Mom had a full day's lesson on a fourty footer (with that enviable wheel) today…I see no end in sight for bigger-boat-fever…
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My file folders for Portland are getting full—
Life will be made easier for Miss Ruby with resources, leash-free parks and services found at DogNose News and Portland Pooch. It's a very dog-friendly area, by comparison to most mid-sized American cities. Probably no brioche treats from the baker, but we can't have everything!
Getting around should be easy: if I can't take the streetcar, light rail or bus, I can always use FlexCar, just the answer for a car-free gal. Check out this virtual streetcar tour. For getting away, Amtrak Cascades offers scenic trips to Seattle, Tacoma, etc. And for good old-fashioned foot-power, walking Portland is rumoured to be easy (only 1 mile for every 20 blocks) and pleasant on your own or with a guide, ranking as one of the best walking cities year after year (interestingly; Chicago, Madison and Savannah all also make the list regularly).
Live weather camera feeds show that it's not all rain, all the time—there is some sunshine. And the climate makes for lots and lots of greenery—the town is fairly bursting with parks and public gardens.
Just as I narrow down a neighborhood to live in, with the help of Portland Maps (a little creepy, but amazing information:enter an address or intersection and have instant access to maps of all kinds, census information and even aerial photographs!), I find another one just as interesting…there's popular and yuppy NorthWest, nearby overpriced but good for shopping Pearl District, hippy-dippy Hawthorne, the eclectic Alberta Arts District, casual St. John's and more. I'm spoiled for choice, that's why I've chosen a much larger city. -
I've spent hours, days, nights, an eternity researching housing in Portland…beware "Roommate Wanted" ads. Requirements such as these set my teeth on edge:
– Female non-transgender-biased roommate wanted for (tiny, moldy) room in attic. Absolutely NO smoking, must be cannibas-friendly (what the ?!??!). Absolutely NO meat. (well, you're not going to get any being that way, sweetheart). All vegan household. No washer/dryer, but (dark, dank) basement can be used for hobbies, activities, whatever. Cats ok, Dogs ok, already have four of each. Join us!-
Right. Sure thing. I'll be right over. -
I've been taking care of Grace three nights a week, we have a good time together and I enjoy teaching her all the things a kid should know, especially if she ever intends to visit the States. She's mastered the Hi-Five; we're still working on the Lo-Five but she'll get there. Jumping-on-the-Bed 101 is going swimmingly and she now knows without a doubt where her "butt" is and how to "shake it". Who says I'm not good with kids? This kid loves me! She can't get enough of "Sharp Stick" and "Fresh-Fruit Tennis"!. I'm gonna be the best Auntie ever! -
The roman shade on the back balcony door blew off a few days ago, during another afternoon of 'grosse vente' (big winds), and landed smack-dab in the groundfloor garden next door where a little old lady tends to her lavish plantings. Looking down three stories, over the railing–Yep, there it is: sad little thing crumpled on the ground. The shade didn't look too good either.
Next day, she greeted us excitedly in the lane—"I have a strange beige piece of fabric! It's so dirty! Is it yours?" (At this point, we're so excited to have it back that I miss the full impact of her little comment.) "Yes, Yes!"
She takes us into her house. IN. HER. HOUSE. Did I mention she's an elderly French lady? Her building is nearly an replica of our own. Only ours is 4 apartments. Hers is still one house. Loaded with original features. Like flocked and flowered wallpaper on every surface, including the ceiling–and I hadn't taken my Dramemine. The glimpse of the stairs down to the cave (basement larder) itself was a wonder: sausages hanging, wood barrels, corked bottles, all manner of things dried and preserved. But her husband was in the kitchen.
Little Old French Lady continues to talk up a storm as we try to take in the hords of antiques, knick-knacks, doilies and general accumulation of more than fifty years. And that was just the hallway. I jump back to attention mid-sentence, translating when I can; but the gist is the gist of a thousand old lady nieghbor conversations world-over: prying. "The downstairs couple are Italian, aren't they? They only come on weekends, right?" and the kicker: "Which floor do you live on?"
"Ah, you're the ones with the unfortunate plants! Tsk, Tsk!"
Oh, yes, that would be us. The Nieghborhood Plant-Killers. Prediction: lugging home newly-purchased plants is in my future. -
I made this the other night, I was so proud I nearly took a picture, I'm telling you: it was gorgeous. And it tasted pretty good too!
Dead-Easy Raspberry Tart
Place a pre-made tart (or pie) dough in an ungreased 9" round pan. Pierce the bottom all over with a fork, trim the edges. Blend until creamy: 1 package (250g) of Marscapone cheese (you could substitute cream cheese), 1 teaspoon finely chopped orange peel, 2 tablespoons honey and 2 eggs. Pour into crust. Bake at 350 (175C) for 15-20 minutes or until crust and top are golden brown. Allow to cool, then spread 1 cup of (smooth, blend out any lumps if needed) raspberry jam over the top. Arrange 1 pint of fresh raspberries on top. Sprinkle with finely chopped walnuts, and Voila! (Refrigerate before serving). -
I am begining to relate to Odd Todd.
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Archway, Haut de Cagnes, acrylic and pastel on paper, 19.75" x 25"
Safranier, acrylic and pastel on paper, 19.75" x 25" -
Tonight is the summer soltice, and a national musical festival throughout the whole of France. Nearly every town sponsors bands, djs and open-air music all evening and Antibes is no exception. Matter of fact, our street is no exception– the Corsican center next door has been playing and singing, with full electronic gear, in the street outside our door all night. Only Bert would pick up that one tune was played to the same melody as the theme song to Rawhide!
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I soaked up Eats, Shoots and Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation by Lynne Truss in one happy sitting yesterday. I want to re-write everything I've ever written; to embrace the poor unappreciated semi-colon, replace double-hyphens (lazy keyboard technique to blame) with proper dashes and perhaps delete a few dozen of my extraneous ellipses (…). I'm tempted, inspired even, to lose my no-capital-letters habit. (!)
