girl at large

Brunch Market

Paulie and Viv are at the races all day, I already have two loads of laundry done and the sun is shining. Time to go to the farmers market, just Charlie and me. Or, because he has a boppie and is totally ignorable four feet ahead of me in the double stroller, mentally just me. Ahhh.

The Shorewood Farmers Market is packed. Packed with strollers, coffee drinkers, shoppers, a band. A band? A full honest god electric set up band. And there's the Shasta trailer selling waffles, the other trailer selling egg breakfasts, and new this year a vintage Ford truck retrofitted with taps to serve small batch brews. It is, of course, clad with horizontal reclaimed wood boards. A Tommy Haverford lookalike inspects the boulangerie's mobile wood fired oven, at least four booths have locally roasted coffee. Is someone roasting beans right here? There's Kambucha, empanadas, gluten-free ready to bake dough...it's endless, and not much of it is produce. There are more vehicles than veggie vendors, you wouldn't be crazy for thinking it's a food truck lot. If I didn't have the experience to know where to find the egg lady, and that a cartoon of her fresh brown eggs was worth elbowing through all that overpriced spandex for, I would have turned around.

Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoy this outing, especially the chocolate croissants. But let's call this what it really is: Portland 2005.

 

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Arriving Like A Rock Star

I get in to the hotel in Portland at 9pm local time (11 central, started my day at 5am) after a 7 hour delay in Denver last night to....a freshly delivered room service steak dinner, cheese and crackers from the gourmet grocery, my favorite raspberry booze treat chilling on ice (in the trash can, how adorable), and a pressie from Powells Books. Which was, of course, a Charlie Harper book. Because my boyfriend is f'ing amazing.

Crap, I really have to keep giving out.

Sometimes It Is The Destination

I'm returning to the Deluxe Hotel in Portland, Oregon tonight for my friend Meg's wedding.

I stayed at the Deluxe my very last night in Portland, two years ago.
I had packed up the house, the truck had left, the apartment was empty
but it was too late and I was too tired to start the drive. So I
treated myself to one last night in my favorite place. They allow dogs
too so Miss Ruby was all cuddled up in the down comforter right away.
I sent out messages to my friends that I would be at the Driftwood
Lounge in the lobby for one last beverage. I expected maybe one or two
to come. They ALL came. It was a lovely night. Meg walked me up to my
room for one last Ruby kiss, then teared up when she said goodbye to
me----she's a tough cookie, not a crier. I will always remember how
touched I was.

I was excited to be moving on, but sad to have failed at yet another
business, another town. I was sad to leave the best, most "Kate"
apartment I'd ever had. I was happy to be returning to family, but
questioning whether I could really stand all the "Wisconsin" things
that I don't like about Wisconsin. I had hopes that I'd be able to
make my dream come true by compromising on the job (it was most
definitely not my dream job) and moving close to family who could
support me. I was planning on having a family someway, some
how---probably on my own. That would never be possible in pdx, so
there I was on my way back to moo town. But that was a stretch too,
the only thing I really knew was that there was no future for me in
Portland. And I wanted to be home.

I had a ten day drive adventure ahead of me, then a whole new life
with a new job I had no idea how to do, a new town I didn't know. I
had no idea what was waiting for me at my destination.

Turns out it was everything I could have ever wished for. And then some. I am a lucky, lucky girl.

Cheese Head Travels Home

All Packed Up, Mount Shasta California, The Grand Canyon, Big as Texas, Grandpa Bunny

Thanks For The Help

Ruby takes a break from packing.

Ticking Off

It doesn't interest anyone else, but I'm a list person and an "achiever", so I feel better (literally physically better) when I can mark things off my to-do list: Yesterday and today were "Technology" and "Tune Up" days respectively. I picked up a cheap-o cell phone for the road trip in case of emergency. Don't everyone get all excited that they'll now be able to reach me on my cell phone! I'll be lucky if the little piece of plastic lasts through the road trip. Though I will have to have a Blackberry for the new job, so my time of living Cell Phone Free is certainly coming to an end. I also finally pulled the trigger on a Garmin Nuvi navigation system. I am IN LOVE. This little device with the pleasant voice and confident directions was MADE for people like me. In just two days, I've already tooled around more of Portland than I have in the past four years. I'm a confident driver, but unless the destination is off a flat, corn-lined highway, I can't find my way out of a paperbag. What was I waiting for, why didn't I get one of these gadgets sooner? The little Jetta made it through her 50k tune up this morning, fairing much better than I feared. A new oil pan, tire rotation, the usual adjustments, a new headlight, and a repaired Cruise Control---and now I'm road ready. For an upgrade from the previous ghetto look, I also opted to replace the missing hubcap. So sexy. For being a good girl, I treated her to a wash on the way home. The car insurance is up to date, I've updated my AAA membership and downloaded a list of must-stop roadside eateries from RoadFood. I am good to go! Tomorrow is "Dealing with the City" (moving truck parking permits) and "Awkwardly Saying Goodbye to Co-workers I'm Not Going to Miss" Day. Tick! Tick!

Equipment

I got my snow boots today. They are hideous, so of course they are warm, supportive and incredibly comfortable.

Cheese Nun

Funny things happen when two thoughts collide....I was thinking about moving back to Wisconsin, had added a new appropriately titled blog category, "Once a Cheesehead...". I was also taking inventory of my belongings, deciding what to sell, what to toss, and what to take on moving day. It then seemed natural (and not at all the activity of a bored and lonely person) to take inventory of my cheese drawer: -plain Chevre -honey Chevre -crumbled Blue -Roquefort Blue -Oregon Smokey Blue -parmesean in block form -parmesean pre-shredded -Gruyere -cream cheese -Farmer's Cheese -Mimolette Vieux -Feta I think I might have a problem.

You Can't Take It With You

I can't move everything with me across country (again), so here is installment one of "You Can't Take It With You". Bidding is now open, more items to come. Items in the "smaller than a bread box" category will be posted in a few weeks as packing commences. Email me at [email protected] if you want something, first come first serve! -Twin Bed--mattress, low profile boxspring and metal hollywood frame. (mattress pad and two sets of sheets included) -Glass Lamp with mocha-colored silk shade, three way 12" d, 24" h -Kitchen Butcher Block Cart 24" w, 20" d, 35" h -Kitchen Table 42' d, 30" h white laminated wood top, aluminum base with leveling feet -Outdoor Chairs set of two, stackable in weather proof woven vinyl -Stone-topped Spot Table 13" d, 20" h -Bookshelves 54" w, 12" d, 85" h dark brown rift oak, disassembles

Big Ol' To Do List

-get new job. Check. -quit current job. Check. -upgrade AAA membership. Check. -give 30 day notice to landlord. Check. -do walk through with landlord. Check. -find new apartment! -get snow tires. -get oil change and 50k mile tune up. -get dog tuned up. -get quotes for moving containers/transport. Check. -get DOT street permits for moving containers. Check. -get rid of half the shit I own. -clean out storage space. -cancel/move electric, cable, phone. -completely freak out at overwhelming list of things to do!

A Message From The Universe

Dad sent me four pre-paid B&W photo development envelopes from A&I for Christmas this year, very thoughtful. I have a dozen rolls of film in my kitchen junk drawer--rolls I have transported from home to home and state to state (and even abroad!) for years and years. They languished next to twist ties, duct tape and Ikea allen wrenches, forgotten and undeveloped. Back in December, I sent off four rolls I thought might be from five or six years ago. The very same week that I returned from the World's Longest Interview in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, two of the developed rolls arrived in the mail. Both were all shots of Wisconsin! Pictures of barns, rows of corn, cows, the lake...all taken more than 10 years ago when I went on a 'farewell' tour of my favorite places in Wisconsin, including Door County (where I stayed at the Valmy Hotel).

Out Of The Snow, Into The Smog

It was still night, and it was still snowing. One change of clothes in a backpack, a layer of tights under my jeans, I made my way through a foot and a half of snow (sandwiched between two layers of ice) down the hills to the train station at 5 in the morning. I'll be damned if I'm not going to make it to Los Angeles for Christmas! And I'll be damned if I'm going to miss this train just pulling up because I don't have time to buy a ticket! The flight to LA boarded on time. Those of us fortunate enough to have purchased last-minute, cheap-o tickets hung our heads, not in shame but to hide our glee, as we walked through the gate crowded with hundreds of holiday travelers who'd been stranded at the airport in some cases, for days. As we were being de-iced (that poor bastard, I hope someone filled his stocking), the white stuff began to fall again in ernest, one hundred squeezed-in strangers held their collective breath. As the plane took off, only 30 minutes behind schedule, it was the first time I heard an entire flight of passengers clap at departure! Of course, I may have over-anticipated the joy of actually being in LA for Christmas --I spent most of Christmas Eve day cleaning my brothers house.

It's A Sign

I think God is sending me a preview.

Snow Days

It started last Sunday (my birthday!) and was a welcome winter break---even the rumor of snow and ice here is enough to bring Portland to a stand still. I had the day off, and enjoyed watching the pretty white flakes fall, as I finished making my own snowflake ornaments for the holiday. By Tuesday, I was house-bound, ice-bound and bored. My apartment is up a steep hill, then around a bend, and up another steeper hill (think San Francisco covered in three inches of ice). It's a hill that never sees a plow truck. Or salt. SALT, people, SALT! Yes it ruins your car, yes it kills the salmon---but it melts the ice! I had an adventure I'm not ready to share yet, due to embarrassment, on Monday when I tried to get out by car. Let's just say that was the nicest cop I've ever met. On Wednesday, after a friend helped me get to my car to get to work, the white stuff started flying again. My treacherous hill was even more treacherous. So, I had to get....chains. Yes, chains. It's medieval, but here in the hilly Northwest, it's what they do. This story is less embarrassing. In fact, I come off quite capable, almost butch. I left the empty store early and headed to the tire store. After waiting in the Russian-style queue, I got my bag of tire chains. I joined the others huddled around the television in the corner, not to catch the lastest news, but to watch a tire-chain installation instructional video. Crouched down in the cold, wet and dirty curb, I managed to wrestle the tire chains on. Greasy, muddy and with frozen fingers, I pulled out slowly and headed home. Well, I headed to the grocery store for reinforcements of wine, firewood, and chocolate first. Then home. As I made it up the first and easiest hill, I had to pull aside to let the wrecker through---towing a UPS truck! As I had made my slow way through the slippery streets, I noticed that some cars had chains on the front, some on the back tires. At the last minute, just before I was going to attempt to mount the hill that had terrifyingly defeated me on Monday, I asked the UPS guy if I had the chains on the correct tires. "Do you have front wheel drive?" "Um, I have no idea" -quick check of owners manual, yes, it's front wheel drive. Who knows these things? "Then they should be on the front tires" Out in the muck again, embracing my tires as I removed the chains from the rear wheels and put them on the front. It's a messy, dirty job. But once you put them on the first time, you'll always remember. I'm a pro now. And I'll be damned, those ancient traction devices did the job--I made it up the slippery slope and safely home! I've made it in to work the last four days, despite the continuing storm, which is worsening tonight. No more excuses, no more snow days--I am a lady with chains!

Simple Pleasures

Ruby's favorite things to do in the new fallen snow.

The Curtain Closes

We were blessed with an amazingly beautiful October here--dry, warm and sunny! That's all over now, as switching back to Standard Time means darkness before 5, and the last few days have been rainy and gloomy. When winter begins in the Pacific Northwest, it's as if a big curtain is drawn across the sky--swoosh, that's it, summer's over!

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

I've given in, I've succombed to the hippy-dippy, sandal-wearing life-style such as it is out here on the Granola Coast. After two weeks of agony, my boss finally convinced me to see his Chiropractor. The magic words were "It's covered on our health plan". Ok, for free, I'll try anything. To be able to move again, I'll try anything. My back problems are the result of too many years of moving furniture, a general disconnect with how to use my body, and oodles of stress--I'm a stress-holder-inner. It oozes its way out in muscle cramps, swollen joints, and debilitating back strains. How can a chiropractor help me? Unless he knows how to track a mis-labeled blanket-wrap shipment, direct five phone calls a minute, design and deliver a furnished model unit on a zero budget in one day, correct the books and manage a surly staff, then it didn't look likely. Turns out, he's a miracle worker. I am converted. Once a week now, I go for an 'adjustment'. There's nervous chit-chat, followed by some awkward massaging and touching, and finally, a good-old back cracking snap. It's all over in less than 20 minutes. Sounds like a date. Imagine how good I'd feel if I actually had sex?

Summer Driving Season

Ruby and I spent our weekend in coastal Wheeler, then driving up and down the ocean-view 101, something we both love. Though it leaves only her panting and breathless.

Unnatural

I left work at 2:30 yesterday, having arrived at 7:30 to meet the tile-layers, the demolition crew, the painters and the electricians. It was my day off. Our store is under major construction--more than doubling our size by adding 6k sq. ft in a newly excavated lower level over the past three months, and now doing a 'small remodel' on the main level, which started in earnest (and excrutiating noise) this week. This is one of the reasons I have not blogged much lately, nor done much of anything much lately. So, anyway, I was leaving work in my little car. Sunroof open, side windows open--it was sunny and clear and warm and the spring air was sweet--gorgeous. I was free to be outdoors, take the dog for a walk, wake up the hibernating balcony with some cleaning and new plants...I stopped into the garden shop on the way home. I went in with sunglasses on, and hopes of an afternoon spent potting in the sparkling light. Potting of course, is the placement of purchased full-size potted plants directly into more decorative and attractive pots, I don't really get my hands dirty--don't worry. I was inside for five minutes. Five minutes. I stepped back outside, plant in hand, to purple skies, a chill wind, and sheets of gray rain. I could have been told I'd accidentally opened the door to another universe and I would have believed it more. It rained the rest of the day.

Getting from A to T. (T is for Trailer)

I love the Oregon Coast. Driving the 101, the vistas, the moody weather, the rock formations looming out of the ocean, the cliffs and bluffs, the small towns and inlets...it reminds me of Door County on steroids. I spend as many 'weekends' as possible out there--my 'weekends' usually falling on weekdays when the majority of the population is in town at work. The coast is vast and sparsely developed, during the week the experience is solitude defined. Ruby adores the trips, it hardly needs mentioning. Just ask her how many dead animals she's scavanged off the beach and brought to me, anticipating a reward. A few months ago, about the same time I developed this stress rash (more on that later), I started dreaming of having a cabin on the coast. Not a big dream, not fantasy. But a little dream, a realistic one (is this what growing up is? Realistic ideas that still take a load of work to reach?). Realistic on my budget is a run down cabin on a bit of land no one else wants. Though not as developed as those coastal regions that offer the benefit of warmth and sunshine, property here still goes at a premium. Add a view, add a couple of zeros. Not a local? Good luck with zoning sucker. Internet daydreaming landed me on a real estate listing for a run down old mobile home, not exactly on the ocean, but pretty close. And for a minute, I thought--well, how bad could that be? Ok, it could be pretty bad. But what if it's just a start? And in a couple of years, the old mobile gets torn down and replaced with...with.. ..... Dream No. 2, not so realistic, is to quit all work, get an Airstream and a Wagoneer and spend a few years traveling the States, photographing and journaling and adventuring. But that's later....so what has the efficiency and affordabilty of a travel trailer but doesn't travel? The Park Model Home. Only I didn't know that until weeks later, when I was on I-5, heading to Seattle for work (Reason No. 1 for getting away on the weekends!).....

Past and Future, both in envelopes.

The Breckenridge brochures arrived in today's mail, along with a notice from the US Dept. of Education ---my little cottage specs and my biggest debt in the same mail pile. This is the second time that the US Dept of Ed. has messed up my automatic loan repayments--all this time, nearly two years, I thought my monthly payments were being automatically deducted. They weren't. Now the loan is in default. And this time, it's not my fault! I actually got through to a live person at the other end of the 800 number, and this time, they promise me the arrangements will be kept. Of course, now, it's a higher payment and a black mark on my already sketchy credit rating. But at least it's a step forward. Maybe my little cottage on the coast is meant to be. Perhaps I was meant to get serious about taking care of this messy bit of finance so I can see a path to getting my little cottage mortgage. I realize that this entry seems out of the blue, there are about five or six entries I haven't written yet to describe how I got to ordering trailer home brochures...will post soon, under the category "Cabin on the Coast".

Let it snow

After a week of false alarms, Portland finally got the big snow storm yesterday morning. Big wet flakes, low visibility, closed roads...the works. I was trapped at home, up on the hill, unable to drive or even walk down the slippery slopes. Just down the road from me, my old street was closed to traffic. SW 20th, the road I usually take to work, was the scene of more than a dozen accidents. A nieghbor even filmed a domino-series of accidents as an SUV failed to make the hill and crashed around like a pinball, hitting every parked car on its slide back down. A co-worker with tire chains, and fortitude, is coming to pick me up this morning. He had 'chained up' and headed to the mountain for ski-ing yesterday, so has no fear of this little trek. Oh to be young again, and not worried about car insurance rates!

good mornin' sunshine (original post from 8/25)

Miss Ruby leaves bed early each day to enjoy the sunshine in the new living room...and to chase something she hasn't seen in awhile...the resulting shadows.

Certainly, make yourself comfortable, by all means.

Can't decide which is cuter...the new chairs or Ruby! It's all so meant to be...I ordered these chairs two months ago, before I even dreamed of this new place....and they couldn't be a more perfect fit. Even the color is perfect--and I sweated that fabric decision. In my work, it's easy to make decisions for others, but when you know all the possibilities, well, 'the cobblers kids have no shoes' often applies. I couldn't be happier with how they turned out. Ruby, cuddled in one before the second was in place, seems to agree. Glad I could accommodate you, little dog.

Moving Day!

The heat wave continues--will be near 100 today. No air conditioning. The old apartment is on the fourth floor--the elevator is broken. Can it get any better?

sneak peek

Is it a cabin on Mt. Hood? Grandma's house? Nope! It's a sneak peek at my groovy new kitchen nook...I -heart- knotty pine.

dog day road trip

at last

Look Ruby,....sunshine!

International Rose Test Garden

Life in Chevron Heights

Portland has very distinct neighborhoods, and residents are firm about the boundary lines. When asked where I live, I used to say "NorthWest", a semi-trendy area known for one street of high-end shops, and one street of restaurants. 1930's brick apartment buildings shoulder up to huge Queen Annes, some still intact as single-family homes. It reminds me of Chicago's Lincoln Park. My little flat is across the street from this area. "Across the street" is key. To locals, this is unforgivable leniency with the boundary lines. Apparently, though I can walk to this area in less than 500 foot steps, I cannot claim to live there. Technically, across the street does change the physical address to "SouthWest" as well. Ok, but I don't live in the "SouthWest" neighborhood either--that starts past the top of the hill. According to PortlandMaps.com, my building is located in "Goose Hollow"; a residential area sandwiched between two main thoroughfares, where mid-century boxy communistique apartment towers hover over even larger historic single family homes. But, I'm only half a block into that area...you see my dilema. How to describe that I ALMOST live in GooseHollow and I ALMOST live in NorthWest. Oh, and there's King's Hill to consider, but that's getting just too much. As far as I can tell, King's Hill is a three block area up the hill dotted with condos, near the fancy grocery store, but I only hear that name used in real estate ads. I think I've talked about this before. Some time ago, I started calling my block after the closest (and it's very close, hello, wave to it from the balcony!) landmark: Chevron Heights. Which brings me to my point... Chevron Heights has a shortage of parking. Close to PGE Park, ballgame nights are a nightmare. What good is using the car to haul more groceries when you still have to park five blocks away and lug the bags up the hill? I regularly forget where I've parked it. I've lost a wing mirror to someone's bad parallel parking attempt. I'm terrified of forgetting the parking brake and waking to see her at the bottom of the hill. (Though I am the parking Master---backwards, uphill, oncoming traffic, 6 inches of clearance? You betcha I can do it). A few weeks ago, the heart of Chevron Heights, the actual Chevron Station, went under a major renovation. A new multi-level building designed to blend in with existing classic architecture, complete with extensive wine selection and requisite coffee shop, went up overnight. Down came the previous low-rent structure, freeing up ...you guessed it...PARKING SPACES FOR RENT. I got the last one yesterday. Woo-hoo! It's directly across the street, on the far end of their lot, closest to my building. And it's mine, all mine!

sunshine and snow

Went down to Ashland and over to Crater Lake during my "weekend"; crazy gorgeous.

the white stuff

so much for Spring, it's snowing today!

a rare vision

I think the only time I've seen the sun in the past forty days is when it was setting.

Mini Road Trip

Two days off in a row, a break in the rain and a little car languishing in park? I'm outta here!

Christmas is in the details.

I was up at 6am. Not to prepare treats and holiday surprises, but because the goddamn phone rang... Mom. Getting an earlier flight. Arriving at 1:30 instead of 4:30. Throwing out of whack my carefully drafted do-nothing-until-absolutely-necessary Cleaning The House for Company Plan. Crap. Keeping in mind the Theory of Good Enough (more on that later), I quickly edited the list of things required for Visitors. Out the window--defrosting the broken freezer compartment of my undersized refrigerator. You see, it's broken. It's been broken for months. I have a mini glacier in my mini fridge. Every few weeks, when the door won't close properly, I hack at it with a butter knife, breaking free chunks of the white stuff to fall, avalanche style, to the floor. Ruby loves these moments--a little violence leading to something new and interesting to eat off the floor. Dogs love that stuff. Eat it right up. Five hours later, surveying my freshly tidy five hundred square feet with a little bid of pride, the mini fridge was now a major worry. She would find it. She would open it. She would see. And she would squeal, "Kathleeeeen! WHAT is THIS?" I shook my head to clear it of neurotic thoughts, reminding myself that this is a woman who ashes her cigarettes in decorative pottery. She would be reasonable, see that the fancy bed pillows were just the right shade of aqua, the picture frames dead-on straight, the lightbulbs all optimum wattage, the bathroom bleached top to bottom. She's a reasonable woman, she would understand that one small oversight in a busy life is allowable. It is BROKEN after all. ------ She is not a reasonable woman. She is still captive to the Mother gene. The offending fridge was found in the first 2 minutes. "Kathleeeeeen!" Mom spend day two (while I was working), in my apartment, all day, defrosting. She ashed in my pots.

Flurries

It's snowing! Holy crap, it's snowing! I left my snow equipment behind long ago...thought I'd left the snow there too.

change of season

It's started. The rain. Good thing I have my colorful Marimekko umbrella or I wouldn't be able to face the day. The gray, rainy, depressing day.

The McMansion on Steriods.

As this subject pertains in a small way to my work, I have to tread lightly here. Let's just say, that for work purposes of the networking/chatting people up nature, I recently attended a local event showcasing the latest in home building and aspirational living. Let's call it SNOT. The grand opening SNOT event was Black Tie. After parking in a rocky, dusty field, we trudged in our Black Tie attire up to an entrance adorned with balloon arches. Next to the balloon arches; porta-potties. Classy. We were attended to by 12 year old ticket takers. Twelve year olds were a dominant feature in this event--as greeters, ticket takers, servers, escorts. Sunburned adolescent girls in too-tight prom dresses seeing to the needs of the so-called movers and shakers of the community, picture it. Jail bait seals many a real estate deal. The designated mingling, drinking and eating area was a gravely, dusty bit of road strewn with food tents and white plastic Walmart tables and chairs. I'm reminded of Walleye Weekend, only fishing enthusiasts don't wear bugle beads. SNOT Opening Gala goers, having dished out $100 per person to attend, were treated to hot-lunch line trays of unidentified asian-esque stirfry and bbq chicken wings. Yum. Next, a self-guided tour of SNOT's Dream Homes. Dream Homes include the following features: -orange-peel wall finishes (walls should hurt when you brush up against them) -top-of-the-line plastic moldings, windowsills, and door frames -hollow-core laminate doors available only at the big box hardware stores -room layouts that make the most of 20 ft ceilings and the least of 5000 square feet -kitchens that take 20 minutes to circumnavigate (by the time you find the sink, your pizza is done!) -Butler's Pantries for the butler you'd never have because it's not pc -a laundry room big enough to house that stray migrate worker family -on the second floor, nylon wall-to-wall carpeting to soften the sounds of your desperate wailing -'wood' laminate flooring in the public areas so visitors know that you really are classy -faux-finished cabinetry throughout -for 1 million more, you can have the faux-Tuscan look complete with wall murals of a place you've never visited because the people don't speak English -three-SUV garages -outstanding examples of both The Roofline Museum and The Window Museum (guaranteed minimum of five varying rooflines and a minimum of eight, count 'em eight!, different window shapes) -swimming pools that you can use four whole a weeks of every year! -a stunning, expansive view of the proof of our progress: power lines -oversized, professional-grade kitchen appliances that say "I could really cook if I knew how". -Master Bedroom Suites featuring a drop-down big screen television set over the bed, complete with thundering surround sound (it's so much easier to ignore a lacking sex life with surround sound) -a matching big-screen 'theater room' to numb the little ones into submission All this for a mere 3 million dollars. My little 500 square feet in the city has never looked better. So glad to be home.

Portland Sucks Less

I had the good fortune to attend two different events at the lovely Berry Botanic Garden this month. I found my Chris Craft photo in one of the cutsey boutiques in the Sellwood neighborhood. I also added another fine piece to my OPP (Other People's Pottery) collection. My front walk has been free of meth-head debris for a week. Ruby has a new playmate, Lucy (a shy Dalmation-Border Collie mix), in the building. The weather has been holding at sunny and warm; I've worn a sundress on five occasions. The white linen capri pants have been laundered. I've had the opportunity to view how the other half lives (and aspires to live) and was reminded of just how much I like my urban, walking, apartment-living lifestyle. I hate the word 'lifestyle', but in lieu of something better, that works. More on this topic later. My plants have not died. I've discovered Marionberries.

Homeless

The International Club has been booted. Kicked out. 86'd. Can you believe it? What fine drinking establishment wouldn't want the International Club as patrons once a week? We travel the globe, find ourselves in the great Northwest and have no place to socialize together? Ce n'est pas possible.

an hour without yarn is an hour wasted

I sent my sister Margaret a box of goodies a few weeks back, mostly crocheted goods; one for her upcoming birthday and many crocheted goods for her little Stella. In her kind thank you note, she says "I don't know how you find the time!". Oh, lord if she only knew. I have more time to spend on crochet than any under-60 person should be allowed to have. That's the one benefit of living somewhere you really rather wouldn't.

There's got to be a story there.

This morning I saw a loofah on the pavement. Things I've seen on the sidewalk, gutter or side yard immediately surrounding my building include wet boxer shorts on a dry day, a dead rat, vaste quantities of broken glass, one running shoe, and no less than three abandoned sofas.

Dad called yesterday. Big, exciting news in Fond du Lac...a new Pic n' Save. When I get down about living here, I must remember the alternatives.

descriptors

When a favorite customer of mine came in the shop the other day, we immediately started up our usual friendly chat. She mentioned that she had visited our new store just down the street and 'the guy there' (either my boss or co-worker, identity unconfirmed) had "...gone on and on about how efficient you are". Hmm. "Efficient". I'm not sure if that's the reputation I'd like to proceed me. There are so many other choices...friendly, funny, hard-working, and what's wrong with adorable?

rain, rain go away

This is summer? THIS?

where's summer? where's summer?

They tell me that summer here actually starts AFTER the 4th of July. Let's hope so, I've worn out my sweaters.

flowers and floats

You should always buy yourself flowers. And a tip I learned from Mom: when they ask if it is a gift (in whatever language), always say 'Yes'. Never say no to better packaging. Today is the Grand Floral Parade--I best go turn on the tv and see what it's all about. No way I'm dealing with the tourists, kiddies and traffic to go see the thing myself. Besides, it's cold out there!

what's in a title?

This week is the annual Portland Rose Festival. How it's warm enough for any kind of festival is beyond me. I'm told the festivities include the crowning of a "Queen of Rosaria" or some such thing. Wonder who would win in a fight--the Queen of Rosaria or the Queen of Walleye Weekend? Throw a Dairy Princess in there and you'd really have something to watch.

summer my *ss

So the warm weather didn't last very long....white capri pants only got one wearing....are you sure it's June?!??!