Cross-posted at the SDCBC blog One of the most common reasons people give for not riding their bikes to work is that they have no place to shower and they don’t want to spend their day sticky and smelly with sweat. Of course not! Who would? And yet not having a shower available does not have to be a deal breaker. At my last office job I bicycled to work 3 or 4 days a week, 13 miles each way, and even though I did not shower at work, I managed to keep looking (and smelling!) professional by following these 4 easy steps: |
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I have a new favorite word, courtesy of Arwulf, who in zoology class was tasked with dissecting a crayfish and examining the pedipalp. The pedipalp! I am enraptured! It sounds like a naughty Victorian undergarment. (“As Lady Anna reached languidly for the bell-pull, Montague gasped at the unexpected glimpse of her lacy pedipalp.”)
When I am out running errands I often ask shop owners where I can park my bicycle. In my suburban neck of the woods people usually look a little confused at the question. “I’m not sure,” they usually say. “Not many people come here by bike.”
The exception is at coffee shops, where staff readily point out spots where people can lock up. Even when there is no bike rack nearby, they offer alternatives like railings, signposts and trees. Why would baristas be aware of bike parking when the manicurist next door has no clue? Not long ago, I was talking with other parents of teenagers when the subject turned to relationships and the Internet. “I try to limit how much time my kids spend online,” one parent said, “so they can spend their time with their real friends.” Nods and murmurs of agreement all around.
Really? I have a kid who spends a lot of time online. Like a whole LOT of a lot. Apart from a couple of friends from school, Arwulf’s most important peer relationships take place over the Internet, on Tumblr, in anime and fanfiction forums, over IM and Skype. And while most of these relationships are casual, a couple are friendships as deep and textured as any face to face relationship. These kids have never met in person. They are scattered across the English-speaking world: the US, UK, Australia. They must negotiate time zones and school schedules to spend time with each other. But spend time together they do. Since I decided to hang out my editorial shingle, one question has come up more than any other:
“Why Bluefish?” There’s a simple answer. But when you think about it, names are not often really simple. I think about other times I had to name a baby—most notably those of the flesh-and-blood variety. Laying aside the peculiar naming conventions of our household (the subject of another post, to be sure), finding something to pair with a surname like “Furth” presents endless opportunities for Truly Unfortunate Monikers. This past Friday I went out with my crew for a cold but beautiful morning swim at La Jolla Cove. Afterwards, showered and dressed, we were beginning the unpleasant but necessary shift from swim mode to work mode. Shoes on. Car keys extracted from bags. Phones checked for messages. The noises of the city morning swelled around us as we said our goodbyes – chattering tourists, traffic whistles, car radios, idling delivery vans.
Wait. Traffic whistles? The sound came again, shrilling over the water. Not a traffic whistle – a distress call. We leaned over the railing, searching for the source. It was 8:46. |
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April 2018
Isabella FurthNot every week has a word, but many words will have their week. See the entire list! Categories
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