Tattoos, etchings and Ernie
July 31, 2009
(Sorry, folks, this one’s kind of a meander, but it’s too hot to think straight)
I’m moving through Powell’s big downtown bookstore in a wierdly dreamy, deja vu kinda way, strolling the stacks and digesting the day I’ve had so far: Making art, viewing art, and needing art…or rather needing to get real artistic, real fast, to make sure Ernie Monstrocat has a GOOD home.
Three D&D kids stroll past, discussing what life must be like in prison. “I don’t know why everyone says it’s so terrible to be a prisoner. All they have to do is lie there and read; it’d be like living in Powell’s.”
I ponder this new take on penology as I follow them into the Powell’s coffee shop. Gigi-the-iPhone buzzes at me: Ernie’s new daddy may be having second thoughts. Would I know of someone who might want him instead?
Glassily, with gusto
July 30, 2009
I figured Brenda Griffith would HAVE to slow down this trip–she’s got a hardware store’s worth of metal holding her broken leg together–which would allow me to keep up. The last time we met up (at BeCON) she took two strides to my six, so that I sorta bobbed along in her wake.
Wouldn’t you know the lady handles crutches like a Formula 1 racecar…
But we found the perfect recipe for a great time: Good food, good drink, and three terrific folks to share it with: Brenda, and my buddies Gary Brown and his wife, Dorothy. We pretty much shut down the restaurant last night, and our conversation gift-wrapped a whole bunch of new ideas for me.
Hunting the dreaded yellowjacket
July 29, 2009
So I’m out saving the plants from heatstroke (it’s one hundred and bloody six degrees out there today; apparently the weathergods’ GPS is all screwed up and they think cool, misty glassland is Phoenix or something). I angle the hosewater under a rhododendron and all these little yellow bombers come flying out of a hole.
They were yellowjackets and fairly upset that I’d poured water into their home (don’t blame ‘em). It took awhile for them to settle back down. One or two flew my way but left me alone, possibly having decided that I either didn’t do it or was too stupid for a sting or three to be much of a lesson. (would YOU stand next to nest of angry yellowjackets?)
Dalo’s Kitchen (Ethiopian)
July 28, 2009
Restaurant website
Location: Northeast Portland
Price to totally stuff three people: About $40
Rely on Gigi-the-iPhone, Google Maps or Mapquest–or the address–and you will NEVER find Dalo’s Kitchen. It’s listed as being on Vancouver; it’s actually on Williams just before Skidmore. If there are cars parked in front of the ferociously pink-striped cinderblock building you’ll miss the small Dalos signboard placed AFTER the restaurant.
But keep trying, because Dalo’s Kitchen is definitely worth a visit. [Read more]
Ernie does digital
July 27, 2009
Ernie Monstrocat has a thing about computers. Or so it seems, because my best efforts to dislodge him from my Windows machine have so far come to naught. He and I had a serious talk yesterday about the problem I have with kittycats lying on expensive computer equipment.
He says that, with therapy, I’ll get over it.
In the meantime, finding the mouse (or the digitizing tablet) is a bit of a challenge. Not to mention using the keyboard.
We’ve been going through a routine; Ernie climbs up and settles onto the digitizing tablet, purring (this cat could outpurr a lion). I scoop him off, staggering a bit–this is not a small cat–and set him on the floor. He grumbles, circles around the desk, up the armchair and across to the tablet again. As far as I can tell he can keep this up indefinitely.
He’s adamantly a Microsoftie; Ernie ignores the Apple Mac completely and heads straight for Windows. I suspect it’d be even worse if I had Windows 7 on that machine.
The pictures above make it appear that Ernie settles in on the keyboard and drops off to sleep. In fact, he never actually stops moving, which means he’s introducing all sorts of interesting keystrokes and commands into any open application. Ernie in realtime looks a bit more like this:
I’ve erected a barrier between the armchair and my desk, of FiOS routers, software boxes, pencil cups and monitors. The configurations keep changing, as Ernie so far hasn’t had much trouble penetrating them all. He examines the latest fence, gives me a long look, and then moves the router aside with his paw and shoves his way through.
He plops down, smugly, and gives me his “enough of that. Time for petting” look.
BTW, Ernie’s going to his new home near Seattle next week, and I’ve got to admit I’m gonna miss him. I’m told his new daddy is a very nice fellow who will take loving care of Ernie Monstrocat.
He’d better.
Squeezing 12 hours’ work into three
July 25, 2009
Ain’t it always the way?
I checked my worklist stretching from here to yon and, in the way of all good procrastinators, was so impressed that I just had to sit down and think about it (instead of actually doing the work). Up popped that sage old chestnut: “Just take it one step at a time.”
Baloney. While you’re tackling one stupid little step, somebody’s sneaking three new steps in at the back. I need to take it FOUR steps at a time…
Making the Jacobean Rose (slideshow)
July 20, 2009
A quickie: New piece in the Emergents pate de verre series, this time a small format: (6×6 inch) I’m calling it “I dreamt the Jacobean rose” for no particular reason
Did she bake a cherry pie, Billy boy, Billy boy?
July 19, 2009
Technically, no. But the pie she did make is delicious. Yum.
Robyn and Jeff and I met up at the Portland Farmers Market Saturday (I think I’m addicted to that place), did some breakfast, strolled the booths and stocked up on berries. (It’s nice to have a muscular cousin who can carry berry flats three blocks to your car, right in the middle of your shopping trip, so that you can keep shopping)
We were about to head for home when I saw a box of small, curiously translucent cherries. Regular bing cherries are a rich, opaque burgundy; these were unabashedly scarlet and glowed in the sunlight:
Montmorencies. Pie cherries.
Montmorencies are too sour for most people, but for me they’re the true cherry flavor, and they’re hard to find. These were fresh, heavy with juice and bore about as much resemblance to the stuff you find in a can of cherry pie filling as fresh chevre does to Velveeta. And I had a cherry pitter at home that hasn’t been used in about seven years…
Obviously, there was only one thing to do: Make fresh cherry pie.
Home, home on MY range…
July 17, 2009
Would everyone whose genomes do not contain exactly 46 chromosomes please vacate the premises immediately?
This means YOU, antmind. Feathered friends. Cute li’l gophers and raccoons. Eight-legged buddies. Numerous insectivorous pests munching in the garden, chewing on my books and masticating in my closet.
Mother Nature and I haven’t always seen eye to eye, but this is getting ridiculous.
Ernie the conqueror
July 15, 2009
So I’m hearing all kinds of growly noises downstairs, go down to investigate and find Ernie’s brand new catnip mouse on the floor. It was a kind gift from my friend Kat, who stopped in to meet Ernie and help him feel at home during his stay here. “He IS big,” she’d said.
Big enough, apparently, to disembowel Catnip the Mouse. He was lying sadly in a pile of catnip, looking more than a little worse for wear.
And there was Ernie, as close to grinning as I’ve ever seen a cat come.
As usual, not holding still long enough to be photographed...
The next catnip mouse had better be steel-plated.