beautiful, funny, sad and true

Alyssa and I both had a rough week, and needed to get away from our lives for a while. What better way to do that than spend a day at the beach? More specifically, Oswald State Park on the Oregon coast. It was a perfect, relaxing day with a great friend.

My brother sent this to me the other day, and I just about fell out of my chair laughing.

I did some nosing around to find out that this is a serious ad, brought to you by the Washington Wine Commission. They have the same type of ad running in lots of the wine-producing towns throughout the state (Woodinville, Prosser, etc.). Which is fine. Heck yeah, let’s promote the region as the great up-and-coming wine producer that it is.

But Yakima? The envy of France?

Words fail me.

This week’s been crazy.

Tuesday was the saddest I’ve been in a long time.

Wednesday, my friend Lauren and I got together to play music. She plays piano, and I took my cello over to her place, and we somehow thought it would be funny to play weird heavy metal songs. We started with “Holy Diver” by Dio, and that naturally led to things like “Crazy Train”, “Smoke On The Water”, and “Spoonman.” Hilarious.

Thursday was the second tango band rehearsal that Susan, Justin and I had. The first time we played together, it felt really good but sounded horrendous. (Well…? It did. :D) This time, it felt good, and we started to figure out how to interact musically, and what types of combinations of instruments work the best. Not only is tango the most difficult type of dancing (or so I’ve heard; I really want to learn), but it’s also quite possibly the most difficult style of music as well. You have to be able to read music as well as a classical player does, but you also have to be loose and be able to improvise as well as a jazz player does. These two skills don’t often co-exist, and they’re completely separate abilities. So it’s very demanding music. But, oh, so worth it when it all comes together. We’re all super excited, and we’re on the lookout for a pianist.

Friday after work, I crashed for a bit, then went to Susie Blue’s for a really nice dinner. It was a smaller group than usual, which I actually prefer, because I tend to get overwhelmed and anxious in large groups, especially when everyone else knows each other really well. I feel like an unnecessary element or something. But anyway. . .that didn’t happen last night. :) It was really a nice evening, and the food was stellar. I actually had two little pieces of steak, which I haven’t had for years. (Some proto-/ovo-/lacto-/pesca-/vegetarian I’ve turned out to be!) After being veggie for years, fish found its way back into my diet, and the occasional chicken. But aside from the twice-a-year craving for crappy pepperoni pizza, I almost never have red meat. The only times I do have it are times like last night, when it’s extremely well-prepared by my friends, and even then I can only handle it in small amounts. But it was really nice.

After that, I went over to meet John Jones (for the first time in months!) at the lounge in the basement of Jarra’s Ethiopian restaurant to see the band the Minders play. It was a pretty good show, but truth be told, I enjoyed talking to John more than I was interested in the show. We were surprised by Alan Kanning, a songwriter friend who, since the birth of his baby, almost never performs or gets out anymore. But he and his friend Hunter were there to watch the show, and it was really great to see them. Last time I bumped into him was October.

I need a change of scenery today, so as soon as Alyssa’s free, we’re heading to the beach. We’ve both had a pretty rough week, so we’re going to do a ‘get away’, then come back and have a French-themed dinner and movie night. She’s moving in July (!), so we’re trying to do all the little things we’ve been talking about before she leaves. I’m going to be a sad little Todd when she’s gone. We’ve really been there for each other, in a tremendous way, for the last two years. Somehow we bypassed the whole romantic ‘thing’, and just became really great friends. Portland’s not gonna be the same without her.

Sunday, Saussha and I are planning to meet and do something; still not sure what or where. We’ll figure it out, though, and much fun will be had.

After I posted my blog entry on Sunday about that cool house (see here), I did a little poking around. I was wondering why they don’t just put it on the National Register of Historic Places, and have a chance at having the building renovated.

What I didn’t realize is that lots of owners of old houses are touchy about this subject. Part of having your building on the NR of HP involves making it open to the general public for a few hours each year. The ‘general public’ of course, means everyone, and that means the place has to be retrofitted with extra earthquake and fire protection, made handicap-accessible, all of the doors have to be a certain width, and a myriad of other modern treatments. Obviously, nothing of the sort existed in the 1880’s and ’90’s, when Portland Heights was being built, so to bring an old house up to today’s specifications can involve major surgery. This can ruin its ‘period charm’.

And in extreme cases, places like this would simply be laughably difficult to make accessible. It’s on the edge of a hill, the main entrance is up a bunch of steep steps, and I’m sure its earthquake and fire resistance are minimal. If the owners were lucky, the entire house would be taken apart and moved to a more stable location. If they were unlucky, it would just be condemned, dismantled and sold for its period fixtures, or its siding, or its trim, or its stained-glass windows.

I’d sure like to see it saved, and it’s so perfect where it is–with the raised corner room that overlooks the entire city–that I can’t imagine moving it. Modernizing it would seem to be impossible. I wonder if there’s a way to save it and improve it, using private funding or something, so they don’t have to carve it up or move it.

Something tells me it will eventually get the same treatment that the Simon Benson House got a few years ago, which would change it and make it look more modern, but at least it wouldn’t have to be completely destroyed.

* * * * * *

This may all be interesting and everything, but the real story is that last night I cried for two hours, until I finally was able to fall asleep.

I slept until 11:30 in the morning yesterday, then BoringFish called to see if I was okay, or wanted to hang out or anything. I said I’d love to, so we went and got sushi and talked for a long time, which I’ve really misssed. We both love going on little random day trips, so we agreed to take one sometime soon.

Then I texted Susan if she wanted to play some classical stuff last night, and she wrote back, “How about dinner and Bach at 7?” Perfect.

So we went to Trader Joe’s and combined stir-fried shrimp and a bunch of veggies, cheese and fresh basil over little tiny pasta (that I can’t remember the name of. Looks like shells. . .?) SO GOOD. I wasn’t going to add pictures, but what the heck. Here’s the work in progress:

So then we played through a bunch of pieces that her wedding group plays. I can’t wait to be a good enough classical cellist to be able to play in an orchestra or better yet, a small ensemble. Times like last night are great; it’s how I learn what’s expected of a cellist in a group like that.

So this morning I slept in until 11:30 again, and then went to explore down in the old part of downtown Portland, in the Goose Hollow/Portland Heights neighborhoods. I love that part of town, with the windy old streets, and the stairways that are built into the hillsides. I tried to find cool old houses to take pictures of. I couldn’t really get to the places I had in mind, so I think I may have to go on foot instead. There’s a whole big network of stairways and sidwalks up there, so when the weather’s a little nicer, I’m heading out.

I did find my favorite house in town:

I stumbled onto it on a bike ride once, and I check in on it from time to time to see how its restoration is coming along. It’s not, apparently. The house has been in the same lived-in/falling-apart condition for ages. I’m sure it’ll cost a fortune to have it fixed up, but it’s really an amazing place, with huge stained-glass windows and all the original Victorian trim.

I continued my journey around the West Hills, and at one point ended up on a dead end, where the hill was so steep, and the houses so frickin’ high that the only way to take a picture was through the sunroof:

No good ‘artsy’ pictures to share, unfortunately. The light was kinda weird, and I couldn’t find the places that I wanted to get to. Southwest Portland is such a maze of curves and dead ends that it’s going to take a day of exploration, and my heart just wasn’t in it today.

And can I just say that the roads in town SUCK. All of downtown is such a patchwork of potholes, closed streets, and shoddy fixes that it’s physically painful to drive down there now. My poor little car was really working hard today, dealing with those steep hills and crappy roads, and I was getting tired of being bumped around, so I gave up pretty quick.

But there’s definitely a story in the hills, waiting to be told, and plenty of good pictures too.