La Grosse Pomme

I got back from NYC today, after a 6-day adventure. It's probably a miracle I made it back in one piece (or, that my knee made it back in one piece), but whatever, I took the attitude I've been known to take in the past, like when I did the May Pole dance (and you know it, the May Hole dance too) at Bryn Mawr, two days before my ACL and lateral release procedures. My philosophy is, for better or for worse, that they're going to go in there on Friday to fix everything that's wrong with it (or begin to fix it all), so if there's a little more wrong with it now than there was a week ago, it's all ending up in the same place, right? The fatal flaw with this logic is that I've already got unfixable damage on the tibia (which they're leaving alone on Friday because they can't reach it), but we're not going to talk about that. Instead we're going to talk about the awesome-ness that was my last hurrah in NYC.

I went up on Thursday to take a French friend to Google. Yes! I had wanted to do something unique in New York during her visit to the States, and so it only took me a minute to come up with the most random thing in the world, namely a guided tour of Google. Doug was nice enough to invite us to lunch too (thanks again, Doug!), so that made the visit particularly complete. We wandered around the offices, complete with the scooters and scooter parking, micro-kitchens all over the place with all sorts of free yummy treats, and the lego toy area with the hardest of hard-core constructions (an entire motorized ferris wheel!). And kitschy 1950s-style ads for Facebook, Skype and Youtube. I also renewed my certificate in Math Nerd Studies by laughing at such jokes written on the white boards in the hallway as "the 1st element of the mod 7 club is the 8th element of the mod 7 club" and the like. hahahaha. I know, it's only funny to a rather restricted group of nerds out there, but I thought it was hilarious that this was their idea of graffiti :-)

Afterwards, since Google is right in the area, I took my friend to Chelsea Market and the High Line, since you can't hit Chelsea without checking out those areas. Particularly since my grandmother used to rock out at Chelsea Market while she was in training during WWII (yes, she's that much of a rock star). This picture's for you, Grandma Brown!


Friday was a big conference on the French thinker Hélène Cixous, which featured all sorts of different types of speakers (including Cixous herself, but I'd already seen her before). One of the more amusing parts was a panel discussion on the influence of Cixous in a few artists' work, which funkified the Maison Française like it has rarely been funkified before. At first I thought this guy was wearing a pirate hat, but it was in fact a big black hat with a ribbon (and he had impressive dangly earrings that were probably heavier than anything my ears would ever tolerate):


The question of the day was, how many hair colors can you find in the Maison Française at once? Friday afternoon likely broke all records, as you can already tell from this one clandestine shot. I told Natalia that my new goal in life is to have hair like the woman standing up in the back. By that I mean the dye job (dark base with bizarre blond highlights), not the updo!!!

Saturday I hit up the best falafel in the city with Niamh and Ben, but was an idiot and didn't take a picture of it. But I'll brag about it anyway: harissa falafel. yummmmmmm. After that I trekked all the way out to Forest Hills to see a friend who is a hard-core tennis player. We've argued for years about NYC, as she finds it scary and I say she's a wuss. Unfortunately I don't think my trek out to Forest Hills convinced her that the subway is ok, since the damned E train was running local and it took me forever to get out there. But there was a good old margarita waiting when I finally did get all the way out:


Saturday night was again meeting French friends, this time for the Laurie Anderson show at BAM. I felt a bit like a tool for not actually knowing who she was when I was invited to go along, but I quickly consulted the source of all truth and knowledge (wikipedia!) and discovered that she's a pretty big deal. And Niamh told me she had a Laurie Anderson cassette tape when she was growing up...figures the Brits and the Irish were way ahead of us (or me) on this one. It was a neat show, overall. She has a very fine ear for melody (nontraditional, of course) and some of the visual effects were compelling. She told all sorts of different stories, some more powerful and/or interesting than others, but all in all a definite success. Afterwards we joined some other friends for dinner at a nearby sushi restaurant and rocked the Ft. Greene scene.

Sunday I satisfied a craving I've had ever since like 18 months ago, when Andrew and I first discovered the huevos rancheros at Mojave in Astoria. My life has indeed never been the same since. Thank goodness Mojave has a sister restaurant (Agave) on 7th Ave South, as I didn't feel like dealing with the nightmare of getting to Queens from Brooklyn with no G train running. Junette and Ana were nice enough to oblige and join me there (although they were wussy on the margaritas...you two have some work to do!!!). haha. But here I am with the cheeseless wonder that is huevos rancheros sin queso (con huevo, sin manteca, while we're at it):


After that I hit up Dumbo with the same French friend and a friend of her sister, who knew the whole contemporary art festival scene there. We saw all sorts of interesting local stuff and of course got our pictures with the Manhattan skyline, along with all the tourists and newlyweds (we should have posed, I only just thought of that right now!).


Otherwise, my time was spent catching up with friends and giving a presentation on one of my chapters to a workshop in my program. All in all very cool and fun, and I got some good ideas on where to go from here. I enjoyed it immensely and was told that it was a fun conversation (even if I went on a tirade about my moral opposition to colons in the process of answering a question about the title of my diss). So I sort of feel like maybe by telling me "your presentation was fun," people actually meant "you are batshit insane...thus entertaining for the rest of us." But then again, as Junette and I decided a long time ago when we drunkenly won the orchestra concerto competition on the Bach Double, if you're not going to get by with talent, you've gotta do it with charm.

And when I wasn't DRINKING with friends, I was MAKING drinks with friends, namely Steven, who was working on a few different batches of home brew. The newest batch was actually overzealously yeasty (if that's a word), to the point that it had to have an extra air valve so as not to send the top flying into the ceiling. Which would of course have been kind of amusing, but not so good for the ceiling or the books that might have gotten soaked in the process. I took this picture for the sake of the brewing apparatus but then realized that it's actually Steven in a nutshell: tons of books and hard core beer. Steven, this is your new facebook profile pic, you KNOW it:


Then Monday night it was bottling time for the other batch, on the left in the above pic. It started with a sieve process to mix in a special sugar to get the yeast going again (which apparently is what makes the carbonation when the beer is bottled). The beer itself at this point is rather syrupy and non-carbonated. We tasted it and it did seem pretty good, but Steven said it would be slightly less sweet (and bubbly, of course) once it has had the 2 weeks of bottle time before being ready to drink:


Then I got a demonstration of the capper, I should note that I filled all those bottles!


Finally, I'll sign off with one last picture, from last night. I spent the night with Judy, since my presentation ran late and I didn't want to haul all the way out to Brooklyn just to turn right back around this morning to get to the train. That's the official reason. The unofficial reason was of course that I was way overdue for a visit with Harlequin Obama, who was just as charming as ever :-)


He's as big as always but distinctly smaller than Sebastian. We think he got more ragdoll while Sebastian got more coon. That explains why Harley's hair is longer and why he's a bit smaller and floppier. Judy was like, you're the only person I know who picks up Harley and says, "oh, he is definitely smaller!" haha.

On that note, I'm totally collapsing with fatigue, so there's only one thing to do: Glee time! I never saw the season opener, and I REALLY need to see the Britney episode from last night. Ah how the mighty have fallen :-)

More writing

Well, it's been awhile, as always, but that's generally because I haven't had much to say, haha. After all the knee stuff, I made my way up to NYC for 4 days of whirlwind meetings with advisors and parties and the like. And since I was doing a lot of walking, it was decided that I should probably stick to (at least) one crutch, so that I wouldn't wear out the knee. It was also decided (by me) that one crutch really, really sucks. Not as much as two, of course, but way more than none at all. THIS is what my 4 days in NYC looked like:


You will note the rockin' crutch decoration, all thanks to Junette's mad googling skills. I decided that if we're going to be in a long-term relationship (the crutches and I), then I should probably bedazzle them in some way. And that's where "Broken Beauties" comes in. A website (with a lame name) that sells all sorts of fancy decorations for all sorts of orthopedic equipment. Now THERE is a niche market for you. And thank goodness someone has filled it, as my crutches are waaaaaay more fun as a result. No easier to use, alas. But at least I'll look good while doing it.

The main surprise of my trip was that if I have to do the ACI surgery (the one that requires two parts), it makes much more sense for me to defend the diss in October, before that second round. Which is totally true, since I might not be able to get up to NYC in December if I have that big-ass chondrocyte implantation in November. So now I have two possible defense dates: December 16, or October 26. And I won't know until October 1, when the doc finally gets inside my knee and decides which routine is more appropriate. So I could wake up from surgery and find out I'm defending the diss in about three weeks, haha. In order not to panic if that moment should come to pass, I'm now writing like my life depended on it. It's totally doable to have the defense early...but it'll kick my ass in the process.

Otherwise, my only major preparation for the surgery is perhaps the most annoying task of all: retraining myself to be a back sleeper. I learned this lesson the hard way for my first surgery, way back in 2003. I'm a side sleeper in general, but that just doesn't work with a big old incision in the knee. When your knee has been poked and prodded and sliced open, there's no choice but to be a back sleeper for a while. Nothing else works, even sleeping on the other side. Believe me, I tried everything. Because I couldn't fall asleep on my back after the 2003 surgery. So ever since then I've tried to build up to being a back sleeper before surgeries (which I suppose raises the question of why I revert to the side when the knee is not on the radar...but let's face it, it's just more comfortable!). Fortunately the previous two surgeries were so minor that I could get back to being a side sleeper after only like a week. This time around I doubt that will be possible, since I'll have a full incision at some point (now or in November). Either way, that takes time to heal. bah. So in the meantime, I'll have to make it happen, which is why I'm training early!

The Plan

Well, this isn't aiming to be a particularly funny entry, but if nothing else I'm just relieved to have The Plan. It seems like capital letters are appropriate, since I sure have been waiting for it.

I saw the new knee doc last week, who was amazing. Very clear, thorough, and friendly. And quite knowledgeable on the whole problem, of course. Young and cool, and optimistic that I will be able to get about 85-90% of my mojo back. The odds are favorable (but not perfect): 85-90% of people say that they are 85-90% better. So yeah, we need to be going into this with the expectations calibrated to the possible outcomes, but it's good enough for me.

Anyway, The Plan has officially designated October 1 as D-Day. The thing is, the surgeon doesn't know which of two procedures will be the most appropriate. The "easier" option (I use this word lightly, as neither choice is going to be very easy) is called the Osteoarticular Transfer System, or OATS, info here: http://orthopedics.about.com/cs/arthritis/g/oats.htm

The main reason this surgery is easier is because it's only one surgery. The other option, called an Autologous Chondrocyte Implantation (http://orthopedics.about.com/od/hipknee/a/aci.htm) is two procedures: one initial arthroscopy, then The Big One a few weeks later.

The hassle, then, is that I don't know if I'm going in on Oct. 1 for The Big One (if I have the OATS) or the small, preliminary arthroscopy (if I have the ACI). So, point being, I could be walking again by October 5 (with the big one still on the way), or I could be flat on my back in bed, high as a kite on percoset. OATS sure would be nice, since it would get the healing underway sooner. But I haven't decided which one seems preferable to me, if it turns out to be a toss-up. Depends on the size of the hole in the cartilage, it's apparently right on the border. OATS can only work if the hole is small enough.

So there we have it. The countdown to Kathryn's Bionic knee has officially begun!

Sylvain l'Américain

So, first off, a GOLD STAR to everyone who commented on my blog. And that includes my Aunt Glad, who is a loyal commenter by email. It's good to have readers :-) Now I just need regular shout-outs to make sure I'm not in a void, because rambling in a void is no fun. I'll assume no one is interested anymore (and wouldn't blame anyone if that's the case!) and get bored.

Anyway, this week has been Sylvain's introduction to American living. And Sylvain's owner's reacclimatization to American-style biking. I think Sylvain is adapting better than I, hahahaha.

First off, Sylvain had his first car ride, to Valley Forge:


That's when my father and I realized that he has some heft to him...not as light as some bikes, but what can you say? It takes material to be that awesome.

So we got to the bike path near Valley Forge, and I realized that Sylvain is indeed a city slicker. Note the basket:


I was all set to put my water bottle in the basket, which turned out to be a rather ill-conceived idea, as I had no way to secure it. My usual bungee cord was too big to fit through the loop of the bottle. So I just took the risk and rode with the bottle rolling around, as I was passed by all sorts of hard-core mountain bikers in their fancy attire with backpack water canteens and under armor gear and the like. Felt like a total tool with all that outdoorsy snaziness going on around me, although it was a very nice ride. The basket is genius for my Sunday trip to the market since I can strap everything in...not so practical for one little water bottle, however.

All in all I was sitting there like, "I should be biking down the Boulevard Saint Michel in my miniskirt, on my way to happy hour, thank you very much." It was already a concession just to put gym clothes on, and of course I picked my shorts to match the bike. And if you look closely, you'll see my sports watch is even pink. What can I say? An awesome bike needs an awesome accessory, and it takes effort to rock that.

That's also when I realized just how uncomfortable Sylvain's seat is, since I don't usually spend extended periods of time on it at once. The longest I ever traveled routinely in Paris was about 25-30 minutes. Granted, I did feel it when I made those trips a few times in one day, but that wasn't all that often.

Moral of the story: I'm not a mountain biker (or a national park biker, for that matter). I'm a city biker. I need cars, motorcycles, and stoplights. Otherwise I get bored and my butt starts to hurt.

That was this weekend. Then yesterday I was stuck at home without a car, so I decided it was time for Sylvain's coming out in Collegeville. haha. The biggest problem, not surprisingly, is the lack of parking. I went to our local café and had to tie him up to a pole off to the side, right off the road:


Then at the post office, there's a whole special lane for drive-in mail drop-off, but no facilities for the lowly biker. So I left him attached to the handicapped parking pole:


As you can guess this picture was taken on the fly, since I figured I already looked toolish enough arriving on a bike, I didn't need to augment the toolish factor by then ostentatiously standing in the parking lot taking pictures of the bike. ha. So I did it quickly and clearly got my finger in the way. And didn't notice until I uploaded the pic.

Anyway, no biking for me today, as I'm in town sans Sylvain. But perhaps he needs to be introduced to Philadelphia. He would feel much more at home. But he might also lose his seat or basket or something, if I don't have the proper locks for everything (haha).

Sylvain lives again!

Brought to you by the Germans, the Brits, and the Americans. But NOT the French:


Wow it's been a long time. Almost two months apparently. Does anyone even read this thing anymore? If so, you have to let me know! I've been hemming and hawing (sp?) about whether or not to keep it up, because I just don't have any clue if anyone is really reading it. I kind of feel like I'm writing in a void here, so if anyone is reading, PLEASE COMMENT! Do I keep it up or not? If I don't get any feedback, I'll assume no one's following and turn it off. After all, it IS rather presumptuous of me to assume anyone is reading, particularly now that I'm back to the trite banality of my American existence, haha.

But one last holdover from France: I finally got Sylvain put back together this week! Woohoo! He made it just fine, in really great condition according to the awesome guys at the bike shop.

The saga began in early July. I was initially planning to sell Sylvain, since I have a perfectly fine bike here. But then I got to thinking about how much I liked him and how much I'd miss him, and I figured, what the hell, biking was one of the best parts of my year in Paris, why not at least try to bring him home???

I looking online at British Airways and figured out that it was actually quite easy to do, with the appropriate packing. It was just the same price as an extra bag, which was 35 euros. So I figured, ok, for $50, that's totally worth it. Of course I had to buy a bike bag to store it in during the flight, but that would be reusable if I ever want to travel with the bike again.

The easy part ended there, alas. I went to my local bike store for a bag, and they were like, "yeah, we're out, we always run out in the summer, you'll have to call one of the big sporting goods stores, but they often run out too." So I called the big sporting goods store by the BN (Decathlon), and they were like, "yeah, summer's a high demand time, we always run out." I asked if they knew when they'd get them in, and they said they had no idea, they always run short in the summer. I then called another big sports store (Go Sport), and got the same message.

Which raises a fundamental question: HAS ANYONE IN THAT COUNTRY EVER HEARD OF CAPITALISM??? I mean, seriously now, I was calling all around, TRYING to spend my money, and everyone was giving me the same message: demand always outstrips supply in the summer. Right.

So then I did what ever smart consumer in France probably does: I went to Germany. Well, not physically, but cyber-ly (ok, I just made up a word, but you get the point). I went online, found a great bike bag from a German store, and I bought it. No wonder Germany is faring so much better during this financial crisis (best in Europe). Their economy WORKS.

Perhaps the funniest part was that I had a great email exchange with an employee over there (in French). I contacted them to see if I could get rush shipping, since at that point I only had two weeks left in France. They were super nice about it and sent it UPS, with a tracking number and all. I wrote back thanking them and saying that I didn't realize how difficult it would be to find such a bag in France and that I was so happy to have found them. The woman wrote back (and this is a direct translation of her message) and was like, "of course you'll be happy with it, it's a great bag, it's German." hahahahaha. Of course she was right, the thing arrived a few days later and it was perfect.

Getting Sylvain to the airport was no joke, however. I had to take an airport shuttle and then shuffle my way through Terminal 2B (the really packed one...obviously) with my overweight suitcases, overweight carry-ons, and a big old bike bag. Imagine me, with a cart, wheeling all that through crowds and crowds. And because it was the start of the annual summer vacation time, the airport was insane. One particular area I had to pass through was MAYHEM...guess what it was: Air Tahiti. Of course. Assholes. All on their way to exotic vacations while I was trying to get the damned bike through the hallways, haha.

But miracles do happen and I got it all checked in, and all the way through my connection at Heathrow. He was there waiting for me in Philly, safe and sound! And thank god for those little suitcase carts at the airport, I don't know what I would have done without them!

Took me a few weeks to get him put back together since, well, my knee is so messed up I'm not really going anywhere these days. I finally figured it would be a good idea to make sure he was ok, though, so I took him in this weekend and just rode him home. Perfect!

Bordeaux means two things: heat and wine

Today was our first full day in Bordeaux, and if there's anything we learned, it's that it sure can get hot here. I suppose we didn't *learn* that, per se, but whatever. We sure rediscovered it. It was easily close to 100 here today, and as I've always said, that whole "dry heat is better" routine is total bullshit. When it's 100 out, it sucks all around. It's of course true that the shade can provide some relief when it's dry heat, but that's not going to get you very far when you're out walking through vineyards, where the vines are all only a foot or two high. No shade to be found anywhere.

Anyway, I don't have much to say about Bordeaux yet, mainly because we haven't spent much time here, haha. We are going to be hittin' the town for real tomorrow (and you'll all be proud of us, we're starting our morning off right, with a wine tasting class at 10 am! hahahaha. It'll be 6:00 somewhere. Just not here. Details, details.) So I should have more to say about Bordeaux later, once I've actually seen the place!

For now, all I've experienced in Bordeaux is its tramway:

It's a super special tram system that only uses a fraction of the energy that other trams use. Apparently the rails are only electrified a few feet in front of the train, so the only electricity is just what the train uses. The system is fairly new; when I lived here in 2004-2005 and mentioned wanting to go to Bordeaux, people were always like, "it's great, but the tram isn't working right, give them some time to figure it out." haha. So I waited, and 5 years later, the tram is indeed awesome. Very convenient.

We've actually spent a good amount of time on the tram, since it connects the city center with the train station. We arrived late yesterday afternoon, and today we went on a day trip to St. Emilion:

As you can see, St. Emilion is quite literally IN the vineyards. Perhaps the coolest thing about the vineyards is that they're lined with roses, as a "canary-in-the-mine" sort of thing. The bugs that go after the vines also go after roses, but roses succumb three days sooner. So the winemakers get a bit of a lead on the bug. So here are some vines with their rose protectors:

But there's also an awesome medieval village, as you can also see:

But in the end it's really all about the wines and macaroons, as this is the town where macaroons were invented. Apparently macaroons are indeed a gift from god, since they were invented by nuns in St. Emilion in 1690. All I have to say about that is thank goodness they figured it out, macaroons sure are a winner. And a dairy-free one at that.

Every other store front is a wine seller, and we stumbled upon a great place with a whole collection of tastings. My father ended up buying a case, so we tasted 4 reds and 2 whites, all of which were awesome. And that leads me to what is clearly the Picture of the Day:

This has GOT to be his new facebook profile pic, don't you think? Totally made my day when I saw the result. hahahaha,

Ah, more ghettofabulousness

So a week before I left for Spain, I got an email from the ENS that I had to leave my room by June 28...A FULL MONTH BEFORE THEY HAD ORIGINALLY TOLD US.

I spent that week scrambling to get another room, which was a major pain because the ENS is the model case of the left hand not knowing what the right is doing. Or for administrators with their heads up their asses. But that's another story.

The important thing is that at about 4 pm on the day before I left, I finally got a new room. Major sigh of relief.

And while I won't complain about my new room since hell, there was a chance I'd have nowhere to live, I do think the ghettofabulousness of this one is worth sharing.

We will start with Exhibit A, the classiest nightstand ever:


Yeah, you're seeing it right, it's a suitcase. I was going to just forgo the whole nightstand thing and put my clock on the floor (if I had been in this room all year I would have bought one, but since it's only a month, totally not worth it). But then when I went to sit and read, I realized that there was no light whatsoever. In my old room I had shelves behind the bed, so I had bought a clip-on lamp (the only kind that would work). And it worked brilliantly in the old room, of course. So I was sitting here trying to figure out what to do and had the eureka moment of clipping it to the handle of the suitcase. And that's how a suitcase became my nightstand. All about having light to read by. I was going to send that suitcase home with my parents when they come, but now I'm thinking I might send them home with a different one. Can't lose my nightstand!

To add insult to injury, I set my clock last night and discovered that the radio doesn't work in this room! I'm on the other side of the building, maybe that's interfering or something. It was a little sensitive in the other room, but at least it worked! Now I just get scratchiness. humph. No more NRJ for me.

And since I don't have those shelves behind my bed, the shelves I do have are all the more cramped. God help me if I need a book:


And yeah, that's the fridge right in front of the shelves, although there is a bit of space (the black shadow is the cello case).

There is, however, no space between the bookshelf and the desk, which is a huge hassle:


Guess I better not eat too much dessert over the next few weeks, or I won't fit!