I'm sure you, My Public, have been wondering if Frogman had hopped away from his blog responsibilities. Well Yes, but only because my twice-rebuilt, recently updated, AVG protected "Personal Computer" had a motherboard crash that sent the hard drive into a non-responsive safe mode akin to a high-tech spy satellite (recently shot out of the sky). It can only be rescued in autopsy, cannibalized for it's precious drafting files of our house and the germ of it's addition.
To err is human, alas it takes a computer to F' Up Big Time.
So I've been otherwise occupied, but found that the latest Leopard operating system on Mac's allow you to partition the hard drive through Boot Camp and load Windows on any Intel Apple. Best of both worlds! I went for this approach since we don't need Windows and OSX to talk to each other and I was wary of Parallels slowing down my drafting program. This way they both operate in their native environment and I can forget building up another Piece of Crap.
Anyone need a monitor the size of a couch?
There's still work to be done as I've got two weeks of constipated Power Tap files to dump and will have to re-protect the Windows side of the Mac. I am happy to get Windows running, but feel blasphemous, tarnishing the pristine beauty and elegance of an Apple with the clumsy and sickly Microsoft alien. Once under control I can focus on more important things like the house design and Trade Zone.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Back in the Saddle
Finally a weekend where I got two rides in! Saturday was brutal as the cobwebs and moist chill left the ol' FM feeling creaky (in lieu of croaky). A late start meant the N2 should have passed my rendezvous at 7Locks & Tuckerman, but miraculously (for me) they were passing through only about a minute ahead, but the "miracle" was thanks to three riders going down in the early morning black ice of RCP. All staunchly stuck it out to do abbreviated rides.
Energized by the catch, I did my typical attack down Glen to get the blood flowing, but the long rollers and a feeling that something was fishy in last nights sushi compelled me to abandon the ride to Poolesville and convalesce home on the regular River Road Route with Phil P and Greg C who was the Fire to the Poolesville Pan. No matter, a crappy day on the bike beats a good day doing most anything else.
Sunday Bicycle Place Ride - my first in like two months! Another late start as I barely caught the back end of the ride as it turned up Massachusetts, worked my way up but we were gapped by the A's. I was looking to do the A- (the old shop course with Whoever would be With Me) but was resigned to lead the B's (not that there's anything wrong with that), taking strong pulls in the slow (but steady!) Clara Barton paceline and then only getting passed by those skinny climbers up Mt. Gate (Note to Self: Work Your Fat @ss).
Brickyard was a clinic of Anger Management. Where was Anglers? How about Great Falls?
I cranked it up and dared others to work, pulling the entire group with only a short breather before cracking the whip down Falls and overtaking a chatting Adam F & Ray Man who quickly joined the fray. Tempo was now up, Game On! It may be February but that's a fine time to do some quad ripping, heart pounding (Power Tap registered null), barn storming, nostril blaring, snot seething, uh, rides.
I rested on Bradley but then had a heckuva lot of traffic to navigate to get into position for Democracy. I did, getting on the wheel of two big guns who led out and left me space for the final attack, but out of nowhere Miguel (Little Mig) comes around and pounced, taking the field sprint ahead of me and Kevin's Dad.
By time we got into the Park, where a rather large contingency took on the Extra Ten, I was fighting some mighty quad cramps (see above), unable to finish strong up the last of the days' hills. 12 more miles to home and I almost collapsed by Chevy Chase Elem., completely bonked.
(Insert Aerosmith's "Back in the Saddle Again" here).
Energized by the catch, I did my typical attack down Glen to get the blood flowing, but the long rollers and a feeling that something was fishy in last nights sushi compelled me to abandon the ride to Poolesville and convalesce home on the regular River Road Route with Phil P and Greg C who was the Fire to the Poolesville Pan. No matter, a crappy day on the bike beats a good day doing most anything else.
Sunday Bicycle Place Ride - my first in like two months! Another late start as I barely caught the back end of the ride as it turned up Massachusetts, worked my way up but we were gapped by the A's. I was looking to do the A- (the old shop course with Whoever would be With Me) but was resigned to lead the B's (not that there's anything wrong with that), taking strong pulls in the slow (but steady!) Clara Barton paceline and then only getting passed by those skinny climbers up Mt. Gate (Note to Self: Work Your Fat @ss).
Brickyard was a clinic of Anger Management. Where was Anglers? How about Great Falls?
I cranked it up and dared others to work, pulling the entire group with only a short breather before cracking the whip down Falls and overtaking a chatting Adam F & Ray Man who quickly joined the fray. Tempo was now up, Game On! It may be February but that's a fine time to do some quad ripping, heart pounding (Power Tap registered null), barn storming, nostril blaring, snot seething, uh, rides.
I rested on Bradley but then had a heckuva lot of traffic to navigate to get into position for Democracy. I did, getting on the wheel of two big guns who led out and left me space for the final attack, but out of nowhere Miguel (Little Mig) comes around and pounced, taking the field sprint ahead of me and Kevin's Dad.
By time we got into the Park, where a rather large contingency took on the Extra Ten, I was fighting some mighty quad cramps (see above), unable to finish strong up the last of the days' hills. 12 more miles to home and I almost collapsed by Chevy Chase Elem., completely bonked.
(Insert Aerosmith's "Back in the Saddle Again" here).
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Winter Shape
People are always coming up to me and asking, "Frogman, pray tell the secrets of keeping in your winter shape". "Well," I respond, "It's not as hard as it looks and no good secret is fun unless shared. It starts with not having the time to go on lunchtime hill rides like many of my brethren, eating energy bars as sustenance when skipping meals, designing an affordable house addition when I can barely afford the house, tempered by hitting the weight room for strengthening and resistance training, long hikes, rowing & cycling machines while cranking the Gorillaz and getting back on the N2 ride where I am the King of Democracy" (proclaimed with just enough irony).
"Word on the street is you do Pilates II classes."
"Don't bore me with your old news. Maybe I occasionally hit the mat in the morning, if it's convenient. Man, that stuff kills your gut, what with The Saw, Neck Pulls, Spine Twist, Teaser Camp (tee hee) and, Oh My G_D (OMG), the Bicycle! Come January, I don't need it. Comfort Food, Baby!"
"Yeah, but do your secrets work?"
"Can't say, as I avoid all mirrors until April. Can't seem to read a scale either, LOL. What I like is the spring rebound, having left lots of room for improvement. IOW, sweetening the deal like make-up sex (MUS).
"Um, thanks. Your secret is safe with me..."
"Word on the street is you do Pilates II classes."
"Don't bore me with your old news. Maybe I occasionally hit the mat in the morning, if it's convenient. Man, that stuff kills your gut, what with The Saw, Neck Pulls, Spine Twist, Teaser Camp (tee hee) and, Oh My G_D (OMG), the Bicycle! Come January, I don't need it. Comfort Food, Baby!"
"Yeah, but do your secrets work?"
"Can't say, as I avoid all mirrors until April. Can't seem to read a scale either, LOL. What I like is the spring rebound, having left lots of room for improvement. IOW, sweetening the deal like make-up sex (MUS).
"Um, thanks. Your secret is safe with me..."
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Shake it Up
What's in a dream? Have they ever been so vivid that you feel yourself thinking they're real, even during an impossible peregrination from the mundane to the fantastic?
My wife and I went to The Bicycle Place where many familiar faces from the cycling community were gathering for a long bike tour, like to the end of the Canal, except I didn't recognize any of the names along the route. As we assembled to go , there was a lot of activity in The Shop where Mike's family (more grown up) were playing around the stairway which had a wobbly railing that an older Brock commented on being "a loose Bannister Fletcher", which made me laugh because the pun referred to the classic architectural encyclopedia. Clever kid. Downstairs were youngsters assembling, like, three different Titanic puzzles. A narrative in my head explained how the doomed ships' boilers kept fireing even as they settled into the sea (not entirely accurate)...
But then we were in the tour van, having a good time; The Car's were on the radio playing "Shake it Up" while the guy next to me, who looked exactly like the Terps' Bambale Osby, was singing the chorus, "Do do doo" (unlikely) when discussion led to this guy who wrote an amazing book about proportions and beauty and how he was inspired from the view from his hillside cave, coming into view so blindingly bright like the white cliffs of Dover and then I morphed into him and saw for myself the most fantastical urbanscape of buildings and temples with spires and gilded domes rising up out of the landscape that stretched across the horizon before me... then my step-mother-in-law took back the book as she is wont to do, though oddly the binding changed into the color and consistency of molasses as it ended up in one of my neighbors' hands...
It was time to resume the tour as our group tromped down a long staircase to street level which consisted of a network of canals. Barracuda-sized fish raced along these channels and I followed one as fast as I could, barely keeping up with it and the voice of our tour guide who was explaining everything so authoritatively with his British accent and of course it all made perfect sense at the time... but then I was moving swiftly on rails, through a train yard passing freight cars overflowing with gray gravel under canvas tarps and surrounded by a bleak burned out city with block after block of hollow building shells of ochre and mustard. Where had that fantastic city gone?
Alarm clock said it was time to go to work.
My wife and I went to The Bicycle Place where many familiar faces from the cycling community were gathering for a long bike tour, like to the end of the Canal, except I didn't recognize any of the names along the route. As we assembled to go , there was a lot of activity in The Shop where Mike's family (more grown up) were playing around the stairway which had a wobbly railing that an older Brock commented on being "a loose Bannister Fletcher", which made me laugh because the pun referred to the classic architectural encyclopedia. Clever kid. Downstairs were youngsters assembling, like, three different Titanic puzzles. A narrative in my head explained how the doomed ships' boilers kept fireing even as they settled into the sea (not entirely accurate)...
But then we were in the tour van, having a good time; The Car's were on the radio playing "Shake it Up" while the guy next to me, who looked exactly like the Terps' Bambale Osby, was singing the chorus, "Do do doo" (unlikely) when discussion led to this guy who wrote an amazing book about proportions and beauty and how he was inspired from the view from his hillside cave, coming into view so blindingly bright like the white cliffs of Dover and then I morphed into him and saw for myself the most fantastical urbanscape of buildings and temples with spires and gilded domes rising up out of the landscape that stretched across the horizon before me... then my step-mother-in-law took back the book as she is wont to do, though oddly the binding changed into the color and consistency of molasses as it ended up in one of my neighbors' hands...
It was time to resume the tour as our group tromped down a long staircase to street level which consisted of a network of canals. Barracuda-sized fish raced along these channels and I followed one as fast as I could, barely keeping up with it and the voice of our tour guide who was explaining everything so authoritatively with his British accent and of course it all made perfect sense at the time... but then I was moving swiftly on rails, through a train yard passing freight cars overflowing with gray gravel under canvas tarps and surrounded by a bleak burned out city with block after block of hollow building shells of ochre and mustard. Where had that fantastic city gone?
Alarm clock said it was time to go to work.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Why Blog?
Dagwood says it all in this strip (see below) as time that should be spent drawing up my new house for an eventual addition gives way to the irresistible urge to blog. Am I looking for a forum to drop Big Lebowski quotes? No, that's what work is for. Do I want to be an internet superstar like Mark Malkoff, www.markmalkoff.com ? No, I won't even use my real name and the most important parts of my life will never be on this page, BUT true to my masthead, I DO want to share what it is that gets me on the bike most days, whether it's to ride to work, ride with my friends, be with my wife, race, do a group ride in a strange town or trek halfway across the country (that's about all I'm good for) and I will gladly promote those who share with me these experiences. SO, that's why I ask...Who's With Me?
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Save Us from Ourselves
In recent years being an architect has meant shifting our responsibilities to be, well, more responsible about what we build and how our buildings pollute our environment and consume precious resources. To set an example (and to release precious endorphins), I RODE the 16 miles to College Park to be a Carbon-Neutral example of how we can collectively reduce fossil fuel consumption, curb road congestion, save money, fight obesity and generally be better stewards of the earth. I'm not saying I am morally superior (you should have gotten that by now), but we can all make simple decisions like using compact fluorescent bulbs (CFL's) and biking to promote a healthier lifestyle for us all.
It was also telling that after riding through not-the-best cycling neighborhoods and passing through an extreme range of socio-demographics, my ride had been uneventful until crossing the One Lane Bridge on MacArthur when a gold Cadillac SUV gives me an annoyed HONK because I must have distracted this pampered person from enjoying their Skim-Choc-Frap-Latte while gabbing on the cell phone and getting 12 mpg. Well Excuuuuze ME! Seems like those with the most have an attitude to be the least likely to give anything up lest be inconvenienced (place Al Gore ad Here).
Anyway, our AIA meeting was thus inspired, even to where we turned the lights off seeing well enough in the natural light. We'll do our best to design smarter buildings and hope the world citizenry follows the lead to help save us from ourselves. On and off the bike I'll do my part. SO...
WWM?
(BTW, you can ride cross town on Wilson, Jones Bridge/Beach, Forest Glenn, Sligo, then Piney Branch to Adelphi or Erskine, Riggs, Cold Stream to Adelphi and get to UM on decent roads.)
It was also telling that after riding through not-the-best cycling neighborhoods and passing through an extreme range of socio-demographics, my ride had been uneventful until crossing the One Lane Bridge on MacArthur when a gold Cadillac SUV gives me an annoyed HONK because I must have distracted this pampered person from enjoying their Skim-Choc-Frap-Latte while gabbing on the cell phone and getting 12 mpg. Well Excuuuuze ME! Seems like those with the most have an attitude to be the least likely to give anything up lest be inconvenienced (place Al Gore ad Here).
Anyway, our AIA meeting was thus inspired, even to where we turned the lights off seeing well enough in the natural light. We'll do our best to design smarter buildings and hope the world citizenry follows the lead to help save us from ourselves. On and off the bike I'll do my part. SO...
WWM?
(BTW, you can ride cross town on Wilson, Jones Bridge/Beach, Forest Glenn, Sligo, then Piney Branch to Adelphi or Erskine, Riggs, Cold Stream to Adelphi and get to UM on decent roads.)
Friday, January 11, 2008
Desperate Daze
The elation that followed last Tuesday's Noon ride has quickly faded as I roll into the weekend with fear and trepidation that I may be faced with a dearth of Ride Time starting with commitments to the AIA, my professions organization (no, USAC hasn't invited me to go pro just yet) for our annual Board Retreat. Retreat into Fatness, I fear. Agendas. Programs. Champions. Motions (hardly).
If Lyin' Bob Ryan can generate some decent weather Sunday, then some of you will be with me on the Bicycle Place ride www.thebicycleplace.com For those of you living under a rock, this has become the preeminent ride in the DC area, eclipsing the fabled 10:00 and topping DC Velo's (because that's on Saturday). The resurgent N2 (no Name) Saturday ride is an honorable mention, favored by some, and frequented by This Guy, but alas not tomorrow. I'll be out there soon, and when I go I ask...
Who's With Me?
If Lyin' Bob Ryan can generate some decent weather Sunday, then some of you will be with me on the Bicycle Place ride www.thebicycleplace.com For those of you living under a rock, this has become the preeminent ride in the DC area, eclipsing the fabled 10:00 and topping DC Velo's (because that's on Saturday). The resurgent N2 (no Name) Saturday ride is an honorable mention, favored by some, and frequented by This Guy, but alas not tomorrow. I'll be out there soon, and when I go I ask...
Who's With Me?
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