Crap. Yesterday was Mother's Day. That means today is Bad Mother's Dayagain! Our day, ladies. So I forgot for a few years. Ok! OKKKK! Five. Come on. Five little years and you're all weepy? Geeze! Whatdoyawantfromme? Flowers? Not gonna happen. When did any of you ever send me flowers? That's right. NEVER. Fergetaboutit. Get yer own.
On the other hand, if you are the child of a bad mother and yet, in spite of that, are still such a generous and thoughtful person that even now you want to send your bad mother a gift, I am here to help. Here a few sure fire gift suggestions for you:
1) Buy something on sale at the dollar store or thrift shop. It will make yer mama proud seein how frugal you are. After all, it was she who taught you that a penny saved (by not spending it on you) was a penny earned (that she could spend on herself).
2) Can't take her out to dinner on The Big Day? Send her a box of instant mac n cheese. She'll be feasting in a matter of minutes. Plus you'll get credit for being thrifty. (see #1)
3) Send her a bouquet of dandelions. She never seemed to notice when you picked them for her when you were a kid. They're so beautiful and will go nicely with dinner. (see #2) And if you don't send her the mac n cheese (see #2 again), she can eat them.
Nothing says it better than dandelions source: http://sparkingsynapse.com
While, officially, we "launched" a couple of weeks ago, LA really marks the beginning of the trip. Oregon is family. The airbnb place we're renting belongs to a woman in the movie business .... set design etc.. The decor here is a cross between 1930's thrift store chic and its dumpster out back. M. Lee, who is more kindly disposed to the display, describes it a prop warehouse. I'm sure he's right. Why else stuff some twenty dilapidated plaid suitcases of various bright colors under the bed? And the rooms are stuffed with everything from ancient phones, croquet sets, movie posters, animal skins, dishes, neon hotel signs, typewriters, cameras, antiquish bathroom scales, tennis racquets, spent bullets, rusty old coffee cans and lanterns to a wall of framed paint-by-numbers landscapes. In a word, crammed. Drives me not so quietly crazy which drives him crazy.
Our first day here, right off the plane, we took his mom to her favorite thrift store, a chain called Council Thrift. She found a white jacket she really liked and put it on to get M.'s opinion before buying it then went off to the cashier, still wearing it, and purchased her own coat, still in hand, for the grand price of five bucks. Later, realizing what she'd done, she was mortified. Luckily, she's a good sport because we're getting a lot of mileage out of it.
Off to Disney Land
And tomorrow we "do lunch" with Thea Bella, her gorgeous, green-haired, 15 year-old sister, mom and dad. They are, at this moment, en-route to Disney Land. Lucky for us, our paths just happen to cross because the next day we leave for Istanbul.
We're launched and, sadly, that means the Bird Park is closed. Of course, the house sitter keeps one seed tube filled for the little birds but it's too much to ask anyone to do what I do. Damn. Just when it was getting interesting. Maggie Magpie had become comfortable with me being out in the yard with her and Charlie the crow was dropping by mid-morning for his own, private snack. He selected a spot as far away from the main area in the Bird Park as possible, a section of fence under the trees right outside the kitchen window, and from there called until I came out and gave him his peanuts. If we were around more, no telling how this might develop. In summers past he'd perch on the fence opposite my office window, where the main area in Bird Park is located, and pitch his case. That bird can sweet talk. But now we're gone. I'm sure Maggie will keep an eye on things. She always shows up within a day of our return.
Pizza night
But now we're on the road. Of course, as usual, we're starting our adventure in Portland. Gotta see the gkids. The other day four-year old Leo took us to Reed Canyon, a lovely little ravine on the campus of Reed College which is, to Reed's credit, still quiet enough to support nesting ducks and geese. As for Thea, she is currently learning about the universe in kindergarten science class and has "definitely decided, no doubt about it," that I am an alien.
The crows are dining at the Bird Park this morning. Minerva and I are delighted. They are our honored guests, well not guests, members, honored members. We've been home since January and only recently have they've decided to trust us. They stop by briefly almost every morning now. The fellow munching kibble on the little plastic table is actually much bigger and cooler then he appears here. I took this photo with my cellphone. I don't have a "real" camera at the moment. As I mentioned in the previous post, M. Lee has taken over the Sony. I will have a camera for the trip, a Panasonic Lumix, but it's currently en route to his mom's place in Oregon as we are now in the final countdown and will be going there first. How do they say it when they're launching a space shuttle? T-minus? Around here it is now T-minus 9. I'm already missing my birds.
My old camera is haunted. Playback shows videos that aren't there. Today I turned the camera over to M. but he found nothing. Then okay. I must have downloaded them and then forgot I did. I'll go with his diagnosis ... remnant thumbnails, phantoms. So it goes. Like dreams that return to haunt you during the day. Strange memories connected to nothing. I've never gotten along with this particular camera anyway, a Sony Cyber-shot. It takes ok photos but I don't like the way it interacts with my computer and I hate the Sony PlayMemories Home software. Now, M. is taking it and I am getting a Lumix. I liked the Lumix I had before, the one I wore out. The Sony and I were just enemies from the start. Sometimes it's like that.
Currently M. Lee is putting together our next trip. We'll be gone at least five months so it's a rather complicated itinerary. Besides juggling travel times and ticket prices, he has to find and rent airbnb apartments in nine different cities in seven different countries. He begins each city by researching neighborhoods and setting some basic parameters like price range, dates, keywords etc. Then he enters the labyrinth.
He studies the photos, reads the reviews, google-walks the streets, checks access to public transportation, finds the supermarkets, farmer's markets, parks, museums etc. etc. We stay at least a month in some of these places so these things matter. It's hard on him but I will say this. He comes up with some kick ass plans. He began researching for this trip in January, right after we got home from Thailand. Thus far he claims to have studied over 3000 apartments. Once he does narrow it down to his top picks, he corresponds with the owners because, of course, we always have questions .... bed size, they never mention bed size, internet speeds, noise factor, kitchen, laundry and so on. What they do say is cozy. They all say cozy as though cozy says it all and is all anyone needs to know about anything. That word is now blacklisted around here. And don't sneak it into the conversation as acogedor, douillet or gemütlich. In any language, cozy is still very annoying.
And finally, after all that, we go over the best of picks together and settle on our favorites. Then, and only then, he makes an offer. Sometimes it's accepted, sometimes not. There may be more negotiation, if not, it's back to the list. Only Paris remains on the table but we won't be there until September so it can wait. I want to write, "Paris can wait". It's satisfying to be dismissive of Paris as Paris is so full of itself, but that would mean using the word Paris twice in the same sentence which, to my way of thinking, is somewhat clumsy and a bit obvious so I went with the word it which, perhaps, is even a bit more dismissive of Paris and, even though I like Paris (M. hates it), I like that because, like I said, Paris is full of itself. That sentence, you might notice, is an homage to my new favorite comedian Stewart Lee. But I digress. We leave in a month. The house sitter would be happy if we left tomorrow, but there is so very much to do between now and then.
In mathematics you don't understand things, you just get used to them." - John von Neumann
She ambles out on stage to a dark house and stands a moment gazing into the gloom. It is the night sky. It is the bottom of the sea. It is where lost dreams gather and discuss amongst themselves what could have been. She listens then turns and walks off stage. One light slowly comes up on the curtain. It parts.
