life and love.
Free Range Kids: Is it a crime to be naked while making coffee in your own kitchen?
Foilwoman: Knowing what one wants; wanting what one has.
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