Some funny and positive images from the Northern Sun catalog. Probably on the verge of grungy hippie, but c'mon! We all need a little positive harrumph in progressive thought, right? And the Shepard Fairey Make Art poster is pretty classic looking, me thinks.

Some other random links I followed this morning:

LOVED the article on succulents on Poppytalk--not because I have a weakness for the easy to care for little buggers, but because it spreads the plant love.
Also because it took me to At Home At Home. She's funny and I can relate to almost all of the posts (with apologies to the one on 90210; one word: Brenda). And she linked to Yvette Roman's Beyond the Lawn. At which point I opened a new tab and excitedly read this article! Well sort of read it because now I have 6 tabs open and I want to read everything all at once. Why is that Newsweek article so exciting? It means I'll get less and less odd looks from neighbors who think the big beds in our back yard are actually in our front yard.

The past couple days I've been working on recipe cards to share, and above you see 3 of the 4. The last one has been giving me a little lip, but hopefully I'll have all 4 as a PDF, free for your personal printing enjoyment!

There is a little deal to be had in the WATS etsy shop. Check out Modish later today and find out what this vague little secret is all about.

On to a little learning lesson at Chateau du Sneak, but first here's a nice little quip from Homegrown Evolution:

As the Bicycle Film Festival wraps up here in Los Angeles I'm reminded of how exciting it is to feel a part of a subculture not yet discovered by the masses. Perhaps $4 a gallon gasoline will bring a few more converts, but I'm not holding my breath. The joy of riding a bike is a far greater incentive than economic necessity. I'd rather crest a steep hill with a sense of accomplishment rather than a winded desperation. The bike film fest is a celebration of an everyday physical virtuosity that will become more important as the crack-like cultural high of fossil fuels proves increasingly expensive and destructive.

If you take out the words "film fest" in the last sentence the whole thing becomes more relevant to the world beyond LA.

You see, around here we have a lot of cyclers who are very. . .ummmm. . .serious about their sport. Lots of spandex and store-bought gear covered in "sponsorship" logos (or are there that many serious cyclers in this town? I'm completely lost with the culture, so any misrepresentation is purely a result of my own subjective observation.) You don't really see that many people on bikes just trying to get somewhere.

This is why my posts have been lacking in bicycle gab for a while.

Hi-C finished the flatsy, so we were fully prepared to traipse around town and pick up bags of cut grass or do our shopping for the week, but my long-neglected tires were looking worse for the wear. That was June 26. We took the bike to the small, independently owned shop up the road to get new tires. Now mind you my bike is a late 80s Schwinn--nothing fancy, just an all around good little 10 speed that cost me $35 once upon a time. The tires, we were told, had to be special tires that needed to be ordered. Said tires would be in in a few days.

A few days pass, some tires come in, we were called, went to pick up the bike and the tires were the wrong size. Took the bike home, were told the tires would be sent back and new ones would arrive in a couple days. Bike sat there, lonely, and wheeless in the company of Bike2 and Flatsy.
A couple days go by, the tires didn't come in, we were told "tomorrow" "tomorrow" "tomorrow" and "tomorrow", you see, tomorrow is a promise with prohibitive nature--a term that made putting the wheels back on the bike seem useless, since "tomorrow" we'd be taking them back off and replacing the tires and inner tubes. A total of 4 sets of tires came in at various points, all of which were the wrong size and tomorrow the right size would be in.

Trusting the bike shop, we'd never thought to try the 26" tires in the garage, bought for the first set of wheels we had for the Flatsy, which ended up not working. So we waited. A couple more "tommorows" came and went and 3 weeks had passed. "Oh yeah," said a more than perturbed Mr. C, "I have those tires in the garage. They're not special tires, they're $10 tires I bought at Target. I wonder if those $10 unspecial tires will fit the $35 unspecial bike wheels." And amazingly, they did! Once again, Bike had fresh rubber, and Bike2, Flatsy, and Bike were ready for a quick jaunt to the grocery store.

What do you think: Was this bicycle run-around because we weren't the customers who would be back to pay several hundred dollars for a pair of shoes specially made for city street training? Or was it because the distributor kept sending the wrong tires? Certainly if they can outfit a several thousand dollar bicycle they could figure out the right kind of tires, no?