Month: May 2011

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Cinco de Mustache Sign at the Arabella Whole Foods

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Yesterday I had the worst headache I can remember having. It was like somebody had a little sledgehammer and had taken up residence in my left temple, thumping away and sending pain down through my neck and shoulder. It finally broke last night, but I still have lingering pain in my neck and shoulder. When I got on the bike and headed to campus this afternoon I could tell it wasn’t a biking injury. It felt good, after a day off, to be back and spinning mindlessly. It didn’t take long to remember that it’s Cinco de Mayo today. Superior Grill was blocking off the street for their party (Dos Equis bottles for $4, fyi) and as I entered campus, I already saw students carrying those foam cups with red straws–tell-tale signs of frosty drinks. I got to my office and settled in with a stack of papers, pen in my right hand, head cocked to the left. Oh, that’s what hurts. 15 to go, and I can give my body a break. I got back on my bike and headed to the grocery store. Apparently I missed the mustache-and-sombrero competition they held earlier in celebration of Cinco de Mayo. Am I the only one who is kinda creeped out by this “holiday” that just seems to traffic in weird racial stereotypes? I was happy to ride home, turn on some baseball, and cook myself up some broccoli and tofu, avoiding the crowds of drunk people. Sometimes I just gotta be me.

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Flat Tire at Broadway & Willow

I got up early this morning and zipped to school for a final exam. It was warm and breezy, but four hours later when I dragged myself out of Gibson Hall it was downright chilly. I walked my bike over to the cafeteria while complaining on the phone to my old friend S., who has listened to 12 years of complaintapillerring from me. After some work at the office I got back on the bike and headed to Mid-City followed by a stop in the Treme. Thump thump thump. Yeah, that’s my rim back there I feel as I galumph over these potholes. I had a flat and–don’t tell my father–I wasn’t carrying a spare tube, or lever, or a patch kit, or a pump. Fortunately J. had my car and kindly fetched me and my bike and I did my errands by car. Weird. I can’t seem to find my flat tools; I think it’s just that kind of day and that kind of riding. I’ll patch her up tomorrow.

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Cement Truck and Workers at Camp and Louisiana

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I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: commuting by bike means you get to ride your bike every single day, no matter what. I had a lot of stuff to do today, but I got there on my bike, which meant 12 or so miles of spinning along in the sunshine. I started with a ride over to Mid-City to help R. move into her new place (congrats!) followed by a ride to campus to meet with a student and finish up prep for summer school, which starts in two weeks. After a quick stop at the grocery I headed home. My head was busy busy, so on that last couple of miles I tried to get out of my head and really look. There was that all-white house that’s so white it almost glows, a plot of wildflowers (though I guess they’ve been domesticated if they’re living in a yard), a clump of bright orange gerber daisies, that boat (do you think it ever sees water?), and then, as I crossed Delachaise on Camp, this cement truck and a whole bunch of workers making the rust-colored cement smooth as ice in that massive driveway. Why is a cement truck unloading cement that’s spread like frosting so satisfying? This morning when I rolled out they were lacing the ground with steel, and by the time I had dropped my groceries and met with my writing group the place was all done and a little boy was hanging out and getting the skinny from the workers on the big project. I guess I’m not the only one who wants to watch.

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Beignets & Coffee at Cafe du Monde

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I spent the day in Lafayette at the Festival Internationale, but to get there I had to ride in a car. Fortunately it was a carpool, so I got to ride my bike down to the Treme to meet up with S., R., and M. The car ride was long, but the day was perfect–sunny, breezy, music and dancing, and fried catfish over rice with etouffe. I was going to treat myself to a funnel cake, but the place called the “Dutch cakes,” and I just couldn’t abide that. Back in New Orleans, I got back on the bike and headed to Cafe du Monde for beignets and a large cafe au lait. Suck it, Dutch cake! And look in the background–that’s my bike. Ain’t she a dream? What a lovely ending to a lovely day.