girl at large

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?!??!

THIS I like.

Finally! Some warm weather! It's been sunny, clear and HOT for two whole days now...and we're starting a third. I'm wearing white pants. I made sun tea. I took off the sweater and turned on the fan. I'm in heaven.

The clear skies have allowed a clear view of Mt. Hood for the first time, seriously, since I've been here--quite a shock on the morning walk: "Good lord, what is that giant thing behind the buildings?"

oh man, I guess I really live here now.

it's all too much

Just when I think I can't take it anymore, American life throws another one at me: strawberries.* A simple fruit treat, right? Wrong. Now they are "GIANT" strawberries. Even the ones not labeled "GIANT" are monstrously-proportioned specimens.

That I can't fit in my mouth. And trust me, I can fit alot of things in my mouth (sorry Grandma). Am I the only one who enjoys popping in a berry and enjoying it in one bite (maybe two)? We're talking four, five bites a piece here people. They're not strawberries, they are miniature melons from the planet Giganto.

I dreamt of a book I wish I could write last night:

'BIG AMERICAN LIFE'
Why we believe bigger is better, and why we might be wrong.

And don't even get me started on cell phones---and I do get that, contrary to everything else in our expansive land, they are actually getting smaller and smaller, to the point of being ridiculous lozenges. Lozenges that rule people's lives. When was the last time you let a shrill, screeching, interrupting annoyance rule your every waking minute? Isn't that why we leave our mothers?

*I know this will all wear off in time, but I hope that a few things stay with me---the calm I feel when I realize that I don't have to answer a ringing phone. The desire for little more than I need. The pleasure of a regular, sit down evening meal, even with just myself. The health of walking, rather than driving, to the corner store. I'm writing these things down, so when I get lazy and re-accustomed to this fastness and hugeness, y'all can find this page and remind me.

see? i don't always need the 'self-portrait' setting!

Ruby and I (and friends both human and canine, not pictured) take a stroll on the Eastbank Esplanade, enjoying the early spring sunshine (not enough for me!).

not your sunniest outlook

view from my little balcony, too bad you can't see my nieghbor's christmas tree on the opposite balcony. it's dark, but trust me, that dead, brown thing is still there.

more of the same.

four month itch

a shot from the November roadtrip....wishing I was back on the road. any road.

I've nearly forgotten how to do this....

My apologies to my "public" for not updating much at all lately---hopefully that will change soon. just as soon as America stops sucking ass.

cheese o'my heart

I had the BEST DAY EVER yesterday. Why? Because of cheese.

The selection at a local gourmet-ish food market down the street has been reliable for chevre, parmesean, and the occasional good gruyere, but yesterday, yesterday, that magical day...Mimolette Vielle!

Four little hunks of it, snuggled in the corner of the cold case. So what if each hunk was ten times the price of what I previously paid for a whole wedge? These little hunks were actually the result of hacking up a decent sized wedge--criminal, but forgiveable, they don't know never to cut cheeses outside of their shape--dumb you-know-who's.

It looks like France, smells like France, tastes like France. And it's not even the best (by a long shot) French cheese out there, it's just my everyday favorite.

Quick, someone send me a baguette sandwich from Rima's!!

The Mighty Pacific

"God pointing down at you" skies spotted frequently at the beach. Where's Uncle Bert when you need him to explain cloud formations?

Spent New Year's weekend on The Oregon Coast (in Neskowin, at Proposal Rock)---so glad to see open water again. I'd taken the Med for granted. The Pacific is grey and mean by comparison, but open water just the same. Driving out there (about an hour and half, give or take), we traveled through any number of entirely different weather systems--drizzle, fog and mist, pouring rain, clearish, drizzle, clear and sunny, fog and repeat.

america on my nerves

New names for the obvious. A sign on the bus uses the term "mobility device" in reference to a wheelchair. When did 'wheelchair' become offensive? Is it not a chair with wheels? Why is that wrong? I'm going to start calling my purse a 'personal object transport device'.

Large hunks of meat under heat lamps, guy in little mutton chop paper hat serving--ah, the classic buffet dinner. Stuffed mushroom anyone?

Puritan priorities run amok. Why is a naked nipple more offensive than mutilation murder? And don't get me started on video games with features like 'first person shooting'. (and these games are running violent ads in prime kiddie-time---which doesn't technically bother me, but show two chicks holding hands while wearing white and you'll start a riot? I don't get it).

Responsible parking. Ok, so this is a good thing. But not nearly as entertaining as seeing a Mini or Smart or Citroen bump it's way back and forth into a non-spot between two poles. Or better yet, between two other cars.

Why the f*** are strangers smiling at me all the time? Do I know you? Oh, right, people are friendly here. Still working on dropping the suspicious 'street face'.

Cross-merchandising. When I go to a deli, I expect to find cheese, sausage, sliced meat, and the like. I don't want to search for my sandwich goods beyond 1,000 square feet of picture frames, glass-jarred pasta no one will ever eat and stacks of scented candles. Scented candles in a deli?? Cheese-scented ones, that I could take, but jeez...stick with the main goods people.

Expensive coffee that doesn't cut it. Hot and wet is the bare minimum requirement; sometimes it misses even that boat, and---HUGE does not make up for crappy. Yes, I swear to god for the fifth time today, like I do every single day, that I do "really only" want the 8 oz latte. Not 12 oz, not 16oz, and god help me I'll never need 32oz of ANYTHING. I really do mean "small". Trust me.

Signs for the stupid. "Do not sit on sharp spikey things" "Do not use these stairs if you have heart condition, diabetes, or other disability" "Do not insert fingers into electric outlet" "Don't cross in front of moving train" "Contents May Be Hot"--and my favorite on this, the update: "May be hot and cause burns"---now we have to explain what hot liquid can do??

Oversized. The grocery store designs, prints, distributes and displays a MAP of each location. Not a city map listing their locations. No. A map (or 'plan') of the interior of each individual store should you have trouble locating the milk (which you will, because it is hidden behind 8 rows of scented candles). Shit is just so big.

employed girl

I got the job!

More to come as the exact details of the position have to be worked out with the bosses after the holidays, but I'll be starting just after the first of the year, and it's in furniture/interior design/retail management--go figure.

more pros than cons (especially once I get that sun lamp)

view from balcony, note "Volvo" sign---I'm never lost with a beacon like that.

a few of the things I like about Portland:
-open knit (or crochet) night at Lint, the yarn store for hipsters (but why the cliques ladies?)
-riding the Max train for free for more than a week, until I realized that the tickets need to be validated. oops.
-the Driftwood Room
-walks in nearby Washington Park (it looks very 'X Files')
-the abundance of sausage
-an amazing Goodwill Thrift Shop that never fails to have exactly what I'm missing/needing for a buck. (dangerously located just across the street)
-cheesy public events (beer fest, christmas tree lighting) in Pioneer Courthouse Square
-Noah's Arf grooming and playdates at Lexi Dog, off-leash hours at the parks---generally, it's a very dog-friendly town
- H.

two different kinds of cold

The adjustment to the early sunset and general darkness is tough--I have to make a real effort to get out and about early to catch any sunshine in the mornings--what little there is, it's all gone by 4:30!  but the locals tell me that the long daylight hours in the summertime (sunset as late as 9:30-ish) make it worthwhile.   Like most northern cold-weather cities/towns---the outside might suck, but it has great interiors--lots to do, lots of cool places. And very, very friendly folks.

Strangers keep talking to me. After two years of frenchie chilliness, something as simple as the bag boy at the grocery store chatting me up can freak me out. Even a conversation about the weather (uh, yeah--that's not boring or anything--let's guess, cold and rainy or rainy and cold?) can catch me off guard: "What? You're talking to me? What for? What do you want, really?" (imagine frenchie "street face' cold glare).

I've got to lose that or I might not make any more new friends. Though the ones I have made so far are stellar. Who needs more?

visit to the middle

Miss Ruby enjoying the affections of Grandpa Bunny.

Things are much the same in Edgar, Nebraska as I recall from childhood---"the" school is still standing, the jello still wiggles, and coolwhip containers are just as handy as ever. bless.

I blame the pending 14-hour drive day for the poor quality of the only shot of me, Grandma Eileen and Grandpa Bunny's chin all together:

the square states

at last, images from my cross-country journey. enjoy. lots of square state stuff. corn. road. sky.
more to come later.

reflection

this just in from Anna's Thanksgiving visit with the family---"Cloud", the new public sculpture in Chicago's Millenium Park--but everyone's calling it the "Bean". great shot. I really, really miss Chicago--which is strange as I've not lived there in um, a decade? But to me, as I've said before, the holiday season will always be the Q clan and the big shiny city of Chicago. sigh.

not-homesick

Ruby and I stumbled (in a grey fuzz of delayed-onset jetlag/climate adjustment--even the dog is affected) past a vintage Citroen 2CV on our walk this morning. It was red. And mint.

I still haven't recovered.

Thanksgiving

I had a great Thanksgiving with the Mysterious H. ---shared the cooking a bit (I was assigned stuffing, cranberries and white-trash style sweet potatoes--no sweat)and had a perfect day. You know, for spending it in a strange town, with strangers (well, not really) and feeling entirely discumbobulated (sp?).

We found a complete butterball turkey, still in its wrapper, on a lawn down the street. Grandma woulda freaked--what a waste.

Howdy!

That's quite a change from "Bonjour!". I've arrived in Portland, it's been nearly a week today. I made incredible time driving across country--or so they say---I left Atlanta on that Saturday morning, arrived to the outskirts of Portland on Tuesday night. I spent the night in a hotel to get one last night of good rest and then drove in to the city on Wednesday morning to unload the van. Of all the things I've done in my life, my father seems most proud of my drive time. On-the-road phone call: "Where are you now?" "I'm just outside Boise Dad" "Man, you are flyin'!!!"

More entries and some photos of corn and wheat fields and mountains to come soon, my computer access is limited at the moment, but I'll do my best to keep everyone posted.

some things never change, they aren't supposed to

Life in Savannah remains about the same---warm, muggy, relaxed and friendly---even as the storefronts on Broughton Street continue their revolving-business roller-coaster. The squares are lovely, the moss is hanging and cocktails flowing---and I can't help feeling that it's time for me to get going.

Savannah was good for me, it was the first big change that allowed me to make all the later changes, some smaller, a few much bigger. It was the first big adventure, the first new place, new culture, new fears, going out there without a rope----I will miss it: that moody, rough-around-the-edges spirit that welcomes kooks and eclectics and makes miracles of crab cakes.

I leave on Friday morning. I'll be back, but no, it won't ever really be the same.

prelude

It's been raining for two days straight---grey skies, continuous rainfall---today's Portland weather is much the same. Am I being told something???

two days and counting...

Suitcases packed. Artwork packed and posted (mostly). Dog vaccinated. Closet emptied. Lease signed. Minivan rented.

All systems go.

Full-freakout time!

where's my boy scout?

Seven more days until I leave for the States. Then, only a few more days after that I leave for Portland. Everything is arranged; flight, apartment, rental car, dog travel, etc.

Only I'm begining to realize it's the little things that I have yet to prepare for---I don't even own a winter coat. And oh yeah, I need to get a job. Little things like that.