Monthly Archives: August 2011

the house with nobody in it

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My cousin, Dave, mentioned something on Facebook this weekend about looking up childhood homes using Google Street View and seeing them as they are today. I had never thought about doing this before, but I was all over it. The first thing I realized was that there were about five different homes I could look up, but the one I wanted to see first wasn’t even technically my home: it was my Grandma Ruth’s house. Of course, it wasn’t always just my Grandma Ruth’s house. It was also the house where my dad and two uncles grew up with Grandma and my Grandpa Glenn, who suddenly passed away when both he and I were relatively very young.

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the post you never saw

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When Jeff and I first got together – which will be coming up on 12 years the first part of 2012 – he was most certainly the “night owl” between the two of us. I don’t think I ever went to bed later than 10:00 p.m., whereas he could stay up much later than that. Over time, especially after we had Ian (I think), his bedtime started trending earlier and earlier while mine remained roughly stable. That is, until the past couple of years or so when we’ve had this complete role reversal.

Most nights, around 10:00 p.m., it goes something like this: Jeff approaches me as I’m on the couch, usually with HGTV on by that time, laptop in, well, my lap, and he informs me that he’s off to bed. I reply, with confidence:

Oh wow, yes, I’m right behind you!

 

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flashback friday

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This picture is the view from our room at a bed & breakfast Jeff and I stayed at in Mendocino, California in December 2003. We took this picture as night fell the first evening we were there. Later, in the middle of the night, a massive rain and wind storm blew in and the ocean fiercely pounded that cove just outside our window all night long. We had a gas fireplace in our room that was on while we slept, and it was all bit frightening, yet so cool at the same time. I’m still looking forward to being on the Oregon coast sometime for another big winter storm.

wildflowers

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Earlier this spring (which is, of course, really more like late winter in Portland), I noticed when I was coming in and out of work every day that our horticulture team was giving a lot of attention to the large island of dirt that stands beside a side road that runs in front of the admin buildings and in front of an entrance to the main lot for the zoo.

Then, one week I noticed several piles of a very dark substance appeared on the island that was later spread around. Typically, I would have assumed that it was a very rich soil, except that it definitely had a certain “smell” to it. This led me to one conclusion: that it was actually the infamous “Zoo Doo,” which is a compost made up of animal manure, among other things. I have not asked anyone about this to confirm my suspicions, but I’m pretty sure that I am right. (Flash to my husband reading this and saying to himself: Yeah, that’s what you always claim.)

I didn’t give it much more thought until one day, there was suddenly this beautiful field of wildflowers on the island. It’s so pretty and I so enjoy admiring them as I walk up from our parking area into our building each morning. It’s a nice way to start the day. Here are some photos I attempted of the flowers today:

tales of a summer tuesday

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I think for the first time this summer we are having several consecutive days of temperatures in the high 70s/low 80s. It’s so nice. Though, Portland being by far the coolest climate I’ve ever lived in, it’s funny how quickly your body adapts. Before you know it, 60 seems like 70, 70 like 80, etc. Case in point: Yesterday a friend and I went outside to eat our lunch on a bench and I would have almost bet my life that it was at least 85. Instead, we later found out it was in the low 70s. Which means that I definitely have a future in broadcast meteorology, if I want one.

Anyway, when I left work this afternoon it was glorious outside, as it has been recently. Instead of my usual way out, I departed in the opposite direction because I was headed down to the NW 23rd Street area for first-ever (in Portland) weekday haircut. (More on that in a minute.) The opposite direction winds you through some back roads around Hoyt Arboretum and through some lovely neighborhoods. For the uninitiated, the Arboretum, part of which is basically across the street from the zoo’s parking lot, encompasses – among other things – 21 trails covering 12 miles within 187 acres. All inside the City of Portland.

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