Geared up to learn to ride.

Alright, it’s confession time: I never learned to ride a bike as a kid. I’m sure I admitted as much before, but I decided as a lifelong pedestrian it’s time to change that.

I walk everywhere, often at significant distances. Home to Metro, for instance, is up to 1.25 miles depending on which line I need to hit. Busses near me are unreliable, and besides, walking helps me lose weight and decreases my daily travel expenses.

Sometimes, I’d prefer to take less time to get from point A to point B, though. I can’t drive – guess what else I never learned to do – so I figured cycling is the next logical step.

The Washington Area Bicyclist Association (WABA) offers classes for adults who never learned to ride for very cheap. I signed up for the 3 hour class, hoping to at least feel more comfortable getting on a two-wheeler.

Many of the other adults in the class more or less got the hang of cycling. I, on the other hand, struggled to keep up. Balancing was my biggest challenge, followed by keeping my fingers on the brakes. Each of the instructors there spent a few minutes at a time with me to offer advice and make adjustments to my bike as necessary. In the end, I was able to get both feet on the pedals and move ahead. So what if it was only a few feet?

Am I street ready? Hell no, but I’m now more inclined to snag a Capital Bikeshare bicycle and practice at the park a block from home. But maybe later this week; my ass is killing me from the saddle.

Here’s Photo a Day April entry #1: my reflection.

I got skinnier.

Given the news, I wish I got out there more frequently. A combination of work schedule + location + personal finances + other factors prevented me from doing so.

The diner’s presence brought something to its neighborhood north of H Street NE, though: a sense of nostalgia, warmth, and comfort. The H Street strip isn’t short on eateries, but I always thought CCD had a charm those other places didn’t.

And the milkshakes were awesome. They came with crazy big straws. You know, the kind you’d get from a bubble tea stand.

The diner’s goodbye letter hints at the possibility of a rebirth in the future. Whether it happens or not, I wish them the best.

Thanks to a certain former employer, I had the fortune to meet him on several occasions. A couple years ago, I wrote a piece on DCist on his house gaining recognition as an historic landmark in DC. A segment of 17th Street NW here in town is designated “Frank Kameny Way.”

My poor mother; I drove her crazy with this show. My obsession ran the gamut from restyling the logo – which I traced ad nauseum from the home game instruction book – to having not one but two birthdays parties with the show as a theme. The sequel, of course, wasn’t quite as good as the original.

Before cable came to my neighborhood, the only time I could watch it was during visits to my dad’s place. Then came syndication, and I taped nearly every episode so I wouldn’t miss a drop of gak. Saturday night airings of Family Double Dare were an event for me.

My obsession lessened with time; the original run ended in 1993. A revival in 2000 surprised and delighted me, but ultimately fell flat like a whipped cream pie that missed the oversized clown pants. Not that I’d mind seeing a revival done right, though.

Now, with my generation’s newfound interest in nostalgia, the show seems to be re-entering the pop culture consciousness. T-shirts I could only ever find on Ebay are more easily available. References to the show made its way into a couple of music videos, one of those being a Funny or Die clip (see below).

It’s surely another sign I’m getting old. I have to admit, finding and re-watching clips of the show on YouTube brings back some fond memories. Happy 25th, DD!

I didn’t understand it at the time. There I was, a kid of 12, visibly upset that Kermit’s original voice was silenced.

It turns out of course the loss meant more than that. Henson’s work brought me countless hours of joy for as long as I could remember. Sesame Street was part of my morning ritual in my preschool years. Saturday nights were spent laughing at the antics of the Muppet Show. And I can’t think of how many times I watched Labyrinth, the Dark Crystal, and various Muppet films on summer camp movie days.

His characters educated and entertained me. They were part of my daily life for years; they, and by extension he, felt like family.

Henson’s death didn’t mean his creations would suffer the same fate. Indeed they live on, inextricably infused with his spirit.

I could count on one hand the number of public figures I truly mourned. Henson was the first. The second was a well known doodler by the name of Charles Schulz, but that’s a blog post for another time.

Last night, the count went up to 3. Three public figures, ah-ah-ah!