Yesterday I left the office a half hour early since other than inhaling a bowl of soup, I skipped lunch. All the stars aligned with the buses thing and I was home at 5pm.

Since it was so pretty out I changed clothes and went for the regular route neighborhood walk. I saw our favorite neighborhood cat, Tiger, for the first time in a couple years. He was unusually aloof and wouldn't say hello. Our favorite big house has been cleared out and a "For Rent" sign is out front. We've been waving the elder folk living there for years, watching them get a little more stooped and move a little more slowly. I want to phone the number on the sign, because I'm sure it's one of their kids or grandkids, and tell them how sad I am to see that their time at the house is over. Then the playground at Franklin Park was all dug up. The slide was tilted over in the sand.

Winter's coming.

The One About Cheese
This morning as I stood in the dark, waiting for the bus, I had almost convinced myself that I didn't hate it. Then there was a snafu getting on and a stoner kid sat on me. I'm not interested in elaborating on either story. But the net result was, I still hate it. Later the stoner kid, who was young and kinda cute in a Joseph Gordon-Levitt way, fell asleep on my shoulder. I pondered the inappropriateness of it but let it go. I mean, he'd already sat on me.

He woke up and was embarrassed and apologized. I told him he needed to go to bed earlier.

Last night we had about 10 new people at yoga. It's unusual for that class to be packed to the rafters, except for the first two weeks in January, and it's unusual for so many new people all on one night. We were chatting in the lobby and someone commented: "Wow, big class tonight," and my teacher said, "Yeah, what the hell is going on in there?" I suggested that she make the class really hard and about halfway through when sweat was rolling down my sides and I was weeping while I tried to balance on what was left of my spaghetti legs, she came over to me and said, "How am I doing?"

Also my appetite is cracking me up because I feel like I'm hungry all the time and it's always for something really specific: a tub of macaroni and cheese, a grilled cheese sandwich, a half-block of melted Tillamook with chips, crackers, pretzels or any other remotely similar product: English muffin bagel, heels of bread saved in the freezer for making croutons or bread crumbs. The magic ingredient is cheese.

A couple of weeks ago we were at a get together and someone was talking about how great Trader Joes Mac and Cheese is. She said they don't have it anymore. I was at TJs and I spotted Mac and Cheese and grabbed a box. A man left his cart and hurried over to where I was standing and said, "I noticed you've got the Mac and Cheese. That's the best Mac and Cheese I've ever had. We love it and they don't always have it." I went back for a second carton.

This weekend I decided to pop one into the microwave and you know how Homer Simpson eats like he's shoveling in giant gobs of food as fast as he can? It was that good. Cheesy, buttery goodness. I made myself stop halfway through, whimpering. And saved the rest for Bob who agreed it was delicious. Now every time I'm hungry all I can think about is that Mac and Cheese.

We Haven't Located Us Yet
On Saturday Bob took me to see The Darjeeling Limited. Wes Anderson is one of my favorite directors and I always look forward to his movies and make a big deal out of seeing them. Rushmore is my favorite.

Being a big fan, I loved it, but it's not one of his stronger movies. I saw a review somewhere that said it was like a parody of a Wes Anderson movie and that's not a bad description. There were a lot of really cool moments but I'm not sure the whole thing hung together.

I loved the characters. It was nice to see Adrien Brody in this role. I loved the setting and the train. Large chunks of the music were completely annoying. Loved the Bill Murray cameo. If you've liked other Wes Anderson movies, I'd say go for it.

Pumpkin Has Landed
Yay, the pumpkin crop is finally in. There's one more out there that I'm hoping will make it. It's still too yellow to bring in and I'm guessing the temptation will be too much for the bad kids on Halloween. But maybe they won't notice it since it's still attached to the ground and not sitting on my porch with a flashlight in it.

We're giving some away and some I will enjoy looking at on my counter and at the end of the month I will butcher them for food. It's tough being a pumpkin in this house.

I had another super busy weekend. Today was going to be my lazy day and the laziest part was the long walk Bob and I did this morning. I took a bunch of photos which I'm sure I won't get around to putting up until I'm procrastinating on something else.

I think I found a coat. Not too long ago I thought it was a good thing that I could view clothes on a store's webpage, that way when I got to the store, I'd have an idea of what they offer and what I want. Turns out this is a complete waste of time because then I have an idea in my mind what I want and the store never has that item. Or if it does, not in my size, or only in orange.

What are the chances of having a good retail experience downtown? I think about 25%. It's like the store are smaller representations of the good stores they have out in the suburbs. Do I really want to get in my car and drive for an hour for a bigger selection? If you know me, you know the answer is no.

A number of years ago this was all a lot easier because at some point around 30-ish, I was resigned to being frumpy. I felt that I was destined to be frumpy, I'd embrace frumpy and that frumpy was a perfectly fine place to be. I bought clothes that were "good enough." I liked cheap. If it fit, fine.

At some point in the last 10 years I had an experience which I think we can trace back to this trip to Las Vegas where the girls made me buy a Miracle Bra instead of the $8 Hanes sports bra I was used to and I was transformed. I'm really simplifying here but I haven't put on a Birkenstock, since.

Now I do not want to look frumpy and I'm really picky about my clothes which is a huge pain in the butt for a person who likes to shop in a hurry.

So back to the coat. I have paper thin skin and I'm always cold and I have a long cold wait in the dark for the bus. I need a good coat. I went to the department store which was a complete waste of time and made me mad. So when I got back to the office I jumped around online and I found a coat that I thought would work. It's cute, it's in my budget, it's waterproof with hermetically sealed titanium clasps and turbo-wicking under-carriage. I pretty much decided on it and then I noticed it's good for -40°. I don't know. Our most brutal cold weather usually hovers around freezing. We get some gruesome wind. It's a damp cold. But -40° seems overkill. I can wear my bathing suit to work under my coat.

I think I've talked myself into it since -40° according to whom? I'm always cold. This may be the coat that I wear to bed at night. Now I have to find some -40° boots.

Pumpkin Scones

2 1/2 c. flour
1/4 c. firmly packed brown sugar
1 T. baking powder
1/2 t. ground cinnamon
1/2 t. salt
1/2 c. butter cut into chunks
3/4 c. canned pumpkin∗
1/2 c. milk

1. In a bowl, mix flour, brown sugar, baking powder, cinnamon and salt. Add butter and use a pastry blender or your fingers to cut or rub until pea-sized crumbs form.

2. In a small bowl, whisk pumpkin and milk until well blended. Add to flour mixture and stir just until dough is evenly moistened. I find that it's usually pretty wet but I also usually add too much pumpkin.

3. Scrape onto a lightly floured board, turn over to coat and gently knead until dough comes together, 5 or 6 turns. Pat dough into 6-inch round 1 1/2 inches thick. Cut into 6 equal wedges. I usually form into two "rounds" and make a lot more small ones. Mine usually suggest a wedge shape without ever achieving true wedginess. I think if you made just 6 they'd be huge.

4. Separate wedges and place on a lightly buttered baking sheet. Sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon. I like to use that sugar in the raw stuff.

5. Bake in a 375° oven until golden brown, 25-30 minutes.

∗ I use pumpkin from the ones in my garden. I'll probably document how I process them during nablo. Regular canned pumpkin works fine. If you use pumpkin pie filling, you should probably adjust the spices. Be brave and see what happens. I'm sure they'll be tasty. I think the original source of the recipe is Sunset Magazine.

How To Keep A Lizard Warm in Winter
Yesterday morning I looked at the weather forecast as I was leaving the house and there was a possibility of rain in the evening. I actually considered leaving my raincoat at home. DOH!

I decided to bring it because I've learned that in this part of the world, "possibility of rain in the evening" means "possibility of rain in the next 5 minutes." Sure enough, by 3pm there was a driving mist blowing through town. You'd be surprised by the damage a fast-moving, high-volume mist can cause.

The bus was late and it took awhile for Bob to pick me up when I got to our side of the river so I ended up standing outside in damp clothes/shoes for almost an hour.

At lunch today I'm going to buy myself an expedition weight floor length monsoon-proof parka and turbo-dry self-heating boots. I hate waiting to begin with. Waiting and being cold/damp is my kryptonite.

Kiss Me On The Bus
I'm feeling like everything's on the brink of veering out of control. I have to keep taping notes to the wall and making lists to preserve the illusion that I've got it all reeled in. I think I'm mixing my metaphors, but whatever.

I know hearing about people's dreams is super boring but last night I dreamed (dreamt?) that I bought a grocery store in another state. I met the sellers and wrote them a check. Then I realized I was an idiot because I didn't even check the financial statements or work out a transition plan and now we owned a business and we had to move and what about Bob's job? I was so happy when I woke up.

Yesterday I tried an alternate connector bus, just so I can experience the range of options. (Bus backstory here.) I've been impressed by how nice everybody is: drivers and passengers. Everybody says good morning and thank you and a couple times there were traffic jams and the bus would take some fancy detour and the riders would all tell the driver what a great job s/he did. I don't have extensive experience with public transportation but I'm guessing it's not always like this.

Yesterday, the alternate bus driver was scary. She had bleach-blonde hair and looked as if she's smoked 400 cigarettes a day for the last 40 years. I knew the route but didn't know where the stop was so I asked and she sorta jerked her chin down and growled, "Safeway." The alternate bus runs more often but the stop is about a 20 minute walk from the house. I don't mind walking but when the weather is horrendous, 20 minutes might as well be 20 hours. We'll take it one day at a time.

Pour Some Sugar On Me
I think I already have a post with this title but that's going to have to do. I've been busy loading up all my new friends into my Google Reader so I can spend the next 6 weeks reading blogs 24/7. I'm not complaining.

Last night was the Def Leppard Reunion movie and dinner. And it was fabulous. Jenny made cookies that everyone ate too many of and we had pizza and popcorn and we watched what is probably the best cheesy movie ever made. It was cheesy in a way that made you love it. Meredith's review of the evening is here.

Just in case you've never heard of it, Hysteria! The Def Leppard Story is a movie about the band with actors, not a documentary. Anthony Michael Hall plays Mutt Lange. It's set from the time the band gets together through the making of Hysteria. If you’re a fan of the band, you'd have fun watching it.

Incredible sunrise and looks like a gorgeous day for putting in 108 bulbs. Too bad I'm at work all day.

Where Does All The Time Go?

I can't believe it's already Noon on Sunday. I haven't managed my time well this weekend at all. But I did some good reading.

Last night we watched The Wind That Shakes the Barley. It's a great movie with great performances but it is a very hard movie. It's set in 1920 and is about Ireland fighting for independence. Cillian Murphy is really good.

But it's a long movie, it's brutal and people have to make terrible, heart-breaking decisions. I don't mind hard movies but I was not up for this last night and by the time it ended I was cranky and mad at the filmmaker. Plus my dinner disagreed with me and sipping ginger tea, my favorite remedy in such situations, wasn't helping.

We had this red pepper something soup which tasted fabulous. Lick the bowl delicious. We were under the impression that it was vegan but I can't imagine what you could put in vegan soup that would make it so rich so I'm guessing that "V" stood for vegetarian and it probably had heavy cream and butter in it. We're not vegan or even vegetarian so that's not an issue but if I had been paying better attention I wouldn't have eaten so much.

I had trouble falling asleep and woke up in the night with more rumbly stomach and thrashed around a bit. Bob was dead asleep but I heard him say, "Just go back to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning." Very sweet.

This afternoon is the big Def Leppard Reunion get together for Hysteria! The Def Leppard Story. And I still haven't had time to check the tape so I hope it's functional or else we'll have to fire up the turntable and dance to Pyromania, instead.

Cascading Chores
I'm having one of those days where every time I go into a different room, I see another thing I need to do. For example, I decided to bake some pumpkin scones so I went into the laundry room to the pantry annex to get a new bag of flour and while I was there I realized there was some laundry that needed to be folded and put away but first I needed to make the bed (because I fold and organize into piles on the bed) and on the way back to the bedroom, I remembered that I was starting to sort out some recipes to figure out what I want to cook in the near future and I went to pick those up and when I went into the living room, I saw a pile of magazines that I needed to finish looking at and then the tea kettle went off and I went to pour some tea and saw that I was making scones. Etc. You know how it goes.

My scones came out goofy and I think it was the butter. I didn't use cold butter, I used butter that had been sitting on the counter for a bit and there's some bake-ology science about cold v. room temperature butter and how they act in baking which I don't know enough about to explain but enough to figure this was the problem. Also I used way too much pumpkin because the recipe called for 3/4 cup and I had about 1/2 cup leftover and it seemed stupid to save 1/2 cup of pumpkin so I threw it all in there.

They taste delicious which is the only thing that matters.

My pulled muscle in my back is still bothering me. It's an icky pain, too. Sometimes it seems to seize up so that I get tears in my eyes. It bothered me so much yesterday I considered whether I should call my doctor's office. The thing is, it's limited to a specific area and I know it can't be catastrophic since I can do a 90 minute intense yoga class and it doesn't bother me. Pulling, carrying things or any sort of muscular left arm things bother it. What's the doctor going to say? Keep off of it? Take Tylenol? Other than the possibility of better drugs, I can't imagine what I would gain from a visit to the doctor.

I took fistfuls of over-the-counter remedies yesterday which didn't seem to offer much relief. In real life I take about 5 pills a year. I'm not a big pill taker. I got a stomach-ache and finally read the directions and apparently you're not supposed to take that many. I slept fine and it feels better today and by better I mean, it's a mild annoyance with moments of eye-watering burning rather than the other way around. I'm going to assume I'm over the hump.

The Definition of Clusterf*#K
This morning I woke up at 5:30a and heard the rain pounding on the roof and knew the commute was going to be a pain in the butt. I left later than I normally would because I was driving to a friend's. I was parking at his house and then I could go out after work and pick up my car at his house.

There was humongous gridlock trying to get on the freeway and I had a honker behind me. Dude, there are a million cars who all want to get on the freeway. What are you honking at?

It took 40 mins to get on freeway — it's about 2 miles. Plus another 15 minutes to get over the bridge and through the bottleneck at Delta Park for a total of 1 hr 10 minutes to get to my friend's about 8 miles away. I listened to How to Dismantle An Atomic Bomb in its entirety.

I'm not good at gridlock. It makes my heart race. Especially when people are honking. I can feel years of my life shucking off as I sit there clutching the steering wheel. It's not like I'm in a hurry to go. It's like I'm absorbing the frustration of every car around me. That's my super power.

There's local radio show doing a "vote for the band you'd most like to see do a reunion." The only catch is: you can only pick a band where everyone is alive. My choice is The Replacements. They lost Bob Stinson but played awhile with Slim Dunlap so I think I'm good.

But the #2 choice this morning was Oingo Boingo and they played "Only A Lad" which I cranked and it got me through a few miles in a happy buzz.

I saw Oingo one time at Westlake High School in 1980. Danny Elfman had them turn on house lights because kids were spitting on him. Suburban high school kids trying to be punks. We thought we were so cool doing the pogo. This was around the time Suburban Lawns, Romeo Void, and Missing Persons were playing the clubs. Ah, the good old days.

I see online that that show, the Westlake H.S. show is a bootleg and I have got to get my hands on that.

My 108 bulbs arrived and we're scheduled for cold and rain all weekend. Hm. Wonder what I'll do?

Too Much Stuff On My Hands

Even though it isn't November yet, I am all NaBlo all the time. I'm trying to get my page set up and read the blogs in the groups I've joined and started to leave comments and bookmark places I want to return to. Look at me all join-y and everything. Last year when I signed up for NaBlo I'd never left a comment in my life.

Last night we finally saw Orhan Pamuk at Arts & Lectures. For those of you that haven't been following along, I spent most of last month trying to read one of his books and ended up reading a lot of other books about vampires instead. He won the Nobel Prize. The vampires just fell in love and experienced angst.

He was a fabulous speaker - very funny with great stories. He answered a question about the book I was trying to read, Snow that made me want to try to finish it. I should have asked him if he planned to write a book about vampires.

Long day. I've fired up a presto-log and have soup heating on the stove and I'm looking forward to a couple of hours of mindless television.

Update on the government agency complaint: both people I contacted got back to me with what I needed. Again, I believe this blog has magical qualities so I will point out once again, that I've never won a bazillion dollars in the lottery.

Time Suck
I signed up for NaBloPoMo yesterday (Peter!) so I'll be posting every day in November. I post about 25 days a month as it is so it's not a huge stretch but I've started a list of things I might write about in case I get stuck.

Tonight is Orhan Pamuk for our first Arts and Lectures. I never did manage to finish his book (see book 29.5) but I did read most of an interview with him in last Sunday's paper. I don't know why but he seems to inspire major Short Attention Span Theater in me.

Finally as an aside: why would a government agency bother with having a website with email contact addresses if they have no intention whatsoever of ever responding to your inquiries?

Have You Got A Bad Back?
Most weekends have the same rhythm but it surprises me anyway. At first I'm regrouping from the work week and tend to waste a lot of time noodling around, reading, catching up on shows, napping, inventorying the contents of the fridge and making lists of things I should be doing. Then at the end of the weekend I'm doing 150 things at once and can barely finish any of them.

On Saturday morning I did a quick trip to the Farmer's Market to buy apples and pears. I walked away with two giant canvas bags stuffed with Jonagolds, Honey Crips, Asian Pears, Bartletts, some other giant pears and one giant apple that's almost as big as my head. I think it's called a Hamer. I also got some turnips and salad stuff.

I did a move almost identical to one I did two years ago. I carried a bag in each hand and when I got to the car I transferred both into my left hand so I could open the car door and the weight surprised me and dragged my arm down and I pulled a muscle in my back under my shoulder blade. Weirdly, it only hurts when I stand or sit.

It doesn't bother me when I do yoga and believe me I checked out a wide range of postures including backbends and nary a twinge.

It also didn't bother me during gardening. And I'm glad I got out there because the forecast shows nothing but grey and wet on the way. I'm going to have to do the big bulb installation in the mud. I don't mind digging outside if its cool and misty but I hate the mud.

Yesterday one of my main projects was trying to make more shelf space in my room so I can leave my writing projects out in individual easy-to-access piles with all related books and notes together. I cleaned some junk out of my closet and rearranged it and made some progress but still need to paw through some more crap. Technology sure creates a lot of junk. I have all kinds of cables and adapters and plastic widgets and cds that say READ ME FIRST and booklets in 10 different languages. And I'm afraid to throw any of it way.

Bugs
Yesterday we had one final visit from the furnace folks to finish up the clean-up. That's 5 of my days off in the last month that I've had to sit around the house and wait for someone to come to something do the furnace.

He ended up arriving much later than originally expected so once again, things that I planned to do went haywire. He finally left around 4:45p and I wanted to take a walk because it was so gorgeous out. I made it a quick walk and took photos of spiders all around the neighborhood and they mostly came out poorly. I might throw some up on Flickr later. This is the first praying mantis I have ever seen in my yard.

Then I had some food I wanted to cook up with lentils and chard because Bob wasn't going to be home for dinner and he doesn't not share my love of greens and legumes and of course it all took longer than expected and I was starving so I ate some chips as a snack, then I made a salad and ate a slice of fresh baked bread. When my chard masterpieces were finally done around 8pm I wasn't very hungry.

On the bright side: I have delicious lentil chard soup for breakfast. I also have an ambitious list of things to do today so I'll not linger here.

I have one more quick note. I have these recipes out and I always like it when a recipe says something like : Serve with sour cream if desired.

If desired.

Isn't the whole cooking exercise because you desire? Would you serve with sour cream if you didn't desire? Why not say "try with sour cream" or "sour cream is a great garnish"?

"If desired," sounds funny.

Huge Family

For my three loyal readers who don't know this, my husband and I don't have the same last name. His last name is Hughes.

Bob went to a workshop out of town yesterday and he told me he'd call when he arrived and got settled.

The phone rang at about the right time and I assumed it was him and said a very friendly, "Hello."

An equally friendly English-as-a-second-language voice asked for Mrs. Huge.

I couldn't resist.

"I'm Mrs. Huge," I said.

It was a telemarketer.

More Pumpkin

I've been having a hard time remembering which way is up this week. Between the insomnia and shuttling back and forth to the inlaws for overnight due to the oil overflow incident plus the extra time involved with taking the bus, I'm off my game. I slept about 9 hours last night so I'm feeling human again today. I also did errands and my centering ritual which involves checking the refrigerator for bad dairy and scrubbing my bathroom sink.

We switched oil companies this winter and signed up for autofill. They use some sort of scientific quadratic equation that factors in daily temperatures and how much oil you've used in the past and who knows what else and then they bring you oil when you need it.

Historically this has worked perfectly for us and we normally get two deliveries a year. The problem started a year ago with the company we used to use because first I asked them to fill us up in the Fall and they said we weren't ready yet. I said we'd prefer to fill the tank then because the autofill *always* comes in the middle of Christmas when it would be nice to avoid an extra expense. They talked me out of it and then delivered our fuel in the middle of Christmas. By April we were very low on fuel and we kept expecting a delivery but one never came so finally we called and they told us we weren't ready yet.

Like they would know better than us.

So we ordered 100 gallons and vowed never to do business with them again. Now we have this new company and I knew they planned to fill us up in October but I thought it would be more toward the end of the month.

That's why when I smelled oil, I assumed our tank was busted and not that it was related to a delivery. After some sleuthing (full disclosure: our neighbor St. Joe of 44th Street came over and looked at it because we're not very bright) we figured out that it wasn't a leak it was an overflow. This is a photo of the moved pumpkin.

We spent the night at my mother-in-law's again last night and now the house smells about 90% back to normal. We've got another service call this afternoon to replace the broken part and check on the clean up. They've also noted the size of our tank so this won't happen next time. And hopefully this means that we've worked out all our bad furnace karma before the dead of winter.

On to pumpkin talk because there hasn't been enough pumpkin around here lately.

I've brought all my pumpkins in except the oil spill pumpkin and this patch here. These are my best ones and I'm worried that someone might come by and play kick ball with them. The big ones are ready but there's this little yellow one that started late and is growing like mad and I want to give it a chance. I don't understand pumpkinology and why some vines wither and you just bring the pumpkin in and other vines keep going and going. The way these vines are connected, I can't cut off the big one without cutting off the little one, too.

This patch in the front of the house was my joke patch. I just threw them in there to see what happened. It ended up being my heartiest plant.


This vine looks like it could keep going. There are even flowers on the vine.

The weather is supposed to be decent this weekend so my goal (we'll see how ambitious I am) is to get everything ready for the bulbs which should be arriving next week.

105 Express to Downtown
I don't have full update on the furnace/oil leak problem yet, but upon further investigation, it appears that things are not what they seem. I'm going to wait until I talk to the oil people before I issue an update.

Also, I haven't been writing about my insomnia this week because that topic is even boring me but I'm operating on low sleep this week. Last night, about 45 minutes after I went to bed, my dear husband decided that it wasn't a good idea for me to be sleeping in a thick cloud of heating fuel vapor so he woke me up. At first we were going to sleep in the basement with the windows open but after further discussion we decided to go to my mother-in-laws because at this point in our lives we can't afford to kill any more brain cells and in a worse scenario, who wants to be the people who die in their beds because of their heating oil?

So at 10:30pm I put on a sweatshirt and slippers and grabbed my purse and off we went. Luckily her house is about 3 minutes away. But then I couldn't get back to sleep and then I woke up at 3:30 and then the alarm went off at 5am so we could get back home with enough time to shower, etc. and now the bags under my eyes are dragging on the floor.

Here's the deal with the bus. I am now taking the bus and I would love to tell you a whole back story on this but this isn't the time or place. The express bus between Vancouver and Portland is awesome. It's quick and easy, not crowded, nice people, nice drivers. The Portland stop is 1.5 blocks from my office. I have no problem with this method of commuting.

The problem is the bus between downtown Vancouver and my house. It runs about every 45 minutes. It also takes 45 minutes to walk that distance. I don't mind walking at all except when it's dark, raining and/or 40 degrees and that's what it's going to be for the next many months. The rain part, all the time. Forty-five minutes is a long time to wait for a bus, especially if the weather is crap or it's dark. (In case you're wondering: there's no free parking near the Vancouver transit center and there is potentially neighborhood parking but still at least a 20 minute walk away.)

I've been trying it out this week. The afternoon bus connector bus is at 4:40 or 5:25. On Monday I left the office and took the 4:35 express bus. There wasn't a speck of traffic and we rolled into Vancouver at 4:50. "Screw it," I said. And I walked.

Yesterday I was record-breakingly productive at work and barely took 15 minutes for lunch so I decided to leave early and take the 4:05 express and there was a giant traffic jam and we pulled into Vancouver at 4:42. "Screw it," I said. And I walked. It's a nice work out so we'll go with it while we can.

I only have to do it 3 days a week and Bob can pick me up on some days. I'm going to see if there's another route that has a stop near my house where maybe I have to walk further from the bus stop but won't have so much waiting.

Update: Our tank didn't leak. It was overfilled. They're coming out to deal with it. The funny part is that we didn't know they were out there and since the fuel gauge was on empty, I assumed we had a leak. I guess the overfill somehow disconnected the gauge. That wasn't the funny part, the funny part is that one of my pumpkins is growing in front of the fill pipe on the outside and when I got home I noticed it looked moved and I thought maybe some kids were messing around with it.

From the Even More Bad News Department
I don't even have time to tell you about the bus debacle. Well, debacle is a slight exaggeration. That will have to wait until tomorrow.

But I pushed open the front door to the alarming smell of oil refinery.

"This can't be good," I thought.

My regular readers have been following along with our furnace issues. I wandered through the house violently sniffing until I got a little light-headed. About that time my cellphone went off and my dear husband wanted to know how the bus went.

"The house smells terrible," I said.

While he was on the phone I went down to the basement and it smelled worse than upstairs. I couldn't find a flashlight so I grabbed a box of matches.

Just kidding!

I ran back upstairs and found a flashlight and opened the oil tank closet and hey, the fuel indicator was on empty and there was an oily sheen on the floor. [insert numerous bad words of great creativity here.]

I turned off the furnace. At least it's 62 degrees outside. For now.

On the bright side: at least the tank was already almost empty. Better cancel that oil delivery. Wonder what we're in for now. Will EPA condemn us? Will we finally tap that home equity to get the whole thing fixed?

Stay tuned.

Tales from Portland Clinic
Yesterday I had a mammogram. It's not my favorite but it's better than a lot of things that can happen at the doctor's office and I'm grateful I have preventative health care. Having said all that, it is a damn weird procedure.

Every time I do it, this is maybe the 4th time, I think about two things. One is what a bizarre job it must be to spend all day squeezing and flattening women's breasts. I'm sure there are lots of men who would think: hey, sounds good to me. I wonder how many men even have that job. I'm sure legally it would be discrimination to refuse to hire a man to be a breast technician. They probably aren't really called that. Mammogramographer? Radiologist? I don't know. But I bet a lot of women would be uncomfortable having a strange man handling her breasts in such a personal way. I bet there are a lot of women who are uncomfortable having any stranger handling her breasts.

My second thought is that it seems like a fairly primitive process for our modern times. There you are standing with your arms wrapped around a machine, chin up, shoulder down, breath held and your boob flattened to its maximum flatness. (Sexy!). Can't they come up with a better way?

I get my healthcare at an all purpose clinic in downtown Portland. There are a lot of old people coming into this clinic. As I sat in the waiting room, an elder couple got off the elevator and slowly wobbled to check-in. Don't you worry when you see an elder couple and both of them can barely keep upright?

She had a cane and he walked very slowly and carried her purse. The receptionist told them to sit down and they ended up in the cluster of chairs where I was. The man stood there looking at the magazines, I guess trying to pick something to read before he sat down. The woman couldn't get by to sit down so finally she turned around and tottered over to the reception desk. The receptionist asked if she need help and she said, "My husband is in my way so I'm going to sit over here," and she went to the complete opposite side of the room to sit down.

The man sat near me and after a bit a nurse comes out and said, "Judith?" There's a long pause and then she says it again. Finally the man says, "My wife can't hear you. She's over there." The nurse tracks down Judith and bring her to the entrance. The man has managed to stand up and Judith says, "You don't have to come in" and this is an order not a request. The man says, "Oh yes, I do."

You know every night they probably stare at each other across the kitchen table wondering when the other will die.

Then a guy came in with one of those walkers that doubles as a seat (whoever invented that should have a giant ambulatory care center named after him or her) and wearing a hat that said World War II Veteran and singing "Strangers in the Night." He came out of the elevator singing and the staff all said, "Hi, Leo."

They took me back and when I got out of the changing room they asked me to wait until the boob-crush room was free. There were two chairs in a corner and Leo's walker-seat was in front of both of them. The walker was draped with all kinds of bags of stuff and also had an American flag on it. I moved it a bit so I could sit down. The staff was trying to get Leo into a gown for whatever radiology procedure he needed. He had to come out and find his paperwork and when he saw me sitting there he asked if I liked music and when I said yes, he sang "What's It All About, Alfie?" and then the radiologist wrangled him back to the exam room.

It was the best mammogram warm-up show ever.

Indigenous Peoples Day
I thought about linking to some inflammatory anti-Columbus Day stuff, but I'm not going to. I don't have a problem with Columbus but I don't understand why there is a federal holiday in his honor. And crediting him for "discovering" America is a stretch.

But today I'm focusing on positive things like how awesome it was to have my closet all turned over and re-organized for winter. Now I can easily find my closed-toe shoes, fuzzy sweaters and wool slacks. Now the weather is probably going surprise us with one last warm sunny streak and I'll need to dig out the linen slacks again. *And I won't complain a bit.*

People are already talking about NaBloPoMo which is National Blog Posting Month in November where you post every single day for a month. I did it last year and was the grand prize winner. It was a drawing, not like someone judged my posts. I think that might sound ungrateful but not my intention: it was awesome.

I decided not to participate this year. I loved all the extra traffic and comments and I loved reading so many other blogs and making new friends. However, I've got some other projects that I need to prioritize right now and I can't afford to invest that much time hanging out on the Internet. Even as I'm typing this, I'm trying to talk myself into it. Something about the structure of having to do something every day appeals to my inner dictator. We'll see. But probably not.

Goodnight Garden

I've been prioritizing some indoor projects and have missed a couple of sunbreaks that would have been good opportunities for some yardwork.

Bob and I went for a walk this morning under grey skies and blowing wind. When we got home I figured I'd better hop out there while I could. At least it wasn't too cold.

I brought in the hoses and tidied up a bit in front. Then I pulled up what was left of the garden and dug my first big compost hole of the season. I usually dig 3 or 4 big holes in the garden and rake the leaves and apples and garden compost into it and cover it back up and next spring I'll have the same rock-filled dirt I have every year. It's an amazing process.

I always wonder what would happen if something weird happened in my neighborhood and the authorities came to my door: "Ma'am, Google-satellite indicates unusual digging activity in your yard. We have a warrant and are bringing in a backhoe. Then they'd dig up my apples and leaves and tiny green tomatoes and make a big mess.

I pruned up the dahlias. They are still bravely waving their colors in the driving rain and whipping winds. I also dug up some stuff that was finished. At Easter my mother-in-law gave me a pot of pretty purple tulips and I finally found a spot to put those in the ground. There's plenty left to do out there but at least I've made a dent in it.

Now I'm so tired I can hardly see straight. At least I got my cardio in.

I realized I never ate anything so I've got some soup brewing on the stove and I'm going to make some tea and take a break and then I've got to get into the indoor stuff. I started organizing the closet this morning and I'm at the point where's everything's piled around on the bed. I have no choice, must take care of that before the day is over.

Next week I'm trying the bus fulltime. We'll see how it goes.

Photo: Bug that was living on the barbeque.

A Pocket of Cellulite

We celebrated my cousin Jeff's birthday on Thursday night. I took another series of my award winning photographs. This is the birthday man with his record player cake made by his lovely bride, Meredith. If you look closely, it goes to 11. We had yummy Mexican buffet and the cake was delicious and I enjoyed plenty of red wine, which will not surprise my three loyal readers. Meredith's post on the festivities can be found here.


I did not have the best week of my life and Friday seemed to be going in the same direction. I won't write out the whole gory story here but we had made an appointment to get a part replaced in our furnace and at about 8:15a we got a call telling us they couldn't come out until the week after next. After a bit of back and forth, me not at my most kind and friendly, they made arrangements for someone to stop by and re-evaluate our situation and in the end they said it was fine to use our furnace with the broken part. We had warmth once again.

There were some other trivial frustrations and I didn't help matters by taking on some extensive cooking projects. At one point, after a clumsy scooping maneuver with a giant spoon that sprayed casserole all over my range, I thought to myself: "Crap, when is something good going to happen to me?"

About 5 minutes later, something did.

During the summer I entered a fiction writing contest sponsored by Wordstock Portland's big book fair. I got a notice that I made the top 10. My story will appear in a publication for the fair and they will announce 3 winners at the festival. Yay! I haven't submitted anything recently, but I've been doing this writing thing for a long time and have never had even the tiniest smidge of recognition outside of teachers or writing group so you can imagine me bouncing off the walls for the rest of the evening.


Today we went to a wonderful brunch to celebrate my yoga friend Tonya's 40th bday and afterward we went to the mall to see if we could find work clothes.

This is at least my fourth outing for work clothes and I can't find anything that I like or that fits. Help!

Pam's latest fashion tip: don't bother with petites. There is never anything good in petites. I kept wandering around thinking: where are the cute clothes? And I really want wool because I'm half lizard and us reptiles get cold in the winter.

I found three pairs of pants to try on, different brands, all the same size on the label. One I couldn't get over my knees. One I could zip, but it was so tight you could see the pocket of cellulite on my right thigh that looks sort of like Jesus eating a candied apple. The last pair, a higher price brand name, was totally baggy. I also tried on a sweater that was scratchy as if they were trying to make it uncomfortable. So aggravating.

Also, right outside the fitting room there was a TV playing football. "Why would they do this?" I could hear football as I was trying to relax and enjoy girl time and clothes trying on. As I left I saw a man sitting there watching the game. I stopped and looked at him and said: "OH! That's why they have football playing here." And he lifted his arms as if signaling a field goal. Classic.

One more thing: they had a couple racks of something called tummy tuck jeans that made me want to throw myself in front of train. Can you imagine strutting out in your jeans and someone saying, "Hey those are cute, what are those?" and you have to say: "My tummy tuck jeans."

Pumpkin Shakes!

Yesterday was a monumentally crapola day. I don't even know where to start or if its worth the bother. I've been mad about something that I'm not going to get into here but for three nights in a row it resulted in the thing where I wake up at 3am and can't get back to sleep. And for reasons that I'm not going to explain right now I had to take the train to work yesterday and I hate the train.

The trip in wasn't bad but the trip home was less than delightful and this smug patronizing jackass fare inspector was giving this woman a hard time about getting her ticket validated. It had nothing to do with me but he was such a jerk about it my blood was boiling. He moved on to a group of high school age kids and one of those kids didn't have a validated ticket either. As officer fare inspector tried to fill out a ticket the kid couldn't find his ID and couldn't remember where he lived or what his phone number was. And he was very earnest about it. Meanwhile, his school mates took pictures and movies and cackled. One of the kids moved to sit across from me and he said, "I'm going to put this on Myspace." It was awesome.

The moment the train dropped us off the sky opened up and raindrops with an individual water volume of a gallon each began dropping out of the sky. Of course I'm too cool to run but I did anyway and a bucket full dripped off my rain coat and into the front seat as I wrung out my bangs. Then it took a half hour to get on the freeway. I timed it. Okay, I exaggerate, it was 27 minutes from the time I got in my car at the train station until I was actually driving on the freeway.

(Quick explanation -- the train doesn't go across the river so I have to drive to the train station to the park and ride.)

But the day was about to wildly improve.

In the morning, as I got on the freeway, I passed Burgerville and the sign out front said: Fresh Pumpkin Milkshakes.

I'm too lazy to link right now but on this site my love of all things pumpkin has been well documented. I've also written about how I never eat fast food and consume, perhaps, one hamburger a year. But, I wanted one of those shakes.

I picked up Bob from work because he had walked to school and it was now raining about 6 feet a minute and his kayak is in the repair shop. I suggested a little burger love for dinner and he was on board immediately.

The pumpkin shake was FABULOUS. It tasted actual pumpkin-y and not too sweet but yummy spices. If you live near Burgerville, run out and have one. If not, I will go have one for you. The burger was yummy, too. AND we were done eating and all the refuse cleared away by 6pm. I can see the appeal of this fast food thing.

This morning I took the bus to work. I love my dear husband because he's smart and has a great sense of humor and he gets me and even though there are domestic chores that he doesn't care about or think are very important, he will still do them because he knows it makes me happy. But sometimes he makes it difficult not to kill him. At 5:30am as we staggered out of bed yawning he asked me what time I wanted to leave for the bus transit center. 7:00, I said.

At 6:55(!) I heard the shower downstairs go on. I had to double check because that did not seem possible. Nope. It was. Fortunately, he's a boy so he can go shower to front door in 15 minutes plus I had the car running for him in the driveway.

Magical Laundry
More than once in the last 11+ years I've been married, I've told my husband I don't mind doing a majority of the laundry but I don't want to have to empty pockets, turn everything right-side out and dig around in his closet for hangers.

I ask you: if someone would do your laundry under those conditions, wouldn't you do back flips for joy?

Just this past weekend I told him that after 11 years, I no longer hoped for any progress in this area.

Last night, for the second time in a week, I've pulled laundry out of the dryer and a $5 bill floated to the floor.

I figured it had to be magic.

I told Bob about it. I said, "I hope the bills get bigger."

He looked a teeny bit sheepish and said, "I don't think they will."

Roots and Berries
Several weeks ago there was a story in the paper about this woman who was lost in the woods. I'm too lazy to look for the article so I'm re-telling the story from what I can remember.

It was a great story because she was in her 70's and after a big search over several days they found nothing and gave up. Two guys on the rescue team, on their day off, decided to go out and look a bit more and found her and it was like 10 days later.

Her family was at home planning the memorial. When they called the husband, "We found your wife," he said: "You mean her skeleton?"

She was in bad shape but last I read she was recovering.

But that's not why I'm writing this. One of the rescuers or doctors or whatever made a statement that they weren't sure what she survived on in the woods, maybe roots and berries.

Seriously, is there anyone outside of a trained outdoorsman who would recognize an edible root out in the woods? If you were out hiking and got hungry and turned out you left your Tanka Bar in the car and you thought, "man, some delicious roots would really hit the spot right now," would have the first clue what to look for?

I don't have any outdoor training but I've spent time a lot of time in the woods and other than wild onions which I've only seen in one very limited location (see photo) I wouldn't know the first thing to eat. Even the berries part could be treacherous because I remember seeing some pretty red berries in the woods and my Grandpa told me he wouldn't eat them because he didn't see the birds eating them.

I just thought it was funny that the spokesperson thought this lady might have eaten roots.

Nothing to Post: Just Typing

This is a giant hole in the ground in the center of downtown that will someday be an improved public transportation hub. Right now it's just a pain in the ass although I make it a point not to take my car anywhere near this area and do the pedestrian thing so it's not really a pain in my ass.

It rained most of the weekend and most of the night which means standing water on the highway. It rained this morning as I left the house in the dark. So we've got dark, driving rain and standing water. What does that equal?

Crazy drivers.

Zipping and weaving between trucks. A van that needed to get from the onramp across three lanes to the fast lane, right now! I don't know what you'd call it but where I get on the Morrison Bridge I have my own lane, I don't have to merge. The people already on the bridge have a painted "divider" so they stay in their own lane where it meets mine and then have to change lanes if they want to get in my lane. This morning a guy (in a Subaru! Of course.) drove right over the divider because he wanted my lane and then had to swerve to miss me since (a) it was my lane and I was in it, and (b) the only place I could go is over the rail and into the water. Sheesh, people.

Update on Orhan Pamuk, Snow (further explanation here, books #27, #28 and #29): this was among my few goals for the weekend to finish this book. I only picked it up once, last night and I read one chapter. I also checked the page count and I'm not even halfway. Oof! Is this going to be another Fortress of Solitude? I'm not ready to quit yet. I think I can get through it, possibly practicing some speed reading techniques I learned on some cheesy website. I'm snickering as I write that because speed reading means I skim my eyes over the words with about 3% comprehension. Hannah's going to send me a note and tell me to quit. I'm so ashamed.