Yeah, we’re watching a lot of play-off games over here for the Stanley Cup. Swear to God if the Rangers don’t win this game (they’re down now — score is 5-2, Washington, in the last four minutes of the third period aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Dubi, Dubi, Dubi… And their coach is in the frickin’ penalty box for the whole game)… (why? you ask? Why is their coach in the penalty box — not even box. Room. He’s in the penalty room — well. Because a fan spit on the bench personnel and went all homophobic, and the coach squirted water in his face. Then threw a water bottle at him or something, so what? If someone is being all homophobic and spitting at you, don’t you have the right to throw something at them? Especially if it’s a corn dog, or a water bottle? I would say so.)

Hockey God, happy as hell: “You don’t see that in basketball. They don’t even carry sticks in basketball.” (Yeah, we’re watching the Blazers later, Rip City guys, c’mon…)

Anyway. Final score: Washington Capitals, 5, Rangers 3. Harsh toke of a game. See ya for game 7. (Edited at 9 p.m. to say — another harsh toke. My Blazers lost.)

My Pens wrapped it up yesterday, though, so I’m happy about that. Here are my two favoritest ads from the season…

“As Dorothy Zbornak, Arthur seemed as caustic and domineering as Maude. She was unconcerned about the similarity of the two roles. ‘Look — I’m 5-feet-9, I have a deep voice and I have a way with a line,’ she told an interviewer. ‘What can I do about it? I can’t stay home waiting for something different. I think it’s a total waste of energy worrying about typecasting.'”

— quoted in The New York Times, 4/25/09

Do you need a simple quote, in honor of Earth Day? Sure, why not.

“Live simply that others may simply live.” — Elizabeth Seaton

Ahhhhh… There. Don’t you feel better?

Seriously, I wanted to do something Important and Significant for Earth Day, but you know where I found myself? Driving the kids to school (“God, don’t make us walk, please no…” actually — wait. I think Hockey God drove them. Who knows. Do you really care? Me neither), then driving myself to class, because the train makes me sick to my stomach and want to die. (Busses — same. Boats — same. Airplanes — same. If I’m driving I’m mostly not carsick.) I was early for class because, you know. I DROVE. When you drive YOU USUALLY GET THERE EARLY OR ON TIME, IT’S MAGIC. So I went to Starbucks and got a shaken/frozen Arnold Palmer (lemonade/black tea) and then I made a list:

What Has Changed at Portland State University in the Last Twenty Years

by

Me, the Girl Who Graduated from University Twenty Years Ago Next Month. Well, in June. Whatever.

1) Starbucks. We didn’t have that before. But we didn’t need it cuz we had…

2) Strong coffee at Mother’s Deli, where someone once left a note in the Suggestions box saying, “The girls here should wear bra’s.” hahaha.

3) There is no more Mother’s Deli, which is too bad. We used to all sit there together every morning and have tea, practice our German, our Spanish, our French, our pick-up lines. It was nice. One of the guys used to bring tea strainers and loose tea from home, then we’d talk the girls behind the counter into giving us cups of hot water. Cheap. And sociable. And there was that good hiding place to study up above — the crow’s nest? Goodbye to Mother’s Deli.

4) Now that I think of it, I wrote a v. negative review of Mother’s for the student paper, senior year, because they glammed it up with track lighting and got rid of the comfy couches and started serving quiche or something. I guess I said goodbye to Mother’s at that point.

5) Out back of Mother’s was the Beach, a rolling expanse of green, green grass where you could sprawl and visit and drink beers that you’d bought at Montgomery Market, which I’m sure is no longer there. (I swear, I really did go to class. Mostly.) Now you can’t do that cuz the Beach is gone. There is a field with astro-turf and a list of rules: No Cleats, No Dogs, No Beverages, No Food. No, no, no. No more Beach. Goodbye, Beach.

6) Whispering in class: Out. Texting in class: In. Eating a yogurt quietly: Out. Bringing in a g.d. picnic, spreading it out on your tiny little desk and noshing away while the prof attempts to lecture: In. (Damn. That is just icky. Grab a bite between classes, why don’t ya?)

7) PSU ran TV commercials of a very perky Mary Kadderly, who is now a well-known Portland jazz vocalist and teacher, and soooooooo pretty (Hi, Mary!). I believe in the ad she was in a helicopter that landed on the roof of Smith Memorial Center? (C’mon, someone, refresh my memory.) And she delivered the line: “Portland State is my University and the city is my campus!” We all thought that was simply delightful! Such an urban school, what with the panhandlers and the flashers and the sex crimes.

When we were pulling all-nighters, or hungover and ditching class, or stomping cockroaches in the Ondine (student housing), we’d be all, “The CITY is my CAMPUS!”

A visitor also wrote a letter to the Vanguard, freaking out about how out of control the campus was, deeply offended. “WHERE ARE THE MONITORS?” So that quote got blown up, xeroxed, and plastered all over the buildings. Funny. I still ask myself that question sometimes. Publicists plastered the campus with pictures of the “Ghostbusters” ghost, in the spring before the movie came out. That little guy was All. Over. The Campus. He was a better mascot than the Viking, I thought.

8) The Ione Plaza, where the retirees lived (not in the Roach Hotel Ondine, where the stinky football players and punk rockers lived)… well. That was the best place to drink, cuz they had a retro firepit right in the middle of the room, and the skeezy diner attached. The skeezy diner where they made the best damn cheeseburgers. Except that time I got one that tasted like it had been marinated in bourbon. That was  a lil weird. Bar: Still there. But no longer retro — it’s alt now. Diner: Gone. Now it’s an Italian cafe. Puccini’s? Something. Goodbye, good drinks, good atmosphere and good burgers. See ya later.

9) The Simon Benson House used to be a few blocks west. Now it’s right smack-dab on campus. It had been turned into a rooming house — I had friends who lived there. They did not have $$$ to renovate, obviously. They got so sick of all of the, Isn’t it a shame? comments that they put signs in the windows: CAREFUL! OLD FALLING DOWN HOUSE ZONE and A REAL FIXER-UPPER!!! So, those of you who busted your asses to save the house, move it, restore it, love it? Thanks for taking the signs seriously.

10)How about… Older, crotchety students who take Higher Education Very Seriously and Pine for the Past?: Well. That was the norm twenty years ago — the average age of a PSU student at that time was 27. “Commuter college.” I had peers who were in the 80s, auditing classes. They kicked my ass, I’m serious. I remember one gentleman who wrote his term papers and handed them in two weeks ahead of deadline, politely asking the profs, “If you have time, maybe you could give it a read and give me some comments?”

I remember the profs, not always, but sometimes, being a little disdainful of the auditors. I thought that was uncalled for. The 80-somethings were the only ones paying attention and asking questions. No trust-fund babies, there. (Me, neither. I worked 1, 2 and 3 jobs at a time to put myself through school, with a little bit of help from my mom and Social Security.) (Which was sliced, slashed and filleted by Ronnie Raygun, our former president. Thanks, sweetie. My late father thanks you, too. I also had to start college spring of my senior year of high school, in order to continue to qualify for my benefits. I was luckier than my younger sister — she got nuthin’.) (Can you imagine a world now, where we encouraged people to go to school and gave them support? Where it wasn’t dog-eat-dog you better get your MBA if you can afford it, you loser. Survival of the fittest. Etc.)

Everything I learned about respecting my elders I learned at PSU. Every reason why I hated my elders I learned from Ronald Reagan.

Hmm. Even though the average age at PSU now appears, to my tired eyes, to be Quite Young (12), the older students? We’re still there.

Only it’s me paying attention this time.

Ha ha ha, suckers. I’ll get that master’s degree, even if it takes me ’til I’m eighty and auditing.

“Nature will bear the closest inspection. She invites us to lay our eye level with her smallest leaf, and take an insect view of its plain.”

— Henry David Thoreau

Happy Earth Day, y’all.

–wm

Facebook, you have turned me into a slut. Just sayin’.

World, I didn’t go to the PTA meeting at my kids’ school tonight because I knew they would nominate me Queen of Something or Another and I CANNOT LIVE WITH THAT KIND OF PRESSURE.

I’m a little tipsy. I went out to Yetti’s with A and we drank a bottle of Terrapin Pinot Gris, plus we had bacon-wrapped dates (don’t tell my vegetarian son, because he’ll wail Why would you eat meat when there are so many other things to eat in the world? Yes, son, but none of them taste exactly like bacon. Except BACON that is) and we also had a dish of mixed nuts.

Did I mention that we’re watching the Pens play the Flyers and THEY JUST WON 3-1!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Woooooooooooo-hoooooooooooooo, we love Pittsburgh. Three games to one, let’s hope we wrap it up and move on.

Blazers won, too, by the by. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiip City. That’s right.

Wooooooooooooooooo you would think it was Facebook or something, the way I’m writing this. Damn you, BlackFriend for getting me all over the Facebook. It is awfully fun.

“Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today; And give us not to think so far away;

As the uncertain harvest; keep us here, All simply in the springing of the year.”

— Robert Frost

* Adjust and overcome

* Edge

* Puck control

I think we can all learn a little something here. Adjust and overcome, edge, puck control. And this: “You got to play with that edge, but you can’t cross that line.” And… “You got to know where the edge is.” (May I add, You also need to know what the edge is, when they keep talking about edge, edge, edge.)

“Edge! Play the blues.” — Bono, U2

Hockey God, rolling his eyes way back in his head, “Edge, who can’t hardly play guitar.”

One more, from the announcer: “Take the puck, with a sense of purpose, to the paint.” Got it? Now drop the frickin’ puck! It’s Stanley Cup season! (Even though TV Turn-off Week  is right now — it always falls during hockey play-offs — no problem — we make a special exception for my husband and the NHL. No TV unless it’s hockey. Sorry, kids. I know it seems unfair but you can deal.) Ready? Steady? Go!

“They’re all growing their play-off beards, you don’t see that in the NBA. Not since Bill Walton.” — Hockey God, pleased as hell, watching the Washington Capitals/N.Y. Rangers game

(And another quote from Hockey God, while watching a Blazer game last week: “Foul? You call that a foul? They didn’t even touch each other.” Me, mouthing what he always says: These basketball players — they go out there and just, like, hit each other with their purses, oh, I’m sorry, did I hit you with my purse? Oh, excuse me, I think you just fouled out! The ref wants you to go now. Oh, no problem!)

Etc.

I still like basketball more better, but que sera sera.

Did I mention that when I woke up this morning I thought I wasn’t assigned to a school next year, but now, end of day, I have found out YES I am assigned to my school again? Yes, I am. (Budget cuts are brutal this year, we’re all a little worried.) (“A little” is a huge understatement.)

Oh, being gainfully employed, what a beautiful thing. I was so thrilled that I cut my class and took Steve out to lunch to celebrate.

Hmm. It’s been awhile, let’s see how rusty I am…

Q: How much $$$ do you make from your blog? Can I make some money if I start a blog, too?

A:  I review books, so I do get free copies of those (yes!!!). As for cash infusions? About $5 a month from my ads. Subtract the cost of the servers (we host our own sites, and a few others), DSL, the domain registrations, the Swiffer dustcloths for my desk and keyboard… Yep. The lifestyles of the rich and infamous, that’s us. Don’t quit your day job.

Q: Why are you so political, with the school politics and all?

A: Because I am an idiot. Next question?

Q:  How do I get my kid to read? He is not much of a reader.

A: How old is he? Read to him, if he’s young enough. Have him read to you. Go to the library once or twice a week. Learn how to put books, DVDs and CDs on reserve on your library card. Does he like graphic novels? I’ve had good luck with those, with the non-readers. They’re not “cheating,” they count! I promise. Try “American Born Chinese,” “Baby Mouse,”  any of the others. Superman should be renamed “super popular.” Go figure. And Kill Your Television, after that. (Isn’t it TV turn-off week this week? Lemme check…  Yep. SHOOT. I am tivo’ing Desperate Housewives and Brothers & Sisters while I write this. Shoot.)

Q: How often do you and Hockey God have sex?

A: Why not ask Yahoo? Next question, please…

Q: Why don’t you blog more?

A: Because I’m so busy having sex.

Happy Sunday to you!

ttfn,

wm

So. Good.

Susan Boyle’s performance on Britain’s Got Talent.