I woke up at least twelve times between 12:30 and 4 am the night before last. At 4:00, I finally just got up to watch television. Cops was on, which I wouldn't usually watch, but this episode took place in Hong Kong, and it was fabulous. The police chief was a woman named Julie Lau who could have been my neighbor growing up in Garden Grove, she was so westernized. Actually, she spoke better English than my neighbors from Garden Grove. She probably doesn't smell as bad either. Julie was leading an operative to arrest underage extortionists. Evidently, you can be an extortionist in Hong Kong; you just can't be under 18. They also raided some one-woman brothels during the show. I kind of felt bad for these women. They don't have much going for them. They don't even have co-workers. And here they are getting harassed by the local police. It all made for highly entertaining telly.
Cops was followed at 4:30 by Good Day, Oregon, a show that helps locals get ready for their day. Weather, traffic, breaking news. After announcing our high would be fifty degrees, they cut to a live cam of a local freeway which had one truck on it and announced that the early morning commute was not heavy. The breaking news was about a convenience store robbery that took place late Tuesday night which neighbors called "disappointing." Strong words, Portlanders.
Then I finally watched Brothers and Sisters from Sunday night which was very well done but became a total fantasy at the end with all the grown-ups jumping on Kitty's bed and tickling each other and laughing. It made me think "When was the last time my siblings all did that?" Oh yeah, never. For that matter, we never all sat out by the pool together watching a hot Frenchman swim either. Clearly, I was born into the wrong family. Or at least the wrong house. How different our lives would have been with a pool. Or a hot Frenchman.
Continuing on in the telethon, I watched the fourth installment of the Monty Python story on IFC which covered their entree into the US and the making of The Holy Grail. Such brilliant minds. How lucky for us that some independent-minded PBS executives caught the show and found it funny. God bless America. Apparently, Graham Chapman was three sheets to the wind for most of the shoot. Imagine...to be so talented, you could still act out an entire performance while under the influence. Oh wait, I don't need to imagine. That describes my years at the Curtain Call.
Finally, after several hours of television, I got up and started functioning like a real human being. It occurs to me that I have no idea when shows are actually televised anymore. Tommy DVRs everything, and we catch up whenever we can. Like at 4 in the morning. It's been an adjustment for me because it feels so strange to watch primetime television in the middle of the night or on the weekend and not watch commercials. I feel like I am cheating them somehow. I actually feel guilty for not watching the commercials. I am really sorry, commercial actors. I know you worked hard for those little paychecks. Oh wait. No, you didn't. You worked one day and made twenty thousand dollars. Screw you. What do you care if I watch your stupid acting?
Ah ah, hold up there, Normino. That's not the attitude to start the day with. Time to get excited about banking.
It's easy to get excited when I know I have people like Ronald to look forward to. Ronald called in last week to get an auto loan. Here's just a snippet of our conversation. I took notes because I knew it would be worth repeating.
Ronald (chewing gum loudly): Yeah, I was lookin to get a car loan.
Me: Great. What kind of car were you looking at?
Ronald (possibly blowing a bubble): I don't know, but it's a nice car.
Me: Hmm. Well, I need a little better idea in order to get you pre-qualified.
Ronald :It's a Malibu.
Me: What year is it?
Ronald: 2002.
Me: I'm sorry. We actually only finance cars going back seven model years, so we would not be able to get you a loan for a 2002.
Ronald: I said 2004.
Me (moving on through the application): So, Ronald, who is your current employer?
Ronald: Oh, man, I don't know.
Me: You don't know who your employer is?
Ronald: Man, I work for a senior living facility.
Me: What is the name of the facility?
Ronald: I don't know.
Me: We kind of need to know that.
Ronald: Never mind. (click)
Oh, the magic of working in a call center.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
A bit of rain...perhaps?
Maybe? A smidge. We're not saying a lot. Heck, it may not rain at all. Just...maybe...a bit.
This is what the Portland area weather forecasters have been reduced to. I used to laugh at the weather reporters on TV in LA because, well, how hard is their job? With the exception of maybe four or five days out of the year, all they really have to do is guess what time the sun will be hot enough to fry an egg. But here, in P-Town, Mother Nature likes to mess with them.
The first two months we were here, it was a summer like we would have had in LA. Fifteen days over 100 degrees, and most days over 90. Not a spot of rain. Then the game began.
About three weeks ago, network meteorologists started threatening huge storms, saying fall had arrived and would soon be dumping sheets of rain on us. Like a taunting child, fall arrived with cold nights and cloudy mornings that were quickly chased away by brilliant sunshine. Then the weather folks started changing their tune a bit.
A week ago, the report ran "Rain to start on Monday and not end until the weekend." Monday came, as all mornings do now, with cold temps and gray clouds. By mid-day, the clouds were replaced by blue skies and bright sunshine. Each night, local news reported that the rain would be upon us the following day. Each day, the sun came back like it had the day before.
Friday, the reports were firm--"Fall's first big rain to hit tonight and last through Saturday." We were excited. We had been waiting for a great storm. That's one of the reasons we moved here, to see real weather at its most dramatic. Friday night was clear and cool, and when we awoke on Saturday the sun was shining through the little wisps of clouds.
Finally, when Saturday's weather staff had given up and were not about to call rain one more time, it rained. A cool, steady shower of liquid sunshine that started late in the morning and lasted most of the day. Nothing terribly dramatic. No lightning or thunder. Just a warm, gentle introduction to what could be the opposite of last fall/winter here.
Apparently, the local meteorologists hold a convention every year in early fall to discuss and forecast the coming season. According to Saturday's paper, their conclusion from the recent assembly was that this fall and winter could be unseasonably warm and mild. I am amused that they came to this conclusion only after several days of bogus forecasts. As they tell it, last year's onslaught of snow and rain was a result of La Nina; this year, El Nino is predicted to bring warmer and dryer weather. Doesn't that figure? Here we are, ready for the Northwest to show us its best, and we may end up having just another California Christmas.
Having been spoiled with such idyllic weather for so many weeks, we faced a dilemma on Saturday. Do we go to the Farmers Market at PSU? I mean, it's RAINing! How does one shop OUTdoors in the RAIN? We almost decided not to go, and instantly we felt sad like we were missing our one and only chance to see a good friend before they left town. So we went. And so did the rest of Portland. It was so cool to be there getting rained on with hundreds of other people supporting our local growers and stocking up on the week's fresh fare. What I found really cool was that the menu is changing. Suddenly, we have an abundance of beautiful gourds, butternut squash, delicata. One of the vendors had sauteed some delicata up with olive oil and salt and pepper and was serving it up with chips. It was sweet and aromatic and just tasted of autumn. Mushrooms were also in abundance and had more names than I ever knew existed. Every farmer had shiitakes, but they also each had a good four to six other varietals, all with their own distinct appearance and fragrance. The early leafy greens are still around in limited supply but are being crowded out by chard and radicchio and baby bok choy, which is just fun to say. All of the vendors were excited to show off their new harvests and offer samples, and the customers were equally ecstatic to try the new goodies.
One vendor grows mint in what must be a ten-acre field. She has cans upon cans of mint tea and bags of her own home-made peppermint patties. And, as always, there were the apple sellers. I have never seen such an array of apples with different colors and textures and flavors. We love the honeycrisps. Our new favorite pear is something like a Bosc but smaller, rounder, crisper and sweeter. Too bad I can't remember the name. I do, however, remember, the young man of about ten who was handing out samples and offering small boxes for only $4.00. Whether it was the pear's delightful crunch or the boy's salesmanship I am unsure, but Tommy was sold; and when he bought a basket from the older sister, the boy, undoubtedly excited to have made a sale, barked at his sister to "throw another pear or two in that basket. Fill it out a little." This made the purchase so much more worth while. You just don't get that kind of entertainment at Safeway.
After the market, we went to see Where the Wild Things Are. For the first time since we have been here, there was a LINE at the theater. The boy who stars in the movie is from Portland, so it's a pretty big deal up here. We enjoyed the movie but decided it is really not for kids. I won't be too quick to dismiss the film for grown-ups though. While it was not exactly what I expected, it did offer some evocative food for thought about growing up and the pain and difficulty of having and dealing with emotions. Some of us are still learning those lessons. Not me, of course. I have been blissfully emotion-free since the operation in '81.
Anyway, a new week begins. As always, thank you for reading and for commenting. Here's wishing us all a fun and productive new week.
This is what the Portland area weather forecasters have been reduced to. I used to laugh at the weather reporters on TV in LA because, well, how hard is their job? With the exception of maybe four or five days out of the year, all they really have to do is guess what time the sun will be hot enough to fry an egg. But here, in P-Town, Mother Nature likes to mess with them.
The first two months we were here, it was a summer like we would have had in LA. Fifteen days over 100 degrees, and most days over 90. Not a spot of rain. Then the game began.
About three weeks ago, network meteorologists started threatening huge storms, saying fall had arrived and would soon be dumping sheets of rain on us. Like a taunting child, fall arrived with cold nights and cloudy mornings that were quickly chased away by brilliant sunshine. Then the weather folks started changing their tune a bit.
A week ago, the report ran "Rain to start on Monday and not end until the weekend." Monday came, as all mornings do now, with cold temps and gray clouds. By mid-day, the clouds were replaced by blue skies and bright sunshine. Each night, local news reported that the rain would be upon us the following day. Each day, the sun came back like it had the day before.
Friday, the reports were firm--"Fall's first big rain to hit tonight and last through Saturday." We were excited. We had been waiting for a great storm. That's one of the reasons we moved here, to see real weather at its most dramatic. Friday night was clear and cool, and when we awoke on Saturday the sun was shining through the little wisps of clouds.
Finally, when Saturday's weather staff had given up and were not about to call rain one more time, it rained. A cool, steady shower of liquid sunshine that started late in the morning and lasted most of the day. Nothing terribly dramatic. No lightning or thunder. Just a warm, gentle introduction to what could be the opposite of last fall/winter here.
Apparently, the local meteorologists hold a convention every year in early fall to discuss and forecast the coming season. According to Saturday's paper, their conclusion from the recent assembly was that this fall and winter could be unseasonably warm and mild. I am amused that they came to this conclusion only after several days of bogus forecasts. As they tell it, last year's onslaught of snow and rain was a result of La Nina; this year, El Nino is predicted to bring warmer and dryer weather. Doesn't that figure? Here we are, ready for the Northwest to show us its best, and we may end up having just another California Christmas.
Having been spoiled with such idyllic weather for so many weeks, we faced a dilemma on Saturday. Do we go to the Farmers Market at PSU? I mean, it's RAINing! How does one shop OUTdoors in the RAIN? We almost decided not to go, and instantly we felt sad like we were missing our one and only chance to see a good friend before they left town. So we went. And so did the rest of Portland. It was so cool to be there getting rained on with hundreds of other people supporting our local growers and stocking up on the week's fresh fare. What I found really cool was that the menu is changing. Suddenly, we have an abundance of beautiful gourds, butternut squash, delicata. One of the vendors had sauteed some delicata up with olive oil and salt and pepper and was serving it up with chips. It was sweet and aromatic and just tasted of autumn. Mushrooms were also in abundance and had more names than I ever knew existed. Every farmer had shiitakes, but they also each had a good four to six other varietals, all with their own distinct appearance and fragrance. The early leafy greens are still around in limited supply but are being crowded out by chard and radicchio and baby bok choy, which is just fun to say. All of the vendors were excited to show off their new harvests and offer samples, and the customers were equally ecstatic to try the new goodies.
One vendor grows mint in what must be a ten-acre field. She has cans upon cans of mint tea and bags of her own home-made peppermint patties. And, as always, there were the apple sellers. I have never seen such an array of apples with different colors and textures and flavors. We love the honeycrisps. Our new favorite pear is something like a Bosc but smaller, rounder, crisper and sweeter. Too bad I can't remember the name. I do, however, remember, the young man of about ten who was handing out samples and offering small boxes for only $4.00. Whether it was the pear's delightful crunch or the boy's salesmanship I am unsure, but Tommy was sold; and when he bought a basket from the older sister, the boy, undoubtedly excited to have made a sale, barked at his sister to "throw another pear or two in that basket. Fill it out a little." This made the purchase so much more worth while. You just don't get that kind of entertainment at Safeway.
After the market, we went to see Where the Wild Things Are. For the first time since we have been here, there was a LINE at the theater. The boy who stars in the movie is from Portland, so it's a pretty big deal up here. We enjoyed the movie but decided it is really not for kids. I won't be too quick to dismiss the film for grown-ups though. While it was not exactly what I expected, it did offer some evocative food for thought about growing up and the pain and difficulty of having and dealing with emotions. Some of us are still learning those lessons. Not me, of course. I have been blissfully emotion-free since the operation in '81.
Anyway, a new week begins. As always, thank you for reading and for commenting. Here's wishing us all a fun and productive new week.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Billy and Betty
Billy Beadle would have fit right in with my uncles Dick and Earl, and Aunts Dolores and Ethylene would have loved him.
Each morning, I sip my coffee from a genuine Billy Beadle mug, some of which were crafted especially for me by the artist. This morning, it's my Eleanor mug, dedicated to "Motor Mouth Norman." I believe it was during Eleanor that I received a call from a sweet, daft elderly woman who claimed she had seen my performance in the show (I was in the chorus), and proceeded to leave a message raving about how wonderful I was. What a charming and talented young man I was, etc. Very Dame Edna. It took me several minutes to realize it was Billy, and several more for the message to end.
The Old Mug Shop sat on Redondo Blvd just across the street from The Silver Fox. The nights I spent with friends at the Fox seem an eternity ago. In fact, some have gone completely from my memory, thank God. But visiting Billy at the Old Mug Shop might as well have been last week.
The summer after Eleanor, I was cast in my first production of Joseph, and I went to Billy to have mugs made for all my brothers. He offered me a good deal if I ordered a dozen, so of course I had to get one for me. This would be the first of many good deals. Billy was all about friendship and memories.
While I did not spend much time with him outside of theater, one would never know he wasn't one of my best friends, or uncles. When one of us was in a show, the other would come see it and stay for a hug afterward. He was always ebullient and effusive. One might think he was my father. In fact, he was warmer and more accepting. He encouraged my goofiness and praised my attempts at dancing even while mocking my total lack of grace. When Billy teased, it was so good-spirited and funny that it only made me want to be more of a goof.
I remember being backstage at the Carpenter Center in the green room getting ready for an opening night performance, and Billy strolled back moments before curtain, as he always did, to wish everyone a great opening. I think each one of us felt he was there just for us because he had a special way of making each person feel loved and appreciated.
When I sip my morning coffee from a Billy Beadle mug, I think of that sweet, funny man in his red hat and his red beard and his "Stormin' Norman!" greeting. His voice rings as clearly in my head today as it did ten years ago when he stood right in front of me and laughed his mischievous laugh. His smile is equally vivid in my memory, as I am sure it is in many others'.
During The Music Man, I always had so much fun watching him banter with the late, great Betty Motsinger as they played the Mayor and Eulalie Shinn. The two of them together made quite an entrance and could not have stayed too long on that stage. Even though they tried.
The last time I saw Betty was on the bluff in Long Beach. We often crossed paths there, and she would usually say something like "Don't I know you?" and then let out a hearty laugh, not dissimilar to Phyllis Diller's but unique to Betty Motsinger.
These two magnificent people are now magnificent shining stars in the heavens, and the other celestial residents must feel quite blessed to have them in their midst. I am thankful for the time I got to share with them, and I look forward to one day crossing their paths again.
Each morning, I sip my coffee from a genuine Billy Beadle mug, some of which were crafted especially for me by the artist. This morning, it's my Eleanor mug, dedicated to "Motor Mouth Norman." I believe it was during Eleanor that I received a call from a sweet, daft elderly woman who claimed she had seen my performance in the show (I was in the chorus), and proceeded to leave a message raving about how wonderful I was. What a charming and talented young man I was, etc. Very Dame Edna. It took me several minutes to realize it was Billy, and several more for the message to end.
The Old Mug Shop sat on Redondo Blvd just across the street from The Silver Fox. The nights I spent with friends at the Fox seem an eternity ago. In fact, some have gone completely from my memory, thank God. But visiting Billy at the Old Mug Shop might as well have been last week.
The summer after Eleanor, I was cast in my first production of Joseph, and I went to Billy to have mugs made for all my brothers. He offered me a good deal if I ordered a dozen, so of course I had to get one for me. This would be the first of many good deals. Billy was all about friendship and memories.
While I did not spend much time with him outside of theater, one would never know he wasn't one of my best friends, or uncles. When one of us was in a show, the other would come see it and stay for a hug afterward. He was always ebullient and effusive. One might think he was my father. In fact, he was warmer and more accepting. He encouraged my goofiness and praised my attempts at dancing even while mocking my total lack of grace. When Billy teased, it was so good-spirited and funny that it only made me want to be more of a goof.
I remember being backstage at the Carpenter Center in the green room getting ready for an opening night performance, and Billy strolled back moments before curtain, as he always did, to wish everyone a great opening. I think each one of us felt he was there just for us because he had a special way of making each person feel loved and appreciated.
When I sip my morning coffee from a Billy Beadle mug, I think of that sweet, funny man in his red hat and his red beard and his "Stormin' Norman!" greeting. His voice rings as clearly in my head today as it did ten years ago when he stood right in front of me and laughed his mischievous laugh. His smile is equally vivid in my memory, as I am sure it is in many others'.
During The Music Man, I always had so much fun watching him banter with the late, great Betty Motsinger as they played the Mayor and Eulalie Shinn. The two of them together made quite an entrance and could not have stayed too long on that stage. Even though they tried.
The last time I saw Betty was on the bluff in Long Beach. We often crossed paths there, and she would usually say something like "Don't I know you?" and then let out a hearty laugh, not dissimilar to Phyllis Diller's but unique to Betty Motsinger.
These two magnificent people are now magnificent shining stars in the heavens, and the other celestial residents must feel quite blessed to have them in their midst. I am thankful for the time I got to share with them, and I look forward to one day crossing their paths again.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
OregOn...The Stand AlOne State
Okay, kids, ready for a rousing game of Oregon State Trivia? I knew you were.
I love collecting random facts and figures. It's part of my Rainmannish charm. Whenever I read about an honor or a distinction bestowed upon our grand state, I feel all tingly inside. So here are just a few of Oregon's unique claims.
First off, and certainly most important, did you know that Oregon shares the distinction of full-service-only gas stations with just one other state? Can you guess which state that is? Yes, that's right! New Jersey. Because, in New Jersey, getting out of your car could mean getting caught in a mafia crossfire. Here, it just means you will be accosted by numerous panhandlers, petitioners and Street Roots sellers.
I learned a new one just the other day. Oregon and Louisiana (?) are the only two states that do NOT require a unanimous jury verdict on felony cases (exception: murder). Whether you find this favorable or detestable is not the point. It's certainly unique and random.
It warms the cockles of my heart, or the heart of my cockles, I'm undecided, to announce that Mt Hood National Forest has been chosen to be the fifth honored on a series of new US Mint America the Beautiful commemorative quarters. I have only been half-way to Mt Hood, but now I am itchier than ever to get out there. Actually, I'm just itchy. It's because I sweated this morning. On that note, can we talk about the treadmill in my gym?
Every morning, I select random mode because I like to be surprised. Lately, it seems the treadmill is trying to kill me. It has me on a steep incline almost the entire time. When I select random, I then enter my weight, time and age. Now, as most of you know, my age is now in the double digits. I am not a young man anymore, not in comparison to the likes of Zac Efron and the Jonas Brothers. By the way, should that B be capitalized? Anyway, even after I enter my age, it sends me running up a hill. By the time I finish, I feel I've engaged in a hot pursuit of Krispy Kremes up Kilimanjaro. Or perhaps pursued BY a Krispy Kreme. In any case, there were many Ks involved.
Back to distinctions, our latest brag is for the fabulous Multnomah County Library system. You may not know this - in fact, why would you? - but I love libraries. Libraries and bookstores can swallow me up for hours on end. The Central library downtown is a glorious structure with wide marble stairwells connecting their three voluminous floors. The theater and music section is unmatched, at least in Oregon I'm sure. Well, and I am getting a little butterfly even as I type, the Multnomah County Library is set to receive a National Medal for Museum and Library Service, the nation's highest honor for museums and libraries! It is one of ten agencies to receive the award this year and the only library in Oregon ever to receive it. The award is being given in recognition of the library's efforts to serve the Spanish, Russian, Chinese and Vietnamese speakers by hiring a busload of bilingual employees (see kids, taking those language courses paid off after all) AND for the library's leadership in early education services like Raising a Reader, which provides literacy services to more than 30,000 children a year. Bravo, MultCoLib! Bravo!
Suffice to say (which is how an employer of mine used to begin all his sentences - but unfortunately he had nothing to say after that. And neither have I).
I love collecting random facts and figures. It's part of my Rainmannish charm. Whenever I read about an honor or a distinction bestowed upon our grand state, I feel all tingly inside. So here are just a few of Oregon's unique claims.
First off, and certainly most important, did you know that Oregon shares the distinction of full-service-only gas stations with just one other state? Can you guess which state that is? Yes, that's right! New Jersey. Because, in New Jersey, getting out of your car could mean getting caught in a mafia crossfire. Here, it just means you will be accosted by numerous panhandlers, petitioners and Street Roots sellers.
I learned a new one just the other day. Oregon and Louisiana (?) are the only two states that do NOT require a unanimous jury verdict on felony cases (exception: murder). Whether you find this favorable or detestable is not the point. It's certainly unique and random.
It warms the cockles of my heart, or the heart of my cockles, I'm undecided, to announce that Mt Hood National Forest has been chosen to be the fifth honored on a series of new US Mint America the Beautiful commemorative quarters. I have only been half-way to Mt Hood, but now I am itchier than ever to get out there. Actually, I'm just itchy. It's because I sweated this morning. On that note, can we talk about the treadmill in my gym?
Every morning, I select random mode because I like to be surprised. Lately, it seems the treadmill is trying to kill me. It has me on a steep incline almost the entire time. When I select random, I then enter my weight, time and age. Now, as most of you know, my age is now in the double digits. I am not a young man anymore, not in comparison to the likes of Zac Efron and the Jonas Brothers. By the way, should that B be capitalized? Anyway, even after I enter my age, it sends me running up a hill. By the time I finish, I feel I've engaged in a hot pursuit of Krispy Kremes up Kilimanjaro. Or perhaps pursued BY a Krispy Kreme. In any case, there were many Ks involved.
Back to distinctions, our latest brag is for the fabulous Multnomah County Library system. You may not know this - in fact, why would you? - but I love libraries. Libraries and bookstores can swallow me up for hours on end. The Central library downtown is a glorious structure with wide marble stairwells connecting their three voluminous floors. The theater and music section is unmatched, at least in Oregon I'm sure. Well, and I am getting a little butterfly even as I type, the Multnomah County Library is set to receive a National Medal for Museum and Library Service, the nation's highest honor for museums and libraries! It is one of ten agencies to receive the award this year and the only library in Oregon ever to receive it. The award is being given in recognition of the library's efforts to serve the Spanish, Russian, Chinese and Vietnamese speakers by hiring a busload of bilingual employees (see kids, taking those language courses paid off after all) AND for the library's leadership in early education services like Raising a Reader, which provides literacy services to more than 30,000 children a year. Bravo, MultCoLib! Bravo!
Suffice to say (which is how an employer of mine used to begin all his sentences - but unfortunately he had nothing to say after that. And neither have I).
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Pride Cometh Before It
Praise cheeses, and pass the cheddar! Fall is here, and it means business. As I type this entry at 8:30 am on Tuesday morning, the temperature outside has warmed up to a toasty 40 degrees Fahrenheit. I'm not kidding, people. The Pacific Northwest has a different idea of seasonal transitions than the mild Southwest. While those of you in sunny So Cal are still enjoying those balmy summer nights, we in the north have already fully switched over to autumnal mode. The days here are still sunny and relatively warm (67, maybe), but our nighttime temps seemed to change overnight. Within one week of the autumnal equinox, our nighttime temps dropped about twenty degrees, as did our daytime temps, for that matter.
I am not complaining. This is exactly what I signed up for, and I really do enjoy it. What I find interesting, too, is that the climate in my office seems to match the outside climate. A few weeks ago, when I started in the call center, I had to wear single-layer short-sleeves or I would roast. Now, it's layers and long sleeves. Somehow, the folks in charge of climate at my office have learned to control the inside temps so that we remain comfortable in whatever we wore to get there. Why is it that every other office in which I have ever worked cannot seem to grasp that idea? It used to bug me that I would have to wear a sweater in the office in the summer because the A/C would be blasting right over my desk. I have to admit, despite my current lack of enthusiasm for my new position, I am quite impressed with the climate control.
With the cold nights, I am happy to say, the fall brings some new colors. Green, meet your colder cousins, Red and Orange. They'll be staying for a while. You won't. On my drive to the office, I pass through several miles of hills and trees. Those trees now have highlights. Their little tree stylist has been out and frosted their tips, and it's just lovely. Listen to me-I'm Katharine Hepburn suddenly. Lovely. Look at the loooons, Norman. That's actually a good thing, sounding like Kate. Her memoirs taught me many great truths, including the always helpful "One should pee whenever one gets the chance." How can one argue with such utter brilliance?
Lately, I seem to be getting picky about what I ingest. I am sitting in our gorgeous living room sipping a delicious cup of warm Peet's Major Dickason's Blend coffee. My mother has converted me, and there is no turning back now. I tried Starbuck's Pike's Place yesterday, which I used to love, and it was a sad sorry comparison. I ended up dumping half of it. I guess it's good that I finally am becoming a little more selective about my food and sources of caffeine. For example, I never drink soda anymore, unless, of course, it is to accompany popcorn at the movie theater, and even then I limit myself to six ounces or so. I also enjoy the occasional Hot Lips lightly carbonated organic berry beverage, but, come on, it's organic. All pure cane sugar, no HFCS. And I am helping out local growers and bottlers, thank you very much.
As usual, I seem to have veered off track. The subject was fall, and Portland knows how to bring it. We visited the symphony Sunday night, compliments of a neighbor who had free tickets. It was nice to see the inside of The Schnitz (the local nickname for the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall) and hear some Brahms. We left at intermission because the music was sleep-inducing, and we figured the people sitting next to us were tired of hearing us snore and removing our drooling heads from their shoulders. There were a few dramatic moments, but not dramatic enough. I'll take my theater lively, and scripted.
It is wonderful, though, that Portland offers so many opportunities for live theater and music. I don't think there is any night of the week when there isn't something going on within walking distance. We still have so many places we want to visit, but we may be here for a while so we can take our time. We already have tix to see August: Osage County when the tour comes in and Regina Spektor at the Roseland. Very excited about both.
I am also excited about spending the fall NOT working sixteen hours a day. This will be the first holiday season in eight years when I have not caroled, and the first in I don't even know how long since I was free of any theatrical obligation. I have to say, it's pretty cool. I get to just work my day job and spend my free time decorating, shopping, eating out, going to concerts. What a novel idea? Of course, you know I will probably be right back into a caroling group or theatre company for the holidays of 2010; but, for now, I am looking forward to really experiencing the fall and the holidays here in Portland.
I am not complaining. This is exactly what I signed up for, and I really do enjoy it. What I find interesting, too, is that the climate in my office seems to match the outside climate. A few weeks ago, when I started in the call center, I had to wear single-layer short-sleeves or I would roast. Now, it's layers and long sleeves. Somehow, the folks in charge of climate at my office have learned to control the inside temps so that we remain comfortable in whatever we wore to get there. Why is it that every other office in which I have ever worked cannot seem to grasp that idea? It used to bug me that I would have to wear a sweater in the office in the summer because the A/C would be blasting right over my desk. I have to admit, despite my current lack of enthusiasm for my new position, I am quite impressed with the climate control.
With the cold nights, I am happy to say, the fall brings some new colors. Green, meet your colder cousins, Red and Orange. They'll be staying for a while. You won't. On my drive to the office, I pass through several miles of hills and trees. Those trees now have highlights. Their little tree stylist has been out and frosted their tips, and it's just lovely. Listen to me-I'm Katharine Hepburn suddenly. Lovely. Look at the loooons, Norman. That's actually a good thing, sounding like Kate. Her memoirs taught me many great truths, including the always helpful "One should pee whenever one gets the chance." How can one argue with such utter brilliance?
Lately, I seem to be getting picky about what I ingest. I am sitting in our gorgeous living room sipping a delicious cup of warm Peet's Major Dickason's Blend coffee. My mother has converted me, and there is no turning back now. I tried Starbuck's Pike's Place yesterday, which I used to love, and it was a sad sorry comparison. I ended up dumping half of it. I guess it's good that I finally am becoming a little more selective about my food and sources of caffeine. For example, I never drink soda anymore, unless, of course, it is to accompany popcorn at the movie theater, and even then I limit myself to six ounces or so. I also enjoy the occasional Hot Lips lightly carbonated organic berry beverage, but, come on, it's organic. All pure cane sugar, no HFCS. And I am helping out local growers and bottlers, thank you very much.
As usual, I seem to have veered off track. The subject was fall, and Portland knows how to bring it. We visited the symphony Sunday night, compliments of a neighbor who had free tickets. It was nice to see the inside of The Schnitz (the local nickname for the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall) and hear some Brahms. We left at intermission because the music was sleep-inducing, and we figured the people sitting next to us were tired of hearing us snore and removing our drooling heads from their shoulders. There were a few dramatic moments, but not dramatic enough. I'll take my theater lively, and scripted.
It is wonderful, though, that Portland offers so many opportunities for live theater and music. I don't think there is any night of the week when there isn't something going on within walking distance. We still have so many places we want to visit, but we may be here for a while so we can take our time. We already have tix to see August: Osage County when the tour comes in and Regina Spektor at the Roseland. Very excited about both.
I am also excited about spending the fall NOT working sixteen hours a day. This will be the first holiday season in eight years when I have not caroled, and the first in I don't even know how long since I was free of any theatrical obligation. I have to say, it's pretty cool. I get to just work my day job and spend my free time decorating, shopping, eating out, going to concerts. What a novel idea? Of course, you know I will probably be right back into a caroling group or theatre company for the holidays of 2010; but, for now, I am looking forward to really experiencing the fall and the holidays here in Portland.
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