Just off Main Street, down North Front St and next to one of the two bike shops in New Paltz, sits a free-standing building aptly named The Bakery. It's grown to a pretty large building these days; apparently it used to be quite cosy. According to one reviewer, there was a time when it could only seat 5 patrons. These days there is a fairly spacious downstairs area for placing orders and grabbing the local and state newspapers. Thru the rear door is a lovely little outside eating area. Upstairs are tables for several dozen customers as well as a play area for toddlers. It's a wonderful location, and in many ways it's the heart of New Paltz. The only things not working for The Bakery, it's sad to report, are the coffee and the food.
Minor quibbles, I know. A bakery used to be known as a place to get a tasty croissant, some pain au chocolat, or a cookie or cake. And this place has them all. There are also soups, salads, sandwiches, and other comestibles, as well as quite a few drink choices such as tea and chai. But lately the quality, which seems always to have been suspiciously low, has gone down. Call it a victim of the current economic trend, but when times get tough, some bakeries tough it out by raising prices or by purchasing less expensive ingredients. The Bakery seems to have opted for choice 2.
When we moved to New Paltz just over three years ago, we were thrilled to find a convenient local bakery, and when Shirra opened her store across the street from it, we thought that the gods were smiling upon us. Shirra lamented early on that the coffee was substandard, so she trekked a few yards up the hill to *$$ rather than saving money with The Bakery's weak and off-putting version. Shortly after that, however, we got a surprise in one of our toilets that put the kibosh on The Bakery for food, too.
One fall morning, one of the kids called Shirra to the bathroom. The material in the toilet was inhumanly green. We'd seen this once before and chalked it up to someone eating lots of veggies, but this time it was like something that had come out of a tube of green paint. And that's when Shirra remembered that the kids had been eating one of their favorite glazed yummies at The Bakery the day before. The green-hued poop earned its colors from a witch cupcake. If you're using so much dye in your food that a person shits grass-green, it's time to alter your formula. Since that wasn't happening, we did the next best thing: We altered our formula. Now, if the kids want baked goods, Shirra makes them herself or buys them at Muddy Cup. Now that's a great place for an afternoon snack!
Friday, September 25, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Very Impressed with the Pigeons of NYC
On Sunday, I arrived back at my car, parked for 24 hours on 81st St and Columbus, across from the Planetarium. The car had been hit by 5 pigeons. 4 managed to score on the glass top of the car, but one enterprising pigeon got extra points for landing some guano right on the driver's side door handle. Wow. What really amazed me is that the nearest tree branch is at least 50 feet above. Given the size of the car, these birds pulled off the NASA equivalent of landing an unmanned rocket on the moon.
I planned to wash the car the next morning but forgot and then ran out of time. Good thing: The next day, the car had been hit a few more times. Kudos to the birds that hit the rear part of the car -- that thing is almost perfectly perpendicular to their location. The winning strike goes to the bird that managed to land a poop right on my rear window decal. This made it extra tricky to clean, since the decal can't withstand much scrubbing.
Hats off to the pigeons of New York City. On second thought, keep your hat on, just in case.
I planned to wash the car the next morning but forgot and then ran out of time. Good thing: The next day, the car had been hit a few more times. Kudos to the birds that hit the rear part of the car -- that thing is almost perfectly perpendicular to their location. The winning strike goes to the bird that managed to land a poop right on my rear window decal. This made it extra tricky to clean, since the decal can't withstand much scrubbing.
Hats off to the pigeons of New York City. On second thought, keep your hat on, just in case.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
80 Miles on a Unicycle
This post isn't about New Paltz... except that the distance I rode is almost exactly the same as my daily (one-way) commute to Manhattan. So theoretically I could ride to work. Not gonna happen.
I set out this past Sunday to ride my 2nd full Century. I made it 80% of the way.
I rode my only complete Century in 2003. Last year, I had 89 miles under my belt when I had to stop due to a really bad case of saddle soreness. Basically my cheeks looked like Kris Kringle's. I was determined not to let that happen again.
This ride starts at 6 am at the northern end of Central Park, but I took off earlier than that in order to avoid the rush and mainly to give myself a better chance of finishing by 6 pm, when the ride comes to an official end.
AVOIDING DIAPER RASH
I donned two pairs of padded cycle shorts and slathered on enough chamois butter for three people. I reapplied the butter thruout the day, and as a result, I suffered no friction pain during or after the ride. I do, however, have a better understanding of the term 'numbnuts.'
AVOIDING SUNBURN
It was a lovely sunny day -- too lovely, in fact, which is how I found myself terribly dehydrated midway thru -- so I was glad that I'd remembered sun block and that the stuff still worked. I applied some when the sun finally showed up at about 7:30 and then again a few hours later. I am not sure how much sunlight can filter thru the slats of my helmet, but I didn't want to end up looking like a zebra-head.
30 MILES in 3 HOURS
That's not a quick pace, but including breaks, and given how little training and general riding I'd done in the previous 12 months, I was happy with how things started for me. My breaks totaled about 40 minutes by mile 30, but while I was on the unicycle, I had been maintaining a 13.1-mph pace, which is quite fast given the frequent slow-downs and stops along this ride. I mainly stayed in high gear this time since last year's ride produced a catastrophic fall when the unicycle didn't shift gears properly, pretty much ending my ride (along with the raw bum cheeks).
I figured that I had 9 hours to complete the next 70 miles, an easy enough task. I'd felt good riding the 13 miles from my mom's apartment building (81st St off Central Park, Manhattan) to rest stop #1 (Prospect Park, Brooklyn). I felt pretty good riding from there to rest stop #2, 17 miles later. Unfortunately, the ride organizers had shortened the space between stops #2 and #3 without adding an addition stop between #3 and #4. This meant that riders had a 30-mile gap before the next big stop (Kissena Park, Queens). And after another hour of riding, I didn't think I'd ever make it that far.
WINDED and DEHYDRATED
It didn't help that we had a strong breeze blowing in our faces for most of the Queens segment of the ride. The bikers complained about it, too, but they acknowledged that I probably had it worse because my sitting position (on a unicycle) makes me much less aerodynamic than they are. There were plenty of times where, because of the wind and my exhaustion, I rode in low gear at about 6-8 miles an hour.
At some point I finally realized that my muscles were screaming for more water and more electrolytes, but at the time I just felt like I had lost all of my energy. When it dawned on me that I was dehydrated, I started drinking a lot more from my backpack hydration system, nearly emptying its recently-replenished 70-oz bladder. This meant that from that point on, I frequently had to stop in order to empty my own (less-than-70 oz) bladder, and since the organizers had forgotten to include even one portable toilet between rest stops, I invented quite a few of my own. Sorry, Queens.
I stopped frequently between mile 40 and mile 50, and pretty soon I had most of the gas back in my proverbial tank. During my recovery period of about two hours, I wasn't able to maintain more than 12 mph and at some points had to put the uni into low gear, but after about two hours, I was back to about 80% strength, able to keep up with some of the slower-paced bikers for long stretches.
LOST
At this point, it actually helped that I got lost. I had been riding with a pack of about 20 bikers. Whenever we came to a busy intersection, I managed to weave thru the traffic before the rest of my pack; I've been good at reading traffic ever since I began serious uni commuting 10 years ago. The peloton would pass me between stop lights, and then I'd catch up to them, zig and zag thru the cars, and get ahead once more. At about mile 50, I was feeling strong, and as I approached the group waiting for the light, I jokingly announced, "I'm making my move!" as I crossed against the light once again. By the time I looked back, I realized that I'd missed a turn (probably at that light). I was either going to have to find my way back to the course (impossible, since I didn't have a map), return to the spot where I'd gone off course (perhaps adding an additional mile to my ride), or I could ride straight to Kissena Park (rest stop #3), which I discovered was just two miles away. I opted to shorten this part of my ride, and I arrived at the 60-mile rest stop after riding just 53 miles. It was about 11:30 am.
I was more than halfway thru the 100-mile mark in under half the time, but I began to admit to other riders that it was very unlikely that I'd complete the full Century. Pathetically, I managed only 27 more miles in the remaining 4.5 hours.
FINAL REST STOP and the SILLY BRIDGE
After Kissena Park, I set out for the Astoria Park rest stop about 20 miles away. I was feeling better thanks to all the water and electrolytes I was consuming, but I still needed to take breaks just to get some blood flow back into my groin. Because of the long pauses I'd had to take earlier on, I arrived at the final stop -- mile 81 or so for everyone else, mile 74 for me -- too late to have a good shot at finishing 100 miles by 6 pm. I chatted with two guys who were riding a tandem (same ratio of rider to wheel as me, I pointed out, but apparently they still had an easier time), and eventually we all headed off.
This last little stretch (of about 5 miles) stupidly involves a bridge that has an incomplete biking section which forces riders to carry their cycles up and down several series of steps. I have no idea why Transportation Alternatives continues to use this bridge on the route, but it was the final nail in the coffin for my Century chances since it slowed us all down as, like little ants carrying grasshoppers to the anthill, we all made our way across the span. Last year it happened to be worse -- there were more of us trying to cross at the time -- but it still took over 10 minutes to get across about a mile of space. I arrived at the finish line, having ridden 78 miles, at 5 pm. I briefly considered pedaling around the park at least once more, to add 5 miles to my trip, but I decided to call it a day and head back to my car, 2+ miles away. It wasn't 100 miles, but I was happy with the ride, especially considering my lack of preparation, the heavy wind for about 20 miles, and my ability to fight back after that dehydration.
AFTERMATH
I took a strong hot shower (my mom's apartment building has firehouse-power water pipes thanks to old plumbing) and remembered that same experience last year when I could barely tolerate even the coolest mild drip on my ruby-red cheeks. Soon I was driving back to New Paltz, feeling fine. Later that night, I awoke with a weird pain in my wonky left knee, but it went away by the following morning. I have only one muscle that's even slightly sore: my left bicep (!) from holding the extention on my uni. For the first time after a ride over 80 miles, I was able to ride a unicycle the next day.
I set out this past Sunday to ride my 2nd full Century. I made it 80% of the way.
I rode my only complete Century in 2003. Last year, I had 89 miles under my belt when I had to stop due to a really bad case of saddle soreness. Basically my cheeks looked like Kris Kringle's. I was determined not to let that happen again.
This ride starts at 6 am at the northern end of Central Park, but I took off earlier than that in order to avoid the rush and mainly to give myself a better chance of finishing by 6 pm, when the ride comes to an official end.
AVOIDING DIAPER RASH
I donned two pairs of padded cycle shorts and slathered on enough chamois butter for three people. I reapplied the butter thruout the day, and as a result, I suffered no friction pain during or after the ride. I do, however, have a better understanding of the term 'numbnuts.'
AVOIDING SUNBURN
It was a lovely sunny day -- too lovely, in fact, which is how I found myself terribly dehydrated midway thru -- so I was glad that I'd remembered sun block and that the stuff still worked. I applied some when the sun finally showed up at about 7:30 and then again a few hours later. I am not sure how much sunlight can filter thru the slats of my helmet, but I didn't want to end up looking like a zebra-head.
30 MILES in 3 HOURS
That's not a quick pace, but including breaks, and given how little training and general riding I'd done in the previous 12 months, I was happy with how things started for me. My breaks totaled about 40 minutes by mile 30, but while I was on the unicycle, I had been maintaining a 13.1-mph pace, which is quite fast given the frequent slow-downs and stops along this ride. I mainly stayed in high gear this time since last year's ride produced a catastrophic fall when the unicycle didn't shift gears properly, pretty much ending my ride (along with the raw bum cheeks).
I figured that I had 9 hours to complete the next 70 miles, an easy enough task. I'd felt good riding the 13 miles from my mom's apartment building (81st St off Central Park, Manhattan) to rest stop #1 (Prospect Park, Brooklyn). I felt pretty good riding from there to rest stop #2, 17 miles later. Unfortunately, the ride organizers had shortened the space between stops #2 and #3 without adding an addition stop between #3 and #4. This meant that riders had a 30-mile gap before the next big stop (Kissena Park, Queens). And after another hour of riding, I didn't think I'd ever make it that far.
WINDED and DEHYDRATED
It didn't help that we had a strong breeze blowing in our faces for most of the Queens segment of the ride. The bikers complained about it, too, but they acknowledged that I probably had it worse because my sitting position (on a unicycle) makes me much less aerodynamic than they are. There were plenty of times where, because of the wind and my exhaustion, I rode in low gear at about 6-8 miles an hour.
At some point I finally realized that my muscles were screaming for more water and more electrolytes, but at the time I just felt like I had lost all of my energy. When it dawned on me that I was dehydrated, I started drinking a lot more from my backpack hydration system, nearly emptying its recently-replenished 70-oz bladder. This meant that from that point on, I frequently had to stop in order to empty my own (less-than-70 oz) bladder, and since the organizers had forgotten to include even one portable toilet between rest stops, I invented quite a few of my own. Sorry, Queens.
I stopped frequently between mile 40 and mile 50, and pretty soon I had most of the gas back in my proverbial tank. During my recovery period of about two hours, I wasn't able to maintain more than 12 mph and at some points had to put the uni into low gear, but after about two hours, I was back to about 80% strength, able to keep up with some of the slower-paced bikers for long stretches.
LOST
At this point, it actually helped that I got lost. I had been riding with a pack of about 20 bikers. Whenever we came to a busy intersection, I managed to weave thru the traffic before the rest of my pack; I've been good at reading traffic ever since I began serious uni commuting 10 years ago. The peloton would pass me between stop lights, and then I'd catch up to them, zig and zag thru the cars, and get ahead once more. At about mile 50, I was feeling strong, and as I approached the group waiting for the light, I jokingly announced, "I'm making my move!" as I crossed against the light once again. By the time I looked back, I realized that I'd missed a turn (probably at that light). I was either going to have to find my way back to the course (impossible, since I didn't have a map), return to the spot where I'd gone off course (perhaps adding an additional mile to my ride), or I could ride straight to Kissena Park (rest stop #3), which I discovered was just two miles away. I opted to shorten this part of my ride, and I arrived at the 60-mile rest stop after riding just 53 miles. It was about 11:30 am.
I was more than halfway thru the 100-mile mark in under half the time, but I began to admit to other riders that it was very unlikely that I'd complete the full Century. Pathetically, I managed only 27 more miles in the remaining 4.5 hours.
FINAL REST STOP and the SILLY BRIDGE
After Kissena Park, I set out for the Astoria Park rest stop about 20 miles away. I was feeling better thanks to all the water and electrolytes I was consuming, but I still needed to take breaks just to get some blood flow back into my groin. Because of the long pauses I'd had to take earlier on, I arrived at the final stop -- mile 81 or so for everyone else, mile 74 for me -- too late to have a good shot at finishing 100 miles by 6 pm. I chatted with two guys who were riding a tandem (same ratio of rider to wheel as me, I pointed out, but apparently they still had an easier time), and eventually we all headed off.
This last little stretch (of about 5 miles) stupidly involves a bridge that has an incomplete biking section which forces riders to carry their cycles up and down several series of steps. I have no idea why Transportation Alternatives continues to use this bridge on the route, but it was the final nail in the coffin for my Century chances since it slowed us all down as, like little ants carrying grasshoppers to the anthill, we all made our way across the span. Last year it happened to be worse -- there were more of us trying to cross at the time -- but it still took over 10 minutes to get across about a mile of space. I arrived at the finish line, having ridden 78 miles, at 5 pm. I briefly considered pedaling around the park at least once more, to add 5 miles to my trip, but I decided to call it a day and head back to my car, 2+ miles away. It wasn't 100 miles, but I was happy with the ride, especially considering my lack of preparation, the heavy wind for about 20 miles, and my ability to fight back after that dehydration.
AFTERMATH
I took a strong hot shower (my mom's apartment building has firehouse-power water pipes thanks to old plumbing) and remembered that same experience last year when I could barely tolerate even the coolest mild drip on my ruby-red cheeks. Soon I was driving back to New Paltz, feeling fine. Later that night, I awoke with a weird pain in my wonky left knee, but it went away by the following morning. I have only one muscle that's even slightly sore: my left bicep (!) from holding the extention on my uni. For the first time after a ride over 80 miles, I was able to ride a unicycle the next day.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Truck Fire
As I drove home yesterday, I saw a police car racing south on I-87. I figured the officer was chasing down a speeder, tho I hadn't noticed anyone driving fast on the other side of the highway. Then a second police cruiser zoomed past. This was curious. Where were they headed. It occurred to me that maybe they were rushing to the scene of an accident.
Up ahead, I spotted more flashing lights and initially figured that the accident must be just up ahead of me. I was partly right, but the lights I saw weren't rotating blue and red; they were blazing orange and yellow. Soon enough I noticed the flames and the truck they were attached to. The driver of the truck had pulled off the road and was about 200 feet ahead of the blaze. Presumably he'd noticed a problem, pulled onto the shoulder, and gotten out to alert authorities.
As I drove past, I could feel the intense heat radiating off the truck. It must have been over 1000 degrees.
Within a few minutes, the road was closed off behind the truck; it isn't really safe to drive past fully engulfed trucks, as they do have a wee tendency to explode. The police shut down the highway for a few minutes, and after three more drivers had passed me, I had the eerie experience of being the only driver on the road for miles and miles.
Up ahead, I spotted more flashing lights and initially figured that the accident must be just up ahead of me. I was partly right, but the lights I saw weren't rotating blue and red; they were blazing orange and yellow. Soon enough I noticed the flames and the truck they were attached to. The driver of the truck had pulled off the road and was about 200 feet ahead of the blaze. Presumably he'd noticed a problem, pulled onto the shoulder, and gotten out to alert authorities.
As I drove past, I could feel the intense heat radiating off the truck. It must have been over 1000 degrees.
Within a few minutes, the road was closed off behind the truck; it isn't really safe to drive past fully engulfed trucks, as they do have a wee tendency to explode. The police shut down the highway for a few minutes, and after three more drivers had passed me, I had the eerie experience of being the only driver on the road for miles and miles.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Last First Day of School
Maeve is 5 and is off to kindergarten. She had fun in pre-school at the Huguenot St. cooperative, but that program only went 9-11:30 or 9-12 (depending on kids' ages), so Shirra and I were thrilled whenever summer came and her camp took her for the full day. She's a confident kid who enjoys wherever she is and whoever she's there with, so the longer she can have fun outside of home, the better. After all, we get plenty of her on the weekends, during our fabulous summers, and before and after the school day. We're thrilled that she's the kind of kid who enjoys school and isn't afraid to grow up.
We're not afraid for her to grow up, either. We've always believed in shepherding our kids into the world so that they can be strong, independent, and happy people. I can understand how other parents get weepy at the thought of their children leaving the nest in one way or another, but really, isn't that the point of raising children? To my way of thinking, there's something unrealistic or almost selfish about crying when your little one goes off to school for the first time. Don't be sad to see them onto that bus; be thrilled that they're about to begin that big adventure! It's an exciting day.
This change-of-pace is especially thrilling when it's your first kid or your last kid. With Fiona, we assumed the best, and our expectations were exceeded. She had a great time in kindergarten. It helped that I was a teacher in her school; I got to see her all the time, even visiting her classroom once a week for a special activity. We sent Emmett to the same school when he turned 3, and even before that, he'd already had a great time in his 2s program at the Brooklyn Montessori; he didn't even look back at us when he ran into that classroom for the first time. Maeve has already had a few good days and has made some friends; she likes her teacher and the assistant teacher. We're excited for her. It's only a matter of time until she's bigger than her backpack.
We're not afraid for her to grow up, either. We've always believed in shepherding our kids into the world so that they can be strong, independent, and happy people. I can understand how other parents get weepy at the thought of their children leaving the nest in one way or another, but really, isn't that the point of raising children? To my way of thinking, there's something unrealistic or almost selfish about crying when your little one goes off to school for the first time. Don't be sad to see them onto that bus; be thrilled that they're about to begin that big adventure! It's an exciting day.
This change-of-pace is especially thrilling when it's your first kid or your last kid. With Fiona, we assumed the best, and our expectations were exceeded. She had a great time in kindergarten. It helped that I was a teacher in her school; I got to see her all the time, even visiting her classroom once a week for a special activity. We sent Emmett to the same school when he turned 3, and even before that, he'd already had a great time in his 2s program at the Brooklyn Montessori; he didn't even look back at us when he ran into that classroom for the first time. Maeve has already had a few good days and has made some friends; she likes her teacher and the assistant teacher. We're excited for her. It's only a matter of time until she's bigger than her backpack.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Bad Store Manners
While waiting to buy something at Dedricks (off Main St -- doesn't everyone know Dedricks?), I noticed a woman who appeared to be in front of me but who was talking on her cell phone. She wasn't talking loudly, but she was in the middle of a conversation. When the counterwoman asked to help whoever was next, I glanced at Ms Cell Phone expectantly but figured she would have stepped up to the cash register if it was really her turn. So I handed the cashier my items. Ms Cell Phone took her mouth away from the phone long enough to tell the cashier that she was next. The cashier told Ms Cell Phone that she couldn't help a customer who was talking on the phone.
No, there isn't a sign posted to this effect. Ms Cell Phone was right about that. But she was wrong to be piqued. After all, she was talking on the phone while waiting to be helped in a store and while standing in front of other people in line. How many things can she do at once? The cashier was right (and brave enough) to point this out to Ms Cell Phone, who got annoyed and threatened to take her business elsewhere.
I nearly said something. My alter ego, Voice of Society Man, has rested quietly for three years since we moved to New Paltz. I've always reckoned that the person you give the finger to one day could be sitting beside you at at PTA meeting the next. Ever since we've been in New Paltz, I've been extremely careful to keep VoS Man from donning his superhero uniform in order to put people in their place. But it nearly killed me to hold my tongue. Here's what I almost said:
"You're right. They should have a sign posted about not talking on a cell phone while waiting to be helped. They should also have a sign telling you to say please and thank you. And another sign to ask you not to slam the door on the way out. And another sign reminding customers not to let their kids knock all the shit off the shelves. If only there were more signs telling us how to behave. How are we to know?"
No, there isn't a sign posted to this effect. Ms Cell Phone was right about that. But she was wrong to be piqued. After all, she was talking on the phone while waiting to be helped in a store and while standing in front of other people in line. How many things can she do at once? The cashier was right (and brave enough) to point this out to Ms Cell Phone, who got annoyed and threatened to take her business elsewhere.
I nearly said something. My alter ego, Voice of Society Man, has rested quietly for three years since we moved to New Paltz. I've always reckoned that the person you give the finger to one day could be sitting beside you at at PTA meeting the next. Ever since we've been in New Paltz, I've been extremely careful to keep VoS Man from donning his superhero uniform in order to put people in their place. But it nearly killed me to hold my tongue. Here's what I almost said:
"You're right. They should have a sign posted about not talking on a cell phone while waiting to be helped. They should also have a sign telling you to say please and thank you. And another sign to ask you not to slam the door on the way out. And another sign reminding customers not to let their kids knock all the shit off the shelves. If only there were more signs telling us how to behave. How are we to know?"
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