the tales of little red riding hood

Starry Eyed Girl

2009-10-07T18:18:00.000-07:00

I am overly fatigued. Not the type of fatigue from a hard days work, the mental type of fatigue.

I made it here to the great state of California one year, four months, and two days ago. I have learned a lot about myself in this time, some amazes me and some completely frightens me. If I had ever been informed by someone that I would have voyaged across the states via Amtrak and survived all this time with a bicycle as my only form of transport, I would have laughed in their face.

I'll admit, I spoiled myself in my Cleveland days (probably too much). I had a great job, an adorable apartment in the Tremont neighborhood, a new car every three years, good friends, and a closet to make practically any female jealous. My life in the golden state is much different. I am struggling to find a job, my apartment is nothing special, I commute via bicycle or foot, friends are few, and I am slowly purging goods from my beloved closet (cute dresses on a road bike don't mesh well).

At the start of 2009, I thought I'd take the time to recharge and reanalyze my situation. I made goals and developed hopeful plans for the new year. Here I am in October, nine months and six days later, evaluating my progress. To say the least, I am more frustrated then satisfied with myself. There have been great opportunities and experiences that I have been granted due to my abundant free time, but there also have been substantial setbacks as well. Those opportunities all seem a bit void by the obstacles that have overshadowed them.

I've had my time to get settled into my new surroundings, make lifestyle adjustments, and meet friends. Unfortunately, I have not done a great job at any of the three. This year, 2009, has been petrifying. I have become afraid to jump and take risks as I have suffered too many bruises. I wonder what happened to that brave girl who was willing to take such a giant leap from from the uppermost part of Ohio to magnificent Northern California.

I've crashed hard and have had a terrible time recovering. I have lost my confidence, my grace, and the ability to take life's risks. I have nothing to show for my nine months and six days of freedom and it is more evident then ever. Every time I get some momentum, it reaches a quick high point and the pendulum swings back down hitting me even harder then the time before.

In the meantime, my relationships with friends near and far have suffered. It is in part due to my situation and my lack of faith. I won't get into specifics, but I am not happy with who I have become lately and I regret how some things have manifested. It is a huge disappointment to me, as some of these people were very close to me. They held my hand through this journey and I hope each one of them knows that I dearly value them.

Things have changed, my life has no similarities to the past. My ideals and structure are unfamiliar and distracting to me. I am a fish out of water and I become more irritated day by day. I had such high hopes and a clear vision of what I wanted from my new life here in the bay area. To go from the spoiled girl from Cleveland to the struggling bay area washout has knocked the stars from my eyes. This is supposed to be my dream come true, but I am allowing it to fall down all around me.

As I get older, a few things have become clear to me. First, expect the unexpected. Second, learn to be okay with the unexpected, and last, learn to stand up for myself when it is necessary. The last one gets me sometimes as I need to make sure the battles I choose are necessary. There is always going to be some disappointment in life, sometimes you just have to let it go.

So, here I am, trying to let the disappointment go and trying to get myself back into the water (even if only starting my getting my feet wet). I am in search of the girl I once knew. The girl who battled fear and embraced challenge, the girl that had eyes full of stars.

Year three.

2009-01-02T00:31:00.001-08:00

There are dramatic events that happen to each and every one of us in our lifetimes that are so devastating that we will remember every detail. Some of these events impact all of our lives, they are so colossal they are talked about and even noted in history books. I for one, remember every detail of where I was and who I was with when I heard the details about 9/11. My eighty-something year old grandmother vividly can recite the details of her day on December 7, 1941 (Pearl Harbor). No matter how miniscule: the time on the clock, what you were wearing, who you were surrounded by or what you were doing - you remember.

This week three years ago, January 1st to be exact, marked the death of my eldest brother, Brian. I should have been at a party that night with my then boyfriend, but I opted to stay home. I curled up on the couch with a slice of leftover falafel pizza from Edison's and watched my newly purchased Six Feet Under box set.

It was 9:14 pm on New Year's Day and I had just finished watching watching Six Feet Under, episode four of season three to be exact, when the my mobile phone began to ring. I looked at the display and it was a call from my parents house. Normally, I don't answer. I let the calls go to voice mail and after listening to the message decide if I have the motivation to have an uncomfortable and usually pointless conversation with my mother. For some reason I answered. It was not my mother on the other end, but my aunt, who I have and equally bad relationship with. My aunt was at my parents house visiting for the holidays and was to drive back to the Pittsburgh area the next morning. The details of the call were going to extend her trip to the Cleveland suburbs.

Aunt Glor's voice was trembling as she told me that my parents needed me at their house as soon as possible. My first response was "Why? What happened?" I assumed it was my parents. Maybe they were announcing the divorce I had wished they would get since I was in the fifth grade. Her voice, still trembling stated that I drive safely and get there soon. This was an odd call. I never talked to my aunt and the calls with my parents were few and very far between. I asked if something happened to my mom or dad and her response was no.

I continued the questioning. My sister? My niece? They were the next guess since Sandee's boyfriend and Jordyn's father is a known drug and alcohol abuser. There are other factors here that prompted my concern. Those details are another blog in itself. My answers were no to both.

"Who? What? Mimi?" Mimi, my 82 year old grandmother was my next concern. Again, "no."

My mother's voice was now on the other end of the phone. I was in extreme concern at this point. I again went back to questioning about my niece and sister. This time I got an answer, short and to the point, "Brian's gone."

I left out a sharp yelp as the phone fell out of my hands and I fell to the floor. I called the then boyfriend as I grabbed my pink and white striped duffel bag out of the closet. As I stuffed the bag I left what I thought was an understandable message on his voice mail.

Within five minutes my bare feet were cold as I ran on the wet cold brick with the duffel bag thrown over my shoulder and my black pointy toe Charles David shoes in my shaking hands. I rang my landlord's doorbell and stood there quivering as Katy answered the door. I could barely speak. She held me as my shoes fell to the floor and I managed to ask for a ride to to west side suburbia. Her husband, Jim put his coat and shoes on. I got into his Volkswagen Rabbit and he held my hand in comfort as we drove on the wet highway streets of 71 and 480.

I was the last to arrive at my parents home. They all sat in the family room with their heads low as I entered the room. "How?" is all I said and wanted to know at this point. I thought it would be a result of drunk driving as my father and both brothers seem to have problems maintaing alcohol levels and getting behind the wheel. I was wrong. At this point all we knew was he was found on the garage floor and it appeared that his motorcycle had been running.

My brothers friends stared arriving to the house around midnight. Calls started coming in from other friends who wanted to hear that it wasn't reality. My niece Jordyn arrived and it was time to tell her the news about Uncle Brian. I didn't sleep that night.

In fact I didn't sleep that entire week. The calling hours at the funeral home were from 9 am to 9 pm with only an hour break. The long showing hours were my mother's doing. She wanted everyone to have a chance to say goodbye to her son, the one who was almost a doctor.

The funeral home events are still vivid. It became reality when I saw my 34 year old brother in a casket. There were so many people. People I hadn't seen in years, people I had forgotten about and people I never knew.

The mass at church was packed. People were crammed in to get a seat in one of the pews. The church estimated there were over 300 people in attendance that day. My sister read the eulogy she had written and at the end announced the golf outing she and my mother wanted to host in honor of my brother's memory on June 5th that upcoming summer.

I was speechless. The events in themselves were more than enough for anyone to deal with let alone hearing in front of 300 people that my birthday was now going to be a day of remembrance for my brothers suicide. At that moment I knew what I meant to my family. Didn't I at least deserve a thirty second conversation notifying me of this information before it was announced to all?

All I wanted was an apology, and three years later, I have still yet to receive it from my mother or sister.

My family was already in shambles before my brothers death and things are just as bad, if not worse now. It doesn't bother me, it has been this way my entire life. I know no different.

What I do know is that I have surrounded myself with what I consider family. I am fortunate to have good people around me. People who care and want to be a part of my life. It is those people who make life worth living.

MIA

2008-10-02T01:09:00.000-07:00

Okay, I've been MIA and apologize for the lack of updates. No excuses as I haven't worked since the surgery took place in mid-September. Yes, for those of you who did not know... I had wrist surgery to finally fix the damage from my cycling accident in May of 2007.

I had a fracture extending transversely across the waist of my scaphoid. There was also an extensive subcortical cyst along the margins of the fracture and the distal segment is fragmented.

What in means... I broke my scaphiod bone in two pieces. I had to have a bone graft from my hip in order to repair my wrist as well as a bicortical screw placed across the fracture. Not fun! The surgery was outpatient and I was given enough pain medication to last a lifetime.

Post surgery pics:

At this point, I was still in an empty apartment and sleeping on an air mattress. The day after surgery, the new mattresses arrived. My deluxe pillow-top Serta was an upgrade from the air mattress and was just in time as the drugs from surgery the day before were wearing off.

I had a follow up appointment a week later and cast #2 was applied.

A few days later the moving truck finally arrived with everything from Cleveland! I had not seen any of my belongings with the exception of my clothes, shoes and bike since the end of May (4 months). It was like Christmas as I tried to tear through the boxes to the best of my ability with one arm. Thankfully, the moving expenses included any assembly that was needed and the guys helped me place my furniture as well. I had all boxes emptied by night fall and the next week was filled with organizing everything. That whole no work thing was great for getting all this accomplished.

The lean mean one armed unpacking machine...

The day after everything arrived it was time to get cast #3. I opted for green and was excited as my waterproof cast would still allow me to utilize the pool at the new apartment.

I am slowly adjusting to this one armed lifestyle the hip seems to be healing from the bone graft. There are some setbacks as eating and writing via the left hand is difficult... I slop food on myself and write like a third grader. Blow drying my hair is another very difficult task. More then anything, not being able to hop on my Bianchi and zip around is the worst. I am house bound and only commute via foot if not being chauffeured around by one of my newly acquainted friends.

I promise more updates more frequently in the near future.

Creme de Mint.

2008-09-23T01:35:00.001-07:00

Officially, the color is Celeste, but call it what you want... mint chocolate chip, Tiffany & Co. blue, creme de mint. I've heard them all. The coordinating Celeste Bianchi helmet to my Giro finally arrived from Australia about two weeks ago. I am trying to prove the theory that "although not fashionable, helmets are functionable" theory wrong.

Thank you Portland!

2008-09-15T21:09:00.000-07:00

Our last day in Portland was to quench our own sense of adventure. Vanessa and I hit the Max by 9am... she was off to scout bakeries and I had opted to persue cycling through Portland. I hopped train at Skidmore Fountain to explore a bit of the Saturday Market (on Sunday). They had just finished set up. A brief stroll through the market place and under the bridge and I was ready for my rental bike.

I hoofed to Waterfront Bicycles to get my Portland cycling fix started. I ended up with a Redline 760 road bike (which my Bianchi puts to shame). My adventure started by cycling to the waterfront where I paused to witness a dragon boat race that was in progress (and made me realize I miss rowing). I ventured over the Hawthorne Bridge in an attempt to visit Clever Cycles to set my eyes on the Velorbis that my heart is throbbing to someday own. It's too bad my wallet doesn't like the looks of the British cycle I could lavishly ride while wearing skirts and going to the market (I've done the skirt and market thing on the Bianchi, but it isn't so lavish). As I peddled to the shop it was closed to my dismay, they had taken the week off to head to Europe.

I decided to make the most of my rental and did a tour de Portland bridges. I crossed the Morrison, Burnside and Steel Bridges before heading back to the Pearl District to grab a coffee and croissant for a late breakfast. It was at this point I realized I was not given the correct key for the bicycle lock I was provided. This forced me to limited stops and more peddling. I returned the rental and received a discount in lue of their error. After the five hour bike tour I was headed back to Skismore Fountain and the Max to catch up with Vanessa.

Vanessa was in the Alberta neighborhood which was a train ride and an almost a two mile walk away. She had scoped out most of the cute neighborhood with store front boutiques and eateries already. She dragged me into shops until we finally hit another bakery on her list, Pix. The place was magical... coffee, cocktails and pastries in an eclectic setting. Vanessa and I grabbed a cocktail and dessert to go as we were to have a farewell dinner with Jesa at Papa Hayden's within the half hour.

We called a yellow and arrived at the restaurant promptly at five o'clock to meet Jesa and her mother. They drowned themselves in a huge slice of cake for dinner while Vanessa and I shared fondu and creme brulee. We said our good-byes and and made plans for a long walk to the Hawthorne District. On the way we passed the Aladdin, where apparently people from Portland still wait in line to see Hanson perform?!

We were tired of walking and stopped at Cafe Castagna where we sat at the bar, split a big Chimay and met our unofficial Portland tour guide, Melodie. From here, it became the day that would not end. Melodie was determined to make our last night in Portland one to remember... at that it certainly was! Before we were chauffeured to the next Hawthore District joint, Melodie and I had a street side hula hooping session.

From here we hit Crush where we had more cocktails and met some Portland locals. We eventually made our way back downtown and said farewell to our new Portland friend. It wouldn't be long until we were united again... while at XV I realized I had forgotten my iPhone in Melodie's car. She generously drove back in her slippers to return my beloved to me!

Vanessa and I were back on mission Portland. We hopped over to Dirty, here I learned I could swing above a bar. Bicycles, hula hoops and swings... all in one night. Have I mentioned yet how much fun we had in Portland? We hit the Ash St. Saloon before finally hopping a yellow to head back to Jesa's apartment. By the time we arrived back, there was no time for sleep, we were to be at the airport within the hour! We gathered our things and sat on the porch eating colorful macaroons from Pix for breakfast until it was time to depart.

We were both tired. Vanessa had the advantage of a long flight back to DC to catch up on sleep. My flight departed later. I curled up on the airport seat and napped until it was time to board, I slept the entire way home. It took me almost a week to recover from that last night in Portland, but it was a night I will never forget!

To view all the Portland photos, please click here.

Seattle Road Trip

2008-09-13T23:40:00.000-07:00

While in the Pacific Northwest we planned three hour trek for a day of fun and excitement in Seattle. I slept during most of the ride there only awakening for a bubble tea milkshake just outside our destination. The girls nibbled on food while I sucked down the brain freezing liquid and had too much fun with the security camera in the small eatery.

I was far too exhausted during the Seattle day trip, but I made the most of the excursion. I started by jetting up the Space Needle. Vanessa and Jesa opted out, but I wanted the birds eye view of the Emerald City. Our next stop was lunch at an Ethiopian restaurant just outside of Pike's Place. I devoured curried corn and rice along with a Harar beer while we people watched and took in a bit of the Seattle atmosphere. Heading to the market was the next adventure we had planned for the day.

The Pike Place Market was bustling with people, locals and tourists, like sardines in streets lined with stalls and shops of produce galore. We walked down the packed streets taking it all in, it was unfortunate we were just there on a day trip as we weren't really able to buy and partake in the market festivities.

We eventually found ourselves at the storefront of the very first Starbuck's location. We of course ventured into the overly touristed coffee joint for a mid day pick me up. I have to give it to these baristas, the joint was packed and my order arrived quicker then in most slow and tame locations. We exited the shop coffee in hand and found a grassy noll overlooking the Pacific and Mt. Rainier.

A stop back to the car to unload was needed before heading to Belltown to visit Vanessa's long time friend at Cafe Zoe, where he is the Chef de Cuisine. The original plan was a cocktail at the bar, exchanging greetings and off to Capital Hill. This plan was immediately neglected when plate after plate paraded toward us as we sat at the bar sipping our martinis. We were indulged with charred spicy octopus in a blood-orange vinaigrette, big eye tuna sashimi with pickled ramps, seared foie gras with rhubarb compote and toasted brioche, among other small plates to share. We opted to order a cheese plate, dessert and a French 75 to finish the meal. An end to the perfect sampling was that our entire bill had been taken care of. Check or no check... I would definitely hit Cafe Zoe again. We were so stuffed that Capital Hill was just a pass through before our tired feet headed back to the car and back to Portland for one more day.

To view the Seattle photos, click here.

Portland D2

2008-09-10T23:38:00.001-07:00

Day two of the Portland excursion was just Vanessa and myself. We headed out early to catch the Max downtown. There was no real agenda for the day other than hoofing it through the city. We exited the Max at Lloyd Center and galavanted through the Rose Quarter, over a steel bridge and into Chinatown. We popped into one of the many restaurants in the district and fueled up on dim sum. Whilst exploring we met Daniel who informed of us of the Music Fest NW. The venue was great... and was in day 3 of 4 already.

Exploring continued again in the Pearl District where we popped into the local Apple Store to view what was left of MFNF. Vampire Weekend had already sold out... but early afternoon still provided us with time to nab our tickets for Fleet Foxes and TVOTR. We printed our will call voucher via the Genius Bar and headed to Nob Hill.

The next stop was a Portland brewery, Deschutes for a mid afternoon treat. I opted for a Black Butte, an elixir with chocolate cocoa nibs and dry-hopped with locally roasted coffee. I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone... a coffee and beer buzz all at once. I later discovered this brew was 11% alcohol by volume. I couldn't have been more buzzed if I sniffed a bee's ass.

The voyage to Nob Hill via foot was long and treacherous. We were to visit a bakery Vanessa had wanted to scope out... none the less we arrived and it was closed. We explored the neighborhood a bit and indulged in sushi and (my favorite) hitachino beer. The Black Butte had worn off by this point, it was time to refuel. We wolfed down our fishies and headed back for the show.

We arrived to the Roseland Theatre early for what was now a sold out 'TV on the Radio' show. The Portland venue was one you love to hate. You may have to go through metal detectors and a pat-down to get to your stage but the show made it worth it.... and for a log day. We finally left the venue and headed for transport via the Max after 2am. Another long but rewarding day in Portland!

Bridgetown brings smiles...

2008-09-04T23:54:00.000-07:00

The day started out hectic to say the very least. The movers were scheduled and finally arriving to the storage unit in Cleveland to load the rest of my life and transport it to the left coast. Plans had fallen through with friends who were to help to orchestrate the move and last minute phone calls in panic mode were made to find assistance. Contracts were emailed and needed completed and faxed back to Chicago ASAP... there was no time as I was headed to the airport for an early morning flight to Portland, OR. I forwarded documents to a friend to complete on my behalf, otherwise no move was happening. Another dear friend, Sarah, had graciously accepted the role to supervise the moving crew.

My flight landed just after 10:00am and the timing couldn't have been any better. It was 1:00pm in Clevo and Sarah phoned that the movers had arrived and all was going smoothly. I was relieved! Sarah even sent photos via her iPhone so I could see the progress. Thanks again Sarah for all your help - love ya!!

My friend Vanessa's flight arrived from DC just before 11:00 and we were chauffeured by her friend Jesa into Portland. The first stop was lunch at Shari's, followed by a trip to Safeway so Vanessa could whip up one of her delightful pasty concoctions. We arrived to our weekend crash pad... I napped while Vanessa and Jesa played Betty Crocker making the ever tasty plum tart.

Vanessa had done some research and dining was scheduled at the everett street bistro. A glass of Oregon wine and many laughs made up for the overly stressed morning start. We dined alfresco to absorb every aspect we could of the city. The meal included great conversation, good laughs, people watching and amazing food! We indulged in pomme frittes and I opted for the creamy corn soup. If you can't tell by the photo, I thought it was rather tasty!

While traipsing up and down the Portland street in search of parking we discovered a eclectic store, Cargo. I could have spent hours exploring every nook and cranny of this warehouse style boutique. There were so many great finds... I left with a new necklace as my souvenir to the city of roses.

It just so happened that we stumbled upon an arts and crafts fair in the Pearl District. Both Jesa and Vanessa are crafters and this was a perfect fit for the evening. The streets were filled with cyclists, musicians, artists and fair crawlers. We explored, laughed and portrayed the typical role of the tourist as we wondered about the fair snapping photos.

My favorite facet of Portland is the amount of bicycles... EVERYWHERE! Now living in the bay area you see cyclists everywhere, but we have nothing on Portland! The bike racks, no matter where you go a jam packed. The city streets are loaded with cyclists and drivers willingly share the road!

The evening ended with a quirky and playful visit to Starbuck's where we were entertain by a local musician and the barista staff who factiously mocked the Ohio via CA transplant. The car ride back to the crash pad was playful as we composed lyrical rhymes as if we could freestyle to the likes of Slick Rick. Time for slumber... more adventures to be reported tomorrow!

xoxo.

Home Sweet Home...

2008-08-20T09:24:00.001-07:00

Just over two months after the move to the left coast... and I finally have a place to call my own! After numerous e-mails and phone calls made to Craig's List adds, I stumbled upon a great little apartment in Menlo Park... just on the outskirts of Palo Alto. This means no more long (almost 15 mile) bicycle rides to and from work... no more riding over the the Dumbarton Bridge (which literally stinks)... and no more riding through dark closed parks on closing shifts from the store. My new route is approximately three miles each way and takes ten to fifteen minutes vs. the forty-five minute to hour long trek to the east bay.

I received keys on the 15th and moved in that Saturday. My co-worker. Lisa, helped with the move. We packed her Jeep to its fullest capacity. I almost didn't fit as the floor of the passengers seat was even utilized to complete the move in one voyage. Home sweet home now consists of an empty apartment and an air mattress - but it is all mine!

Oakland wins... Oakland wins!

2008-08-17T10:38:00.000-07:00

This was unfortunate as I attended the game with a California transplant from Chicago... and have you seen Oakland's record?! I cannot say that I frequent a lot of ball games nor that I keep up with the stats and players, but when I scored free tickets to this past Friday's game I was excited for the experience more than anything. McAfee Coliseum is one of baseballs oldest stadiums and will be no more once the team makes the move from Oakland to the new Cisco Field in Fremont, CA.

The Bianchi was placed in the back of the jeep and Lisa and I voyaged to Oaktown to cross this off the list of 'things to do once you move to the bay.' We were bombarded with animal protesters for the next door circus at Oracle Arena as we headed to will call to pick up our tickets. First things first... beer! We grabbed a few Flat Tire Ale's and headed for our seats.

I cannot say we paid too much attention to the game. we drank, chatted and made fun of the man Lisa referred to as wearing a "Canadian tuxedo"... I labeled him "triple threat" (for his three piece denim attire). More Fat Tire Ale led to failed attempts to start the wave.

Although Lisa and I were not too in tune to the game, I do know there were a lot of home runs... and that Oakland ended up winning at the bottom of the ninth inning by what other then another homer.

Oh - Ohio!

2008-08-08T12:36:00.000-07:00

I will say that Cleveland is not the worst place to live - but it is not the greatest either. I hated living in C-town until I migrated to its Tremont neighborhood a few years ago. It is a small community just west of the city that is filled with great restaurants, bars and boutiques. The neighborhood has character and history, movies such as A Christmas Story and The Deer Hunter were filmed here. So why'd I leave a neighborhood I loved so much?

It's no wonder everyone's leaving. Unfortunately, times are tough. Not just in Cleveland - but Ohio in all together. Cleveland had just been noted as one of America's fastest dying cities! People are flocking from the city. I cannot count on my hands and toes the number of friends and acquaintances that have fled the state in the past year... and there are still more in transition.

Yes, it is affordable in the buckeye state, but it is also hard to come across jobs these days.

The weather in Cleveland is crazier than ever! Before heading cross country for California, we experienced crazy teeter-totter conditions in March:

Tuesday - mid 60's, bright and sunny
Wednesday - 40's and rainy
Thursday - over an inch of snow!

I miss my friends more than anything and will eventually return to visit and empty out the storage unit. Until then... Cali will do.

Cycling and the city.

2008-08-03T07:15:00.000-07:00

I had Saturday off, which are few and far between in the retail world and I spent most of the morning and into the afternnon playing Cinderella. I needed to get out of the house to seek a bit of adventure! My only encounter in the city thus far was the 6.2 mile Aids Walk through Golden Gate Park two weeks prior.

I had my friends antenna adorned Silverado for the evening in which the new Bianchi and I headed to the golden gate city. I managed to find free parking near Fort Point unloaded my cycle, made my way to the Golden Gate Bridge and remembered why I loved this city so much. I stopped along the way to take photos for a group of girls from Australia. During my next viewing stop I was again asked to be the photographer, but for three Italian twenty-somethings this time around. Cyclists were everywhere - more than anything there were blazing saddles rent-a-bike cyclists at every glance.

I made my first tourist mistake not knowing that one side of the bridge was for pedestrians and the other for cyclists. I however was not the only idiot on a bike that day! I corrected my mistake on the return across the bridge and discovered fun under bridge passes and beautiful sights.

The winds increased as I cycled back over the red wonder but it did stop me from snapping a few self portraits to look back upon. The voyage on the correct side was a good transition to the masses of people I was dodging and weaving between during my newcomer error. The evening was still young so I trolled over to Fisherman's Wharf to to meander and kill time. A scoop of rum raisin ice cream ended my brief tour of the city before headed back towards the east bay.

See the rest of the photos from my escapade here.

Heisted.

2008-08-02T11:30:00.000-07:00

Thursday, July 30th was a habitual day to start. I had a 5:30am wake up call and the bike hit the pavement by 6:30 to start the pedaling journey to Palo Alto for work. The day was no different than any other. I finished my shift, changed clothes and started the route home. Things took a turn for the worse that evening when I went to close the garage door, there was something missing. I walked the garage in bewilderment questing every move I made once unclipping and stepping over the frame of my Jamis Coda. It was MIA. Stolen. Pilfered. Snatched. No matter how you say it, it is no better. That bicycle had sentimental value more than anything. My bloody bicycle accident, rides to Hunting Valley and it even took the four day cross country train ride with me. I was in tears.

I browed the roomies big ass silverado to commute to work and was still in a putrid mood. I managed my way over to Palo Alto Bicycles on my lunch break to gander at my options for a new set of wheels. I had a few options and after work I was headed back to get fitted for my new ride. I was measured and put on a trainer to look for needed adjustments. Robbin was awesome, I am not sure if he was sympathetic or flirting, but he made the situation seamless. I was on and off until the settings were perfect on the Bianchi Giro my heart was set on. I saddled up and hit the streets for a trial spin - the bike is beautiful and zippy.

Just over two hours later I left PA Bicycles with my new baby and a messenger bag full of necessities to accommodate her. She is adorned with fancy bullfrog bike blinkies and a brute of a lock to protect her. I may also invest in a cycloc - bikes can be art, right?

I had not expected to have to throw down a good heap of cash as I am to be saving. All in all this is a far better suited bike for my 30 mile round trip cycle to work. I will continue to scour Craig's List and ebay in hopes to stumble across the Jamis.

Heels in the messenger bag...

2008-07-28T08:48:00.000-07:00

About three weeks ago I was sans the ginormous Silverado as my mode of transportation. I needed voyage from the east bay, over the Dumbarton Bridge and into Palo Alto. I had thought about renting a car, but didn't want to spend the dough I had been working so hard to save. I had the day off and decided to do a trial run on my bike. I geared up in the cycling spandex with a new mix on the iPod shuffle to help keep me motivated on my jaunt.

I started the 14.4 mile ride to Palo Alto by riding through the which leads me to the narrow pedestrian and bike lane of the windy Dumbarton Bridge. Cycling over the bridge saves me the $4.00 toll that is collected on the westbound direction. There is motivation point #2: cycling will save me $20.00 a week, $80 a month and almost $1,200 a year. Cycling over the bridge often intensely windy. Since it is part of highway 84. The wind madly shifts as semi trucks accelerate past you blowing road particles the sting you skin for a brief second. A little info on the bridge that locals inform me I am crazy to commute over by bike... it carries over 81,000 vehicles daily, it is also the shortest bridge across San Francisco Bay at 1.63 miles (8,600 feet / 2,622 m). It nestles around 30,000 acres of open bay, salt ponds, salt marshes, mudflats, located throughout south San Francisco Bay... and sometimes it smells really nasty!

On routes to work I ride through EPA (East Palo Alto). I ride down University Ave. which is bustling with traffic during the day. Sorry, no pictures here as I really don't want to stop. I pedal my little heart out until I see the Welcome to Palo Alto sign. Night rides home require a longer route that excludes the trail through EPA. Once you cross the border you are surrounded by amazingly beautiful houses and the bicycle lanes get wider. More money = wider bike lanes! University Ave. eventually runs into a shopping and entertainment district lined with great local restaurants and shopping galore. I pass by one of two Palo Alto Apple stores where people are still waiting in lines for the 3G iPhone!

I then enter palm tree lined streets as I pass through the arches for my brief tour of Stanford University. From here I am a short distance from work. I arrive about one half hour early to clean up with baby wipes and primp for work. A spritz of Narciso Rodriguez, a bit of eye liner and mascara and a change of clothes and I am ready. This has labeled me with the nickname SuperWoman from my coworkers. Eight hours of work and the cycling gear goes back on for the ride home.

A new place to sleep

2008-07-12T21:44:00.000-07:00

So if I end up on the streets here in the Golden State, I think I may have found a place to camp out. When my schedule permits I have been gearing up and getting back on the bike as much as possible. Although I miss my typical Clevo route from Tremont to Bratenahal and back, I can manage to settle for the Coyote Hills Regional Park. Upon exiting the park today, I noticed a mattress perfectly perched under a tree and had to pull the iPhone out to snap a pic. Apologies for the lack luster images as it is only a first generation iPhone after all.

The park is located not far from my temporary residence on the southeast shore of the San Francisco Bay. The hills afford views of the three trans-bay bridges (Dumbarton Bridge, San Mateo Bridge, and the Bay Bridge), the cities of San Francisco and Oakland, the Peninsula Range of the Santa Cruz Mountains and Mount Tamalpais. In addition to the hills themselves, the park encloses a substantial area of wetlands. Again, this is no Cleveland!

I don't have views of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the Great Lakes Science Center or sunsets over Lake Erie here. I ride through trails and over wetlands filled with wildlife and muskrats scatter as they hear me approaching. Don't worry, no coyotes yet. I was hoping to get a few images of the sky scapes of San Fran and Oakland however those will have to wait for days the air is sans wildfire smoke or fog.

I miss the hustle of riding through the downtown Cleveland streets, but am convinced this is a bit safer due to my record of bicycle related injuries last summer alone. Rather than dodging cars, I doge droppings from the crazy California birds flying about.

Beach bum.

2008-07-12T14:10:00.000-07:00

When you drive one hour from Cleveland, you end up in Youngstown, or perhaps Sandusky. In my new home, when I drive one hour away I end up in places like Santa Cruz where there are white sandy beaches, sea lions, volleyball nets and surfers.

I had the day off on Wednesday and was seeking a bit of adventure. I loaded my friends Chevy Silverado

that I've been maneuvering through the golden state with my bicycle and beach gear to head up the Santa Cruz mountains. Once getting off highway 880 and hitting Route 17, the drive is amazingly beautiful!

The beach was packed due to an unusually hot day. I drove a good distance from the breadth until I eventually located a free parking spot. I unloaded the bike and beach gear and headed to the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, this was my second time here this week. I had made the trek up the mountains just days earlier with a former Apple co-worker who was visiting Cupertino due to his recent promotion. During this visit, I decided to soak up some rays, relax and enjoy my surroundings. I set up post and basked in the California sun while listing to the sea lions hark. Kids were running about on boogie boards and building sandcastles while their parents lounged on the shore in the big sunglasses. In time I grew tired of the yelping sea lions and napped in the glistening rays while enjoying some tunes on the iPod.

My toes squishing between the sand and the brisk ocean water were just what I needed to get back into the swing of my new California lifestyle. In due time, I dusted off the sand and got back on the bike. I cycled down the down the pier where I wandered through small surf shops. I gazed into the many eateries, some were sit down restaurants with amazing ocean views, while others were order at the counter types. There were even stands in which one could purchase fresh fish and crustaceans.

Once the sun started to set I cycled my way to downtown. The streets were lined with local restaurants and shops with a few recognizable establishments here and there. I wandered into the New Leaf Market, this place was a Whole Foods Market of the local variety. I picked up a bottle of Smart Water and some trail mix and adventured down Mission Street. As I window shopped I discovered the Sockshop & Shoe Co. where I bought a gorgeous pair of handcrafted Cydwoq (pronounced - [sahyd-wawk] ) shoes. It happened to be my lucky day as they were on the "last pair" clearance rack for 60% off the original $274 price tag. This ruined my plan of a thrifty day of just plain old adventure seeking. It was getting dark as I walked back to my bicycle with my new kicks in tow. I hopped back on my two wheeler, headed past the beach and to the borrowed pick-up truck. I made my way back down the twisty and windy Santa Cruz mountains to the east bay of San Francisco. I was pleased with my day of relaxation and discovery.

How I ended up on the left coast...

2008-06-24T10:40:00.000-07:00

I had been itching to get out of Cleveland for quite some time. This past August I tried to drop everything and ran off to Chicago. I made the six hour commute to to the windy city to look for apartments and a new life, I got cold feet in the process and went running back to everyday life in Clevo.

I had been trying to do too much too fast. A move wasn't going to happen that quickly. The new plan was a year in Cleveland to save for the escape. I still wasn't sure I'd be able do it. In April I met a friend for coffee and pastries at the Stone Oven where we conversed about getting out of Ohio. He had his out, he was offered a position in the big apple with his company. During the conversation, we decided we should be roomies, I would join him for the apartment hunting search in NYC in mid May.

The plan seemed to be going swimmingly well. We hosted a moving sale at my Tremont apartment during a late April weekend. We managed get rid of a lot of clutter that did not need to make the east coast commute with us. I had informed my landlord and my employer that I would be flying the coop. I had also made the arrangements to get out of the lease on my car, I would use the subway in NY.

I flew into LaGuardia on Thursday, May 15th. Immediately after getting of the plane I ran into Naum, he was a friend of a friend I had met and hung out with a few times. We hopped a bus together and talked about our future relocation plans in the big city. I departed at Union Station and walked to my hotel which was just a few blocks away.

I stayed at the AKA United Nations. The location was perfect, it was on 42nd St., between 2nd and 3rd. Better yet, since my younger brother was a manager there, my stay at the boutique hotel was free.

My first evening in the city was great. I met Mark, my younger brother, at a pub. We hopped a yellow to the East Village for sushi at Ginger. It was quaint and they won me over with the Rocco. It was a roll consisting of eel, banana, crispy flakes topped with peanut butter. We walked though St. Marks, the West Village, Time Square and to Bryant Park for a night cap. I hadn't really spent time with Mark since my trip to Cincinnati over two years ago.

Friday morning my friend arrived. The weather was rainy and the skies were gray. I had an interview that dreary morning not far from the hotel. I had just pulled out the ironing board when my new roomie arrived. While ironing I somehow burnt my left forearm, the day just seemed to go from bad to worse. I walked to Madison and 5th for the interview in my black patent leather stilettos in the pouring rain. The interview was short and sweet, in fact, she had forgotten that she had even set an appointment up with me. I had to go into my iPhone to review the email she had sent with the details.

I strutted back through the puddled streets to the hotel, changed clothes and was ready to start the quest for a NY apartment. We were Brooklyn bound. We grabbed my MacBook Pro, I put on my wellies and we were off with the information the new roomie had found while I was "interviewing." We arrived in Williamsburg and the rain got worse. It was freezing and my Nicole Miller umbrella broke in the harsh winds. We were lost, cold and miserably wet. The one apartment we managed to find was to say the least frightening!

We called it a draw for the evening and headed back to clean up. We met for dinner which another revolting experience. My friend opted to eat at the restaurant at the Hyatt where he was staying. Not my idea of good eats in NY, but I regretfully concurred to it. It was crazy overpriced, the service left something to be desired and the food was repugnant.

I walked back to the beautiful AKA where I was staying and soaked in the tub. I was up late scouring for apartments online and found what I thought were some great places. I was excited to share my findings the next morning with my friend. My research started a fiasco. It was obvious at this point that the roommate situation was not going to work.

What now? I had no job, no car, no apartment! I was dizzy and light headed. I searched Craig's List for roommates and rooms for rent. I headed to the subway to look at a few of the places on the Upper West Side. I wasn't sure what I wanted. Did I want to stay in NY? I called my pseudo mother and ended up later meeting with one of her NYC friends to throw around some ideas. She had a beer, I had a ginger ale to sooth my upset stomach.

I called my friend Mike to tell him my story. He made the suggestion that I head to California and he offered me a place to stay as well. Option two was to head west. I had traveled all over California and loved it, eventually, I always thought I would end up there... someday.

I had two days left in New York and just over two weeks to decide between the east coast or the west. I tried to enjoy the rest of the time I had remaining in the city. I wandered through the streets of Soho exploring and window shopping, I visited the Apple Store on 5th Ave. and spent time with my brother. I was in the hotel by 10:00 every night due to feeling faint and dizzy.

On the flight back to Cleveland I made my decision to head to the left coast. Maybe New York was cold, rainy and dreary during my visit for a reason.

Choo' Choo' Cronicles

2008-06-13T23:27:00.000-07:00

Little Red Riding Hood is freshly showered, has changed clothes and changed places!

Two weeks ago today I was aboard the Pacific Surfliner (aka - Amtrak California) on the last leg of my cross country relocation voyage. The three day adventure started at 3:45 am on Monday morning. I was bogged down with just about every article of clothing and every shoe a girl could manage to shove into large duffle bags. Along with my almost 10 bags of clothes I checked my bicycle. This left me with my laptop, purse, ugly doll pillow and the bamboo plant I could bare to part with as carry-on luggage. I also had a small Hello Kitty doll, which was given to me by seven year-old Maddie in efforts that I that do not forget her.

My friend left the station and the train began to load passengers. I barely had enough hands to manage carrying my life aboard the train. I was approached by Eileen. She walked me to the loading dock and introduced me to her 'sister' Ellen. She was a 50-something Amish woman who was now lugging one of my bags along with the bamboo plant onto the train as we searched for seats. Once settling in after a few moments, the train was in route. I caught up on the lack of sleep I missed over the past three days on the crusade from Cleveland to Chicago's Union Station. At the inexact time of 10:00 am we arrived to the first of my destinations on the journey. After thanking Ellen for once again helping me tote my life around I found a locker to stow most of my carry-ons.

I escaped Union Station and headed into downtown Chicago accompanied by Hello Kitty and the bamboo plant to forage for lunch. I did not want to venture far due the load I had in tow. I navigated to a Panera, it was about a blocks distance from Union Station. I camped at a table with my plant as my centerpiece and started to telephone my windy city based friends. I had neglected to prime them on my arrival until the text was sent out a few hours earlier that I had a five hour window that I was optimistic someone could help me fill. My only company for lunch was via the other end of the telephone, Hello Kitty and again the bamboo!

I strolled back to depot and retrieved the rest on my belongings from my locker and made a beeline for the waiting area to board the Southwest Chief to Los Angeles.

At roughly 3:15 pm, I again battled with my luggage onto another locomotive. I found a seat rather quickly this time. I sat in front of Nancy and Ed who were also California bound. We exchanged hellos along with the whereabouts of our escapade. They were headed to the Fullerton area for their grandson's graduation from high school. It was naptime for most of the commuters aboard. I curled up with my ugly doll pillow for a bit of shut-eye.

I awoke and shortly thereafter started to mingle among the crowd in my railroad car. I met Bonnie who I have nicknamed my train Grandma. She was returning to Albuquerque, New Mexico from a visit to Jackson, MI where she was visiting family and friends. She was a bit hillbilly but sweet as a sugar. Grandma Bonnie was soon to make lunch reservations for the two of us for the succeeding day in the dining car. Our reservation was for 11:45 on Tuesday.

Nancy and Ed were great train mates as well. Over conversation we nibbled on pretzels in which they provided. I walked down to the snack car and purchased a cheese and cracker plate that we shared finishing our conversation. We were an estimated 2.5 hours from Kansas City, MO at this point.

At 11:00 pm I was a few chapters into my book about Steve Jobs while sporting my Bose noise canceling headphones and listening to some Vampire Weekend. It was again time to curl up and nap across my two reclined 'roomy coach seats' crowded by the plant, the iPod, the computer, and of course Hello Kitty! I tossed and turned and woke up numerous times as the train shifted back and forth across the tracks. The train came to a dead stop and lost all power on the locomotive. I was informed the next morning it was due tornados that were rolling though Kansas. My only thought was 'we are somewhere in Kansas Toto' as I wished I could click my heels three times and be at my final destination.

It was now Tuesday, 8:32 am. The final breakfast call was announced - I passed. We were approaching Garden City, KS. Next stop La Junta, CO. During this halt passengers were able to get off the train for 20 minutes or so. I took this as an opportunity to get some fresh air and capture a few photos with Hello Kitty and some of the passengers I had met along the way thus far.

Time seemed to pass quickly as it was now 11:45 and it was time for lunch in the dining car with Grandma Bonnie. We were united with Sally and a ninety year-old woman whose name is failing me. The pick on the menu was small and they were out of a few items to choose from. This narrowed my selection to meatloaf or three other options. I went for the cold tuna sandwich that was served with crinkle cut potato chips. The elderly ladies and I shared conversation about our destinations and where we were from. While dining we had a short stop in Raton, NM. We were enjoying and commenting on the scenery of the old western style town while we observed a man getting hit my a SUV when he abruptly popped up off of the dirt road and sprinted to the train.

When I had returned to my train car after lunch, I learned that the gentleman that was hit by the SUV was Ed. The same Ed that had been sitting directly behind me on the voyage. He had retreated from the train during our short stop in Raton to find a newspaper. While crossing the dirt path wearing headphones in his hurried state he was struck by the car. His injury appeared to be just a few cuts and scrapes and he seemed unaffected by the incident other than the holes in his clothes. I joined Nancy and Ed in the observation car as we traveled through scenic settings and laughing about the situation. Ed willingly volunteered for a photo with Hello Kitty to document the event.

I went to the snack car as we stopped in Lamy, NM to purchase bottled water from Leonard the train vendor. As I presented him with the money for my purchase he sang Rod Sewart's 'Night and Day' which was playing via iPod and portable speakers. As I laughed to myself about the occurrences and observations thus far, Leonard was receiving a compliment from the traveler following me in line in regards to his musical likes.

It was now 6:15pm and Grandma Bonnie was de-boarding as we had arrived Albuquerque. Before exiting she gave me a pre-stamped and addressed postcard to enlighten her on the rest of my train travels. I accompanied her off the train to bid her farewell and retrieved some fresh air.

Once back on the choo' choo' and moving again I was offered whiskey from Nancy and Ed. I shared my portion of the whiskey with Angel who was sitting in front of me. She was joined by Jason, who was headed back to Los Angeles to continue his profession as a beach bum. With his long blonde locks and grungy du-rag, he fit the bill. Jason had declined the offer for booze. He was hungry. He pulled out a lunch bag with bags of cereal rolled up. The cereal was poured into a plastic deli container and milk was retrieved from a thermos this meal on the go was scooped into a dixi cup that was used as his pseudo spoon.

We were almost in Arizona and it was almost time for siesta when I am given a train mate. He arrives with a twelve pack of Natural Light in tow and prompted by Angel, is not willing to share. He leaves and comes back an hour or so later. He had my additional coach seat reserved for a few hours with beer after beer in hand until the train staff moved him to a different car due to his destination. I was once again on my own to occupy the two roomy coach seats until we hit Flagstaff, AZ. It was late and I was asleep until I was awoken my new seat mate. He was older and overweight. Not only did he occupy his seat, but part of mine as well. He has bruises and scrapes all over his face and his clothes were tattered and ripped. He mumbled something as I wedged myself as close to the window as possible and tossed and turned through all of Arizona. I was clued in the next morning that he was tattered due to a fall in the Grand Canyon.

We were in California now and I had my seats to my self once again. Once reaching Fullerton Ed and Nancy were escaping the train. We exchanged hugs, address and phone numbers.

We were soon approaching Los Angeles and it was now Wednesday morning. One more train and twelve hours was all that was holding me from arriving in San Jose. It was 9:30ish that morning when we arrived in LA to switch from the 'Southwest Chief' to the 'Pacific Surfliner'. I again had to pick up and carry my life through another train depot. I was helped this time by the lesbian couple that sat across from me in the LA via Chicago portion of the fantastic voyage.

I was ripe at this point - three days and three trains and no shower. I had my toothbrush and face wash. I was resorting to baby wipes as substitute to a warm waterfall from a shower. Three days in the same clothes as well, I now had something in common with Jason, the beach bum.

An overhead announcement was made to giving dinner specials and asking passengers to make reservations for the dining car. The announced special of game hen was followed by a snappy 'the game hen glows in the dark' by on of the lesbians. Angel in the mean time is hoping to flirt with the big boy train staff worker.

We rolled though Oxnard, Santa Barbara and were shortly approaching San Louis Obispo. This was the bon voyage of the lesbian couple.

I was again joined by another seat mate for the ride, Rajiv. He was Indian and has moved to Los Angeles to attend college and was now moving to San Jose to work for Oracle. No stereotype need here. He was nice and we shared conversation about Indian food. We by chance met in the snack car as well where we were sat with Robin. She was a twenty something drifter who had been living in San Francisco and took time off to meander along the west coast. We shared conversation and a cookie over coffee. Robin invited me to Abigail's, a coffee shop on the wharf, to visit her while working. Rajiv requested that we become friends via facebook.

According to posted travel detail we were to reach San Jose at the estimated time of 8:30 that Wednesday night. Time came and went and we finally reached my destination just after 10:00pm. It was the longest 1.5 hours of my life. I was lusting after a shower and sleep in a bed so impatiently. My friend Mike picked from San Jose and was brave enough to give me a hug in my rancid state. We arrived to his house and unpacked the truck. I apologized for my rudeness and immediately jumped into what may have been the best shower ever and went straight to bed.

The next day was my birthday and the start of my new adventure in the golden state.

To view more photos from the fantastic voyage, click here.