Whoosh II

Whenever I post a catch-up entry like this one, I realize that I'm channeling my mother. She felt compelled, whenever we spoke on the phone, to enumerate everything she'd done since our last conversation. I could picture her standing in her kitchen, talking and talking, glancing for reference at her copiously annotated wall calendar. In her last few years it was all about bus connections, doctors' appointments and old friends' infirmities and deaths. I love(d) her dearly, and I'm fully cognizant that her kitchen calendar is the functional equivalent of my Sierra Club datebook, and that I've inherited some of her other compulsive behaviors, too. I'd like to think I'm a much better editor, but perhaps it's just that my life is more interesting to me, day to day, than hers was.

So, yes; it's been another insanely busy couple of weeks. For the record once more, some highlights:

Saturday of Labor Day weekend, we attended a lovely wedding in far northwest Portland, on the happy couple's farm, where we also got to spend time with several good friends from Sea Ranch. Zoë and Matt's dog Olive, in true border collie style, made herself a central part of the ceremony.

We met another pair of California friends, in town for a "let's check out Portland" visit, for Sunday brunch at Mother's Bistro. After saying 'bye to Carla and Scott, Jer and I strolled a few blocks to Art in the Pearl, where I spotted this very cool recycled-trash salmon.

We made it home in time to greet Rose, another Sea Ranch friend, who was en route south from a college reunion in Washington state. We showed her around the neighborhood and, Monday afternoon, took in the closing performance of Shakespeare in the Park's Taming of the Shrew on the lawn at Reed. She left Tuesday morning. On Thursday, we picked up our good friends Rob and Jackie at the airport. Jackie used to be our next-door neighbor at Sea Ranch. She's the former director of the UC Berkeley art museum and a full-time curator, consultant and writer on artsy matters. That afternoon, I took them on a long walk through Reed campus and the Rhododendron Garden, a.k.a the duck pond. An amusing moment: We were starting down the long, sloping lawn toward SE 28th Ave. when a security guy drove up; I thought at first he was telling us to keep off the grass, but it turned out he was warning us that an archery class was in progress and that, if we continued on our intended course, the three of us would be right in the line of mis-fire. Oops; an arrow escape!

Thursday evening, we went to the opening of Jackie's colleague Darren Waterston's exhibit of paintings and prints at Lewis and Clark College. I love this man's work. It sparked in me dozens of ideas about what I'd like to try in fiber arts, assuming I can ever get myself back into the studio.

Starting Friday morning, Jer and I plunged into E-ticket tour guide mode once more: The Japanese and Rose Gardens, lunch al fresco at Southpark, the Art Museum. I made a "kitchen sink" salad for dinner, including fresh corn, tomatoes and other goodies from this week's CSA veggie box.

Saturday morning we walked the Springwater Corridor trail as far as Three Bridges and back. The path was lined with these beautiful orchid-like flowers, which my wildflower book tells me is Cape Jewelweed. Later, while I attended to another obligation, Jer took our guests to the Chinese Garden (where they had tea, which I have not yet experienced; sob), Powell's Books, and, briefly, Saturday Market. That evening, Jackie and Rob treated us to a super-indulgent dinner at Fife's.

Sunday morning we dropped our friends at PDX and had a few hours to relax and put together a roasted potato dish and tomato-mozzarella-pesto bruschetta as Jerry's and my contributions, respectively, to the Rural Street block party that evening. Besides delicious food, home-brewed beer, lots of catching up with neighbors we don't get to talk with very often, and the traditional piñata for the kids (I wish I'd gotten a picture of the dozen or so of them lined up according to height, waiting to take their respective whacks), this year's featured non-trivial water balloon fights and a string quartet playing works by Vivaldi and Haydn. The same kids participated in both, though not at the same time. Also, Jay and Ellen opened the gates to their new bocce court; I'd never played before, but I actually got off a few good shots (which are probably called something else in bocce) and did not disgrace myself overall.

This week is shaping up to be very busy, too, with commitments every morning as well as three or maybe four nights out of five. After that I think life will calm down for a while. No houseguests on the schedule for the foreseeable future. As I implied at the outset, these "whooshy" blog posts aren't my favorite, nor are they yours, I'm sure. I'd much rather slow down and focus in on some interesting details. Like the jar that sat midstage during the entire uninterrupted 2 hours and 20 minutes of Richard Thompson's show last night, labeled Big Dick's Speed Dust Trouser Treatment. WTF? I Googled it in various combinations and you can imagine the results.

Party, party, party

Last weekend we went to two of the best parties I've attended in ages. Both were hosted and largely populated by people less than half my age and a third of Jerry's. I didn't bring my camera to either, which was probably just as well. One, a housewarming on NE Alberta, involved a whole roast pig, a pinata, dozens of pies, and a highly literate and entertaining female duo, the Alphabetics, who rapped about Scrabble, asthma, pizza and body hair (not all in the same song). The other, a 25th birthday party held on the bluffs west of Overlook Park, featured a potato cannon, accordions, an exquisite yellow-and-blue cake, and a commanding view of the railroad yards from possibly the most esoteric corner of Portland I've visited so far. Thanks, Tessa and Kristin & Eric, for the pies, potatoes and opportunity to celebrate with y'all.

Sunday was also the final day of the national petanque championship playoffs, or something like that, at Westmoreland Park. Neither of us plays or knows much about petanque, but our friend Bill, who visited recently, is into it, and it seemed a shame not to check it out since the venue is less than a 15-minute walk from our house. This time I did remember my camera, and took several boring photos. From an outsider's perspective, petanque isn't a particularly dynamic sport; I'm not sure it would even qualify as aerobic exercise. The "Boule Bleu" brand name struck me as amusing, though, as did the art car (truck, actually) we spotted on the way home, and the porta-potty on SE 28th that was definitely not at the "right angle" (click on the top photo to enlarge it).

Between petanque and potato cannon, Jer and I zipped downtown for a block party celebrating the Contemporary Craft Museum's new quarters bordering the North Park Blocks. Gerrie has posted some pix on her blog. Inside, it was shoulder-to-shoulder, too crowded to really take in the exhibit which, fortunately, will be up for several more weeks.

Monday, I did essentially nothing. It felt great.

Garden Party

Last night we attended a dinner/art opening at the Japanese Garden. I'd gotten tickets because the thought of a summer evening in that exquisite location sounded really appealing. It was a pleasant enough affair, with a jazz trio, friendly folks to chat with, good wine, and a light, Asian-inflected supper in a tented area adjacent to the Pavilion. I ran into fellow STASH member Linda, an unexpected bonus. The view east, across the city and toward the Cascades, was spectacular, as always. What a spot, as Jerry likes to say.

I was surprisingly put off, though, by the gathering as such. I hated the fact that a crowd of people were eating, drinking and generally yakking it up in "my" tranquil green garden, my special retreat, my single favorite place in Portland. I had no idea I'd react in such a proprietary way. I'd never been to the Garden this late in the day; I was looking forward to it, and I'd brought my camera thinking the evening light might show me something new. There was no evening light to speak of -- it drizzled, off and on, all day and into the night -- but the Garden was still beautiful.

I felt better after we left the party for a while and took a short walk to the waterfall and koi pond. And I did buy some Art, a piece by Jan Rentenaar. It's a tiny ceramic sculpture of Usagi, the rabbit who lives on the moon. Here he is posed on some appropriate fabric from my stash.

Speaking of small creatures, China Rose has been particularly nesty recently. I just posted three more "awww...." shots on Flickr, for you cat people, starting here.

And speaking of art, I've had fabric on my design wall for the last few weeks, but it's been too hot and/or I've been too distracted and/or uninspired for any compelling ideas to emerge. What I am going to tackle, maybe even this afternoon, is a quite traditional ribbon-block table mat (think of a single large placemat). I'd set aside my fabric selection for this project years ago, before we even had a yellow-and-green kitchen. We have two sets of purple napkins, which will tie in well.

Sometimes it helps to work on something straightforward and mundane while the more interesting projects percolate in the subconscious. That's my theory, anyway, and I'm stickin' to it. It couldn't possibly be that I don't have a single creative idea left in my head.