Fairy Condos, Hobbit Houses and Troll Sheds

We’re not the only ones involved in a construction project this spring. A developer named Emily just put up a condo complex for fairies on SE 36th Ave. It appears to be loaded with amenities. If you lived here, you’d be home by now.

Elsewhere in the ‘hood, a treehouse for hobbits appeared and, on the same lot, a funky troll shed sported a new coat of paint(s). This is infill housing I can live with.

Watch for Serendipity

We were out walking last Sunday and I commented to Jer that we might take in an open house or two. Just joking; I know that touring real estate at random is not one of his favorite pastimes. That's probably a gender-linked characteristic.

Lo and behold, the REX house -- Recycle Everything eXperiment -- was open for inspection. This is Shannon Quimby and partners' attempt to do a major remodel without a dumpster on site. Not only did they reuse much of the original framing lumber in the new structure, they've imaginatively repurposed everything from archaic electrical wiring components (now cabinet door pulls) to trashy old miniblinds (plant markers for the garden). She's been blogging about it for the Oregonian, and I've been following the process, so I was jazzed at the chance to see it near completion. Once I dragged Jerry inside, he was fascinated, too.

On the way home we noticed this colorful reminder: Watch for Serendipity. We hadn't been, any more than usual, but apparently it was watching for us.

Unrelatedly, my birthday dessert photo was in my camera all this time. Here's Chef Jerub's Peach Bavarian. He'd never made one before, but it turned out beautifully, of course.

Things change

As far as I know, the little store, as everyone in the neighborhood calls it, is Eastmoreland's only storefront retail presence. Officially known as Eastmoreland Grocery and Market, it's been in business since the 1920s. Carol and Gary, who've run it for the past 20-some years, just sold it to a couple of local residents who plan to remodel and reopen as Eastmoreland Kitchen, a combination food store and deli. Last Saturday was closing day; the new owners hope to debut their revamped operation in about six weeks. I'll miss the funky ol' store with its year-round shelves of Santa Clauses, but I wish the new people well. I'm fantasizing a neighborhood hangout -- coffee in the morning, wine in the evening -- as well as a place to pick up emergency eggs or whatnot in the midst of dinner prep.

Last year we ordered our Thanksgiving turkey from the little store. This year it'll be New Seasons, I guess. Thanksgiving will be different in other respects as well. The Arcata clan won't be joining us. Victor's gone, and so's my mother. This will be the first Thanksgiving at our house without her. The plan is for my sister Karen to fly up from the Bay Area with a companion, and for Larry and Josh to wing in from Oahu and San Diego, respectively. Barring last-minute additions, there'll be just the six of us for dinner, the smallest Thanksgiving dinner Jerry and I have experienced together.

Thanksgiving used to be one of my favorite holidays. It was all about inclusion, sweeping in the strays. And about food, of course -- feeding the multitudes, as Jer likes to say. Sometimes we had 25 or 30 people in for a sit-down dinner. The last few years, though, Thanksgiving time has seemed fraught for one reason or another. This year feels like a turning point, and small seems appropriate for right now. Next year I think we'll invent a new tradition.