Moving to Portland at age 27 kind of messed with the plan as it took alot of funding as well as moved me much farther away from the parts of the country I had left...but I still don't think it's too shabby.
And now when I visit them, I get to do it with my wonderful husband!
Don’t ask me why. Don’t ask me how. But apparently Noland and I are running a marathon. Or at least attempting to. We got all signed in. We got our lockers. We’re good to go.
Crap.
I’m still carrying my purse and I’m wearing Birkenstocks. I need to get back into my locker but I don’t remember the combination. I go to the office to see if they have the combo on file. There’s no one working, but the file box in on the desk so I shuffle through that until I find my name. Get the combo – head back across the campus to the locker area.
Pop the locker open – there’s all kinds of stuff in there – but no running shoes.
Crap.
They’re at home. Noland looks down and realizes that he doesn’t have running shoes either. I give him my keys and he’s going to try to get home and back with our shoes as fast as possible We think there’s still time to make it, but man we’re pushing it.
Not the way to start off for your first marathon.
I laughed so hard I almost had to pee my pants. Not that anyone who would be reading this doesn’t already know, but: A – I am from Topeka
B – My brother is a forensic chemist for a law enforcement agency (and no his life is not nearly as glamorous as CBS would like us to think....'geeks in lab coats' would be his take on their job.)
So when Susan, my groovy friend in Iowa, found this card and sent it to me for my birthday I really did just about spit beer laughing.
Apparently the folks in my hometown do not see the humor.
And the best is that due to this quote….
"I find it offensive," Mayor Bill Bunten said Thursday. "It's probably drawn up by somebody from West Virginia who hasn't been here."
…West Virginia has now demanded a public apology from the mayor.
Maybe Kansas are just sensitive.
Several years ago I was sent this hysterical magazine article about someone born and rasied in NYC moving to Iowa - not even to Des Moines, but to Pella or Story City or something like that....they wrote about all the humor they found moving to a small rural town after being used to a metropolis.
There were some amusing observations.
Some pretty obvious about people loving the Olive Garden and driving pick up trucks.
Some were things that I, having lived in cities - but cities in rural dominated states, might not have noticed as strange or amusing until someonw else pointed them out. Then I thought - wow - that is kinda funny. I never noticed it before because I'm used to it.
So I forwarded this on to several fellow former and current Kansans and Iowans who I thought could also see to laugh at themselves. I received scathing replies from two such friends. Telling me that if I wanted to forwarded them jokes, or good luck wishes, or personal stories that was fine - but if I was going to just tell nasty mean things about our wonderful place of childhood then they would rather not hear from me.
Of course one of these messages came from someone who - when her husband was offered a temporary job in another state - in a beautiful part of the country where his company would:
- raise his salary
- pay for the move and storage of anything they didn't take with them
- pay for their housing & living expenses during the two years they wanted him there
- pay for their transportation during the two years they wanted him there
- pay for he and his family to fly back to visit their family twice a year for those two years
She did nothing but complain about how horrible it was going to be.
Whaaa.
Funny thing is - he works for Hallmark.
I voted against the extra Multnomah County income tax – shouldn’t I have the right to ignore it? When I placed my vote against paying for other people’s kids, while they get tax breaks for having them, shouldn't I have had the option to sign a little piece of paper that says I have no intention of paying even if the majority of voters agreed to it.
I voted against Measure 36 that discriminates against marriage equality. I’m sure that all those people that got married before the measure was passed, whose marriages courts now says are null and void, would have loved to sign something that says – thanks but no thanks. I’m ignoring this law.
Our fearless leader has conveniently decided that he is above the law, or that he is going to ignore what our leaders and voters have decided more than 500 times in his first 5 years…more times than all other Presidents combined.
Early President’s used the right a few times each if at all – Carter used it 24 times, Reagan 71, Bush Sr. 146 (2nd runner-up with only 4 years time) and Clinton 105 times.
More than 500 times.
Unbelievable.
I take that back. It’s totally believable.
Get it? Good.
'Cause if I see it again.
I might have to hurt you.
When Noland and I were looking to buy a new house last spring, we had many of the usual requirements homebuyers have. Our budget of course, the minimum size and numbers of bedrooms, bathrooms, yard size, etc. Since we don’t have kids and don’t plan to the whole school thing was irrelevant – but the neighborhood was not. East side preferable and the closer in the better. We wanted Portland. We like Portland. We live in Portland for a reason. Northeast, Southeast, North – all fine. Suburban dwelling was not ever an option.
Ever.
We both however work in Beaverton – me way down off 217 by the evilest of evils – Washington Square Mall – and Noland way the hell out 26 by the empires of Intel and Nike. Both about the same distance from home, but far enough away from each other that even driving together is not a viable option. We knew that where we ended up buying we would be stuck driving a fairly lengthy commute – and that was something we were willing to do to live in the area that we wanted. Where we are now is basically at the limit of how far we would be willing to go – living much farther out then we are now and we would have had to seriously consider other options.
So that being said – I try not to complain to often about the drive. We very well could have bought something in Beaverton, probably larger and newer, for about the same price and it would take us 5 minutes to get to work. But we’d rather live where we live then where we work. So off hours – it takes about 25 minutes door to door. In commuting traffic from 4 – 6 pm it takes about 40 minutes. A bad day with slow traffic can be up to an hour.
Yesterday it took 1 hour and 39 minutes to get home.
My office is in a generic office park right off the main road that leads to the mall…..as well as a Target, Circuit City, Powell’s, etc. it’s a 3 minute drive from the parking lot to the entrance of the highway. Yesterday it took more than 20 minutes. And you can bet that every single one of those extra cars was some suburbanite headed to the mall. Crawling through downtown at 5 mph. And you can bet that every one of those extra cars were suburbanites shopping downtown who didn’t know where they were going. An hour and 15 minutes to cross the river. But once I did – once I was on the east side of town – traffic back to complete normality. Smooth sailing home.
God I hate the suburbs.
On Monday, with only five days before Vegas, I start coming down with some sort of illness. And of course the Portland ITEC was this week, so instead of quiet days in my cubicle working online and drinking hot beverages - I was on show site running around, helping get stuff set-up and having to be friendly and helpful to all the Exhibitors and Attendees – while trying not to cough and sneeze on them. So every night this week I’ve come home to Noland fixing me tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, bags full of drugs and vitamins, him doing all of the stuff that needs to be done around the house, and me crawling into bed super early around 9pm…so that said and done – I believe that the bug has been mostly kicked – and we are ready to roll!
Or as Violet so eloquently stated:
WHEEL!
OF!
FORTUNE!
Whew – the folks were here – we had a nice visit and now they’re gone – WHEW! As Noland noted – it’s a bit of a passive-aggressive pattern between my mother and I and if they were here for more then the 65 hours that they were here – we would have to do even more serious dinking then I’m already in need of…
Here is an example of a conversation we had on Thursday night (mind you they’d been in town a total of maybe 4 hours at this point):
Mom: so you need to put the leftovers in the refrigerator you know
Me: I will
Mom: so lets go clean up the kitchen and put those away
Me: I’ll do it later
Mom: well but won’t you feel better if you do it now, plus that needs to be refrigerated…
Me: I will do it later
Mom: Let’s go do it now. I’ll help
Me: Mom – I don’t think the enchiladas sitting on the counter for another hour will hurt. It’s not like its 90 degrees in here or there are bugs crawling around my kitchen
Mom: well, but there are all the dishes to that need to be washed
Me: Yes, and we have a dishwasher, and maybe tomorrow I’ll load them in and wash them. Dishes often sit in my kitchen for more then a day and the world doesn’t fall apart…
(We didn’t put the enchiladas away then, but about an hour later we did have to load the dishwasher – and I had to start it running to stop her from making me do the hand wash dishes right then and there)
End of the first full day - Friday night:
Mom: you know it’s time for the news.
Me: (rolling eyes) we don’t watch the news
Mom: well some of us just like to know what’s going on in the world
Me: you know you can read the news and then you don’t have to watch the same sound bites over and over again.
Mom: but then it’s at least a day old…
Dad: and besides - you don’t even get the daily paper.
Me: it’s called the Internet – and then it can be minutes old
Mom: but here we can see what’s important in the world
Me: Sure, important to the programmer trying to get ratings…I bet there will be nothing on this broadcast that I didn’t already read online today…and with more information
Mom: all media is biased, you’re not getting anymore of a correct story by reading it online, so why not just watch it here
Me: I’m not saying it isn’t biased, but because I can link from one source to another to get different perspectives on the same information I know more about the topic then what’s covered in the 30 seconds they devote to it here…
(We did watch the NBC Nightly News, but I refused to watch the local news, and that disturbed them as well, even though they don’t live here and have no idea what it would be about)
Or in a store on trendy-third Saturday afternoon as Noland and I were looking at a dining table and chairs that we liked:
Me: This is the type of table we want – its big and sturdy and solid
Mom: but just one for a lot less then that
Me: well, no not really, most that are like this are in this price range, we just need to wait a few more months to save up for it
Mom: I’m sure there are ones that are less
Me: well I’m sure a little, but this is about what it will cost
Mom: plus you can’t get that – it’s wood and you’ll set your drinks on it and ruin in
Me: yes, because we’re twelve we don’t know how to take care of things
Mom: well people will come over and they won’t use coasters and you’ll get marks on it
Me: it’s a table; you’re supposed to use it
Noland: plus I kinda like that distressed/used sort of look
Mom: well people don’t mean to, but they just don’t think and they’ll ruin and then you won’t have a nice table anymore
Me: well then yes, by all means we won’t be able to get that…
And so it goes…every conversation turns into a bit of a power play…her trying to still be the mother in charge and me fighting back like I was still 16…
I love ‘em – but man am I glad I don’t live anywhere near ‘em.
President Clinton helping out in the kitchen. Kind of nice actually, it was like on theose cooking shows when all the ingrediants were laid out in pre-measured glass bowls and Bill, Noland and I all had on matching aprons. And I don't recall any dishes when we were done!
Bob Marley opening up at Porky's - it was surpise appearance and no one was there - and no one believed us...I think the dead thing probalby had something to do with that part.
I can't wait to see who's next...
*sidebar: Our big purple couch arrives this weekend - whoo hoo - everyone is invited over to check it out!
Anita who used to be my “going to shows friend” back in KS where we'd smoke those weird super thin cigarettes, drink 3 pitchers of beer (she drank most of the 1st, we split the second and I finished up the third while she was passing out), and pick up on the "alternative boys" sent me a link to this website that has info on her, her husband and friends doing crazy things such as running marathons, competing in triathlons, doing long-distance mountain biking – all kinds of nutso stuff….
Talking with my mother over the weekend and her asking what we were up to this week, telling her about a multitude of shows coming up, karaoke last weekend and general going out with friends, she makes a comment that we never stay home, and I just tell her that my life just isn’t as boring as hers was at my age – I remember her at my age – she had three kids ages 4, 6 and 9….
Someone at work says that they’re going to the Ash Street tonight, I say “hey – so am I” but they’re not going to see the Woggles – they’re going after work and will be well under the covers by the time the show starts. Another guy mentions that he used to be into the local music scene and go to shows all the time – but could never do it now….
So one of my best friends forwarded me an email that she received, the note enclosed to me was kind of a “can you believe this?” message and a story about her making a joke about not being as straight as you’d think to the sales clerk selling her jeans at the GAP who didn’t find nearly as funny as she did… and how that’s her life in Midwest suburbia.
The email was one of those floating around the internet letters that someone (from Arkansas, surprise surprise) wrote to ABC in regards to their promoting the “homosexual agenda” because of an episode of The Practice that addressed the gay marriage debate and they felt that the show made the conservative person look bad for disagreeing. There was all the usual sputtering that they were going to make sure everyone knew how ABC was so evil and blah blah blah……
So she sends me this message, then follows it up with a second email saying “Please don’t forward that, it’s a small world and I still have to live in my neighborhood.” So we messaged back a forth bit, and that she has to deal with this sort of thing a lot, that people just assume because she’s a suburban mom in a very conservative state that she agrees with that sort of bullshit. She said that she even had a 5 year-old child tell her that their mom didn’t approve of her belly ring. Which of course my friend had the wonderful response, “well that’s ok, she doesn’t have to get one.”
I get a little bummed sometimes because while I have the best circle of friends here in Portland, my best friends live all across the country, and sometimes I miss those heart to heart girl talks, or singing along with the Indigo Girls in the car (Noland’s really not into that, although he will occasionally humor me.) But while I don’t have any of those close friends here, at least everyone in my circle of friends here holds the same basic set of principles and beliefs that I do. I can’t imagine anyone that I know sending something like that and thinking that I’d want to read it. We don’t of course agree on everything, and there are probably some people in that circle that think things that I would find surprising, and vice versa – but I do know that no one I call a friend would think that this sort of bigotry was something that I, or anyone I know, supports and especially promotes.
So my friends, both far and near, know that even if I don’t always say it or act like it…I do appreciate you being part of my world!
I have no connection to the tragedy in the Gulf, I don’t know anyone who lives there, has lived there, was there, was directly affected – nothing – so I feel a bit like a local TV news station who has finally figured out a way to connect myself to the disaster no matter how thin the line.
And I’m not normally the type who gets all worked up over these things, I’m concerned of course, but I’m not one who cries over stories on TV or in the news about disasters, plane crashes, missing children, murdered wives or an of that other stuff. But for some reason this has really hit me, to the point that I was pretty unsuccessfully fighting back tears last weekend watching a slide show of images and trying to sing.
So my local news connection is that my younger brother is a forensic chemist for the KBI (that’s the Kansas Bureau of Investigation for us commoners), so basically he’s a CSI – just like on the TV show except for all the glamorous people, action packed hunting down of criminals, questioning of suspects and wrapping it all up in a matter of days. Pretty much it means he’s a geek in a lab coat who may on occasion be sent to a crime scene to collect some DNA or testify that “yes sir, that is 99.8% likely to be him,” but mostly he hangs out in a lab with blood and semen and grows pot in his office so he can track the various strains back to the right bad guys.
Well James was called down to
My mother told me this, I barely had a moment to think that was pretty cool that he was going to be able to go down and help people, if not with something happy, at least something that might give people some closure. But she follows the sentences of “he was asked to….” with “but thank goodness he’s not going.” What she said was that he decided that it would be too tough leaving my sister-in-law and the kids at home alone for the two weeks they asked him to help out.
My brother and I are not extremely close, so I don’t know all the details of why that would be too hard, and it may have been a legitimate conclusion, but what disturbed me more was that my mother didn’t seem to hesitate in saying it was good he didn’t go. Her reasons why? It would be so hot. It would be so dirty and such tiring work. Yes, because we wouldn’t want to inconvenience ourselves just slightly for 14 days to help out people whose lives have been destroyed for who knows how long.
I then of course, had to pick a fight with my mother about politics, the weather, the best way to make toast…it’s how we work about 75% of the time, so instead of arguing with me she just keeps saying “ok” to everything that I say in that ever so condescending voice that only a mother can have. This of course just angers me even more so I make the next attack personal. I tell her that I’m sorry for trying to have an intelligent discussion, but that my friends and I don’t just discuss who was wearing what to church last week and the latest celebrity gossip but that we actually like to discuss what’s going on in the world around us.
Needless to say when she told me that they’re coming to visit in a few months… and that they’ll be staying at my house…
So being that we have central air and no where else does, weeknight evenings have pretty much been a series of go have some happy hour drinks somewhere and then head home to chill in the chill air. Being that we’ve had some drinks, our minds are not in the mood for any serious reading or movies that make you think. Being that it’s hotter then it should be in Portland, our bodies are not in the mood to do anything involving activity. So mindless television it is. Being that it’s summer, there’s not much on – although I will admit to having been sucked into Rock Star: INXS – but with a dozen variations on each and half a dozen channels that show them - there is always an endless stream of CSI and Law & Order reruns on. So I’ve been watching a lot of that crap lately. And I just started to notice a mildly amusing trend. If there is a kid involved anywhere in the plot – they’re the one who did it.
Two little girls murder a crazy old cat lady ‘cause she won’t give them a cat.
A little boy murders his neighbor, just ‘cause he’s nuts.
A little boy murders his brother because he told the kids at school that he wet the bed.
A group of kids murder another kid to steal his money.
A teenage girl murders her friend so that she can get her spot on the gymnastics team.
So what’s up with the writers of these shows? Do they think it has shock value? That the audience won’t suspect an innocent little kid and then they get to reveal “the big twist?” Watched ‘Children of the Corn’ one to many times? Maybe they just think kids are inherently evil?
And why isn’t there any outrage from the FCC or PRC or FTC or any of those other censorship happy groups? Don’t they realize that children will watch these programs and be inspired to kill their siblings after they take the last piece of cake? It will happen. You can count on it. And these…these shows will be to blame….. won’t someone please look out for the children?!?!
SO I went over to Miss Kitty, Boo and Spike who were near the jetway getting ready to herd everyone back onto the plane and told them how upset I was in a super-fake over exagerrated way so that they knew that I didn't care but was very aware of what they were trying to pull. Everyone got a good laugh and then I went to Boo (since she's the one least likely to give out any bullshit.) and in my most professional super serious manner said, "But seriously, why did that happen?" They all kind of look at each other with that 'oh crap, I think we're really going to have to tell her what's going on' look and Boo asks me to follow her.
She head off through a field and to this gazebo up on the hill - I start to follow and the ground is really mushy and my foot starts to sink in. I try to veer off closer to the sidewalk hoping the ground is more solid there, but it just keeps getting worse and pretty soon I'm knee deep in this marsh land. Boo looks down from the gazebo wondering where the heck I've gone and looks down to see me just as I sink lower and lower until I'm about to my waist and I've lost my shoe. It doesn't help of course that I have this long dress on so it's getting weighed down in all the mud and makes it harder for me to struggle.
I manage to get my elbows firmly planted and basically drag my self backwards until I can reach the sidewalk with my hands and pull myself out of the muck and mire. Disgusting!
Boo comes over and doesn't seem to even care that I just about went under in this quicksand like swampland that is apparently surrounding the camp - but she tells me that in essence the reason that Gretchen got the pin and I didn't is that at dinner the night before they didn't intend for everyone to have drinks but people kept ordering them, so they gave awards to those that didn't. Lame indeed! But I really don't care - what I'm concerned about now is that my clothes are completely covered with mud and the plane is about to leave and I don't have my suitcases - they're sitting back in the terminal still. The cab driver is pretty cool about it - he takes me back to the airport and even manages to get me in the exit door which is much closer then the entrance, but by the time I get there - the next round bags have all arrived as well and I can't find mine in the piles and piles of other bags.
I have to head out without and get back to the plane just before it was taking off. When we get back to the camp I am so in need of some serious drugs. Noland has promised to mix up some special mari-juana cocktails later for the boys and I make him promise me that I can have one too.
Now all I have to worry about is new clothes - luckily we were on a two-day shopping trip and although I'd already been to that store, I hadn't bought much cause they didn't have anything great, but I figured I could at least make due until I found my luggage. Of course as we get there, they were in the process of turning the women's department into a seasonal area and all that was left were swimsuits and plastic pools.
I'm just gonna go back to my bunk and take a nap.
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