she's just saying...

Tuesday Ten: NE vs. NW

I have a young friend coming to Bend for some academic research, who's never been to the Northwest. To orient her, I've compiled this list, in no particular order, of:

10 Things You Are Unlikely To See in the Northwest Versus the Northeast

1. Artificial nails
2. Umbrellas
3. People smoking cigarettes on the sidewalk
4. Stiletto heels
5. Topsiders
6. Seersucker
7. Clothes with little embroidered whales on them
8. Newstands
9. Neckties
10. Dunkin' Donuts

(Note I said "unlikely" so don't start sending me pictures, thanks.)

OK, local folk, what would you add?

Three out of ten! Score!

That's what I like about the South*

Top Ten 'cause it's Tuesday; travel edition.

Just got back from our yearly pilgrimage to the hills of North Carolina. I know some people wouldn't really call it the South but it's as close as I plan to get, so here are some highlights from the trip:

1. Lightning bugs
2. Rocking chairs everywhere
3. A cacaphony of songbirds, starting at 5:00 am
4. Soft slow hill country accents
5. "Dewy" skin
6. Snakes in the woodpile
7. Vitamin D acquisition without a pill
8. Really good tomatoes and corn
9. Signs for boiled peanuts all over including,
10. This one:  Leave it to those crafty southerners ...

* Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys - 1942

A smokin' romance

Alright - moving on from the hilarity and anguish of knitters vs. the olympics. I enjoyed it - maybe too much, as I think many readers moved on. Oh well - you're still here!

Meanwhile, we're in the final prep for our yearly pilgrimage to the southeast, so I don't have time to write. Must. Clean. Bathrooms. Cleaning because my friend Chris and her daughter are coming to housesit again for the week, escaping from the burning inferno that is Phoenix. It's a great arrangement - they love to come back and visit their friends here, the dog and cats and fish are happy and at home, and I can leave knowing that all will be well. But I do need to pick up here and there so they can find the beds at least.

In the meantime, I'll share my latest crush with you as you're really a close personal friend, really. He's tall, dark and um, furry. Likes to walk around without a shirt. He doesn't talk much, or at all, actually, but communicates soulfully with his eyes and paws. He can be a bear about matches and fire and that kind of thing, but he has a good heart. We meet daily at the Museum and I sing him the Smokey song and he dances for me. It's true love.

a'howling and a'growling and a'sniffing the air...

When Cultures Collide

We spent Christmas at my parents' in Hendersonville, NC, which is somewhere south of Asheville  somewhere in western North Carolina, in the Blue Ridge mountains. A beautiful area of hills and hollows, Appalachian mixed with southern lite.

One of my tasks was to procure and set up the Christmas tree (my second of the season, but who's counting?). On a cold rainy morning Henry and I dashed out to make Christmas happen. We needed a new tree stand first as well as the tree to put in it. We weren't up for dealing with box-store parking and crowds, so went looking for a local tree lot. Unlike Oregon, they're not on every corner in NC. But there was an ancient hardware store next to a little garden nursery down the road and I stopped in, hoping to get both errands done at one shot.

I ran into the hardware store first. This was the kind with an ancient wooden ride-on horse on the porch, wood floors, bins of nails and deer heads hung on the walls. It came complete with three menfolk hanging around the stove discussing an old car. I asked the young man at the counter if they had Christmas tree stands.

Unfortunately they didn't, so I asked where I might find one nearby. He called to the men: "She's looking for a tree stand - do you know where she can find one?" They looked over and checked me out. They seemed confused, concerned and doubtful. One said: "She's not really dressed for it," as they looked at each other with some alarm, taking in my suburban mom ensemble. Another said to the group: "Well, isn't there one down the road a few miles?" "Yeah, Harry's got one at his place..."  I said "Is that a store?" We all stared at one another. The young man of the group said "No, a Christmas tree stand! To hold a Christmas tree!" Light dawned on their faces. "We thought you was going deer hunting!" "We didn't think you was dressed for it!" They all laughed and looked relieved. My turn to be confused.

Turns out that a tree stand in western North Carolina refers to a structure in the woods from which to shoot deer. I noted that I didn't have my gun with me, we all guffawed awhile and they directed me to the nursery next door where I got the needed tree stand, threw a tree into the trunk, and headed home to produce Christmas.

The forest was safe for another day...

Driving a cat to drink

We're babysitting a friend's cat while she is in the middle of a move to Seattle right now. She is having a heck of a time juggling kids, pets and apartments while she negotiates the move.

Her trials are reminding me of the times I've moved with my animals from New York to LA and LA to Bend. In 1987 I moved from NYC to LA with a cat named Cloud, who I acquired during a scuba diving trip to Montauk. (Doesn't that make my life sound exciting and exotic? It was, at one time.) I planned to fly to LA with the cat as carry-on in a kennel designed to fit under the plane seat. I asked my vet for a tranquilizer to make the trip a little calmer for both of us, and he suggested I just give the cat a little brandy to settle him down before leaving.

The morning of the the flight came, and as I was waiting for the cab, I took the cat into the bathroom of my now-empty apartment to administer the dose. I hadn't thought it through, clearly, and was not prepared with necessary syringe, straitjacket, leather gloves and other protective equipment. All I had was a bottle and a spoon. The cat instantly surmised I was trying to poison him with this foul burning liquid and spat it all over the bathroom, himself and me. Like an idiot, I tried again with the same result. We wrestled for awhile, but the cat was defending his life and was a lot more determined. I finally stuffed him in his kennel and we arrived for our flight at 6:30 am soaking wet, exhausted and reeking of brandy. Things went downhill from there.

If I ever find that vet again...

Must have been the yarn fumes

So happy to be back in the land of the Spiritual Room Service Menu! I think this time I'll order up the body pillow with the Tao Te Ching, or maybe the Bhagavad Gita. I'm not even sure that that last one is. I'm going to arrange them all on my bed before my as-yet-unknown roommate gets in. That'll freak her out!

Yes, I'm back at the Hotel Murano for the Madrona Fiber Arts Retreat, my fourth year here. More crazy knitting ladies wearing their handmades. This time there's a lot more. The hotel, a 20-something floor nouveau remade of an old Sheraton, is completely sold out. So is the rest of Tacoma - we hear that there's a wrestling tournament and a cheerleaders' convention in town as well. My suggestion: all three groups get together in one convention center, make new friends and learn new skills. We could cheer on a knitting throwdown! Whoo! Who's with me?

Anyway, I went by Lollipop Cabin's booth to collect my pay for doing a sample knit for her and this is what I picked out:

Not sure what got into me - this is pretty rainbow pastelly, or what we call in the knitting world "unicorn barf." I love love love it though. No idea what I'll make out of it. Maybe a cuddly lap robe, 'cause it's unlikely I could ever wear these colors out in the world.

And here's the answer to the question I posed about the pronunciation of Ialiuxh, the first name of the very cool yarntrepreneur behind Lollipop Cabin: it's ill-ay'-uh. No one even came close.

More yarny goodness to come. I'm off to my first class: "Designing your own stitch patterns." Another useless skill to add to my repertoire! Wish me luck.

The vacation that would never end

Due to the beautiful and magical Christmas Day snowstorm here in the North Carolina mountains, we've been stuck delayed here three days longer than planned, logging in our ninth day in residence today. We are confirmed to fly out tomorrow at 6 am God willing and the creek don't rise as they say here in the colorful Smokies. Or they should, if they don't.

After the requisite five hours on the phone on hold with various travel entities, we gave up and settled in. Me to knitting, eating and drinking, Henry to cartoons and endless video game devices. We ventured out to shop for shoes a few times as consolation. We miss our cats and home, but we're certainly getting visiting time in which is nice. MyBigBro was with us until yesterday which added good diversion and also a lot of noise. I come from a family of loud talkers, I should add. With six extremely verbal family members around the table growing up, you had to talk loud or keep quiet. I was the keep-quiet one.

This trip, we talked a lot about throwing up. BigBro fondly reminisced about how I got carsick all the time as a child; the times we had to pull over to let me get out on the way home from church; or not pulling over soon enough, etc. Henry was fascinated of course. For some unknown reason, Henry and I both had "intestinal upsets" this visit. Mine occurred all Christmas Eve night - thanks, Santa! Kept me from eating all the Christmas cookies at least.

Final plane

We made it! Sleep deprived & cranky.

Plane #2: the view from the very back

Ghost lot

-

It's an adventure!

 

Yes, we are traveling on the worst day of winter yet in Central Oregon. Snow all day, foggy and icy drive to the airport, delayed flights. I'll post a shot of the long-term parking lot. (Our car in front.) It was a little eery-looking, actually - like the parking lot of the lost.

Henry and I have pretty good traveling karma, actually (unlike most of my family members). And tonight we encountered something we've never seen before. Our flight out was delayed so we would miss the connecting flight and the two flights after that (the schedule from hell: 4 planes all through the night.) When we arrived to wearily wait for the inevitable nightmare of rerouting our trip, the counter gal said; "Oh, the Hochschilds. We were just working on your trip a little while ago. We've re-routed you and you're set to go. Here are your new boarding passes." Seriously. Proactive customer service. I was speechless. And we ended up with a better connections and one less plane change. So here's to Horizon Air in Redmond Oregon. They rock.

 

 

End-ing Up

I was playing a game with a friend the other day, and he asked: "What was the most fun day of your life?" It wasn't a day, but an entire weekend, the one when I turned 50.

After the usual backing out, reconsidering and re-making of plans, Neighbor X and I flew to San Francisco. A friend of his ran a grand old hotel there and upgraded us into a lovely room with a stunning bath (the crucial part of any hotel room). We got there in the evening and got ready to hit the town.

Our destination was the legendary End Up, a dance club/bar/garden/lounge scene. It was Gay Night and we got there in time for a silly transvestite performance that set the tone. They were pumping fresh air into the dance floor filled with hot shirtless guys dancing to deep house thumps and disco remixes. The dance floor and lounge opened onto a garden patio with private areas, twinkly lights, tropical plants and fountains, very magical in the early morning hours.

We hung out for awhile with a bunch of little gay asian guys who were funny and sweet. Everyone kept asking us "Where are you from?" (I guess our fleece jackets gave us away)

and "Are you having fun?" Later on, the after-hours crowd started coming in, more hetero but still cool. The party went all night and picked up more steam early Saturday morning when a drummer came in to accompany the house d.j.  At one point they stopped serving alcohol for an hour or so with no visible decline in the happy level for reasons I needn't explain. It was a fun, friendly, exhilarating scene.

We danced, drank and visited til sometime the next morning, left the still-pumping party, took off with some new best friends and hung out at our hotel. We had plans that evening to go out for dinner, but never made it. We relaxed with room service, long baths and a movie.

The next day we drove to Calistoga, touring wineries along the way. Schramsberg had a champagne cave built into a hill, very romantic, where we toasted to my birthday with some other guests.

Opus One had all that is Opus One. Classic elegance and classic wine.

We ended the weekend in with mud baths, champagne, shopping, wonderful lunches and a picnic in the vineyards.

Once home, we went back to the frustrating dance of attraction and separation, never to change.

I've moved on from that relationship; still, I keep the memory of that wonderful weekend and take it out now and then to savor.

So, think about it -- what is your favorite weekend/day/night memory?  Is it one you can share?

Eyeball update

Surgery was successful and easy. No pain yet, only a little blurry vision. I've spent the day sleeping, shopping online under the influence of anesthetics and wandering around the hotel lobby. I look like I've been in a bad fight, I'm moving a bit drunkenly and I'm wearing sunglasses so the staff is intrigued and whispering.

The hotel offered a (free) breakfast this morning that I squirreled away for after the surgery and hosted a (free) wine and appetizers happy hour tonight - sweet! The new season of "The Good Wife" begins tonight that my eyebrows are happily anticipating, so life is fairly pleasant, all in all. Sure beats last time.

Thank you for all the good wishes -- really, I'm feeling guilty for having such a pleasant little get-away.

Since you don't want to look at my eye right now, I'll post a pic of the hotel lobby.

Silver Cloud Inn, Bellevue. Tell them that mysterious lady sent you.

RDM: Welcome to 1980!

Warning: random rant ahead. The 35 million renovation of the Redmond-Bend airport is very snazzy - it has a second floor and an electronic arrival/departure board and everything. But what idiot forgot to include electical outlets? Here we are, huddled on the floor by the two outlets available in the vast waiting area, which don't even have seating near them. Honestly! It's infuriatingly stupid. Other airports have got it - the Seattle airport (ahem, home of Microsoft) has outlets built into each seating area, one for each seat. Plus data ports, not that anyone uses them anymore.

I have complained about the Redmond airport before, but this really points out the small-town mentality of the place. It makes me crazy to think about it anymore so I'll end this post here. Plus it's really  uncomfortable typing at floor level.

Even the logo is kinda last century.

Friendless in Seattle

If it's September, it must mean... eye surgery! (Isn't that what it means to you?) Yes, I'm going back for more because it was so much fun last year.

Actually, this time it's the other eye, it's a less-invasive surgery, and should be much simpler. The downside is that Dr. Cute doesn't do this procedure and the nearest surgeon is in Seattle. Ordinarily I love going to Seattle, but this time it probably won't be as much fun. For one thing, I'll be in Bellevue vs. downtown, and for another, I'll be having surgery.

It shouldn't be that unpleasant though. I'll be staying in a nice generic hotel in a nice generic city, near a large mall. The only snag is that the surgery center insists that after the procedure I can only leave in the care of a responsible adult. A cab driver doesn't count.

My friend Mark and I have been through many operations, moves, crises and weekend trips together and he'd be my obvious choice, but for two things that he pointed out; he can't leave LA in September due to work and he doesn't qualify as a responsible adult. It's also about as far away as you can get from New England where my sisters live.

I kind of hate to ask a friend to come up with me, as I really only need the help for an hour and other than that it would be a long boring trip. One option a friend suggested is to hire a personal assistant-type who drives seniors around to their appointments and errands. It may actually be the way to go, pathetic as it might seem. I could go the social networking route and post a request on Facebook or Craig's List, but that seems kind of desperate.

Another friend has chimed in that if I'm going to actually hire someone I might as well enjoy it, so go for a Chippendales dancer or the like. Probably not. Wouldn't be prudent. But any other ideas are welcome...

Problem solved.

Urban renewal

I flew up to Seattle and back yesterday. For an eye doctor appointment -- gone are the days when I would fly a one-day r/t for business. It was fun to be back on city sidewalks.

There's nothing like a city for energy and buzz. Bend, on the other hand, does not have buzz. It has mellow. Pleasant, but definitely laid-back, even if you're working just as hard. I used to be hooked on that buzz, but I don't know if I could handle it now on a daily basis. But it sure is good to experience it now and then, and there's a lot about cities I miss.

You can now take a sparkly bright new train from the airport right to downtown for $5 round-trip. I put on my city commuter face and it was very easy. Sometimes cities do things right for a change. After my 4-hour appointment (seriously!) I had time to experience the city and so of course headed for the nearest yarn store for an absolutely necessary purchase.

This is what I love about cities - here are the other stores on that block:

• Alchemy, a bookstore with "magical" books and supplies. It looked intriguing but I didn't explore.
• The Honey Hole, a neighborhood cafe. Ditto the above.
• Babeland, a sex toys shop. Um, ditto?
• Stitches, the yarn store, my destination.

That's as far as I could go, as I had to stumble my way back to the airport. Stumble because (irony alert!) I broke a contact lens at the eye doctor's. My eyes had been dilated and because I didn't bring my prescription sunglasses I had to wear one contact under my regular sunglasses. Blurry and half-blind, I wasn't in the mood for more shopping or sightseeing. I needed to sit down near the flight gate, have a beer and peer at a magazine.

All in all, another novel day. For those who are wondering, this new eye doctor does recommend the still-somewhat-experimental surgery for my right eye. For those who are now really wondering, I have glaucoma and underwent a long and annoying surgery experience on my left eye that no one wants to repeat. Though the drugs were good while they lasted. Until they weren't.

hotel sinks - an occasional series

Second sink shot for a Friday frylet (that makes it a series, right?) First was the trendy one in Portland.

This one is from that moderne hotel in Tacoma that offered the spiritual room service menu. This hotel, the Murano, specializes in glass, as in glass art and decor. (It's a tie-in with the Tacoma Museum of Glass - arty.) This is a lovely sink that shares the same problem as the Nines sink of the previous post, which is that it's too chic to mess up. I kept wiping up after myself for fear I'd leave water stains. Kinda defeats the point, but that's what you gotta do for art, I guess. Anyway, happy Friday.

Ooh, glassy!

 

life in the south

Well, hello there, y'all (spoken very slowly). Sorry I've been out of touch - I've been on vacation at my parents' in North Carolina and the outside world has kind of faded away. Maybe it's the humidity, maybe it's the south, maybe it's because I don't have my computer, but I never seem to be able to post from here.

Things move slow here, including me. It's hot and muggy. And even when it's not hot it's muggy. I'm always amazed at the humidity, coming from the high desert. It's like living underwater. Everything is limp. Paper, clothes, cereal, my brain, the cat. With the notable exception of my hair, which is having a party all by itself.

Plus I've been busy. We've been cooking, hanging by the pool, knitting, comparing mosquito bites, making huge pots of food, buying groceries, cooking more food, pulling weeds, discussing dinner, cleaning up after dinner, marveling at loathsome bugs, writing shopping lists, reading, making lunch, watching soccer and tennis, stopping at various farm stands for more vegetables, sewing, going to the supermarket and oh yes, cooking. See? Way too busy to blog.

How does anything ever get done in the south? I'll post after I get home and dry up.

Why is leaving so hard?

To those of you hoping for a relationship update, sorry - this is about traveling.

I'm headed to LA for a week (aww, poor me) for a museum conference, which should be a lot more fun than it sounds. Lots of big parties after-hours at various museums, we're staying in a fabulous hotel,  and hopefully have some time off to enjoy ourselves. The only obstacle is that I have to leave town.

For a single mom with pets, traveling is a pain in the patootie. Organizing myself is hard enough, not to mention being gone from the office for a week while continuing to manage projects. But organizing an 11-year old, two cats and a geriatric dog for a week on their own is like planning a military invasion.

I know. Very little sympathy from you all. So I'll move on from whining to packing.

We have five work days including a fairly important meeting, three big parties plus relaxing time. All in a carry-on. I've been fascinated by a slide show on the NYT website in which a flight attendant demonstrates how she packs. It's all about rolling. You tightly roll everything you can, and you fit much more in a bag. She supposedly fits the following in one carry-on for a 10-day trip:

"...three pairs of shorts, three pairs of dress pants, one skirt, three pairs of casual pants or jeans, three nightgowns, three bathing suits, one sarong, three lightweight sweaters, four dresses, 10 casual shirts, six dress shirts, a clutch, toiletries and two pairs of shoes. She’ll wear the third pair of shoes, as well as jeans and a longer sweater."

Hmm. First, I don't think I own that many clothes. Second, she must be a size 0. Third, I frankly don't believe it. And who needs three swimsuits, three nightgowns, 11 pairs of pants, four dresses and 20 shirts/sweaters for 10 days? Are you kidding me?

But I've been carefully watching her technique and am going to try it. Here's my meager collection so far. I just can't find room for the sarong. Maybe I'll wear it on the plane.

What you do in Texas