It’s that time of the year again.  As has become a tradition much maligned anticipated in our neighborhood, moiself  is hosting a different Partridge, every week, in my front yard’s pear tree.   [1]

Can you identify this week’s guest Partridge?

 

 

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Department Of Creative Metaphors I’m Going To Regret

Dateline: my birthday, earlier this week.  We did our main celebrating the previous day, inviting friends and our offspring to join us for lunch and a couple of hours perusing the Portland Art Museum’s two current, well-presented, special exhibitions:

* Paul McCartney Photographs 1963–64: Eyes of the Storm.     [2]

* Psychedelic Rock Posters and Fashion of the 1960s   [3]

 

 

On my bday itself moiself  just wanted a quiet evening at home.  After the proverbial comedy of errors re what we would order (takeout) for my bday dinner,    [4]   MH returned from his quest with za from Pizza Schmizza;   [5]   specifically, five slices of two (of their seven available) veggie options: Margherita and Extreme Veggie.  The latter’s toppings included black olive slices, which MH loathes.    [6]

MH and I sat in our respective chairs in the family room, enjoying our za and watching a recording of the most recent SNL episode. Our elderly cat, Nova, assumed her customary, après-diner  position (on MH’s lap).

 

Keeping it warm for her favorite human.

 

I glanced over at MH, and saw Nova investigating what was left of MH’s dinner.  His plate was empty save for a pile of  ~12 olive slices (each with a smidge of cheese clinging to them) that he had meticulously removed from his Extreme Veggie slice.

For some reason (other than knowing of MH’s antipathy toward olives?), I began wondering aloud, “Hmm, what must that pile look like, to you or other olive haters?”   As soon as the answer left my mouth, I realized I was in danger of regretting it:

“Satan’s assholes?”

 

Bet ya can’t eat just one.

 

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Department Of Only  Sometimes?

Sometimes I loathe certain members of my species.  Like the asshat driver who delayed Belle’s train this past weekend AND sent one of the train employees to the hospital.

Belle was coming down for a quick/overnight visit, via Amtrak from Washington, to join MH and I and friends in celebrating my birthday at the above-mentioned art museum.  She didn’t have much time in her weekend schedule, but went to the trouble to get train tickets, which I greatly appreciated.  Ten minutes after she boarded the train to Portland we got a text from her, alerting us that the train had stopped.  The train passengers were told at first that the delay was due to a “track obstruction,” an explanation which was later expanded into, “debris coming into contact with train equipment.”  As the time passed Belle sent further clarifications:

“Okay, apparently at a crossing someone in a car hit the railguard and broke it because  they didn’t want to wait, and then our train ran into the broken guard and it smashed out the driver/engineer’s windows.
We’re going to a rail yard about a mile away to turn the train around and use the other (unbroken) engine at the other end instead.
They said the driver is okay. The train driver that is.”   [7]

Two hours later:

“Trail stillllllll hasn’t turned around.  Waiting for freight trains to get out of the way.”

An hour after that:

“Oof, apparently it took extra long because they did actually have to
take the engineer to the hospital.”

The train arrived in Portland three hours late.   No word on the condition of the engineer.

 

 

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Department Of A Succinct Review Of A Holiday Release Movie
( Sub-Department Of:  Filler Alert )

The musical Wicked had a running time of two hours forty-five minutes (three hours total, including the 15 minute intermission between Act 1 and Act 2).    [8]

The movie Wicked has a run time of 2 hours forty minutes…three hours total, including the previews of coming attractions…and only covers Act 1 of the play ( “The adaptation was split into two parts to avoid cutting plot points and expand the characters’ journeys and relationships.” ).

 

“Remember to schedule a pee break – pass it on.”

 

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Department Of What Is The Best Question?

The best question…to?  For?  About what?

Yep, the question itself is almost totally subjective and context dependent.  But moiself  woke up Wednesday morning with that question in mind, and I’d love to hear other’s opinions.

Here’s a sample of best questions that sprung to my mind:

* May I give you a foot rub?

* Would you like to hold your grandbaby?

* May we help you practice your acceptance speech?

* Paper or plastic?

* Where shall we take our honeymoon?

* How would you like to celebrate your promotion?

*Where shall we park the new Porsche?

* Would you like fries with that?

*  Would you like conscious sedation or general anesthesia
during your colonoscopy?

* Vaccinations are up-to-date – would you like to take your new kitten home this afternoon?

* Would you like a complimentary upgrade to first class?

* Indoor or outdoor court for your pickleball lesson with Ryan Gosling?

* May I send you a picture of a pajama-wearing baby sloth?

 

 

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Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [9]

 

 

*   *   *

May you never think your time is so important that you must smash through a railroad crossing guardrail;
May you have no culinary loathing equivalent to Satan’s assholes;
May someone ask you *your* best question;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

 

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[1] Specifically, in the pear tree daughter Belle purchased and (with the help of MH) planted many years ago

[2] More than 250 “recently rediscovered photographs from Paul McCartney’s personal archives,” taken by McCartney during a pivotal period as The Beatles grew from British faves to international stars.

[3] Featuring more than 200 iconic rock posters, of a specific style first designed by graphic artists in San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury neighborhood.  The posters’ instantly recognizable patterns – a combination of seemingly pulsating neon colors, unique lettering, and witty (and sometimes sexually and/or pharmaceutically suggestive) design – quickly spread around the nation as other poster artists used this new, psychedelic graphic language to promote rock concerts.   The exhibition also showcased the eclectic fashions of the psychedelic clothing styles.

[4] Our favorite downtown pizza restaurant forgot to turn off their online ordering; they were closed for their holiday party…someone noticed our order and called MH back to say, oops.

[5] A local chain, started in Hillsboro some 20+ years ago by two expat New Yawk bros, now with 20+pub ‘n grub style places in Oregon (and one in Washington).

[6] Black; Green; Kalamata, Nicoise; Castelvetrano….you name the olive, MH dislikes it.  Which is great for me as if we’re dining out and the salad or pasta has kalamatas, as then I get his.

[7] As you might imagine, few passengers were holding charitable thoughts about the okay-ness of the car’s driver.

[8] I saw the play, when it was touring.  I highly recommend it – you’ll never look at The Wizard of Oz story in the same way.

[9] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists.  No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.”  Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org