Better than fruit salad

LINKS

I probably I should have wanted it more.

I need to tell you about the Rainbow of Disappointment. Everything on that blog is good stuff, but that was my absolute favoritest.

This is mostly helpful only for me, but also maybe for any other newbie to Portland’s food scene.

I hate to gawk at images of destruction, but I’ve been to Galveston so many times that it’s hard not to. I defend myself by saying that as I get all my news from the radio this is the only way I would get images from the events at all, and I’m a rather visual person who likes to look at pictures. Then again. One could surely look up the New York Times article and see plenty, right? Hmm.

OH HELLO

I feel icky about that last thing. Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to. I have a lot more to say about Those Topics, but I don’t want to alienate people, not over the internet anyway. I like to save Big Discussion About Stuff That Matters for those afternoons when you and I are at a coffee shop for hours, we’ve both had too much coffee, and we start verbal fisty-cuffs. That’s the atmosphere. Here there’s no music, no musty old books to use as props or distraction to diffuse tension, no breeze coming through a window fluttering a handmade curtain. There’s only this cold void that makes me sound like I care too much about stuff. That ain’t no way to live!

So um. It’s been a while. I know I always say that. Or do I?

I fall in and out of love with this here blog, particularly now that I have Goose and Simply Kumquat going, though I haven’t really been pumping content out over at those places either. Lately there’s been the Great Work Struggles, the enjoying the hell out of Anthony moving here, and various other adventures. And at the moment there’s a wonderful aggravated head-cold, complete with fever. (Really? For me? Aw shucks you shouldn’t have). Or I guess that’s what it is. Hopefully it’s that and not typhus or sleeping sickness.

Anyway. The rambling thought-lettes hardly constitute an entry, but I feel like if I don’t now some of these things will never see the light of day. SO LET’S SLOG ON.

VARIOUS THINGS, ITEMS, QUANDARIES OR EVENTS IN MY LIFE SINCE LAST WE SPOKE

1. Strange karma lately. Nice and not nice things said to me by my boss. Bike was stolen. The sickness I mentioned.

2. Last week Anthony and I went to The Noble Rot, despite the pending illness, to celebrate his possible job at the University. He spotted the job through their philosophy listserv he joined a few months ago. it’s a teaching gig, discussion group leader, and would mean a paid tuition (!!) plus a stipend to spend on extra philosophy tools like books and play-doh. We still haven’t heard anything, but we were celebrating the luck of seeing that job and applying for it more than we were celebrating the acquisition of it. Baby steps and all that.

3. We got some sort of organic instant oatmeal from the store on accident. I had no idea such a thing existed. So far no real opinion there other than the “nut” in “Maple Nut” is hazelnut, which tickles me pink as hazelnuts are my favorite.

4. Um. So my job. I refer to it as my Big Dumb Job (BDJ) when I talk to my friends that have more normal-for-our-age jobs (freelancing, waiting tables), because I still feel strange about the whole thing. I am still confused why they like me so much, why I actually got it, and whether or not I can swallow my pride to endure it. I go back and forth on that last one not daily but by the fucking hour, because that job is so uneven. I will be a miracle worker, and then I am doing everything wrong, and then I am busybusybusy, and then I have nothing to do. Things were reaching critical mass as I realized that my Machiavellian boss was in fact Machiavellian (no WONDER I can’t figure him out!) and as I began to worry, as I do with any non-art job, that I am settling for this because I’m too lazy or unresourceful to do otherwise. This was particularly difficult for me the Monday after Anthony got here, since we had spent the weekend exploring waterfalls along the historic highway. I want THAT to be my life and not this, this LAW OFFICE.

Things are a little better now — I am getting the hang of the phones and my cold is clearing which helps. I also had an important realization in terms of Life Situation. In a way, it’s perfect that I am here Slogging On and Anthony is there doing School Work. We are both working on stuff that cannot really involve the other person right now. We are doing this so that in two-ish years Anthony can study for his PhD abroad, and so I can go with him, hopefully partially subsisting on a published work at that point. That is my goal: to have some sort of art thing published in two year’s time, and if not, than to have a nest egg saved up to make that whole move somewhat possible.

4a. Also helpful was the joining of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, which I sort of joined on a whim not thinking it would amount to much. In fact they’ve sent me tons of stuff: lists of agents and publishers, websites and phone numbers of helpful contacts, grant information which had honesty not occured to me, and contacts for the local chapter. They have a listserv which I’ve joined; not wholly informative but it’s good to be in some sort of loop. Going it alone is hard, but at least now I have some places to start. I feel like I can draw up a real plan with all this information, and it makes my heart sing.

4b. I also watched Garden State. Sam? The Natalie Portman character? She works at a law firm! And she’s not a horrible drone of a thing! That was comforting.

4c. Also watched the Darjeeling Limited. Again.

4d. And six episodes of Fishing with John. Have you seen this? You probably should.

All right. Since last we spoke I didn’t get a job. I only heard from one place, the button place, who said “sorry we went with someone else”. Is it wrong that I cried a little bit? Yes. Yes it is.

The good news though is that last weekend I went pub crawling with some people, participated in a mass pillow fight with strangers, and swam in a river. It’s true. I went from weeks of solitude to a weekend filled with people.

To back up a bit: I went to the PFLAG meeting last Tuesday It was actually their celebration of 25 years as a chapter, so it was less normal-meeting stuff and more kind of ‘this is how far we’ve come’ kind of stuff. Still good though. We all went around the great big circle and said a.) our name and b.) why we were here. That took close to about an hour and a half, because of how many people were there and what everyone had to say. Some highlights:

a.) the mayor of Portland, Tom Potter, was there and spoke about how his daughter came out back in the late 70’s when he was an officer with the city police. He’s evidently been involved with PFLAG and helping people out for a long time — he walked in the parade with his daughter in uniform, much to this alarm of his co-officers, which still did not stop him from becoming chief of police and eventually the mayor, which I think is pretty rad. A representative from Multnomah county was also there, which was neat. I was starting to lose track of who was on the board of trustees for the city/county and who was on the board for PFLAG.

b.) two people I noticed right away were a father and son almost directly across the circle from me. I noticed him because I think besides the president of PFLAG’S son, this guy looked to be about the closest to my age (everyone else was like late 30’s – 80s), When the circle came around it was noted that this was thier first PFLAG ever, which garnered huge applause.

c.) My turn came right after the treasurer for PFLAG. The president cut in to say “Richard’s actually one of those rare gems — a straight ally with no kids, just giving us his time” which was cut off by huge applause by everyone. Which of course led to my…ah well, I am kind of in that boat…

d.) I mentioend Sam’s PFLAG in Colorado, said hi I’m here..I kind of forget what exactly. I kept it brief. But it was good that I mentioned both “PLFAG” and “Colorado,” because after we adjourned to eat snacks, that guy’s Dad made a beeline right for me and said ‘where in Colorado??” Apparently the dad is actually from Colorado, and was needing to start to come to terms with his son’s sexuality, and knew of this group but was a little shy to go alone, so when he was out here visiting they decided to come together for the first visit, so then he could go later on his own. I told him that Greeley is probably not where he needed and the dad was kind of like “oh yeah but anywhere…Grand Junction? Boulder?” “Well I KNOW they’d have one in Boulder. That’s for sure.”

So we had this nice little conversation, and then later after making intense eye contact off and on, I crossed the room to introduce myself to John.

“I don’t mean to stare,” I said, “You just look REALLY familiar to me.” (Now that I think of it, I think it’s just that he looks like this art major I knew at school.)
“No! It’s funny becuase you look really familiar to me!”
“Really??”
“Yeah! It must be something about your face-shape or something…I dunno. I was sad you aren’t gay cause I thought, ah man that would have been something we’d have in common.”
“I know I know..but maybe we can find something else! Like…I like…green!” (I point to his very green polo shirt)
“Well good! I like yellow!” (I was wearing a yellow shirt)
“Good! I think we should be friends!”

I was hoping that I didn’t frighten him off with my blunt Lets. Be. Friends. But as I’ve mentioned, I was getting a bit desperate. We exchanged numbers and made vague let’s-do-something-this-Friday plans.

FRIDAY
Spent most of the waking day talking to one of the geohash friends (John, who conveniently spells it Jhon on the wiki which helps me differentiate from my other new-friend-John) about the possibility of doing technical website type stuff as a job. I think it is a stretch but made me feel happier that day, and encouraged me to type out a cover letter to that effect and apply for some different jobs. Somewhere in there I also bought a robot bucket at a toy store, which made me really happy. I was walking that day so I carried it from the toy store all the way to the coffee place on Belmont and then all the way home. It had a little wooden boat and my sweater in there.

Then it was pub-crawling time. I met up with John and another friend of his at the park and I spent much of the evening listening to the two of them talk about another friend of theirs (not on purpose I don’t think, she just moved close to Rose so they had seen a lot more of her lately, so she was on the brain.) We had pizza and beer (them), then had a glass of wine at a swankier place down the street, then hit up another place for beer (them) and jack-and-cokes (me), and then headed back near where we started for more drinks (them) and dancing. It was intensely social and SUCH a great time.

NOTEABLY
1. We got pizza at this pizza place on Stark St., called ’stark naked pizza’. Ar ar. Rose was admiring the supreme pizza (which had giant cloves of garlic and big chunks of beef, peppers, onions and stuff. I was feeling adventurous enough by going out with people, so I opted for pepperoni.) She told the guy, “I’d like whatever magic is right there.”
The guy kind of snapped out of his dazed lull to say, with deadpan gravity, “Oh. You are right. It is magic.”

Aha! A clue, Sherlock!

This, combined with the fact that we had to go back to the counter twice to ask for their drinks, plus noting how at one point he loaded a pizza into his car and left for a delivery when we weren’t sure there was someone else there (there was, we later discovered) was great entertainment for us. He was either very stoned, or cultivating some sort of weird aloof hippie thing a little too well. Perhaps both. Is there a difference?

2. At the penultimate bar there was a coaster with this weird looking lady printed on it. On the back was the same lady, redrawn in ballpoint, and the words BUTTER YOUR OWN TOAST in quotations. Rose and I had a guttural kind of 50’s Brooklyn Mom voice for this sentence. I drew it in my notebook and she took the coaster. We also thought this would be a great thing to shout to someone as you slam the door in their face.

3. John was wearing a thrifted t-shirt that was from some sort of bible camp that had the word JESUS! on the back, in a red 70’s type font, with a little hill and a cross and a sunset. His explanation was, “it’s the expletive, not the guy.” Which led us to shouting JESUS! every time anything happened. Which I have been unable to cease doing. In other words HE HAS BROKEN ME.

THIS IS GETTING LONG BUT THERE’S NOTHING FOR IT BUT TO PRESS ON INTO SATURDAY

The pillow fight was but one activity during a pastry shop’s Bastille Day block party. Rose mentioned it but neither of them could go, so I loaded up the mini and took a quick drive up north to see. It was a good jaunt; I hadn’t actually been up to that section of town because I hadn’t yet been given a reason to. I saw great looking stuff I’d like to lose myself in. I also had a pillow fight with about 30 other people to like music. And then I had a macaroon for the first time (blueberry). I was very HOT and SWEATY after this, since I was running around flailing in direct sunlight during the hottest part of the day. My head was throbbing and although I knew I was going to be working up another sweat on the geohash, I hopped in the shower just to make my head stop throbbing, and to let my clothes dry out.

Then geohasing! Wil had emailed everyone and said, look this week’s point is basically inaccessible. So instead, let’s go to Oneonta Gorge because it’s near there, and because it’s awesome. Also, bring water shoes because you are going to get very wet.

Took I-84 backwards, which is something I hadn’t done since Anthony and I left Portland/Eugene after the trip in December. So that was neat — one of those moments where you re-recognize some things, but notice them very differently now that they are added to your bigger map of the area. Now that there is a context.

The ‘trail’ was essentially the river itself. Lots of clomping through water, occasionally it got waist deep. Scrambling over fallen trees, over boulders, and marveling at the sheer cliffs on either side of you. This wasn’t layered rock like desert Gorges, this was just sheer granite and shale, (i.e., dark greys) with moss and tiny plants clinging to it all up and down.

Now. The water was cold, yes, but it wasn’t like SNOW MELT cold, it wasn’t like standing ankle deep would turn your lips blue. Which is a good thing, since there was so MUCH of it, but also meant that it was a constant shock to me. I was bracing my legs for the swoards of coldness, and then would be pleasently surprised when it lacked the stabbing. The first waist deep part wasn’t pleasent, but at least it wasn’t life-threatening. Sweet. No problem. It made you feel like you were on an adventure.

Then we reached the falls. Underneath the falls is a deep pool, and just on the other side of the pool is a ledge. So of course, we had to swim out there. The pool is only I think about 10 feet across, and probably about 10-15 feet deep (I touched bottom when I jumped back in from the ledge) but I must say … I think it was the longest 10 feet I have ever had to swim. I have never been totally submerged in water that cold without a life vest, so the mechanics of forcing my body to actually move was a challenge.

Well worth it though.

Note how dry the Dad is, in that last picture. His shirt was blowing in the breeze, and I think he managed only to get his feet wet. During the waist deep parts you can try and be a human fly and scale the walls, which is possible (he did it there and back) but really tricky. Many people would do this and then slip in. And frankly, when your head was pounding from heat hours prior, it’s nice to actually be shivering from cold.

That was last weekend. I have more to say believe it or not, but it must wait because I need to hurry and bake a cake before the weather warms up.

I’m starting to get a little stir-crazy with the loneliness.

And before we go any further we must remember: I grew up in one city, had a reasonably populated middle school > high school crowd that I wasn’t close to, exactly, but was openly friendly with when I was in the mood. I was involved with girl scouts, church, had a pretty solid circle of friends that went on nearly nightly outings downtown. Then I went to college, where I was very open with a ton of people, and got to know most of that small town because of the nature of my newspaper job. So my world for the last, oh, fourteen years, has been filled with people. Solitude was something I had to work for, a goal I had to pursue with single-minded determination.

Unlike now. Now I find solitude is my only option in a new city with no job (yet) and no helpful social device like school. I know nobody well enough to call them and hang out, and my standard of ‘well enough’ has been lowering substantially — my normal semi-recluse self is starting to sit outside to read and go to coffee shops I can’t really afford to hopefully eyeball some potential victims friends.

I was actually fairing pretty well until I went on my Greeley/Ireland adventure, which was an explosion of people and talking and being-with-others that was perhaps a little too good for my little soul, because now it only wants more.

Some of this bubbled up on the phone with Anthony last night, which I do not regret but feel a little bad about. I was mostly talking about this whole job hunting thing (which isn’t going Badly but not Well, either. Unfortunately it’s one of those take-it-a-day-at-a-time things, and on a Saturday of a holiday weekend it’s very easy to convince yourself that things are looking Bad.) We are doing really well and this Thing, this part of the journey, has not been acres of anguish like I was fearing it would be. But still to harp on about things like “loneliness,” “feeling hopeless,” and “masturbation,” does not really inspire feelings of love and solidarity.

WHY DO WE FALL, BRUCE

So in order to make myself feel better — to distract myself from the isolation and the being broke — I did two things.

1. Looked up the PFLAG chapter in Portland, which conveniently for me meets on the second Tuesday of the month. I feel a little strange about making an opinion so official like that, as do I feel strange about making friends based on this official opinion, since the whole point of what Dani had been saying at Old Chicago’s was that she appreciated that we were actual friends on a human level, not friends-just-because-of-what-it-did-for-our-image-or-the-image-of-anyone-involved. Anthony and I are allies because we are straight people who are A-okay with gay people. And are friends with a lot of gay people. And we don’t think it’s a big deal. Because it isn’t, really. But then, I think that’s over thinking that maybe, and frankly if me being there helps someone else then really that’s what it’s all about. People, connection, helping by existing. And really, damn that’s what I could use right now. SO REALLY I AM JUST SELFISH. I guess. What can you do.

2. I (finally) looked into geohashing, because Randy has been posting about it exclusively on the blag (sic) and I have been marginally curious yet not all that driven to find out more. But then the loneliness. Also, the realization that not only could I meet people, I could meet geeky people that read a webcomic that I do. Geeks are my favorite. Geeks are the ones who by 30+ tickets to the opening night of Lord of the Rings and ask you if you want to be one of those 30. Geeks are into free information, libraries, caffeine, gadgets, cartoons, adventures, and often specialize in something irrelevant yet fun like dinosaurs or astronomy. Hell yes. So I looked up the Saturday location, posted on that day’s wiki, packed up the pie and drove somewhere I’d never been before.

Not owning a GPS makes getting to exact coordinates difficult. I knew it was 0.9 miles down this certain road thanks to Google maps — something I could measure with the trip odometer on my car — but the actual point was some 500 feet from the road. I also don’t own a good topo map nor a compass (what kind of girl scout am I!?) but even if I did my orienteering skills leave something to be desired, and anyway how could I verify it if no one was there? And no one was there. I was a bit put out. I drove up and down the road a few times, hoping I would see some gathering out in the field. Finally, I saw a guy roughly my age dressed in black from head to foot, sporting huge black sun glasses, carrying a huge messenger bag and holding some sort of rectangular device in his hand, heading towards the 0.9 mile spot I’d been passing back and forth. A ha! He looks like he’s from the internet. I pulled over and asked if he was geohashing, he said he was, I parked the car and began the quest.

I’m not squatting for a better shot here — the grass really was hip-to-shoulder high.

So there were two of us. We talked vaguely about where we lived, where we wanted to visit, rain, being allergic to grass. And ate pie. Eventually (almost an hour later) two others showed up for more photos, more talking — more now about geohashing itself. At one point we saw someone circling in a crazy kind of hang-glider bike. I missed where he came from, but he circled around for a while filling the air with the wahaaaaaaaaaaa diesel-sounding engine noise.

“Oh,” said one of the guys, “If only he were coming to geohash.”

After this we went to a nearby town to eat burritos. The roads there were a tangle through more farmland, many of these ornamental tree farms. Lots of tiny pines sculpted into the most fantastic shapes. It was like driving through the mind of Dr. Suess.

This meeting ended with the exchange of email addresses and phone numbers, the promise of posting stuff on the wiki, and even a group hug. Aw, score. Geohashing is awesome. I will definitely make a habit of this.

NECTAR OF THE GODS COMES IN THE FORM OF DRIED BREAD

I have always really loved toast, but I lack the counter-space and electrical outlets in my kitchen for any small appliances other than my coffee maker. Or so I thought. My microwave and toaster oven were sold at the garage sale before I left, and I’d just assumed I wouldn’t replace them. The only thing I used the microwave for regularly was warmed milk (and to avoid spillage one should do that on the stove top anyway,) and one can do toast in the oven, right? Probably. But I can’t do it well — no matter how I try or where I put the rack under the broiler for however long, I end up with burnt bread (it is burnt, yet it is not toast) or with a kind of solid mass, when what I wanted was crispy on the outside and somewhat soft in the middle. You know, toast. Not dried bread, not burnt bread, not warm bread. TOAST. I require toast. Toast is very high on my list of comfort foods. I love toast with tea in the afternoon, I love toast as a compliment to breakfast or as breakfast, and in fact some breakfast foods are impossible WITHOUT toast (think soft boiled eggs — I’m sure it’s possible to eat a soft boiled egg without toast, but why would you?) I love toast when I’m too lazy to cook in the evening yet need something to eat before I go to sleep. I also have noticed that it is harder for me to eat the requisite 6-11 servings of grain every day when toast is out of the picture.

So. On the way home yesterday I picked up a toaster oven. Toaster oven because I have always had a toaster oven, and to me having an appliance that toasts also means you can also have a fabulous melted-stuff sandwich without heating up your whole kitchen. I am told pop-up toasters toast better which may be true, but it’s easier to rescue dangerously dark toast when you can monitor it through a clear glass door. I think.

The toaster will live on top of the fridge, to reach the power strip on that side of the kitchen.