My first driving lesson is over. No wrecks, no cursing. Huzzah!

When I told people I was taking driving lessons the typical response was that I didn’t need them. Several people volunteered to teach me. I always replied that I felt like I could benefit from some professional instruction. There were two major reasons I felt this way.

First, the last time I tried to learn to drive, I decided I would rather adopt a lifestyle I knew was against the grain of prevailing American (even Portlander) standards to the point of freakishness. That would be incredibly inconvenient and socially awkward, if not crippling. I don’t travel, I don’t camp, my life is limited really to the city center of Portland. It wasn’t until I decided to get my license that I fully considered the effects of not having one. Do I really not camp because there’s no A/C? Or is it because not sharing in long trip driving duties would be an imposition? I know I’ve made long walks and longer bus rides because I didn’t want to put someone out. All of this was because my last time practicing driving FUCKING. SUCKED. ASS.

This isn’t as Freudian as it sounds, it’s my mother’s fault. She was the one I did most of my practice with and the woman is a stress case. Really, her hobbies are reading and freaking the fuck out. I’ve seen her break down sobbing at being startled. The woman’s high strung. That was my driving instructor. No, I didn’t take driver’s ed. Yes, that was an error. It’s on the “If I knew then…” list.

Second: teaching is a skill. To really teach someone a thing, you have to know the thing AND how to teach. If you want to learn something complex you need a teacher (or a long apprenticeship, but even that comes with intruction).

So, the lesson. It went pretty smoothly. We practiced in a church parking lot. The car had a sensitive throttle and a high idle, and the lot was sloped. Once I got used to that, smooth sailing. Then we went into the neighborhood.

I’d like to thank all the people I’ve rode shotgun with repeatedly, this is mainly Mom and Gloom. You got some good driving habits that I picked up on. The thousands of miles rolling side streets in Lents and Montavilla particularly helped. I already knew about how to deal with oncoming traffic and parked cars, kids crossing, stuff like that. Even the Domino’s driver that hit Mom’s car made me learn a LOT about uncontrolled intersections (although that was a bit fresh in the memory last time I tried this).

Also, my bike helped a ton. Particularly for alertness in traffic and practical knowledge of traffic laws. I had been worried I’d rely too much on my peripheral vision, but I found myself leaning in my seat to see around obstacles. That’s from the bike (although I can’t stand up in a car. You drivers don’t realize how much you miss stuck in that coffin). Honestly, if I hadn’t pedalled so much in the last few years, I don’t think I’d be ready for this.

Anyway, the instructor said I should practice three times before I take my next lesson. So if anyone has an automatic and a quiet neighborhood, I’ll buy lunch.

And just for the record: I am NOT designated driver material. Gloom might be an exception to that. Too bad he’s got a stick.

Need!, originally uploaded by JW Doom.

I want some of these stickers.

I know I’m not brand name fat, but I’ve definitely got a belly on me. I’d like it to go away so I’ve been tracking my eating and (sigh) drinking on sparkpeople.com for a week or two now. I’ve drawn a few conclusions.

I did pretty well not eating out, but I drink way too often. I need to try to restrict myself to two nights a week, both in interest of cutting calories and lowering expenses.

I’m doing well getting to the gym. Most times I treadmill at 3 to 3 1/2 mph at a 5.0 incline (5% grade? I dunno) for two rounds of 30min each with 5 min cooldowns. I want to do this 5 days a week, regardless of other exercise. Sparkpeople says I need to burn about 1300 calories a week and an hour of treadmill burns at least 600 calories. There have been times I wasn’t watching my intake at all but kept from ballooning as long as I did my hour of treadmilling, so I’ve obviously got something good there. Also a great time to get reading done.

I’m not sure what to do about weights. I know I won’t be able to build much mass while managing calories, but I’d still like to be stronger. I want to lift twice a week, but this is complicated by my Krav Maga classes. Judging from the soreness that’s some strength training right there. Since I can realistically only try to limit lean mass loss during this dieting thing, maybe one weight workout a week is enough.

I need to keep working on meal planning. I really just started so I can’t be too hard on myself for lapses, but I wrote most of this waiting to order at Chipotle before I hit the gym. Not good. Why was I doing that? I didn’t know one critical ingredient had gone fuzzy in my fridge. Oops. I should have my meals worked out a week in advance to minimize oversights like that. This also includes snacks. I forgot to get my trail mix ingredients (peanuts with raisins and M&Ms) my last grocery trip. That’s another way to avoid emergency fast food stops.

I miss living across the street from a grocery store. But I love staying out of my savings account.

There’s only one thing I’m totally failing at: tracking. Sparkpeople has a mobile tracking site, I need to get used to using it. Or at least noting what I’m eating (more importantly drinking) to enter later.

And lastly I needed a new bathroom scale, which I got yesterday. I like to weigh myself in the morning after I’ve, um, shed any easily lost mass and before I eat or drink anything. I figure that’s the best way to get a consistent idea of my ups and downs. A long time ago I freaked myself out by gaining four pounds in two days, then I remembered that I’d worked a Saturday at my last office job and they’d bought lunch from Applebee’s. Chicken & riblets (mmmmm) were still sitting in my stomach.

These bike racks, originally uploaded by JW Doom.

fucking suck.

From my review of a Subway in my ‘hood, because I smell flags coming:

Some people like to hate on Subway. I’m not sure what gets their goat, is it the fresh bread? Maybe they think baking should be some secret alchemy restricted to carefully vetted initiates.

Maybe it’s the veggies? Yes it would be nice if every store had a garden on the roof, but we have to recognize the impracticality. Some stores don’t even have roofs. But this stuff is good. I’ve seen way more slimy lettuce in my fridge than in Subway (infinitely more, because I’ve never seen slimy lettuce in a Subway. Wait, once, but they instantly threw the rest of the tub away and got more).

Oh, the service? The quick, friendly, I’d-never-be-this-good-on-minimum-wage service? I’m sure somewhere there’s a jerky or incompetent Subway counterperson but I’ve yet to see one, even in the filthy hinterlands of Lents/FoPo.

I know, it’s Subway’s encouragement of entrepreneurship via franchising in the face of corporate monstrosities, or maybe their commitment to fitness and nutrition instead of burgers that are the RDA for calories, plus fries. Is it Jared? What kind of punk hates on Jared? Y’know, I think they’re just snobs who should get over themselves.

The essential failing of food snobs is it’s never enough to enjoy what one’s eating. Oh, no no NO, everything must be washed through some arbitrary set of judgements. It can’t be good, it’s corporate/processed/not the way it’s done in Brooklyn/SoCal/Paris/Tuscany/Memphis, and if you can’t see that, well… (right there they shrug their shoulders, probably sneer a little). I just like good food, that’s all.

Suck my dick. How’s that taste?

You people are not the bearers of Unvarnished Truth. What hipsters are to skinny jeans and obscure tees, you are to food. Cool, whatever, everyone has hobbies someone else thinks are stupid. I have to explain nerdcore every time I mention it. Just one example.

There’s a clutch of these motherfuckers on Portland Yelp and my patience is really getting strained. Yes, I like to eat at Taco Bell. No, I’m not going to take any more of your fucking scorn. You can think you’re better than me all day long. Just keep it out of my face. Fair?

This is on my blogroll, but it’s cool enough to justify a full post.

Danielle is an um, intern? Resident? I dunno, she’s a doctor learning a specialty. Her specialty is pediatrics, maybe specifically pediatric ICU (her preferred term is “pediatricious”, of course coined by a sick kid.). She mostly blogs about this (carefully de-identified, I’m sure) but some other things pop up occasionally. Her posts are occasionally funny, often sad but always awesome.

Example!

Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Honey Bee
In a crowded elevator headed towards the cafeteria, a mother wheeled in her profoundly disabled daughter. The little girl had tight braids in her hair, topped off by brightly colored plastic balls. She howled and giggled all sorts of guttural noises.

A little boy towards the back of the elevator pushed through the crowd and came right up to the front of her wheelchair. He cocked his head to the side and squinted.

And those of us in the elevator, watching, simultaneously took a deep breath, just imagining what uncomfortable question he might ask the mother.

Then he took his chubby little boy hand and patted the girl’s knee.

“I wike your hair-doo.”

If you didn’t get gooey right there and let go an involuntary “Awwww”, well, you failed your Voight-Kampff and you know what that means.

This is the building that didn’t hire me. Fie on thee!

What I’ll miss about Apt 202:
The three part mirror on the medicine cabinet. Sometimes you want to know what’s up with the back of your head.

Shelves. It had a plethora. New place is lacking.

Hardwood floors. Apt 208 is half carpeted. Good thing I already had a bottle of Resolve.

Ventilation. Apt 202’s bathroom had a fan and a heat lamp with smaller fan and a timer. Apt 208’s has a little passive vent over the tub. Kitchen 202 also had a hood vent, 208 again just a passive vent.

Hot Lips across the street. :-(

What I won’t miss about Apt 202:
Hot water took FOR. EVER.

Noise. I’ve covered this plenty elsewhere.

The front room. It was like a mini-landfill without the seagulls. Or stench. Or disease. Or piles of garbage. Okay, “landfill” was a tad melodramatic.

Smoke detector. Apt 202’s went off when I made toast. Apt 208’s is supposedly very sensitive as well but there’s a window opposite it from the kitchen that should draw off any minor smoke.

Culture jamming events (aka riots) on Burnside.

Yet another wonder from tvtropes.org.

I quote (without link, for a certain someone who can’t read underlined text, apparently).

“Deciding the wait for the woman’s bathroom is too long, Louise slips into the men’s room in hopes of relieving herself quickly. There she is assailed by the stench of the men’s room and the sight of the gorgeous man at the urinal:

‘And the sight of the huge cock the knight is holding in his right hand as he shakes off the last few drops of pee is even more dazzling.’”

Oh yeah.