Scenes from our last lunch in Portland...
A mosaic at the Portland Children's Museum (PCM)
Fabric art on the wall, also at PCM
A dusting of yellow on a branch at Hoyt Arboretum
One very modern house near Ken's Artisan PizzaAll of the following photos were taken at the fascinating Sunnyside Environmental School in Southeast Portland.
I couldn't resist putting a few Portland pics up on Flickr already. Click here to check out my Portland Winter set. This is my favorite so far:
Six balloons tied to a stick, left on a Portland school playground.
This school also has a medicinal herb garden and a potato bed among many others.
We fly home tonight so tomorrow I will post from good ol' San Jose again.
Greetings from Portland!
I am logging in from our family vacation to participate in Erin's week of yellow. It is fun enough behind the lens in Portland but it's extra fun having a color mission. :)
Join me all week and you can also check out the Yellow Week Flickr pool.
A sunny way to step off an Amtrak train.
Had coffee this morning with the lovely Andrea.
Taken outside River City Bicycles.I & lonely I
twin versions of me do dwell
inside my walls of flesh, my blood
in a rush to keep me alive
speaks & speaks so well.
I & lonely I
roommates in a cell
in constant conversation
& always more to tell.
I leave lonely I
just to get away,
for unlike lonely I
I must live life today.
I go for walks & stop in city places,
where lonely I would never go,
for he knows those lonely faces.
I stay awhile, chat and smile
& then retrace my paces.
Back to lonely I who is always
at home waiting.
For I & lonely I
still have much debating.
What did I do, who did I see?
Was it lonely there? asks lonely me.
Yes, says I to lonely I,
who knowingly says to me
They're not much different than you & I.
They're as lonely as can be.
So I & lonely I
spend the night together
and lonely I says that's how it is,
And I talk about the weather.
Betty's famous string lights
A tree across the fence
Hello Moon
Ever since I saw Helvetica last fall, I spy it all around me. This may be the only photographic record of my spying or it may become a series.
Their Burlingame storeI think my husband might prefer photos to me squealing, "Helvetica!" during every car ride.
Trying to rest and get over a cold as quickly as possible means quiet activities on the bed this afternoon. I finally opened this craft kit that's been enticing me for months, and you know I actually do not remember how my family came to possess this treat!
Without moving much, I tried to vary the photo ops.
I never pass up a chance to put a favored color combo together.
My display model actually fell on to my pillow when it was unfolded. I was quite pleased myself! Eventually he was able to stand up so I could take the photo.
This is my second papercut.
9.9.93
I've never been to Paris,
I was born in New York City
But now San Francisco is my home.
I've never been to your house
And you've never been to mine.
I want to go where I've never been
Soon, before I run out of time.
I look through the Sunday paper,
Particularly the travel section.
I see the places I want to visit,
If I could only find you among
the women of the city, and somehow
get a chance to connect with my selection.
But the days turn by like carousels
As I wait for something to happen.
And round and round my illusion grows
While my life stands put, with my fingers tappin'.
I want to do the things I've never done,
And step toward the places I haven't been.
Yet I work to the rising and setting sun,
year after year in the same routine.
I guess I could learn to save a buck or two,
ad book a destination on a plane.
Bound of course for Paris or Rome or
Possibly the South of Spain.
But what would I do with myself
without you, in a place that I've never been?
It'd just be the same, illusory game
my existence has always seen.
Day after day, my life in its old routine.
But how different and new it would
be with you, and I don't even know your name.
First, thank you for voting in my poll. It will be open until Friday and while you vote, I am diligently thinking of new names.
This weekend we ended up enjoying some long overdue family time in nature at Tilden Park, after reading specific kid-friendly things on GoCityKids.
The ridiculous view of the entire Bay Area.
A cool, crumbling water fountain at the Little Farm.
My cute city slicker who hogged almost the entire bag of celery.
One side...
...then the other = A Very Thorough Cow.
Jeff & I walked on this alone.
It felt really, really good to be outdoors with my boys.If you peek over to the left there, you'll see a little gadget wherein I'm wondering what my sweet, lovely readers think of me changing my blog name.
The fact is I do not really want to label myself as a big, fat, stress case anymore. It's catchy and all but I have been thinking about this for some time. My blog is really a wonderful creative outlet for me and I want it to be mostly a happy place and when I see my url, I don't feel happy anymore.
Please vote in my poll.
It would mean a lot to me.
July 1972
I held Betty's hand up on Christmas Day so I could take a picture of her ring and was surprised by how what stood out in the end was not the ring, but our hands.
The Year Everyone Got Rich and Prices Went Down
by Jessica Valli, 3-17-81
One year, I think it was 1986, every one suddenly had so much money they didn't know how to use it.
Anyway I was 15 and a sophomore at Webster Grove High. I was always complaining about too much homework and not enough utensils. You know pens, notebooks, rulers, etc. I was just about to start complaining to my Mom when she handed me a $100 bill. She said to pick up Rhea Ann and go buy yourself some school stuff. I said O.K. but where did you get the money? I thought we were on a budget. She looked at me mysteriously & walked off to the kitchen to make a batch of cookies.
I walked to Rhea Ann's and explained the situation. She asked her mom and came back with $100 too! We walked to the store and came home totally loaded with bags. I said by to Rhea Ann. I nearly fell down on the sidewalk when I saw my house.
It was a 3 story house. A mansion in my words. I couldn't open the door so I rang the bell. It chimed for a long time. I gasped when the door opened. A butler stood and said, Madame, shall I take your bags to your room? I stuttered yes. I followed him up the richly colored staircase. I actually screamed in astonishment when I saw my room. A canope. A roll-top desk. Everything a teen-ager could want. I ran down the stairs just as my mom said "go upstairs and put on the clothes laid out on your bed." I ran upstairs and was downstairs within 10 min. We got in our limosine and the chafeur drove off. Now my mom explained.
You see while you were in school every family of Webster Grove got a newsletter from the government. But why? I asked. She said, Well the letter said our town was the best pollution fighter, water conserver and garbage patrol. Every resident would get 3 million dollars on the 1st of every year. And what is today? Jan. 1, 1986, I said. Right. So that is why we have so much mney. Well ok, but one more thing. When I went to the store the Eraser mates were only 10c. They're normally $1.59. What happened? Well the government also promised a drop of prices.
Anyway we're meeting your father at the Floating Rib to have dinner. Then we're going to the principal's house to get permission for you to go on a 3 month vacation.
Wow! Where are we going? The first month we're going to ski. Second month we're going to Hawaii & the third month we'll visit grandma.
Yippee! Boy I'm looking forward to this vacation.
So that's what happened. My family went on the trip. It was fun.
Then I went back to school and I still had a lot of homework but I definitely couldn't complain about school supplies.
P.S.
My name is Alexandrea Fortune.
On my grandma's would-be 88th birthday (Saturday, Jan. 17th), I found myself kid-free and husband-free for an entire day/night. Definitely an unusual state for this gal, but I filled some of the time on Fillmore Street. Here are some of the things I saw along my way.
This selection of prose is dedicated to Silicon Valley.
Protest #7009,
June 28, 1993
Today is Monday, blue Monday's what they say. Is it only that way here in America, because of some Protestant work ethic we all abide by, yet fear & dread? You can tell all is not well with the working class; those middle of the road, taxed-burdened folks, who are half, if not entirely, insane.
Walking the fine line of conformity, while there's this illness growing in their brains. Mental health; something we here in America refuse to address. Just look over your health insurance policy, the subject is taboo, the payments are less. Why don't we just up & confess that the full employment ideal is naught but a fucking mess?
We live on pharmaceuticals, taken under the doctors care. From anti-depressants to weight loss pills to pain killers, we thrive on these medications to keep us functioning in this great society. Although we pretend that the daily grind, the work ethic, is something in the name of GDP, that we as a country must live up to and bare.
Mental illness is treated and concealed, worse than porn, yet is is caused by this arcane idea of an individuals productivity from the moment we're born. We speak of family values & the home we must own over there on the hill. We suffer our own hypocrisy as if it were our own free will. While here in the land of freedom of speech, our tongues are muted like a dunce in a corner, commanded to sit still.
The old blanket for Betty's old cats, who are no longer with us.
The photo book I made Jeff for Christmas.
"It's an 'M'," he said, "for Mama."
'
Art for the big-hearted, radiant woman who is ready to immerse herself in beauty.
