I spent a a lovely Thanksgiving relaxing, first at home, and then with friends down in the Treme. It was a crisp day, but the sun was shining, making my bike ride on the Surly quite perfect. The streets were incredibly quiet today; I guess by the time I got myself on the road it was already dinnertime for everybody else. A year ago I hadn’t met a single one of the folks I broke bread with tonight. And looking at that room, full of incredibly smart, clever, and attractive folks who know how to cook and know how to dance, I felt really, really thankful. It’s good to have a gang, and the gang was (almost) all there tonight. I rode home, again on empty streets, and thought about how much can change in a year, grateful that this year, it was all for the better. I stopped on my ride home to take a picture of this white wicker couch on Baronne near Terpsichore. I see this white wicker couch with cardboard seats every time I ride up this street, and that’s often. Sometimes it’s moved closer to the corner, other times further down the block. I’ve never seen anyone sitting in it, but I know some people must. I hope they had a good Thanksgiving, and I hope they get some good weather for sitting out here this weekend. I got back on my bike, pedaled the rest of the way home, thankful for so, so many things, including that smooth asphalt on Louisiana. I am lucky, and I am grateful.

It’s the day before Thanksgiving, and I spent it tooling around on the bike running teensy errands and finding pleasant places to grade a few papers. It got cold by the end of the evening, and I suddenly realized I was not dressed appropriately to comfortably ride home. Whatever–we’re on holiday! You can absolutely tell it’s closing in on Christmas, even though the days are still warm enough for me to ride around in a skirt, t-shirt, and flip flops. The holiday wreaths are up, the fancy lights are on, and the French Quarter carriages have their pine boughs attached. After riding around and having dinner with K., I biked back down to the Treme to see some friends. Then we headed out to Allways, where I snapped this picture while sitting in the courtyard, chatting with J. “It’s so particular,” she said of the tin cut out. She’s right–it’s a shirtless cowboy in bleached denim, stretching back like a pole dancer. I guess those bikes are pretty exciting… I found him quite soothing today, a day when I felt a little off my game. As many years as I go without spending this holiday with family, sometimes I still feel a little down to not be with them. But I’ve got a different sort of family, the sort of family that wants to sit outside in the cold and wonder, collectively, what this tin cowboy’s been up to. After a couple of drinks, I made the chilly ride home, happy that this is my home.

I spent the afternoon riding my bike around, posting posters and flyers about the upcoming Bicycle Film Festival. I rode over to the Gambit offices to drop off a screener for review and then back up Carrollton to Oak Street to drop flyers at all the lovely shops over there. Carrollton on a bike sometimes feels like a death wish, especially when riding under the freeway. You’ve got to make sure you beat the cars merging on to I10. It’s ugly–Elysian-Fields-By-Lowe’s ugly. The street is also bumpy as all get out, and lo and behold, on my ride back toward the river, I flatted out, sans tube repair tools. Fortunately I was near Oak, and near a newly-opened bike shop–New Orleans Bike and Board Shop (NOBS). The store is incredibly clean and tidy–it isn’t a greasy box stuffed with bikes and bike parts. They were perfectly happy to toss Rhoda up and fix her flat (see her in the picture, in the doorway? so pretty!). They even secured my floppy front fender and put another bolt on my basket, all for ten bucks. I have to say, I love new bike shops. I needed this place today, and I enjoyed chatting with the owners and the father of another of the owners about riding bikes, fixing bikes, shopping for bikes, watching movies about bikes. I continued on my merry way, dropping flyers and posters all over the place. I stopped in at Mike the Bike Guy–something was sticking, my wheels weren’t rolling quite right. He tightened my other fender and sent me on my way. Thank you, bike shops everywhere, for keeping us on the roads.

Uptown and the Garden District are probably the two ritziest neighborhoods in Orleans Parish. When biking around, you can absolutely tell when you’ve crossed from Uptown in to Central City. There aren’t nearly as many trees, whole blocks are blighted, some streets feel empty. And the Garden District? Hell, Sandra Bullock lives here! But the thing is, Uptown and the Garden District are neighborhoods in New Orleans, where decay is just a fact of life. I took this picture of two houses as I rode my bike home after a long day of work. The house on the left is all spruced up and painted a lovely green. The light fixtures are new, but have that olde tyme look that fits well with the neighborhood. The place is thoughtful and matches other houses in the area. The house on the right is nowhere near that condition. You can still make out “Cat Not Found” spray painted on the front. I wonder where the cat went. This neighborhood didn’t flood, so the cat met a fate other than drowning. The two houses don’t match at all. and the run down house doesn’t fit in Sandra Bullock’s neighborhood. But this is New Orleans.

After getting a little bit lost on my bike yesterday, and riding around for more hours than I’d planned, I have to admit I was dragging a little when I got up early to bike out to Gentilly to meet the Nolacycle folks for the Bike Bash mapping ride. But oh, I’m glad I did. It was great to see so many people on bikes–including the folks biking around the south planting trees!–joining in on the project. I enjoyed my ride so much, I was instantly regretful that I hadn’t joined the team sooner. I took a nice, leisurely ride back to Canal and Villere to check out some bike polo action and help out with the BBQ. Nobody brought charcoal lighter fluid. So I spent thirty minutes on a mission to find some. In November. I delivered it, and then sat back and watched some polo. I tried to see myself making myself a mallet, getting on my Surly, knocking the ball around, but I just don’t think it’s for me. Then again, I haven’t tried it. Sigh. There are so, so many things to do with bikes. When I finally made it home this afternoon I was seriously wishing I had a bathtub for a good soak after a full weekend of riding all over this town. Next stop: Bicycle Film Festival! Perfect.

It was cool and stormy today, but it’s Bike Bash 2009, so I headed out to take in some events. I was all set to volunteer at RUBARB’s Bike Rodeo for kids, but they had too many volunteers and not enough work to do. That’s a really, really good problem to have, it seems to me. I left, promising myself to come back on another Saturday when they might need another hand. I spent the afternoon on a ride with no destination. I dodged intermittent rain, riding into the wind for most of the day, so I was pedaling hard. For some reason I enjoyed that hard work immensely. I headed out Louisa just to see where it would go, and stopped to snap a picture of these concrete foundations. It was like a foundation graveyard out here at Louisa and Law, and it felt eerie. I can’t tell if this marks the end of something or the beginning of something else. I guess it’s probably both. I continued my ride through Gentilly, up Chef Menteur, in to Lakeview, with a brief stop at the PJ’s by UNO for coffee and a bagel. Then I rode along Bayou St. John, over on Canal past the bike polo tourney, and then up Baronne. In the daytime. It looks a lot different with all that light. I haven’t had a good aimless ride in awhile–damn job getting in the way–and I needed it. That’s just the sort of ride that puts me back in myself.

Tonight was the opening-night party for Bike Bash, a weekend celebrating bikes and bike culture in New Orleans, sponsored by Metro Bicycle Coalition, Plan B, and RUBARB. I was excited to ride my bike to a place where lots of other folks were riding their bikes. The crowd included lots of NOLA Bike Polo team members as well as many MBC members and friends. I don’t know most of these bikers, so I was a little nervous, but at the same time, it felt a little like I’d found my people. I snapped this photo of folks sitting around and chatting while goldsprints sign ups went around. I’ve never seen goldsprints, and let me just say they are fun, fun, fun. I didn’t know most of the racers, but I found myself cheering them on (usually whoever was on the blue bike–matches my eyes) and getting in to the competition. Dudes were going over 50MPH! That’s serious racing, man. This was just the first event among many, and I’m looking forward to a weekend of bikes and bikers and biking. And yes, I’ll be getting there by bike.

I rode home from work shivering in the slightly chilly weather (I need a cold weather haberdasher–I’m terrible at dressing myself once it drops below 70!) along Loyola through Central City. The asphalt is really, really nice in that neighborhood, but it doesn’t exactly look like a neighborhood that would have newly paved roads. It’s a delight for the cyclist, that’s for sure. I stopped near Marengo to take a picture through the locked fence of the New Orleans Recreation Department (NORD) Tennis Center that is being rehabbed, I think, to offer an Uptown tennis facility to Uptown New Orleans. It feels oddly out of place, this tennis center. I think I have an idea that tennis is for rich people, and this isn’t a rich people’s neighborhood. Now, of course all kinds of people play tennis. But I have these early associations of tennis with the kids who lived in the Highlands and went to the Country Club to play tennis and swim in a private pool. I hated those kids. But heck, maybe it’s time to get over it. Everybody should get to play tennis. I bet it’s fun. Of course, this place isn’t open yet, so this is all idle chatter. But there are a lot of other activities sponsored by NORD, from football and swimming lessons to theater and dance. I wouldn’t have thought to check that resource except that I rode my bike past here and wondered what was behind the gate. Another win for the bicycle!

That’s right, it’s kind of cool in New Orleans today. You’d think it was icy outside, given the winter get ups I saw out there today. I liked biking home in the crisp air and sunshine, though. I stopped to take a picture of the Unity Temple on St. Charles and Peniston. The architecture in New Orleans is terrifically distinctive. When I first rode to town, that was the very first thing I noticed. The houses are so tall, so colorful, so ornate with their ironwork and carved overhangs (please fill in architectural language for me please). When a building doesn’t fit, it really stands out. Like this one. It looks like two spaceships have hovered their way down to earth, hiding themselves poorly behind the fence and the plants. It just seems like a different kind of building and a different kind of church. And perhaps it is. I’ve never been inside even though I’ve passed it literally hundreds of times. It usually escapes my notice, except when it doesn’t. And then I wonder what they’re doing in there. I zipped home and got off the bike. And stayed off. One of the troubles with pedal brakes (I know, I know, I need to get that hand brake!) is that abrupt stops can do a number on the quadriceps. I’m taking the Surly tomorrow, for sure.

I had a lovely day today, back at work, feeling so, so much better. After biking to and from work in the sunshine, the clouds were rolling in and the air was getting thick. It was spitting just a tiny bit when I hopped on the bike to meet friends for dinner, and by the time I was tucked in to the booth, the sky had opened up and poured. D. even reported hail! By the time we were done with dinner and drinks the rain had stopped and it was just perfect for a ride down to the Treme to hang with J., R., and friends. On my ride home I stopped to take this picture of a basketball backboard on a power pole. I wish the hoop was still there. When I ride this street during daylight hours, there are always a bunch of kids hanging out on porches or tossing footballs in the street. The hoop would surely fit in here. But that would mean playing in the street, which seems to have fallen off the kid-approved list. Which is too bad, because there’s space there, right outside those doors, to play in the neighborhood with the other kids in the neighborhood. But the streets belong to cars, I guess. And sometimes to bikes. Not tonight, though. As I crossed Julia, headed toward Central City, a private security guard slo-o-owly drove by. He stared at me intently through the window, as if he didn’t quite believe he was seeing me. I can’t really explain what the look felt like. I just know that I hardly ever, ever feel unsafe biking home, but for just a second tonight, I did.