girl at large

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.

Now THIS is boating.

Mom has her sailboat, but I want one of these. I found a b/w photo of a mid-50's runabout ( I think it's an 18' Holiday), complete with captain in a saucy cap, this weekend--it's perfect in the bathroom.

More on the subject.

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.

Why I Love My Dog

She accepts a Sunday of torture as just part of the deal. We skipped our usual Sunday morning pancake routine--I felt like having fruit instead, seeing as it's now actually summer here. So, no yummy Bisquik treat for her today. And that's just for starters.

Next, I trimmed her nails. Bye-bye tap shoes.

Then, I gave her a bath. Hello soap.

Then, I gave her a wicked good brushing with the evil wire brush. Ouch.

Lastly, I neglected to take her to the dog park tonight. Mean Mommie.

And where is she now? Sitting at my feet, her chin on my leg, tail stump wagging. Waiting patiently for a bedtime cuddle. Now that's devotion (and a bit of stupidity).

Demon Toothpaste

I neglected to thoroughly wash my hands between tooth-brushing and contact-solutioning this morning. Minty fresh eyeball.

This is also the same toothpaste that turns the whole of my mouth black when used after drinking red wine. Next time, no falling for the two-for-one deal.

Latest update from Mom and Bert, sailing somewhere off the coast of Italy

Mom and Bert on Tishie Mae I, last fall

Mom and Bert, in trouble with the Italian law! Bert took the tender too close to the beach, unknowingly, and was apprehended by "gorgeous Italian coast guard men in white uniforms, you should have seen them!". Escorted ashore by no less than eight of these water police, Mom, as owner of Tishie Mae II, was held responsible. Bert was released into HER custody! ha!

American courtesy saved the day---the Italian coast guard officers were so surprised by their cooperation and politeness that they issued only one small ticket (Bert was also 'paperless', quite an offense in a country so engaged in beaurocracy) and even apologized for having to do it.

The topper of the story? On the form, of course there's a form, there was a line specifically for "Excuse". The officer insisted Bert offer an excuse. Bert's response? "Stupid American"!

Bert, released in Mom's guardianship, has some sucking up to do! They're on the way further down the coast later this week, headed for a bay near Rome so they can do an inland excursion into the city. More updates to come, and hopefully, some photos too.

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.

You don't know where that's been!

Strange things Ruby licks with intensity but for no obvious reason: her stuffed snake, the headboard, the corner of the wall, the balcony railing, the kitchen rug (well, the reason for that is obvious), the magazine stack (she favors the New Yorker), the corner of the coffee table, and the curtains.

I could understand one or two little licks, but she does this for ages at a time. I have no explaination. My dog is a freak.

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.

UK ok

Peg, Ryan and baby Stella are safe and sound.

springtime babe

These gifts have officially been given, so full views now available. Both are made with crochet thread, which I now adore--it's so smooth and easy to work with. And both are for little Stella.

well on my way to a happy retirement...

My favorite part of a weekday off? Mid-afternoon, back-to-back episopes of Perry Mason, the best tv show ever.

Miss Ruby Retrospective

...especially for my friend in the same time zone...

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?

Everything In Its Place

Last week, I got a little surprise in the mail, and boy, did it ever make my day! When I first got the delivery notice, I was puzzled--what had I ordered? Did I order something online and forget about it again? When the box arrived, I was even more puzzled..Pottery Barn Kids?

No mistaking it when I opened the package----divided trays! RED divided trays! Only one person knows me that well and would get such a kick ---Miss Dawn!!

I think I'm the only person I know who loved 'hot lunch' in grade school. Or built paper napkin 'dams' at dinner time. I remember my divided plate with great fondness (Mom finally gave in and got me one, having grown disgusted with soppy napkin bits on my plate). I love flying, mostly for the nifty dinner service.

Nothing like having friends who embrace your neurosis. :)

idle hands? not in this house

waaay too much time on my hands....

can we go now? can we go now? can we go now?

Ruby is addicted to the leash-free area of the park now--if I don't take her each evening to play with her friends, I have one mopey, whiney dog on my hands. As long as it's not a downpour, that's where you'll find us each night---she does an 'ape shit' run that the crowds adore, it's mildly embarrassing for 'mommy'---ears back, flat-out running in circles as fast as she can, just round and round for a full five minutes before collapsing in a little doggie-spasm on her back, preferably in a pile of ants. Dogs.

rain, rain go away

This is summer? THIS?

Where do I live? That's classified.

I have been single for too long. When I had a guest over for dinner last week, I was a wreck. Not with the usual date-jitters, but just by the thought of anyone being in my teeny, tiny apartment. I'm not known for having company over--there's barely room to swing a cat, much less entertain. And I'm hopelessly private about my home.

All day long, five days a week (or more) for nearly fifteen years, I've worked in retail. In retail, you are a captive to the public---anyone can walk in that door and you have to interact with them, no matter how painful that may be. So, as a result, I jealously guard my alone-at-home time. I've told people to go away through the mail slot. All friends know that the drop-by is the worst of sins.

I had a knot in my stomach the entire dinner---and a little voice in the back of my head gritting its teeth and muttering "Get out of my house, get out of my house, get out of my house." Any doubt I have trouble dating??? Poor guy didn't stand a chance.

One thing I've learned this time around is that maybe I haven't been single for too long, perhaps instead I haven't been single long enough. Down in the honesty section of my gut, I actually like it, maybe even prefer it. I'm back on my two-one-bedroom-apartments-with-double-hotelstyle-doors as the perfect domestic situation for me.