February 2011

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There was quite a lot of hullabaloo over this dusting of snow: panic, oversaturated news coverage, school closures, and the like.  It was, as you can see, quite fluffy and lovely, and the winter highlight for many school children and their parents.  I went out long enough to feed my fine feathered friends and scoop a bit of the chill into my hands, enjoying the particular scent of snow before it all melted.  Then, several hours later, it came back, a movie camera in reverse, giant flakes covering every surface again.   Much of it remains, along with bitterly cold air and sunshine.  Where am I?

Have a wonderful weekend!

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Remember

It’s so hard to forget pain, but it’s even harder to remember sweetness.
We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.

Chuck Palahniuk

Thinking about the Middle East, North Africa, and New Zealand.  May they find peace, safety, and sweetness.

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It’s funny how a three-day weekend throws me off of my blogging game.  Not that I am complaining (no way!), just observing, for it was a long and lovely weekend, to be sure.  The highlight was this walk and learning ever more about this city I love so much.  I also spent a fruitful afternoon in the garden, tidying and readying for the spring to come.  Though not today, our forecasters say we are getting snow this evening, a rather BIG to do in these parts, possibly six inches on-the-valley-floor.  We’ll see.  Just in case, I’ve got the crock pot going with vegetarian chili goodness and a box of my favorite Jiffy cornbread (the cheapest and best) for dinner.  Sturdy food for sturdy times.  What a mantra!

Anyhoo, to the walk.  This is Irvington, probably the most posh neighborhood on Portland’s east side, with Eastmoreland a very close second (sadly, it doesn’t have a walk – how about it Laura O. Foster?).  It is beautiful, with quite a few stunning and truly grand homes, some mansions even, the majority built before WWII, and still looking rather divine.  These two are among the oldest, dating to the early 1890s.  Can you imagine being the one to paint them?  Oy, that’s a lot of detail.  By the way, the last two photos are not actually in Irvington, just in case archaeologists find this blog and decide to start walking.  Pause Kitchen is one of our favorite eateries, a place we always manage to visit after long walks or drives, with ravenous bellies speaking well before we do.  It’s well worth a hop, skip, and a jump across town.  The very last speaks for itself, perhaps, as the hubster needed some bike accessories for the commute, which is going well, by the way.

Not so random thoughts:

Kinetic

A tree named after me…

Proof!

Eucalyptus

Fancy

Making Friends

Spring Pink

Well Trained

Going Vertical

Nap Interrupted

Maker’s Mark

Wait Here

Sky Blue

Getting Spiritual

Pause Kitchen

Gear Up

Happy Wednesday!

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Perhaps viewing these films was leftover anniversary and Valentine sentiment or a mere coincidence, I’m not quite certain.  Whatever the case, they are quite good, yet very different.  I hate for life to be boring.  The first, starring the lovely Vanessa Paradis (again, so soon?) as Adele  and the dapper Daniel Auteuil as Gabor.  Both are misfits, of sorts, Adele hopeless with men and love, and Gabor just plain unlucky.  They meet one night on a bridge in Paris, Gabor convincing the vulnerable Adele not to jump to her death.  As well, he has a proposition for her, to join him in his knife-throwing act.  She agrees, somewhat reluctantly, but knows she has nothing left to lose.  Their act, and the film on the whole, is sensual and erotic, despite their platonic relationship.  The pair is a massive hit, and they make money wherever they go, at small town fairs and big casinos alike – sharing a preternatural gift.  Everything goes south when Adele, lured by the illusion of love with a newlywed man, leaves Gabor, changing both of their luck, for it only exists in tandem.  A bewitchingly beautiful black and white (I love alliteration!) about love, trust, and the deepest of human connections.

Imagine if you could, at the ripe age of fourteen, know the precise moment you will meet the ONE and fall impossibly and forever in love.  All you need is a TiMER for $79.99, plus a monthly maintenance fee, inserted in your wrist (like having your ears pierced, but a little worse), and you will forgo the pain and inconvenience of all that wondering.  Splendid and so very Los Angeles, where the film takes place.  The only problem is that not everyone has a TiMER, leaving some singles to look desperately at theirs, like a stop watch waiting to be started.  This is the case for Oona, nearing her 30th birthday and feeling a bit desperate.  She really wants to meet the one, or at least know that he’s out there, somewhere.  Then she meets Mikey, a good-humored grocery store clerk with a TiMER set to go off in four months time.  Should she date him, even though she knows he’s not the one, or continue to get involved with TiMERless men, hoping they’ll be it?  She decides to go for it, despite her family’s initial disapproval, and, in the process, learns a bit about true love and serendipity.

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Within

I ask not for any crown
But that which all may win;
Nor try to conquer any world
Except the one within.

Louisa May Alcott

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