Powell Books in Portland
(And how Portland tried to swallow us whole)
On the trip my mom and I made to Portland last week we were driving around the downtown area looking for a bookstore from which to buy some maps so we could explore Portland without getting lost. The downtown area offers endless opportunities to die in head on collisions. It's not as though we've never experienced one way streets, after all, San Francisco is famous for their labyrinth of one way corridors of death. It's just that there were so damn many of them and we forgot how cities plan themselves that way to trap the unwary.So we got lost looking for a bookstore from which to buy maps so that we wouldn't get lost. We ended up at the Children's Museum where I sheepishly asked for a map, or help, or a ride, or a merciful shot of Vodka, whatever they could spare to end the torment of getting hijacked by the roads that suddenly turn into highways with no way off for several miles. A very nice young man gave me comprehensive directions which I wrote down meticulously. He must have thought that anyone idiotic enough to accidentally end up at the Children's museum couldn't be trusted to write down some simple directions, so he snatched my notebook and wrote them down himself. Just to be sure.
There's no telling about people. Maybe he likes girls to be lost, desperate, and porky and had an instant crush on me. His directions were great and we ended up in the Pearl District at Powell Books. After driving around the vicinity for several
Cookbooks mostly. I have quite a few craft and clip art books too. Surprisingly, I have very few garden books. Something I must remedy. Powell Books has already begun to fill this painful gap in my bookshelves. I don't like just any garden books. I like very specific garden subjects. I can do without books about making my garden into an outdoor living room, water feature books are not interesting to me, and forget about "landscaping" books. Any kind of garden design is landscaping, but books that have "landscaping" in their title are usually helping you to design a garden with institutionally bland perennials in a very middle class balance.
I like kitchen garden books. Herb growing books. Herb encyclopedias, vegetable gardens, roses, flowers and any combination of those. Powell Books has four floors of books, so naturally it's a Mecca for ex-bibliophiles. Also a dangerous playground for us. I didn't even have time to graze in the craft book isles (there were at least two isles of floor to ceiling titles. holy Jesus! That's enough to make me pass out with anticipation.) Right next to this is the garden section which is the largest I have ever seen. I found four titles that were used and/or on sale.
You know what makes my mouth actually water? I hear there's another Powell Books on the East side of town that features MOSTLY home and garden titles. That's where I will go to die.
My seeds from Territorial came this week. When I look at these packets, I don't see seeds, I see all the meals I'm going to make this late spring, summer, and fall. I see the pickles I'm going to be canning and then enjoying this time next year. Pure potential. Potential is such a hopeful word, I love it. It can become anything.
I don't like long hair on the male of our species. Not ever. Not even on gorgeous American Indian men who I'm told are supposed to have the longest most luxuriant hair. I can't stand shaggy locks on guys. I seriously dislike a head of bouncy curls, or straggly strands hanging in their faces. Long hair on men, especially big proud manes of it, make me think of vain peacocks strutting around bathing in their own pool of gloriousness. Sometimes when I see a man with really long hair, or a big fluffy crown of it, I get the feeling that that man would be more satisfied if he could just sleep with himself than with some paltry representative of the females of our species. In my case, I'm just as happy to let them love themselves too.Luckily for men who are fans of their own big hair, I seem to be an anomaly. Many women think it's really sexy. So no fears to any of you out there with lots of swing to your mane.
Knowing this, you will not be surprised that I love it when Max gets a fresh haircut. It's so crisp and handsome.
For quite a while he was growing out his hair so he could coif it a la Jimmy Neutron. I didn't try to stop him, because that would have been a useless and stupid fight. I waited for months. Eventually I convinced him to cut it. I used some sly method of convincing him.
It's pouring outside. I tried to get a ride to work in the car but our car battery is dead. I don't mind riding in the rain that much, but I was running late and since we're going to our friends' house tonight right after work, it made sense. While riding down here I remembered my friend Chelsea talking about how when she sees a grown man on a bicycle, especially the kind that they obviously borrowed from their ten year old, she thinks "Yep, there's a DUI". She has a point. So I was wondering if anyone driving past me in the pouring rain assumed that I was on my bike because my car was taken away because of a DUI. You would never think that if I was on a ten speed instead of an old cruiser, and if I was wearing some sporty spandex arrangement on my ass.
I ride my bike all over. I love my Vespa, and I really miss riding it*. But aside from my feet, my bicycle is my preferred method of transportation. It makes me think of World War II when a lot of people didn't have cars. They rode jaunty cruisers like mine. They did everything on them. Now a lot of people think they can't do their shopping on their bikes. I understand the usefulness of cars, I'm glad Philip drives one. But I can fit at least five full grocery bags on my bike with the use of a bungee cord. Once I made a huge shopping trip to JC Penny on my bike and I admit it was a curious ride home, with all those bags piled high behind me somewhat precariously. The point is, it's easy to do your shopping on a bicycle. I hate it when people say it's impossible. You just think a little differently about it. You don't buy the hundred pack of toilet paper from Costco. Maybe you make two trips in the week where you would have made one in the car.
It isn't easy to do things like that with multiple children. I wouldn't dream of suggesting that moms with multiple children should all get their asses on their bicycles. And for people who live in icy snowy areas in the winter are seriously limited to car travel as bicycles and ice don't mix.
But everyone ought to try it every now and then. It's a bit of an adventure. Not to mention you get good exercise. Parking is a BREEZE on a bike.
I am just thinking about this because I was riding my bike in really cold wet rain. And it though that is far from my favorite weather to ride in, it really isn't that bad when it's just the best way to get to work.
My eyebrows are unpleasantly hairy today. I didn't have time to pluck. So all day long I'm going to wonder if people are asking themselves why I would let one eyebrow become so awfully apish?
And now I have a ton of work to do. I hope you all have a great Saturday!
*I will definitely get it fixed. Just as soon as I cross off everything from the forty five point list I spoke of yesterday, and plant the garden, and clean the house, and lay the road to hell with all my good intentions.
It's pouring outside. I tried to get a ride to work in the car but our car battery is dead. I don't mind riding in the rain that much, but I was running late and since we're going to our friends' house tonight right after work, it made sense. While riding down here I remembered my friend Chelsea talking about how when she sees a grown man on a bicycle, especially the kind that they obviously borrowed from their ten year old, she thinks "Yep, there's a DUI". She has a point. So I was wondering if anyone driving past me in the pouring rain assumed that I was on my bike because my car was taken away because of a DUI. You would never think that if I was on a ten speed instead of an old cruiser, and if I was wearing some sporty spandex arrangement on my ass.
I ride my bike all over. I love my Vespa, and I really miss riding it*. But aside from my feet, my bicycle is my preferred method of transportation. It makes me think of World War II when a lot of people didn't have cars. They rode jaunty cruisers like mine. They did everything on them. Now a lot of people think they can't do their shopping on their bikes. I understand the usefulness of cars, I'm glad Philip drives one. But I can fit at least five full grocery bags on my bike with the use of a bungee cord. Once I made a huge shopping trip to JC Penny on my bike and I admit it was a curious ride home, with all those bags piled high behind me somewhat precariously. The point is, it's easy to do your shopping on a bicycle. I hate it when people say it's impossible. You just think a little differently about it. You don't buy the hundred pack of toilet paper from Costco. Maybe you make two trips in the week where you would have made one in the car.
It isn't easy to do things like that with multiple children. I wouldn't dream of suggesting that moms with multiple children should all get their asses on their bicycles. And for people who live in icy snowy areas in the winter are seriously limited to car travel as bicycles and ice don't mix.
But everyone ought to try it every now and then. It's a bit of an adventure. Not to mention you get good exercise. Parking is a BREEZE on a bike.
I am just thinking about this because I was riding my bike in really cold wet rain. And it though that is far from my favorite weather to ride in, it really isn't that bad when it's just the best way to get to work.
My eyebrows are unpleasantly hairy today. I didn't have time to pluck. So all day long I'm going to wonder if people are asking themselves why I would let one eyebrow become so awfully apish?
And now I have a ton of work to do. I hope you all have a great Saturday!
*I will definitely get it fixed. Just as soon as I cross off everything from the forty five point list I spoke of yesterday, and plant the garden, and clean the house, and lay the road to hell with all my good intentions.
