“Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men.”

— Zora Neale Hurston, “Their Eyes Were Watching God”

Seriously, that was in my folder this morning. Thank you, Marietta!

Yesterday my daughter and I went…

* shoe shopping at Macy’s (work shoes for me, two pairs)

* to Finnegan’s Toy Store

* then had a nice lunch at Southpark Restaurant (warm spinach salad with peppers & sliced chicken breast; grilled cheese & fries)

* to the art museum, where we saw Much Interesting Art and no, I won’t review it. I hate reviewing art, it’s impossible for me. Then we saw them setting up in the courtyard for Fancy Wedding the Nekkid Neighbors would be attending later in the afternoon. Fancilly clothed and shod. (Is fancilly a word? Apparently not.)

* next? We took the bus home. The bus. (We always take the train when we go downtown, or drive.) (I love my car, even though it costs sixty bucks to fill the tank.) I apparently have not taken the bus in two years because that is how long the transit mall has been relocated to 3rd and 4th avenues downtown. There we are on the extremely-crowded train, minding our own beeswax, when “EVERYONE OFF THE TRAIN! You have to take a shuttle.” That’s right. Steel Bridge is closed for three weeks, so on this side of town you have to take MAX to the Convention Center, shuttle downtown and hope for the best. We decided to walk across the lower deck of the bridge, which is still open. Minding our own beeswax then “EVERYONE OFF THE BRIDGE! NOW! WE’RE RAISING IT!” For two stupid sailboats. If you like sailboats, well I’m sorry. But sailboats are stupid and too tall. Go buy yourself a speedboat and pay $400 for gas, why don’t you?

* Now, here’s a funny story for you that has nothing to do with any of this, except for the taking the bus part of it. When I was in college at Portland State (in downtown Portland, Oregon) I used to have to take the bus everywhere and my life sucked. Well, I had a nice boyfriend who had a car. Actually, he had a car and a Ford pick-up, plus all of his friends had speedboats and took us out on the river whenever we wanted, so don’t bother feeling too bad for me. He drove me everywhere, but I did mostly take the train and the bus to and from university.

One morning, bright and early, I get on the bus. Here comes this guy I know from school, getting on the bus, too. He was my friend’s older brother, I think? Or cousin? (Details fuzzy, sorry.) Next stop, here come the cops, getting on the bus, too. The guy spots them, starts pulling drugs out of his pockets and strewing them around on the floor of the bus. Blond hash. (How do I know it was blond hash? Here, I’ll pretend I’m a police: “…which I recognized to be hash, specifically blond hash, because of police trainings I have attended.”)

Seriously. I mean — a lot of hash, all over the floor of the bus. The bus driver was all, I am not even here today. I called in sick. Everyone around me dive-bombed it and stuffed it in their pockets. Except me, because hello, police? And what do you think I am, a dope fiend or something? Not hardly. But everyone around me was. When the police got on the bus — no drugs. So they couldn’t very well hold him, could they?

Northeast Portlanders are so helpful and friendly, no? That was probably the most interesting time I’ve ever had on the bus. Then there was the best graffiti I’ve ever seen at a bus stop:

The door to Hell
is in your living room
under the carpet
Ha Ha Ha
Ha Ha
Ha

That was pretty good, too. Happy Sunday!

love,

wm

ps — this site is funny, go check it out.