Quote of the day

"He'll never be able to wash that mayonnaise stain out of his reputation. Ever." (Chris)

Today I am dropping my son (who fortunately survived the night, but it was a crapshoot as to which one of us was going to, if either) off at daycare and getting my hair cut. And having coffee. Of course.

Ponderings from an afternoon out

• Upon pondering my neighbor's fig tree, I now understand completely why that biblical story about the fig leaf covering one's manbits is the case, as opposed to using, like, an oak leaf.
  
• Nag Champa is the only incense that doesn't make me have massive headaches. I have no idea why that is. (To that end, I bought some. And a shoulder bag. Of course, the neighbors will probably think we smoke pot now, but I don't particularly care.)
  
• I got a haircut, too, but then I got drenched in the rain, so it doesn't look as good as it did when I left the store.
  
• What is the difference between a regular bookstore and a "women's bookstore"?
  
• I am terribly addicted to used CDs.
  
• The blueberry pancakes at the Cup and Saucer Cafe (SE 35th and Hawthorne) are wonderful, and huge, and also structurally unstable due to the large number of blueberries contained inside.
  
• "I colour the sky with you/I let you choose the blue." (Damn, that's a good line.)
  
• I got a very confusing form involving some class action suit that I'm apparently involved in due to at some point sending money by Western Union. I don't understand this at all. (I'm on the 'getting money' side, not the 'paying money' side, so it's all good.)
  
• But on the way home I came up with the perfect beginning for something I was struggling with earlier.
  
• Do not rub up against a giant rainsoaked bush. It is always less damp to go entirely around foliage.
  
• Apple's doing a Powerbook/iBook battery recall.
  
• I found the place on Hawthorne where they do drop-in knitting lessons. Now if I can get over my feelings of abject stupidity at being unable to master a given skill (I am like, the worst kinesthetic learner in the world. I am about as coordinated as a box of rocks. I think I worked three days on an assembly line and just cracked. Seriously, I have a lot of trouble with this, and my perfectionist tendencies don't make it any easier.) I might even go in. I want to make pretty stripey socks. :P
  

whether weather wander I

I was going to do pictures of my day today, but none of them turned out. So in lieu of photographic evidence you'll have to take this shot at a creative nonfiction essay. Mind, I don't generally write creative nonfiction anything, so take that into account.

It's a short walk between my apartment and the bus stop - only four blocks - and it's raining, of course, because it's Portland and springtime and rain is a part of being here. Apparently I was born a typical Pacific Northwesterner without knowing it - I think nothing of venturing out in sandals and jeans, no umbrella. The sweater isn't even waterproof.

It's pouring - dogs and cats and ocelots (oh my!) falling from the sky and swmming past me. Some of the puddles are up over my ankles. As I'm walking I'm listening to 'Alone in Kyoto' and realizing that this song is the perfect song for this moment; the background blends in with the cars as they travel past in wet swathes, and there's something about the tempo that invites walking.

My glasses are blurry with water droplets; I have no tissues. I keep walking.

And then - this is the interesting part, even for this temperate rainforest and its fantastically unpredictable weather - I see my shadow ahead of me on the walk. But it's still raining. And no half-hearted sunshower, either, this is the real deal; huge, hard, stinging drops of rain that bounce up off the pavement like silver bullets that long for the skin of a werewolf.

This continues for another block and a half in an impossibly Janusian manner - the sun behind me, the rain pouring down my face, and Air on the stereo. It doesn't let up until I'm actually standing at the bus stop - it leaves reluctantly, the grey clouds passing over the train yards beyond.

I shake my head like a dog - a very handy way to dry off, incidentally - and wait for the bus.

Even more remarkable: there are no rainbows, all afternoon; I watched out the window for them while I was travelling. Not one.