The City of Roses

Life in Portland is sweet. I am so happy to finally be here for awhile and enjoy the fruits of this fine town, both literally and figuratively. As you know, one of the main benefits is being close enough to my family to not miss out on exciting events, like my sister's second art show that took place at the local night club in Cottage Grove, a small art friendly town where my mom lives about 20 miles south of Eugene. The bar is called the Axe and Fiddle and it is the kind of place you are as likely to find someone swilling tea as you are to find someone doing a shot-- people of all ages, surprisingly good bands, and an openness to community events that you just don't find at most bars. Like a young women's edgy art collective having an art opening, which is exactly what happened last Sunday. Because I am allergic to cats, instead of hanging out at my mom's place for the day, we spent the whole day at the bar watching it come to life as all the women hung their pieces in what served as the gallery space that night. Gen and Jerm arrived in time for one more scrabble game before the festivities really got underway, and I was just so proud and happy to be there in support of the event. It has made me smile several times since thinking of it....In addition to seeing the fam, going to shows (excellent effort by Jared Mees and the Grown Children last weekend, check them out if you are looking for something upbeat and fun to sing along with), and climbing small mountains (Friday's summit, Table Mountain, 3379 ft), I have been entertaining. Betsy McCabe (past inductee into the SHoF) came to Portland for her first visit to the City of Roses. She loves it. We went lalaing up and down the avenue looking at art and trying on one-of-a-kind handmade clothing on Saturday and treated ourselves to fancy dinner Saturday night (fear not, the chicken I ate was named Cliff and I was assured he was happy and fulfilled prior to being sacrificed for my dinner). Today we went to a bunch a vineyards SW of the city and (mainly Betsy) tasted wine. It was a beautiful sunny day which is also something to savor here this time of year, and Betsy did a good job of tolerating all the people who love my lemon yellow glasses so much that they ask me where I got them and to try them on (this has happened so much, that we actually ran into someone who I met last week, who loved the glasses, and asked to try them on while we were walking around town). The wineries are interesting and delicious, and after we had our fill, we came back into town so I could get a new raincoat. The sun won't be out forever and a girl has got to be prepared for anything in this town... like accidentally seeing an instrumental rock band with an electric mandolin in place of a lead guitar and a percussionist who can eke out a melody from baby toys (I caught them last Thursday, they're called Sneakin' Out-- very delightful) or stumbling on a painting of a bushbaby that you almost can't live without (by Julia Jasinski). All of this with a near constant threat of rain punctuated with soul-warming bouts of sunshine-- so happy to have you here in my new home Betsy!!!

On the Hunt

Those of you who know me know that I am a pacificist. I have gotten into several arguments over the years regarding my belief that war fundamentally creates more problems than it solves, and that however inevitable violence may be, life as we know it would be better if no one ever picked up a gun. I think last week's shooting is evidence for that argument, but I also think there is a subtle but gigantic difference between shooting guns to hunt for your food and shooting guns to hurt people. The former is something I have always wanted to try but have never had the chance to do, even while living in Texas. But on Martin Luther King Day I visited my friends Dan and Ariel and got to use Dan's varmit control .22 for the first time in my life. This would be ironic, except that I still want to emphasize, brothers and sisters, that shooting guns for hunting purposes is not inconsistent with my love of peace, compromise, negotiations, and diplomacy. Anyway (can you tell the guilt is eating at me?), Dan showed me the shockingly non-intricate anatomy of the gun, how to look through the telescope (very convenient!) and told me that I should try and hold it steady before firing (excellent advice). I followed his instructions and we moved quickly from a paper target to the much more difficult (and rewarding) goal of shooting beer cans. Not our beer cans, mind you! This was at about 10 am in the morning and we were very safety conscious (in fact, I routinely forgot to take the safety off, I was so safety conscious). I am certain we were really really far away from the beer cans though, so I was extremely happy with myself when I got one... Dang varmit. Now, I feel ready to more fully embrace a) trailer life and b) a subsistence, locavore diet. Okay, maybe hunting for my own food on the streets of Portland is not going to work. But I am ready to play the game Ladd told us about for her going away party-- BeerHunter. Safety first, of course.

Ramblin' (Wo)man... Woah, Man

I know many of you were just beside yourself waiting to hear how the experiment turned out, weren't you? The answer: fantastico. Very happy to be done though, and despite the fact that it is always a little bit sad to leave Bloomington, by Christmas afternoon I was ready to be done. I flew home to Oregon (I love the sound of that phrase) and drove straight to my sister's house for a little dose of holiday. We exchanged only homemade cards this year, which I loved (and don't really think requires the qualifier 'only'; see picture) and had a lovely couple of days together for Christmas for the first time in many many moons. Our Christmas traditions are basically eating a lot of jewish foods, and this year were followed up by a belated Thanksgiving dinner in early celebration of our birthday (my mom and I were born on the the same day, different years obviously). So-- a lot of holiday festivities all rolled into 48 hours, and one of the many nice things about being close to my family these days....
But then of course I returned to my ambling ways: My friend Katy came up to Portland for a quick, culinary visit, and then I went down to San Francisco with her and spent a very fun New Year's Eve at The Mint (a gay karaoke bar of truly epic proportions; pictured below). I performed my most transformative piece (Try A Little Tenderness by Otis Redding, a previous rendition of which at one point was my YouTube debut) to try and hang with the big boys (some of the more flamboyant performers nailed performances of Ricky Martin and Nina Simone, so I couldn't very well be shy).
Now I am back in Texas for work and a little recuperation-- this constant motion is starting to take its toll a little bit as I have slept in my own bed for less than 4 weeks total since October 1, and slept very little in any bed for that matter. In my tired and tender state, can someone please assure me they get the So I Married An Ax Murderer reference used to title this post? Oh please oh please oh please?