Another courtesy car sits in front of Grandma's house.
A clear message that her vision is failing more than usual.
Every few weeks some one will comment on a fresh strip of paint etched into her bumper, or on her newly replaced side pannel on her Silver Honda Civic.
We know that she is slightly embarrassed by these little mishaps as she will often park out of her usual spot or in reverse to conceal the latest damage....
At any rate, nothing goes un-noticed in a complex so small and established...
Privacy is definitely a luxury not afforded to people who live in such close proximity and who share thin windows with a parking lot adjacent to a group who has little to do with their spare time.
Each small fight, common cold, and laundry excursion are duly noted by the neighbors, and possibly jotted down in a small notebook for reference if ever something should go terribly wrong.
I can see the police officer now, questioning the neighbors...
"So you said you last saw her making spaghetti in her kitchen, at around 7:00 you say? and then she knitted a blue scarf in the living room till around 8:30... Very interesting... Thanks for your help."
At any rate, I hope grandma is doing ok and that she can keep it together for a little while longer.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Best Neighbors Ever
I end up doing quite a few posts on the people who live in our complex, and generally my observations are less than favorable... But today I really lucked out.
I was wandering back from a two hour workshop on digital communication tools, and feeling a bit on the grumpy side from the long day and not having had dinner yet...
Just as I get out of the car I am overwhelmed with the amazing fragrance of Carne Asada coming from the apartment next door.
It was just torturous to walk past, it really smelt so good.
Moments later, Roberto and his wife are flagging me down and inviting me into their home.
Wow... really... that was so good...
And just what I needed.
I hope I can return the favor and get some cookies going for them.
Good times.
I was wandering back from a two hour workshop on digital communication tools, and feeling a bit on the grumpy side from the long day and not having had dinner yet...
Just as I get out of the car I am overwhelmed with the amazing fragrance of Carne Asada coming from the apartment next door.
It was just torturous to walk past, it really smelt so good.
Moments later, Roberto and his wife are flagging me down and inviting me into their home.
Wow... really... that was so good...
And just what I needed.
I hope I can return the favor and get some cookies going for them.
Good times.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Neat Trick: One Trick Pony
So I come home, after a long day of work...
Wander through the house, doing small amounts of cleaning...
And just as I am finishing the latest round of un-ending dishes, I glance at the tank.
Scanning for nothing in particular I land on the sucker fish; hanging half way out of the entrance to the castle.
It looks like a neat trick, for the largest thing in the tank to be seemingly stuck in the castle.
Then I get a little closer... wow, and he's even upside-down in there too... what a jokester...
So I get out my camera and start snapping playful shots from different angles to share with the original owner of this entertaining little rascal.
Then I notice the other fish... they are nibbling on him and he is still not moving...
Then reality sinks in.
He isn't playing... what creature would lodge itself in an opening half its size, upside-down, not moving, not breathing... just for fun?
The kind that requires a large net and a burial at sea... that's what kind.
So suddenly I realize my once playful photos will now be the macabre final documentation of a life of neglect. I am already trying to conjure the words to tell my friend I killed the fish he raised from a little baby for five years.
Unbesnownst to Mr. Suckie Fish, the Black Castle of Death has a bit of a history, much like the Hotel California, inhabitants often never check out. I had to retrieve poor Blackie's disolved remains from that same room only a few months ago.
I start bargaining fast, thinking of ways to revive him, like people staring at a beached whale, not knowing what to do, but wanting to help.
I start showering him with food... Like that will make it all better...
Yes I forgot to feed you this morning, and the one before, and...
well I can't think of the last time I took the twenty seconds that are required to care for such simple dependents...
But in the end it turns out that Mr. Suckie Fish is the one who has me trained...
Awkwardly shoving himself into precarious situations and playing dead, just to guilt me into feeding him.
Immediately upon seeing food, he finished his acrobatic routine and returned to his post on the side of the tank.
Eleven at night and I am waving a knife around while artistically arranging berries in cream.
Moments pass as I stare down at my little creations, planing my next strategic move.
As I finally reach my goal I realize I am bouncing with each new addition...
I get way too excited about these things... and though I never really plan on eating them...
I do like putting them together.
Good times.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Dabbles in Baking: Banana Bread
Recently I have come into possession of a Sunbeam Express Bake Bread Machine...
A foreign concept to a do it your-self baker as myself.
I approach the contraption with apprehension and caution, as I am sure just like Hal, it is out to get me... Waiting for me to leave it unattended and come home to find my gold fish lying on the floor covered in flour.
(though that has already happened under different circumstances...
fish-stick is in a better place now, and I don't want to talk about it...)
So to start off the process I scour the Internet for a decent recipe to start with...
Something simple, basic, and sharable.
I decide Banana Bread is a fragrant pick and would have the added bonus of making my home smell like anything other than dust and burnt plastic. Not believing that you can simply dump your concoction directly into the thing and walk away, I go out and track down the manual... 80 pages of tedious, mind numbing fun, and no mention of banana bread... every other recipe under the sun, including French Onion Soup Bread.... but no Banana bread....
So out to the Internet again, thrown on the whims of bored individuals who came before me and discovered the formula to create my elusive bread.
Through my readings, well more uninterested skimmings, I gleaned one main rule to be observed, on penalty of severe burns and misfortune.... do not open the bread maker after starting the thing...
I repeat, to avoid threat of loss of life or limb, do not open the bread maker....
It obviously releases the evil spirits that exacted revenge on the crew of (insert forgotten movie title here).
At any rate... this bread maker seems like a handy new gizmo that will save me much time and energy...
It even has a timer on it...
Only 58 more minutes (minus 20 min for cooling) till I can throw it away and start over,
cause I forgot to add the butter,
and can't open the machine.
A foreign concept to a do it your-self baker as myself.
I approach the contraption with apprehension and caution, as I am sure just like Hal, it is out to get me... Waiting for me to leave it unattended and come home to find my gold fish lying on the floor covered in flour.
(though that has already happened under different circumstances...
fish-stick is in a better place now, and I don't want to talk about it...)
So to start off the process I scour the Internet for a decent recipe to start with...
Something simple, basic, and sharable.
I decide Banana Bread is a fragrant pick and would have the added bonus of making my home smell like anything other than dust and burnt plastic. Not believing that you can simply dump your concoction directly into the thing and walk away, I go out and track down the manual... 80 pages of tedious, mind numbing fun, and no mention of banana bread... every other recipe under the sun, including French Onion Soup Bread.... but no Banana bread....
So out to the Internet again, thrown on the whims of bored individuals who came before me and discovered the formula to create my elusive bread.
Through my readings, well more uninterested skimmings, I gleaned one main rule to be observed, on penalty of severe burns and misfortune.... do not open the bread maker after starting the thing...
I repeat, to avoid threat of loss of life or limb, do not open the bread maker....
It obviously releases the evil spirits that exacted revenge on the crew of (insert forgotten movie title here).
At any rate... this bread maker seems like a handy new gizmo that will save me much time and energy...
It even has a timer on it...
Only 58 more minutes (minus 20 min for cooling) till I can throw it away and start over,
cause I forgot to add the butter,
and can't open the machine.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Kaity is Gone
After living in the same complex for over 6-7 years I have become accustomed to seeing the same faces in the parking lot on a daily basis. We have the cat lady, who makes no effort to mask her conversations with the local wild life and has even gone to the extent of leaving me notes around the complex in the first person from her cats...
There is the seldom seen Michelle who's name is still to be known. After living next to her for the first five years, I gave up on all contact out of embarrassment that I couldn't remember her for the life of me.
The motor cycle guy, who frequently shows up at my door with an orange extension cord. He is perpetually filling the deflating tires on his yellow Honda shadow and wandering around in shorts with a tennis racket.
The wanderers, with matching walkers and a small corgi dog; emerging from their dens twice per day wheels scraping on asphalt as they chatter their way down the bike path to Albertson's.
The book club beauty who always seems busy and seldom has an empty home.
The newly-weds who have taken residence in my former home. I pass by their window often thinking of all the memories from that piece of my life and end up staring. Each time we cross paths I am lost for words and end up mumbling some incoherent string of words that must lead them to believe I am a survivor of some traumatic brain injury. They are pleasant none the less and humor my weak attempts at being social.
Grandma, who has always been my favorite character... Pushing towards ninety like it is no thing; a retired teacher that has taken on the task of saving all of her most distant family members from fate and misfortune. She is still as sharp as a tack and waiting with a witty comment and Dutch Freeze in hand. She has been a very memorable lego-mate from day one, from making me soup when I was sick, to abducting my sister and forcing her into manual labor without batting an eyelash.
All of these characters have played a roll in shaping my life in these past few years. Though our interactions have been minimal, they have all left a lasting impression on me.
Living next to a complex geared toward seniors I have often seen tenants who have lived full and exciting lives wandering around wishing there was still something more. I did my best to keep them entertained, having parties in the backs of trucks in the parking lot, filling up my gas tank with a plastic cutting board at 4 in the morning, having ex cons tear my engine to pieces and pouring liquid copper all over the lot, large cookouts, dancing in ball gowns in the snow, hunting giant rats with sling shots at odd hours of the evening,discretely depositing unwanted house-guest at the mission, under the premis of gathering information for a 20-20 like expose and having a pogo stick competition on more than one occasion.
They have watched me through it all, just like a reality tv show.
One person in particular was a more vigilant watcher than all the rest, and her name was Kaity.
Kaity was a retired pilot. She was always watching... as a matter of fact, when I first moved into the complex, she was the first in line to greet me. Days later she approached me with a small complaint. She said, "I like to watch people through my window; (pointing to the top of the building across from mine) just to make sure everyone is doing alright... and I wanted to tell you, I can't see in your window."
I remember politely saying goodbye, walking calmly back into my new home, informing my latest couch surfer of the scenario and then madly hammering thick blankets over every window in the house till my home took on a very cave like persona.
Over time, Kaity was a constant... Her little tin walker giving away her approach each time she came near.
We all dodged her like the plague, knowing that if you gave her an in, she would talk you ear off.
One of my favorite instances of this was when I was standing in the parking lot, talking to my dad on the phone. I heard her coming and made a large effort to make it quite clear I was busy. I talked loudly into the phone, "What Dad? Gee, thanks for calling me long distance from Maui, I haven't heard from you in a while..." she wasn't taking the hint. Squeak, squeak... Squeak, squeak... She edged closer. So in my next attempt to dodge the local character I started walking away... it was a phone after all... I was in no way limited in my mobility, on the contrary, walking was my secret advantage over her. But as I slowly walked into the center of the parking lot, trying not to make eye contact she edged closer all the while.
Finally in a move that felt like a carefully crafted check mate, she pinned me against my car with her walker, me still on the phone all the while....
"Do I need a stamp for these?", she asked holding out a pile of addressed letters... "Yeah, I am pretty sure you do. What was that dad, I didn't hear you?" Kaity proceeds to tell me the life story of her relationship with the company she is sending checks to and how they had never needed stamps before... I quickly explained again that they were letters and indeed required postage to reach their intended destination.... No luck, she had me there another ten minutes before I finally gave up, got off the phone and gave her my full attention.
It got to the point that we would stand by the windows in our new home, with the door only slightly ajar, listening for the tell tale scratching that meant she was on the prowl.
I tried to warn my friends and roomies about her antics to disbelief, until Autumn, while emptying out an entire U-haul trailer, had the misfortune of making her acquaintance.
Holding a 50 lbs. box in both arms at ten at night, Kaity took the opportunity to chat. "So, you got some boxes there... looks like you are moving.... I had to move once... " Poor Autumn trying to be polite and just about shocked by the situation... Twenty minutes later, she just walked away and shut the door.
The point is, Kaity has always been a character and integral part of our small close knit community here... And months have passed, finally confirming, Kaity has moved on or away.
I can't say I will miss hiding from her in my living room, or fleeing a woman who has a top speed rivaling an infant, but it is still sad to see such an interesting person leave our little world.
There is the seldom seen Michelle who's name is still to be known. After living next to her for the first five years, I gave up on all contact out of embarrassment that I couldn't remember her for the life of me.
The motor cycle guy, who frequently shows up at my door with an orange extension cord. He is perpetually filling the deflating tires on his yellow Honda shadow and wandering around in shorts with a tennis racket.
The wanderers, with matching walkers and a small corgi dog; emerging from their dens twice per day wheels scraping on asphalt as they chatter their way down the bike path to Albertson's.
The book club beauty who always seems busy and seldom has an empty home.
The newly-weds who have taken residence in my former home. I pass by their window often thinking of all the memories from that piece of my life and end up staring. Each time we cross paths I am lost for words and end up mumbling some incoherent string of words that must lead them to believe I am a survivor of some traumatic brain injury. They are pleasant none the less and humor my weak attempts at being social.
Grandma, who has always been my favorite character... Pushing towards ninety like it is no thing; a retired teacher that has taken on the task of saving all of her most distant family members from fate and misfortune. She is still as sharp as a tack and waiting with a witty comment and Dutch Freeze in hand. She has been a very memorable lego-mate from day one, from making me soup when I was sick, to abducting my sister and forcing her into manual labor without batting an eyelash.
All of these characters have played a roll in shaping my life in these past few years. Though our interactions have been minimal, they have all left a lasting impression on me.
Living next to a complex geared toward seniors I have often seen tenants who have lived full and exciting lives wandering around wishing there was still something more. I did my best to keep them entertained, having parties in the backs of trucks in the parking lot, filling up my gas tank with a plastic cutting board at 4 in the morning, having ex cons tear my engine to pieces and pouring liquid copper all over the lot, large cookouts, dancing in ball gowns in the snow, hunting giant rats with sling shots at odd hours of the evening,discretely depositing unwanted house-guest at the mission, under the premis of gathering information for a 20-20 like expose and having a pogo stick competition on more than one occasion.
They have watched me through it all, just like a reality tv show.
One person in particular was a more vigilant watcher than all the rest, and her name was Kaity.
Kaity was a retired pilot. She was always watching... as a matter of fact, when I first moved into the complex, she was the first in line to greet me. Days later she approached me with a small complaint. She said, "I like to watch people through my window; (pointing to the top of the building across from mine) just to make sure everyone is doing alright... and I wanted to tell you, I can't see in your window."
I remember politely saying goodbye, walking calmly back into my new home, informing my latest couch surfer of the scenario and then madly hammering thick blankets over every window in the house till my home took on a very cave like persona.
Over time, Kaity was a constant... Her little tin walker giving away her approach each time she came near.
We all dodged her like the plague, knowing that if you gave her an in, she would talk you ear off.
One of my favorite instances of this was when I was standing in the parking lot, talking to my dad on the phone. I heard her coming and made a large effort to make it quite clear I was busy. I talked loudly into the phone, "What Dad? Gee, thanks for calling me long distance from Maui, I haven't heard from you in a while..." she wasn't taking the hint. Squeak, squeak... Squeak, squeak... She edged closer. So in my next attempt to dodge the local character I started walking away... it was a phone after all... I was in no way limited in my mobility, on the contrary, walking was my secret advantage over her. But as I slowly walked into the center of the parking lot, trying not to make eye contact she edged closer all the while.
Finally in a move that felt like a carefully crafted check mate, she pinned me against my car with her walker, me still on the phone all the while....
"Do I need a stamp for these?", she asked holding out a pile of addressed letters... "Yeah, I am pretty sure you do. What was that dad, I didn't hear you?" Kaity proceeds to tell me the life story of her relationship with the company she is sending checks to and how they had never needed stamps before... I quickly explained again that they were letters and indeed required postage to reach their intended destination.... No luck, she had me there another ten minutes before I finally gave up, got off the phone and gave her my full attention.
It got to the point that we would stand by the windows in our new home, with the door only slightly ajar, listening for the tell tale scratching that meant she was on the prowl.
I tried to warn my friends and roomies about her antics to disbelief, until Autumn, while emptying out an entire U-haul trailer, had the misfortune of making her acquaintance.
Holding a 50 lbs. box in both arms at ten at night, Kaity took the opportunity to chat. "So, you got some boxes there... looks like you are moving.... I had to move once... " Poor Autumn trying to be polite and just about shocked by the situation... Twenty minutes later, she just walked away and shut the door.
The point is, Kaity has always been a character and integral part of our small close knit community here... And months have passed, finally confirming, Kaity has moved on or away.
I can't say I will miss hiding from her in my living room, or fleeing a woman who has a top speed rivaling an infant, but it is still sad to see such an interesting person leave our little world.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Sunday Afternoon
Waking at 6 in the morning and looking up towards my alarm with more contempt than usual...
Wandering downstairs to find my sleeping guest still sleeping and not wanting to disturb her...
I pace in the kitchen with my earbuds putting away dishes to kill time.
I reluctantly give up on productivity after being awake for three hours and return to bed, only to be greeted moments later, by Cassandra shoes on and purse in hand.
From there we went on to Lucky Noodle, a staple in my local diet. I was greeted by the same waiter I had the week before and was amused to find that he had another blue band-aid from his latest attempts at culinary greatness. I fear the next time I see him he will be sporting a hook, since his injuries seem to be increasing in severity as the month goes on.
During breakfast there were a number of passerbys that wandered into our view. They ranged in obscurity and randomness in a way that parralleled a bad skit from the leterman show. First there was the lawn squeegier, who took on the grand task of pushing a giant squeegie down the sidewalk to remove the accumulated rain. This seemed like a pointless job to compensate for poor drainage and bad planning. After a lackluster attempt to sweep the sidewalks he moved on to actually squeegying the grass, something I was not aware was even possible.
Next up was the random man wearing a full suspension harness that left one to wonder if he had: a) just finished scaling the butte b) He was a misplaced window washer c) He had just been para-gliding around town and landed nearby d) Ejected from a falling plane, parachuting to safety e) was an out of work window washer and demonstrating his dedication to his craft or f) was just making a bold fashion statement.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Good help is hard to find...
After having the same piece of jewelry in for over 4 years I wanted to try something new...
Only to find that I couldn't do it on my own.
So with a skilled crew of friends on hand I enlisted the assistance of Josh aided with specialized tools for the task.
After a few attempts with a pair of pliers, I came to realize that pink really is a good color for me and not to ruin a good thing.
Ok, I realized without the jaws of life I am keeping my current hardware, and am just fine with that.
Making Memories
Standing on the sidewalk with the ones that were left behind, loading G3 imacs into an 80's Mercedes, I turn to the child standing next to me, who is telling me the tale of his latest mistake... riding a bike down Spencer's Butte and crashing hard into the bushes.
I casually smile and recap the situation by saying, "So you made a memory."
He said his latest memory left a reminder down the entire front side of his body, in the form of a road rash that will be on his mind for the next few weeks.
Upon hearing this, I thought of the "memories" that I carry both on my body and in parts of my mind and wanted to remind him to take the time to write them down before they fade like the scratches and fall away.
The fiascos that take place day in and out are the reminders of a life well lived...
So take time to remember...
Glad we can both relate in the fact that we are no longer blank canvases and have stories to tell.
I casually smile and recap the situation by saying, "So you made a memory."
He said his latest memory left a reminder down the entire front side of his body, in the form of a road rash that will be on his mind for the next few weeks.
Upon hearing this, I thought of the "memories" that I carry both on my body and in parts of my mind and wanted to remind him to take the time to write them down before they fade like the scratches and fall away.
The fiascos that take place day in and out are the reminders of a life well lived...
So take time to remember...
Glad we can both relate in the fact that we are no longer blank canvases and have stories to tell.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
My Saturday
Today we finished importing all our digital photos, sent them into keynote, added words to our mouse book, added page turning transitions, recorded our narration, and started on our mouse-tracks to go with them.
Thrilling times...
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
I am thoroughly enjoying my day off to celebrate President's Day. It started off listening to sad examples of Eugene's brightest playing a contest on the radio consisting of presidential facts. After round five and neither of them answering any questions correctly even by accident, I was feeling a little concerned. Some of the questions included, the minimum age to run for president, the name of the second president, and the names of the living past and present leaders. None, they didn't get any of them.
After that little reprieve I headed out to breakfast, to acquire my latest to-go box, that would set my current collection to around 11. So with no real pressing commitments to tend to (ok I am really swamped as usual but can't seem to get motivated) I set about to putting all of my hair in rollers, doing a few facial peels, dancing around the upstairs, calling everyone I know, and next I might just attempt either baking or coloring.
I have done a little planning around my upcoming visit to NCCE in Portland, and managed to finagle my way into a ride as well as convincing come of my colleagues to let me sleep on their floor. This is wonderful news since I was planning on visiting friends and am less than confident I could find my way either out of bed or to the correct building down town. So being on site will prove to be very convenient.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
High Tech Annoying
I spent the last half an hour washing my hair and singing at the top of my lungs...
Fun fact that I sing when I am happy, an event often observed by visitors at the Gorman Motel. Standing outside of the building at six in the morning, with a high powered pressure washer in hand, I would serenade our guests while pummeling their windows with glass-like beads of water... Watching them slowly approach the windows, wondering in God's name what they had done to deserve such an awakening.
Here at the Gardner house, we are well known for our morning antics. I have mentioned before that on one occasion I was slow to leave for work, and upon leaving before me, Autumn headed out to work, only to hear music filling the courtyard bellow to an offensive degree. She got three blocks away, wondering who was being such an inconsiderate person, only to realize moments later that the offensive sounds were coming from none other than our own bathroom.
We often forget how well the sounds carry in the square complex and had never given any thought to the ill effects of such a poorly planned acoustic setup.
So now we try to do what we can to be considerate...
Ok, we haven't changed a thing and instead just pretend that no one is listening.
I am sure my concert this evening was less than appreciated by the neighbors, but none the less I thought enough to utilize my iphone and record the entire event so they could play it at home while trying to have dinner or accomplish other tasks that require complete concentration...
Good times...
I am thinking if I get into the habit of it, I will put out a singing in the shower album, maybe make one for all the people who have lived with me so they can enjoy my incoherent mumblings at their own leisure.
Other than that, (I know, sounds like a full day already) I did get quite a bit accomplished. I cleaned out the car, the kitchen, paid off the last of the bills, and finished my grading. Tomorrow is a planning day for the next term. I am looking for a new batch of munchkins to work with and get to know. Another saturday class is over with the kiddos, and we accomplished making our first book, which was no small feat for a group that I quickly observed had never held a mouse before in their lives. I had to be quick on my feet to remember how to explain the complex workings and remind the little ones to keep their fingers by the "tail" of the mouse and pick it up when they ran out of room before reaching their destination...
Fun fact that I sing when I am happy, an event often observed by visitors at the Gorman Motel. Standing outside of the building at six in the morning, with a high powered pressure washer in hand, I would serenade our guests while pummeling their windows with glass-like beads of water... Watching them slowly approach the windows, wondering in God's name what they had done to deserve such an awakening.
Here at the Gardner house, we are well known for our morning antics. I have mentioned before that on one occasion I was slow to leave for work, and upon leaving before me, Autumn headed out to work, only to hear music filling the courtyard bellow to an offensive degree. She got three blocks away, wondering who was being such an inconsiderate person, only to realize moments later that the offensive sounds were coming from none other than our own bathroom.
We often forget how well the sounds carry in the square complex and had never given any thought to the ill effects of such a poorly planned acoustic setup.
So now we try to do what we can to be considerate...
Ok, we haven't changed a thing and instead just pretend that no one is listening.
I am sure my concert this evening was less than appreciated by the neighbors, but none the less I thought enough to utilize my iphone and record the entire event so they could play it at home while trying to have dinner or accomplish other tasks that require complete concentration...
Good times...
I am thinking if I get into the habit of it, I will put out a singing in the shower album, maybe make one for all the people who have lived with me so they can enjoy my incoherent mumblings at their own leisure.
Other than that, (I know, sounds like a full day already) I did get quite a bit accomplished. I cleaned out the car, the kitchen, paid off the last of the bills, and finished my grading. Tomorrow is a planning day for the next term. I am looking for a new batch of munchkins to work with and get to know. Another saturday class is over with the kiddos, and we accomplished making our first book, which was no small feat for a group that I quickly observed had never held a mouse before in their lives. I had to be quick on my feet to remember how to explain the complex workings and remind the little ones to keep their fingers by the "tail" of the mouse and pick it up when they ran out of room before reaching their destination...
Monday, February 02, 2009
Sunday, February 01, 2009
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