two things
One: I surrender already. Twitterers, you win.
Two: I want to wish my curly-haired blog brother a very happy birthday today.
(Hint: you should wish him one, too.)
One: I surrender already. Twitterers, you win.
Two: I want to wish my curly-haired blog brother a very happy birthday today.
(Hint: you should wish him one, too.)
I am too depleted to put down any of the words that have been swirling around in my head these last few days, so you all get another one of the posts where I cheaply attempt to get out of my not-writing by bribing you with a picture. Geese, in this case. Or, if that’s not enough, you can have a full moon rising over the desert.
Stay tuned.
I found a nice bench in the North Park Blocks after breakfast where I could sit and read my book. I’m usually not too picky about where I sit in the parks around here because gosh, it’s Portland, the most threatening things in our parks are usually the squirrels.
This particular morning in the park was a little different. The guy sitting next to me, the one with his pants hitched up to his sternum, was telling an unusual story to his friend, and I say it was unusual because it didn’t seem to include the normal story arc that you’d expect or even a punchline, but just sort of kept running on and the teller cued us for the funny parts by barking out laughter periodically. This was helpful, because I would never have guessed those parts were funny. it was distracting, too, but not enough to make me want to get up and leave.
Then there was the lady laying spread-eagled on the grass in hot pink shorts, singing and shimmying along to a song that only she could hear, and that seemed to involve her making gun-fingers quite a bit. This, too, I could overlook.
But I decided I should probably get up and move when the sweaty guy walked by, calling out in the style of a stadium vendor, “Methadone, methadone! Heyyyyy, methadone! Anyone here want to buy some methadone? Heeeyyyy, methadone!”
Why didn’t anyone warn me about ManBabies?
ugh. As far as new Internet sensations go, I really hope this one doesn’t catch on.
On the first leg of my flight from the East Coast back home to the West, I boarded the plane and shuffled along to my seat in the first row behind the first class section. A couple was there getting situated, and taking their own sweet time in doing so, so I went ahead and “ahem”-ed them, and said, “That’s my seat.”
“Oh,” said the woman, “do you mind if I take the window seat?”
When I reserve my tickets I usually request a window seat, because I like looking out the window. Occasionally, I even get some good shots. Plus, I’m not one of those people who feels the need to constantly get up and walk around during a flight. I like my window seat.
But…maybe this lady hadn’t flown out of this airport before, and wanted to look out the window, I reasoned. I gestured magnanimously, smiled, and said, “Please.” Whereupon she took my window seat, fastened one of those cybernetic pillow-devices around her neck, closed the shade, and promptly went to sleep.
Needless to say, I was not pleased.
To top it off, I discovered that my complete exhaustion mixed with the two cups of coffee I’d had in the terminal had come together in the losing combination that left me too scatterbrained to focus on my book, but too stimmed up to be able to even close my eyes. Also, since no one in the forward half of the plane was smart enough to figure out that the two bathrooms near the tail were mostly unoccupied, they kept walking forward to wait for the first class lavatory to open up. With my aisle seat right at the boundary between first class and coach, I had someone standing right next to me any time that the “fasten seatbelt” sign wasn’t on. If you’ve ever wondered what’s worse than being stuck on a plane for six hours without being able to read or sleep, the answer is “being stuck on a plane for six hours without being able to read or sleep and having butts in your face the entire time.”
For the second leg of my flight, I boarded as soon as I was able and seized my window seat right away, determined not to be suckered a second time. I looked out the window for most of the flight home, and was rewarded with a view of Mt Hood as we began our descent.
You can see two previous shots from either side of Mt Hood here.
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