Articles by Colleen

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Can’t you just hear the Jackson Five?  A-B-C, as simple as 1-2-3, do-re-mi, 1-2-3, baby you and me girl!

I’d like to start with a shout out to our fabulous neighborhood newspaper, The Southeast Examiner.  It’s a neat publication of, as you would imagine, all things local.  It’s always worthy of an afternoon.  One of my favorite sections has listings of fun activities in the area.  Without it, we would not be here today, or, for that matter, out at that fine square dance, for both were found there.    I also scored a 10% off coupon for one of our favorite wine shops Mt. Tabor Fine Wine, getting a delicious Toro Albala 1982 PX Sherry.  We had a glass at Genoa (a phenomenal meal in celebration of our 17th(!) wedding anniversary a few weeks back) and liked it so much that a bottle had to be procured.  Unlike any other sherry I’ve tried, it’s very dark, starts out tasting like a port but finishes like a sherry.  Delicious.

Anyhoo, to today’s topic.  Last Sunday, when the weather was utterly fine, unlike the steady drizzle of today (good for pulling weeds and spreading bark mulch, however), we got up early and rode our bicycles to the Viking Pancake Breakfast.  It’s been listed in the Examiner for ages but this was our first time giving it a try. It’s located in the basement of the Norse Hall (no surprise there, I hope), a fine building erected in the late 1920’s.

It’s kitschy and lovely and filled with sweet people of all ages noshing on crepe-like pancakes with berry compote, the breakfast links of my childhood, fresh strawberries and cantaloupe, orange juice, and a bottomless cup of coffee or tea, if you so choose, all for $6.  We loved every bite and moment.  One of the highlights was the cute gentleman serving coffee and telling joke after joke about a funny couple named Helga and Olaf.  We’ll definitely be back and maybe upstairs, too.  They also have dances!  Square dances sometimes.  Yippee!

After all of that eating and drinking, and because it was so lovely out, we took full advantage of the weather, riding south on the Esplanade and Springwater trail to Sellwood, then back north, and home.  It really could not have been a finer day.

Happy Father’s Day!

Happy Birthday Bridget!

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Well, actually, I should say that I prefer his films of this era, because I still think he’s pretty terrific as a person.  He seems like a good guy: affable, likable, decent, and any time I’ve seen him on Ellen he’s been game for pretty much anything.  As a matter of fact, he’s probably the best celebrity I’ve seen play Humdinger, so there.  I’m just not crazy about the movies he’s made lately.

It all started with his breakout role in Swingers, and Trent, of course.  He’s ballsy, a natty dresser with a cool car (a 1964 Mercury Comet), and the best cheerleader of a friend any fella could ask for.  He’s got so many great lines that, at least for me, never get old:

” Baby, you’re so money and you don’t even know it!”

“You take yourself out of the game; you start talking about puppy dogs and ice cream, and of course it’s going to end up on the friendship tip.”

“I don’t want you to be the guy in the PG-13 movie everyone’s *really* hoping makes it happen.”

Then, in what I consider his best year of film, he played what I now realize is kind of the serial killer version of Trent in Clay Pigeons.  He’s Lester Long (the name does have a killer ring to it), a guy’s best friend, with an edge, though he’s decked out in western wear gear this time (come square dancing!).

In A Cool Dry Place, he’s divorced and raising his son in a small Kansas town when life gets complicated by a new romance, a life changing job offer, and the return of his ex wife. 

Return to Paradise pairs him with Joaquin Phoenix again (he’s the Clay of Clay Pigeons), in a rather sad tale of good times gone bad.  A trio of men meet in Malaysia, do a lot of partying and drugs, before two return home.  Unfortunately, they leave their drugs and the third, played by Phoenix, is accused of drug trafficking as a result.  Two years go by and they are contacted and asked to go to jail in order to prevent the third from being hung for his “crime.”  It’s a beautiful tale, one that asks some pretty interesting questions, too.

So Vince, since I know you read my wildly popular blog, how about some more 1998?  It would make this fan very happy!

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Ordinary

Never get so fascinated by the extraordinary that you forget the ordinary.

Magdalen Nabb

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I’m feeling pretty grateful Under a Red Roof today.  I received some super kind comments about yesterday’s post,  was treated to an awesome early birthday lunch at Stickers, one of my favorite places, by Petra, my friend, boss, and naturopath extraordinaire.  I received a super sweet card and gift subscription to Sunset Magazine from the best and most hardworking financial adviser we could ask for, Sean Stansfield (call him – he’s terrific!), and am loving our new fly through bird feeder with the help of my favorite Backyard Birdshop employee, Laura.  It is clearly a day for soaking up the love and caring of the generous people in my life.  Thanks everybody – your sweet ways go straight to my heart!

Add to that, the veritable cherry on the top, last night we went to our first square dance, or at least first square dance since being the age of single digits some thirty years ago, that is.  As you can see from all of the smiling, it was mighty fun, too.  A come, as you are affair, minutes from home, we twirled, stomped, did more than one do-si-do, held hands, laughed, whooped, and hollered more than I can ever recall.  We can’t wait to put on our Western wear duds and do it again.

Many thanks to the mighty talented Rabbit Foot String Band, Paul Silveria and his fine and instructive calling, and all the friendly, happy dancers, especially Etienne and the really tall guy who kept us all on track.  We’ll be seeing you!

Well friends, I have what is surely the last of the peony photos this year and a broken record alert!  Aren’t they pretty?  Aren’t they pretty?  Well they are, and these two smell quite lovely, too.  Yes, yes they do.  We also managed to get two dry days in a row to enjoy them, but the clouds are rolling in, and I’m pretty sure that means Mr. Rain will be up to his old tricks in no time, which is okay.  The little break of sun was enough to tide me over until next time.

I have no clever segue way to what comes next.  I’ve been thinking a lot about what it is that I want and how to get it.  I came to a conclusion that probably should have been obvious, but wasn’t, but now that I’ve made it, I feel as though I’ve been hit over the head with a hammer in a Bugs Bunny cartoon.  Yet, instead of stars, I am seeing what I do with greater clarity than ever before.

I have never called myself a writer.  I have always said, “I’ve written a book,” or “I’ write a blog.”  In some ways, I didn’t want to pigeon-hole myself in the “I am not what I do” way because I feel I am so much more than a single word.  I also didn’t think I deserved the title of Writer without being published.  Yet, in this way, I believe I have been selling myself short, for who will believe I am a writer, especially one who is worthy of publication, if I don’t?  It also diminished my work, made it less important.  Well, dang it, it IS important, even if only to me.

So, a change.  A “this is it” moment:  I, Colleen Sohn, am a writer.  Gosh, I got weepy typing that last sentence.  I am a writer.  I wrote a novel that I hope to get published one day.  I write a blog.  I write poems.  I dream up worlds.  Words dance in my mind and through my finger tips.  They are alive, just like me and you.

That felt good.  Thanks for reading.  I love sharing my writing with you!

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