Showing posts with label biking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label biking. Show all posts

Reruns: July Posts Worth Revisiting

This round-up wraps up this nostalgic tour I've been on for the last 12 months, re-reading old blog posts and choosing which ones to bring back via these lists. I've laughed at some of the antics of our family's four children (and have sent a few links their way to remind them of just how vastly entertaining they were as kids, tweens, and teens). I've remembered bike rides taken, moments along the way, people who have helped make me who I am. It's been a heck of a ride, with many more miles yet to roll if I'm lucky.

Rewinding the Reruns

Reruns: June Posts Worth Revisiting

I started my reruns in August 2023, taking trips down memory lane to reread old posts and find the ones that hold up when I read them years after first writing them. This gives me some nostalgia bumps, like reflecting back on a great bike touring trip I took with my sweetie in 2018 and reading posts I wrote after moving to Seattle in 2012.

Going back to my older posts also reminds me how much I was thinking, reading, and writing about transportation well before working professionally in that realm. Starting to bike commute, creating Spokane Bikes, and participating in local transportation work groups really laid a foundation for the career path I'm now on. 

June keeps rolling from National Bike Month in May to provide plenty of inspiration for riding, if not always writing. The 2018 bike tour links below pick up where the ones in May's reruns left off.

Reruns: April Posts Worth Revisiting

I'll note that since April is the month people try to complete 30 Days of Biking, I've written a lot of posts in this particular month—in 2014 I committed to a format of 30 rides, 30 words, 30 pictures. I've included examples from 2019 as well as 2014 that wrap up the month and link to all the posts that month; regular blogging to hold myself accountable keeps me on track. Many of them are specific to a time and place so they're not quite as evergreen as the ones I'm sharing here.

Reruns: February Posts Worth Revisiting

February is a short month even in a leap year like 2024, but some years it has been a fairly prolific blogging month (although nothing compared to January). 

I don't list every February post here; these are the ones I think hold up over time, or that provide a fun or funny trip down memory lane. I list the dates so you can decide just how interested you are in something I wrote 15 years ago. Wow, that went by fast. 

2022 in Review: Blogging and a Bit More

2022 was a pretty quiet year in my blogging life until the last few weeks. I lost my writing mojo in 2020 when the world went dark, other than the writing I needed to do for work, and only this fall and winter did I start making an effort to write again. 

We still have a global pandemic and people still die from COVID-19 and its Greek-numbered variants. I've been vaxxed, vaxxed again, boosted, boosted, variant-boosted, and I still mask in crowds, stores, and mass-transit settings. The number of people doing the same has dwindled; sometimes I'm the only person wearing a mask. 

I'm fortunate to have a job that lets me telework 100%. I do travel a bit, eat occasionally in restaurants, shop in stores (masked), and occasionally have a social life with people I know are vaccinated and maintaining precautions. We kept up the grocery online order/pick-up habit because dang, that's lower stress than going into a store full of lots of people coughing, especially this time of year with the "tripledemic" in the news (COVID-19, flu, respiratory syncytial virus, with that last one usually only producing mild cold-like symptoms but breaking out much more seriously this year, especially in children). 

I haven't had COVID-19 yet that I know of. (I do have my suspicions about a few days of feeling under the weather during which I kept testing negative after attending a big conference and receiving a lot of texts and emails from people I'd talked with saying they had tested positive.) Nor have I had the flu, a cold, or any other contagious respiratory illness. Masks are awesome.

You would think that with all this non-social time on my hands I would have done more writing. It's been more like "what do we binge next?" at our house, to be honest, plus a lot of books read. At any rate, here's 2022's short list:

In May I tried to plan ahead for a special round-number birthday celebration: Counting up the Years. This was a lot of fun, coming up with things I could do that don't all cost money; instead they cost the far more rare and precious elements of time and attention. 

As part of my job, I get to coordinate with the office of Washington Gov. Jay Inslee on the proclamation for Bike Month. I wrote Bike Everywhere Month Rolls in May for the WSDOT Blog to share that—especially happy to do that in the year in which the Washington state legislature passed the historic Move Ahead Washington package with record-breaking levels of investment in active transportation and public transportation and dedicated future funding from a new carbon tax. That same package included a directive to WSDOT, where I work, to apply Complete Streets principles on all our projects, which is game-changing in a way that adds to the value of those new investments.

Both my long list of fun ideas and my bike riding took a turn for the worse September 1 when this happened: Broken Wrist, Dang It! No Riding for a While.

Revisiting my bike blog revealed I had a problem numbering in the tens of thousands that required drastic action in subscriber management: So long, spammers (with apologies to real people). [Honestly, this one isn't worth reading; noting it only in the spirit of full disclosure of lessons learned.]

I was delighted to write State Active Transportation Plan receives multiple awards for the WSDOT Blog. The plan my team worked on starting in late 2018 got slowed by the pandemic, and became final toward the end of December 2021. Over the course of 2022 the plan won state, regional, and national awards. And for an extra dose of woohoo, the new Move Ahead Washington transportation investment package wrote the plan into state law as a resource for identifying gaps in walk/bike/roll networks to prioritize for investment.

In November when things got weird with Twitter, its potential demise looming, I grabbed the archive of the many faces of Tiggs in The Kitten Chronicles, Year OneThe Kitten Chronicles, Year Two, and The Kitten Chronicles, Year Three. I share a picture or funny story every so often, adding to a thread I started the day we brought him home. He can be a real poophead sometimes—ask me about the holes he's eaten into a lot of good merino wool clothing—but he's also brought joy.

Now I was on a roll and Twitter was still there to inspire a bike blog post: What’s in a Name? Acoustic or Analog, Regular or Traditional Bicycle*. (But just in case, I started up a Mastodon account, @BarbChamberlain@toot.community.)

I rolled right into wanting to do something to reflect on the National Day of Mourning (labeled Thanksgiving on the federal holiday calendar) and Native American Heritage Day and compiled a post I've had in the back of my mind for a couple of years now: “We Are Still Here”: Indigenous-focused Bicycle Programs.

I treat that long four-day weekend (since I get those days off) as a chance to do cooking that takes time, although I don't try to get an entire fancy meal on the table in one fell swoop. Thus I dove into Vegan Cranberry Caramelized Red Onion Orange Chutney Recipe Experimentation.

My morning routine includes reading poetry. Along the way I've encountered more than one poem that somehow involves bicycles. Hence, “I think/therefore/I ride.” A Bike Rack of Bicycle Poems. Like the Kitten Chronicles, that started as a Twitter thread. I invited suggestions, which yielded some of the poems in my post, and I'm continuing the thread so I expect another post in the future. I started a second thread of transportation poems and that's likely to result in a post as well.

Watching TV with my sweetie, a reference to the Internet of Things sparked some wordplay. We agreed that An Alphabet of Things seemed possible, and a while later I put it together with some of our thoughts and only one bit of research (to find the X word).

As the year drew to a close, I marked the winter solstice during my morning poetry-reading time, which led to Winter Solstice Readings.

My relationship with resolutions has varied over the years. This year I'm making it both fun and easy by thinking in terms of "joy snacks" in Commitment, Bite-Sized and Tasty. To help people get rolling by bike (or some other climate-friendly mode) whether or not they're "resolution types", I rounded up my blog posts over the years that discuss forming new habits, tracking/not tracking your riding, and the nature of commitment in New Year, New Mode(s).

The last day of the year held so many simple pleasures—joy snacks:

  • went for a long walk with my sweetheart on what proved to be a sunny, beautiful day after a week of rain, to downtown Olympia for a coffee date and a stop at Peacock Vintage; 
  • rode Zelda the e-bike on my first bike ride since breaking my wrist, woohoo!; 
  • baked a delicious vegan dish, a tofu/caramelized onion/mushroom filling in a pie dish lined with thin slices of yam; 
  • sewed trim onto the hem of a coat that Tiggs had chewed a hole in, hiding the mended spot and making the coat wearable;
  • did yoga, making today one of my "triathlons" (walk 5,000 steps or more, ride my bike, and do yoga all in a day); 
  • finished this blog post; and
  • enjoyed red wine and delicious chocolate at the end of the day while relaxing on the sofa.
A very satisfying way to close out 2022 indeed.




An Alphabet of Things

The IoT--the Internet of Things--is a thing these days. The concept of things talking to other things doesn't really describe what goes on with most of the things in our house. In buying new appliances for a future kitchen remodel it was an actual struggle on our part to keep the amount of technology to a minimum because dinner shouldn't have to wait on a software update. The expense of things that can talk to other things isn't within reach for the vast majority of people on the planet, nor is their global proliferation sustainable within our resource base on the only planet we have. 

I remember seeing the photos years ago in Material World: A Global Family Portrait. Peter Menzel and other photographers took portraits of 30 statistically average families with everything they owned outside their homes. Having moved several times in the past few years this is the kind of thing that shows up in recurring nightmares for me. (He did something similar with food in Hungry Planet: What the World Eats.)

Perhaps inspired somewhat by the memory of that photobook, my own efforts to reduce the number of things I own, as well as the opportunity for some wordplay that Sweet Hubs and I came up with when we heard someone refer to IoT recently, I present herewith a more realistic Alphabet of Things. It definitely represents mixed feelings.

A composition of letters of the alphabet presented as blocks in a variety of fonts and materials.
A: The Anxiety of Things

B: The Blandness of Things

C: The Cost of Things

D: The Detritus of Things

E: The Evidence of Things

F: The Fragility of Things

G: The Gunkiness of Things

H: The Heaviness of Things

I: The Interior of Things

J: The Joy of Things

K: The Knowledge of Things

L: The Load of Things

M: The Messiness of Things

N: The Newness of Things

O: The Oldness of Things

P: The Patience of Things

Q: The Quantity of Things

R: The Rarity of Things

S: The Satisfaction of Things, or The Scarcity, depending on your circumstances

T: The Tonnage of Things

U: The Urgency of Things

V: The Value of Things

W: The Weight of Things

X: The Xenomania of Things (c'mon, X-ray was too obvious and kind of weird here, and now you get to learn a new word!)

Y: The Yoke of Things

Z: The Zest of Things

Having opened with Peter Menzel and photography that shows us the world in a different way, I have to close this with a bit about a British photographer whose works both are and are not about things, and the alphabet, and time, and paying attention to what's already there: Martin Wilson. 

I encountered him thanks to reading the poetry blog of his brother, Anthony Wilson. Anthony praised his brother's genius in a post you should read because it describes Martin's process. That led me to Martin's site where I hope to one day buy a print of one of his works, probably "Double Yellow Lines" because it's so on point for the work I do. The bonus is that Martin bikes around London to capture these images, so part of the story sometimes involves a really sweaty ride to get somewhere in time to get the lighting he wants or to avoid peak traffic that would get in the way. Go look, and be sure to click on See a Detail. Sadly, images don't appear to have alt-text. Anthony's post describes the process so I hope that gives enough of an idea of what Martin has captured.

Now, I'm off to do a closet purge or clean a drawer or empty a box in the garage or something else that enables me to say goodbye to some things. If any of this made you consider the things in your life in a new light I hope you'll come back and drop a comment about that moment of mindfulness.



2019 Blogging in Review

January: I got the year rolling with a post listing various bike challenges, not all of which I intended to try to complete. Speaking of challenges, compiling a list of everything I read in 2018 was a self-imposed challenge in an effort to give a shout-out to authors who enrich my life with their talents.

February: I decided to make it a lot easier to spotlight authors by compiling my list of books read in smaller chunks, hence the list of books I read in January.

March: I wrote quite a bit more in March. What I read in February, some musings on how differently we would interact on our streets and roads if we all moved the way we do in grocery stores, a round-up of some of my transportation reading (meaning articles, not books), a piece on why someone who owns a bike would use bikeshare, an introduction to my new e-bike Zelda!, and on the last day of the month the list of what I read in March.

April: My blogging energy continued into the cruelest month, sparked by the biking energy that goes with tackling the #30DaysOfBiking challenge. For a while there I thought I might actually do another run of 30 Days of Blogging to go with the biking, so I pushed out a lot of posts:


I even dropped in another round-up of transportation articles along the way.

May: Then life returned to normal and my blogging pace dropped. I posted the list of my April reading.

June: Another quiet month with only my list of May books.

July: You guessed it -- June reading list

August: I should have blogged every single day of my wonderful trip to Copenhagen and London. I didn't. Too busy living the actual life to record it, and that's not an apology.

September: Caught up on the reading list with a July-August round-up, then posted on the innumerable thankless chores of digital housework.

October: Another "too busy to write" month.


December: Something about the end of the year gets me writing again. I had a really wonderful experience with a great version of #BikeSchool, a Twitter chat I lead every so often, this time with guest hosts and the added tags #MoveEquity #WheelsMoveMe to invite in new participants. I belatedly reported on successful completion of the 2019 #coffeeneuring challenge as a series of bike dates with my sweetheart, discussed how my approach to holidays has evolved (and gotten much simpler and easier), and reviewed my year of bike challenge participation. I wrapped it up with a confession about nonfiction books I've started and haven't yet finished to create a bit of public accountability.

And that brings us to 2020. Such a nice, symmetrical number, that. Here's hoping that I round out this new year with enough reading, riding and writing to make me happy. I need high doses of each of these.

How I Came to Be a Bike Advocate

“How did you come to be a bike advocate?”

To answer that question as one of the opening speakers at the first-ever Future Bike when we held an “Inside the Advocate’s Studio” session, I had to back up to how I came to be an advocate of any kind.

I thank my mother for raising me in a way that shaped me into an advocate.

While she wouldn’t have used the word “feminist” to describe herself, she absolutely raised me to be one.

When she married my father she had already been an independent woman with a job and a car (which was hard to come by during World War II). She used stories about her mother and herself to illustrate why I needed to ensure that I could take care of myself as an adult before getting married. (She definitely assumed I would marry.)

She was pro-choice in an era when abortion was illegal, understood that to be a complex position, and answered honestly with good explanations of the various facets of the issue when as a young teen I asked her position.

She raised me to look at others with empathy. If we saw someone who was morbidly obese*, for example, instead of responding with criticism of their size she would say with compassion, “Just think how hard it must be for her to go to the movies or ride a bus when the seats are so small.” [*edited to add 2023 note: I've now learned much more about discrimination against people in larger bodies and wouldn't use the word "obese".]

Mom had never heard of privilege, but she inherently understood the concept. She told me I was a lucky kid: I had two parents who loved each other, a safe home, plenty of food, a good education, and lots of opportunity. Therefore I needed to use that education and opportunity to help people who weren’t as fortunate as I was.

I know calling it “luck” doesn’t unpack the invisible knapsack or dig into multi-generational and structural advantages and disadvantages. But Mom—born in 1921—prepared me well to understand it, and to want to address it. She explained pieces and parts of the world’s problems as being rooted in other people not having the advantages I’d had.

She had watched her own father, whom she described as a proud man, go door to door during the depths of the Depression asking if he could rake leaves or shovel snow to try to earn a little money so he could give his three children a birthday or Christmas present.  She knew what it meant that she had been able to attend a two-year teachers’ college to earn a degree and what a difference access to an education made.

She knew how far my father had come from his humble beginnings, how hard he had worked to rise through the ranks at the lumber company he worked for, and how much it meant to him that every one of his six children earned a college degree.

Mom told me a story that has always stuck with me, perhaps more than almost anything else she ever said.

One summer she and Dad and the four older kids in the family (I and my younger sister not yet having made our appearance) went to Chicago for several weeks. Determined to make the most of this opportunity in the big city, every day she got on the city bus with the kids, a map, and plans for some cultural or educational destination.

On one of these outings as she stood waiting at a corner for the light to change, a funny feeling crept over her. When she looked around to figure out why, she realized she was only the white adult in sight. The only other white people were her four children.

This woman, born and raised in nearly all lily-white Lewiston, Idaho, could have told me about her anxiety, even fear, at these unfamiliar circumstances. What she told me, though, was this: “I realized this must be what it feels like to be in the minority.”

As an adult I understand that in that moment she still carried with her all the advantages American society gives those who are white. She certainly spent the vast majority of her time in a world that didn’t expose her to that feeling, let alone restrict or block her access to what she wanted in life because of her skin color.

But as a child, I heard her tell me that there was something wrong with our world if being of a particular skin color made you feel funny, feel different, feel left out.

She reinforced this with other stories (quite a storyteller, my mom), like the one about a friend whose bitterest regret later in life was that he refused to attend his daughter’s wedding when she married a man from Hawaii who was of Japanese descent. Mom’s friend did this because of his experiences during World War II, but he came to appreciate his son-in-law and thanked him for being such a good husband. She credited him with overcoming his discrimination.

Or the one about a white family in Lewiston whose son married an African woman he met while serving as a missionary, how wonderful Mom thought it was that the mother-in-law welcomed her new daughter-in-law with open arms, and how there were others in town who would not have done so. Her disapproval of those who would criticize or reject a loving couple was clear.

Raised an Episcopalian and later a Lutheran, she didn’t bat an eye when one of my brothers married a Jewish woman from Brazil; rather, she read up on the significance of the bris ceremony her first grandson would have. She chose a formal departure from the Lutheran church because she couldn’t accept that being a good Muslim or follower of Australian aboriginal beliefs or anything else meant you couldn’t go to whatever reward might await after death, modeling religious openness and justice. I know this because she told us so--her values were there for me to learn from.

When the message from your mom is that you’re lucky, you should use what you have to give back, lots of people are unfairly discriminated against for who and what they are and what they believe, and good people don’t do that, you grow up to be an advocate.

And as soon as you bicycle on almost any street in the U.S., you become a bike advocate because you see how critical is that we change our streets so that everyone whether age 8 or 80 can feel comfortable riding. Mom's dementia meant that she never really knew this became my job, but I know she'd approve.

Related Reading

Tab Set: What I'm Reading

When I'm online I make heavy use of the CTRL-Click feature. If you hold the CTRL key when you click on a link, that link opens in its own tab rather than taking you away from the page you're on. This inevitably means that in any given day I spawn a lot of open tabs of articles I mean to get around to reading.

Given my varied interests and the kinds of things my friends and other contacts share in social media, that leaves me with quite the eclectic mix. I share today's tabs in hopes that you'll find something to amuse, stimulate, or inspire in some way.

  • How to Make Your Own Laundry Detergent: I've been meaning to do this for years. In fact, I bought the ingredients in Spokane before we moved--18 months ago. So it's high time and the fact that we're almost out of laundry detergent prompted me to go look this up. Did you know that gallon for gallon, liquid detergent costs more than gasoline? I'm on it.
  • Everyday Rider: Riding Out Your Period: On the Bicycling Magazine blog by my friend Elly Blue.
  • You're Not as Visible On a Bike at Night as You Think, New Study Shows: From BikePortland, a piece I looked up to share with Elly (although she lives there so I imagine she's seen it) for a discussion on Facebook about things she could write about in her column for Bicycling.
  • The Anthropology of Walking: Has me thinking about how my bike-riding patterns might fit into the findings of a study of foragers and reflecting on my reading of Born to Run by Christopher McDougall.
  • This Is Love: A very sweet cartoon strip on overcoming hurts to your heart and loving again, which someone shared on Facebook and I reshared. This illustrates what my Sweet Hubs did for me.
  • Which Musical Should You Star In? I don't take every quiz that crosses my path, but with Second Daughter now a sophomore majoring in musical theater I had to take this one. ("Rent," for the record. Also, if I were a Star Wars character I'd be Yoda, and I scored 87 out of 100 on "Are You a Millennial?")
  • Tsunami House by Designs Northwest Architects Stands Strong in the Face of Tidal Waves: I'd move into this gorgeous Camano Island house in a heartbeat--never mind the tsunamis. Sweet Hubs and I have agreed that we like a bit of the industrial (despite the fact that I've picked older/historic houses for the last two purchased) and want a certain Zen minimalism when we finally settle somewhere other than a rental. Since moving to Seattle we've lived in downtown and in Northeast Seattle and I'd like to check out more neighborhoods before deciding.
  • The Nonprofit Weekly Roundup: Secrets, Emals, and Tips for Better Donor Retention in 2014: I work at a nonprofit. 'Nuff said.
  • The Role of Brand in the Nonprofit Sector: Since we changed our name November 2013 to Washington Bikes (formerly Bicycle Alliance of Washington) I think about this a lot. This piece from the Stanford Social Innovation Review popped up in social media somewhere.
  • Demystifying Scaling, Part I: Another piece from the Stanford Social Innovation Review I'm reading because as a statewide organization with a small staff, Washington Bikes has to be smart in how we scale our work for maximum impact and effectiveness. We'll be adding a new staff position in Spokane soon (geographical scaling) and are exploring some technology innovations that could help us reach more people.
That should represent sufficient randomness. And now, off to ride my bike. The sun is shining and the birds at the feeders look pretty happy.

Recent Thoughts in Other Spaces

Periodically I update the archives you'll find under each tab in the navigation above. (Go ahead, take a look--I'll wait.) Then I typically put a note on Facebook or tweet out something along the lines of "Just about everything I've ever blogged, in case you're interested."

What I don't do is use the most obvious real estate of all--the actual post space on this blog--to tell you that I do blog prolifically. It just doesn't appear here all that often.

This blog houses my most personal stuff, which also means it's the most diverse in topics. If you found me because I've written a lot about biking, you really should look at the Bikes/Transportation tab above and spend more time on my Bike Style blog for my personal take on biking and the Bicycle Alliance of Washington blog for bike policy, events, and other news on everything to do with bicycling in Washington state. If you're interested in just about any other topics, it's bound to come around again but I can't guarantee when.

In the meantime, here's a round-up of some of my favorite recent posts from those other spaces. They're all about biking. Surprise!




Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes


(Not all the lyrics fit my point--it's the refrain I was going for.)

We’re creatures of habit. We floss daily—or we don’t. We sleep on the same side of the bed every night. We buy the same brand of cereal or variety of fruit over and over. When a kid does something we hear our parents’ phrases come out of our mouths even though we swore we’d never do that.

We tend to take the same route to work every day. Although I’d argue that riding a bike frees the mind so I’m less likely to get stuck in that particular rut, I do park in the same spot in the bike rack every day. When I had to change “my” spot because someone else was getting there before me and using it, I felt the mental wrench. Now my “new” spot is “my” spot and I don’t even look at the other one. So we can change.

What would it take for you to make radical changes in your life? To develop all-new routines and relationships?

While I wasn’t looking to shake things up dramatically, that's what the next phase of my life holds, at least for a while.

Given the chance of a lifetime to pursue a long-held dream—to run an organization doing something I believe in passionately—I’ve accepted the position of executive director of the Bicycle Alliance of Washington. With headquarters in Seattle. And I start in four weeks. The professional opportunity excites me and offers a great challenge, coming as it does at a critical time for active transportation because of the cuts in federal funding

There are losses as well as gains, of course. This post isn't about the sad parts of moving, like leaving my best friend and my older daughter (Skype! Text! Facebook! Maybe even actual phone calls!) and my work and colleagues at WSU Spokane. I haven't had to do those things yet so that will hit more as the departure date draws closer.

Instead it's about the chance to reshape some other elements in my life, which is giving me a charge I hadn’t expected as Eric and I pack up the house. For example:

I get to walk away from every decorating decision I’ve ever made! We’re going to rent our house furnished rather than try to sell it in this market and initially will live in a small furnished condo belonging to my brother and his wife while we look for a permanent place.

We’ll put a few pieces into storage, but only a few. When we settle I can change everything: color schemes, style (such as it was), the overall mish-mash of things from my childhood and pieces I’ve acquired through more than one marriage and move.

I will finally acknowledge that certain craft projects will never come to fruition. I already gave away two big bags of leftover yarn that will go to a high school knitting club. I have 5 yards of a beautiful lightweight wool herringbone that I snagged when I cleaned out my parents’ house—in 2001! After more than a decade I’m clearly not going to whip up a fabulous suit the way I thought I would and I’m giving it to a friend. I bought candle-making supplies, did it a few times, wasn’t all that great at creating candles that would burn down consistently, and am giving those away.

I’m not getting rid of my grandmother's knitting needles or my mom's sewing machine, mind you. I’m just getting rid of the flotsam and jetsam of projects both finished and abandoned.

How old are those spices anyway? I love to cook so over the years I have accumulated many a jar of something used once, then filed alphabetically in my spice drawer. At some point in 2008 I started writing the month and year of purchase on the tops of the lids so at least I know just how stale most of that drawerfull is. I’m going to pitch everything older than 2011 since they all smell roughly the same and presumably would impart no flavor to the dish.

Where did all these dishes come from? I’m not quite clear on how I ended up owning five glass pie pans but I know I’ve never baked more than three pies at a time. I bet I could make perfectly good layer cakes with  a set of nine-inch pans or a set of ten-inch, but I've never needed both at the same time. And so on through utensils, pots, pans, knives, and everything else in an  over-stocked kitchen.

Many of my books deserve new readers. This actually started 6 years ago when we moved out of a 5,000-square-foot house with lots of built-in bookshelves and wall space for even more. The house we moved into has less wall space and only a few built-in shelves.

At that time I set free quite a few books to find new homes and acquired a whopping credit at Auntie’s in return. The inevitable result of that, of course, was that the stacks of books crept back up. I now own a Kindle to reduce my carbon footprint and am going to keep only a few special volumes. (The signed copy of Joyride by Mia Birk goes to Seattle with me, of course.)

Style purge! This one is trickier. I’m changing to a different climate and my sweaters will come in handy. But anything I’ve been keeping with the thought that it’s perfectly good and surely I’ll wear it one of these days is going away. I've been shopping for bike-friendly fashion for a long time so no big adjustment is needed there.

So there you have it. I'm packing, sorting, dumping, and giving things to friends; visiting favorite places one more time; tying up loose ends on work projects; and looking down the road and around the bend to something new. Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes indeed!

Related Reading
Your Turn
  • If you cleaned as if you were moving, what would you get rid of?
  • What are you waiting for?

Tab Set: A Round-up of Current Miscellany

The title of this post refers to a habit of mine: Click on lots of links from Twitter, email newsletters, Google Reader, and Facebook, opening them all with every intention of reading them later, and eventually lose them because I decide I can't stand the number of tabs open in my browser and I don't have time to do the reading right at that moment. Multiply this by the fact that I have a work computer, a laptop, a tablet, and a smartphone, and that's a lot of tabs.

Partial tab set
I'm choosing to do this sharing in a medium other than Twitter, where to tweet is to cast a twig into the floodwaters, or Facebook, where the rate at which I read things I want to share is a bit overwhelming for my friends. (I realized this after having Twitter tied to Facebook for a brief while--something I now consider a social media faux pas--and having a friend dub me "Queen of the Status Updates.")

This choice to create a post is thanks in part to the first entry on the list (a link I did manage to follow and finish reading because he writes really short posts):

What are you leaving behind? By Seth Godin: A blog post that asks why we don't collect our various musings and sources of inspiration in a more permanent form than social media postings.

Neil Gaiman commencement address on Brain Pickings, one of my very favorite websites for wonderful writing and unusual discoveries. While I click regularly on links from the @BrainPickings Twitter account, this particular post was recommended to me by Kent Peterson, who writes the charming Kent's Bike Blog (which isn't in the tab set because when I go into Google Reader I read the posts).

Where are the Women Bike Commuters? on Sightline, another site I read regularly via Twitter and email links. As someone who writes a lot about biking, aiming particularly at women, I'm sorry that the data from Spokane in this piece on riding in Northwest cities represent too small a sample to draw any conclusions, although I know empirically that I see more people--and more women--riding than I saw when we started Bike to Work Week celebrations five years ago. This tab is still open because I'm not done reading the comments and I know I'll want to add to them.

Why Bicyclists are Better Customers for Local Business than Drivers: It's on DC Streetsblog, which I follow on Twitter, but I found it by way of someone's tweet about a Planetizen bit that linked to this (another demonstration that the good stuff gets passed around and eventually I'll see it so it's okay if I close a tab after a while). I'm saving this and similar resources as inspiration for a future post on Bike Style Spokane and my occasional (okay, frequent) discussions with businesspeople about why biking is good for their bottom line.

What does your bicycle mean to you? A question on Quora I've been meaning to answer.

Nine-year-old's lunch blog shames school into making changes on Grist: I cheated on this one--I had actually read it, commented, and closed the tab, but just had to share it here. I serve on the board of the Empire Health Foundation, where we are working on childhood health by, among other things, supporting schools in making the switch to scratch cooking. I got to see the results a few weeks ago at the Cheney School District and in July will get to meet Cook for America founder Kate Ademick at a Culinary Bootcamp for school nutrition folks.

Statistical Abstract for My Home of Spokane, Washington, by Jess Walter. OK, see, I'm cheating again a little bit because I followed this link from inside Facebook and was so sucked in by Jess's wonderful writing that I devoured the whole thing. But by putting it on this list I make a record to remind myself to read it again, and I get to share it with others. I also signed up to follow Jess on Byliner, where this was posted and which looks like a fantastic resource for finding new authors and following favorites. This same piece was later highlighted on The Spovangelist, another on my regular reading list.

Lowest Difficult Setting Follow-up--Whatever: I read the original piece (nice gaming metaphor explaining straight white male privilege without using the word privilege, except I just did here), loved it, and shared it on Facebook. Now I want to read the follow-up so it's waiting for me.

pbump.net: Site of Philip Bump, who's going to work for Grist and who was part of a Twitter exchange I was in that somehow involved sprinkles and whipped cream. Twitter is so random and his site appears to be the same so it would be dangerous to start reading it and following links. Squirrel!

How to Fix Shockwave Flash Crashes in Google Chrome: Yeah, really tired of this problem. Love Chrome--hate the washed-out white screen and twirly circle and "Kill this page or wait?" messages.

From the sublime to the ridiculous or thereabouts, part of my current tab set. What are you reading? Post a link so I can pop it open and have it sit there staring at me, waiting to be read.

The Mindful Biking Series

A few weeks ago I had a "near miss" on my bike. Why we use the term "near miss" I don't know--if someone nearly misses you that actually means the person hits you.

At any rate, that led me to write a series of posts on my Bike Style Spokane blog on mindful biking. Mindfulness is one of the three watchwords I've adopted for my 2012 biking, along with consistency and variety (two sides of the same coin). 

As a friend of mine years ago was fond of saying, there's nothing quite like the prospect of a trip to the guillotine to focus your mind. In my case I've found there's nothing quite like almost hitting the side of an SUV when the mindless driver pulls out in front of you to focus your mind on your surroundings. Herewith, the mindfulness series:
Other posts that relate to mindful biking:
A couple of posts on applying my three words:

25 More Posts on Bike Style Spokane

A round-up of posts on Bike Style Spokane since my last round-up post June 12, 2011. I've been blogging up a storm over there so this blog has a few crickets chirping but I'll be back.

The Sheer Joy of It

I occasionally get a sensation I refer to as “the joy bubble.” It’s a feeling of intense rising pressure from deep inside created by elation and excitement that seem to want to burst out all over. 

No, this is not a digestive problem.

This also isn’t exactly happiness, which I feel a fair amount of the time because I’m a Sally Sunshine optimist. It feels both deeper and more significant.

I have distinct memories of some of the things that have created this sensation. They’re pretty simple, really. A few examples (and in making the list I realized every single time I feel this it has to do with living intensely in the moment of an actual experience--never with acquiring some kind of possession):
  • Walking along the sidewalk at Washington State University during one of my first years of college there, kicking through piles of gorgeous golden/orange/red/russet/brown fall leaves and looking up through more of that vivid color at a clear blue autumn sky.
  • Learning to slalom waterski—at last—rising up behind my oldest brother’s speedboat on one ski and walking on water.
  • Listening to my daughters sing (they have gorgeous voices).
  • Going for a walk with my sweetheart, holding hands and striding out along the sidewalk walking in step with each other on a balmy evening or a crisp morning.
  • And most recently, at Spokane Summer Parkways.

Wednesday night I attended a late-afternoon event, then booked home in my tangerine silk dress and pumps to change into (gasp!) bike clothes for Parkways.

As I left my house and started riding up Rockwood Boulevard toward the event I encountered a man and a woman on bikes speeding downhill. They smiled, waved, and called out “Hi!” I reciprocated and pedaled onward, smiling to myself and thinking, “They must have just come from Parkways.”

Not half a block later another man swooped around the corner from Upper Terrace Road to drop onto Rockwood. He too called out, waved, and smiled.

Any two riders on bikes encountering each other on the streets around here are apt to give a brief nod or a lift of the hand to acknowledge the two-wheeled fellowship. But the extra conviviality and connection—the smile, the comment, and two encounters so close together—felt above and beyond the norm of what I encounter in my everyday riding.

I made it up the hill to Parkways and there encountered so much more of the same. Smiling, waving, talking to total strangers on one of the first truly warm summer evenings we've had, the day after Solstice so the light lingered. 

People filled the streets with happiness. Parents and grandparents pushing strollers, a mom on inline skates next to her daughter on a tiny push bike, folks of all ages and sizes on bikes of all types, a young couple walking their new adoptee from the shelter, families lined up in a semicircle of lawn chairs on their front lawns chatting, smiling, and waving at the passers-by.

I pedaled slowly around the parks, stopped to chat with people I know and with ones I don't know, told a friend who's running for the school board that I want her yard sign, met up with my sweetheart, and went by The Scoop for ice cream before riding home together through the warm summer evening.

16 Posts on Bike Style

I haven't stopped blogging here completely, mind you, but am producing at least two posts a week on my newish blog, Bike Style Spokane. If that's the content that interests you, pop over and subscribe!

I'd especially appreciate it if you would go vote on the Bikespedition #1 poll for great destination neighborhoods for biking/eating/shopping/sightseeing and nominate biking women to interview for "On a Roll With...."

This blog remains as the home for my thoughts on public policy (including bike policy), food, Spokane, random parenting (can't call it drive-by parenting since I'm usually on a bike), and the like.

Herewith, a round-up of my posts since the inauguration of Bike Style Spokane on May 1, 2011, the beginning of Spokane Bicycle Month:

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