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The Contraption I’m Not Underestimating

October 31, 2025

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, current events, extended family, family life, foodie, freethought/humanism, friends, Holidays, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), making fun of Norwegians and/or the Irish, movies, music, radio & podcasts , , , , , , , , , , , Comments Off on The Contraption I’m Not Underestimating

It’s time for The Dropkick Murphys to usher in the holidays.

 

 

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Department Of I Can’t Believe I Just Figured This Out

This would be the appeal of the actor Jennifer Coolidge, who sashayed ( Tottered? Shuffled?  Stumbled?   [1]  ) to stardom, or at least notoriety, in supporting roles such as the awkward manicurist Paulette in Legally Blonde.

Watch the Netflix movie Single All The Way ,    [2]   and you’ll get it the attraction.   Coolidge, although female, is the quintessential Drag Queen With A Heart Of Gold ®.

 

 

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Department Of Good Fortune

Last Friday daughter Belle and her coworkers took a company “field trip” to another Washington state cidery.  [3]   Belle wanted to make some treats for the bus ride    [4]   up the Olympic Peninsula and made fortune cookies for the occasion.  She sent me a picture of the fortunes she inserted into the cookies. With her permission, I’ve listed some of my favorites below.

Belle:
“These are the fortunes I’m using; ___ (friend from work) and I brainstormed them together.  We wanted most of them to be vague/ominous, with a few nice ones, too.  And some straight up silly.  Like the winning Powerball numbers from a month ago.”

* You will be evidence in the trial

* Remember the importance of load bearing walls

* You will face a life-or-death decision in February

* You would look great with bangs…if you dare

* You have forgotten something important – tomorrow you must remember

* In three days’ time, you will experience a fish

* You are being deceived

* Profit = revenue – costs

* Sat. Sept 6 Powerball:  11, 23, 44, 61, 62, 17

* Your anxiety is the gift of precognition, trust it

* You will encounter your next cat in a Fred Meyer parking lot

* Luck is coming your way! Remember to share it with rats

* Follow the next crab you see to receive a rare blessing

* Never underestimate contraptions

* Do: experiment with new fonts; Don’t: eye contact with mannequins

* You must atone in a bog for the offenses committed in a fen

* Your fears are well-founded

* The naked man fears no pickpocket

* Amphibians have no scruples, proceed with caution

 

 

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Department Of Finalist For Best Euphemism Ever

Dateline: October 21; 5:30 am; reading the Carolyn Hax advice column.  The woman writing to CH has a husband, who was raised by a “deeply spiritual” mother who forbade his childhood participation in Halloween activities.  Not only has her husband left those childhood superstitions and beliefs behind, as an adult he *loves* Halloween.  However, as a new parent, and he has had a sudden, panicked change of heart:  he is asking his wife to hide from his mother pictures of their 11-month-old old son dressed up in a lion outfit for Halloween.  This is because he fears it will distress his deeply spiritual mother:  “He says he thinks it will so profoundly upset his mom that she seriously could have a heart attack because she is very afraid of the devil.”   

 

 

Yep, really.  That’s what the LW wrote.

The source for Best Euphemism Ever came from one astute CH commentator, who noted:

“…’deeply spiritual’ is a euphemism for bat guano crazy. “

 

 

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Department Of Whatever Happened To….?

“…a decentralized international activist and hacktivist collective and movement primarily known for its various cyberattacks against several governments, government institutions and government agencies, corporations, and the Church of Scientology.

Anonymous originated in 2003 on the imageboard 4chan representing the concept of many online and offline community users simultaneously existing as an ‘anarchic‘, digitized ‘global brain‘ or ‘hivemind‘. Anonymous members (known as anons) can sometimes be distinguished in public by the wearing of Guy Fawkes masks in the style portrayed in the graphic novel and film V for Vendetta….
( excerpts, Wikipedia entry for Anonymous [hacker group] )

 

 

Starting in 2003, The Anonymous collective became known for DDOS (distributed denial-of-service) attacks on government, religious, and corporate websites.  A few of their more (in)famous attacks were on the Syrian Ministry of Defense,  Scientology, the Westboro Baptist Church,  the KKK, and Operation Avenge Assange.  According to a timeline of events attributed to Anonymous, it looks as if they’ve been “silent” since 2024.

Are Anonymous freedom fighters or cyber mob terrorists?  Hmmm, that might depend on your POV.   A loose collective with no top-down organization (or organization of any kind, some say), Anonymous hasn’t been heard from since…well, since the world has *really* needed them, IMO.  There are so many causes to which I wish they would apply their skills – could it be that our democracy will be “saved” by an anarchist collective? – as long as they agree with moiself  re what those causes are.  [5]

 

 

Translation:  I realize that if the genie granted me such a wish, it should come with the caveat that Anonymous might apply their skills to causes I’d disapprove of.

Perhaps a general rise in their areas of expertise (hacking) means Anonymous are now more likely to be caught (and indeed, dozens people around the world have been arrested, prosecuted, and even jailed for their supposed participation in Anonymous activities) than when they first became active on the world stage, and thus…my pipe dream…they are still around but are temporarily keeping a low profile while calculating how to best save the world from the Frito-Faced Fascist.

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Department Of Just Wondering
Chapter 103 In A Never-Ending Series

Can I be just…whelmed?  I think it’s an actual word – one with archaic origins, and nobody uses it anymore, although we do employ the modified versions.  As in, I know that at times I have felt overwhelmed or underwhelmed.  But moiself  cannot recall the state of being or experiencing an average amount of whelm.

 

 

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Department Of The Ghost Of Halloween Memories Past

The entrance to the now-defunct bar was in an alley between Bryant and Ramona in downtown Palo Alto.  42nd Street was a popular hangout in the 1980s.  It attracted a mostly young, college age/new worker bee crowd, although patrons ranged from big-haired, spandex-clad new wave/metal fans to pretentious grad students from nearby Stanford University to businessmen and tech entrepreneurs and soon-to-be/self-described “creatives,” the latter group fond of snarkily commenting on how the bar was *nothing* like the New York saloons it so earnestly wanted to imitate.

42nd Street did have its distinctive ambience, with an abundance of standing and hanging plants and ferns, dark wood paneling, an overhanging second floor and a system of ceiling fans propelled by pulleys, a small dance floor – at that time it was one of the more unique bars in Palo Alto.   [6]

 

 

Dateline:  Palo Alto CA; October 31, 6 pm-ish; 42nd Street.  Moiself, in full Halloween regalia – dark dress and tights, black clod-hopping boots, green face makeup, bridal veil, hair with a white streak running from forehead to the back of teased hair – is seated in a booth with a colleague who had not worn a costume to work.  We are engaged in an earnest discussion about the virtues of the so-called classic works of American literature,   [7]  including whether or not The Great American Novel®   [8]  was a thing, or just a promotional scam.

I notice that every now and then my work friend taps his pipe against the table’s ashtray  [9]  (that was back when you could still smoke in bars) and stifles a smirk.  The fourth time he performs his pipe-tapping ritual I catch the bemused look in his eyes.

“What?” I ask him.

“It’s just…” he shakes his head, “I’m having a serious discussion about the merits of The Scarlet Letter and Moby Dick with The Bride of Frankenstein.”

 

“And your point would be?!?!?!”

 

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Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [10]

 

Hannibal Buress is an American comic, writer, producer, actor, musician and businessman.

*   *   *

May you never be the evidence in anyone’s trial;
May you remember the euphemism if anyone calls you, “deeply spiritual;”
May you make someone a sandwich when they’re struggling;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] It wasn’t leapt; she’s been a working actor for years. 

[2] It’s like a (Canadian) Hallmark Christmas movie.  Don’t ask how/why I know this.

[3] Belle is QA manager for Schilling Cider.

[4] Every field trip should have a bus ride, no matter how old you are.

[5] And, most importantly, what the solutions should – and shouldn’t – include.

[6] “Michael Patrick Partners, a nationally recognized design studio, announced today that its two founding partners…are retiring before year’s end…Communication Arts published a story that featured the creative chops of the local advertising, design, illustration and photography tribes of Palo Alto, California, being fueled by the early high-technology startups of Silicon Valley.  Within the story was a photograph of the 40 or so independent creatives at their favorite watering hole, a bar called 42nd Street. ”  (excerpt and picture from “Michael Patrick Partners: Last Men Standing, 43 Years and 500 Awards Later, San Francisco design studio looks back on surviving earthquakes, financial meltdowns, global pandemics and recessions.”   EIN Presswire, Feb 27, 2023 )

[7] We were both fiction writers, both working in “civilian” publishing jobs, both a few years shy of having our respective first books published.

[8] “In 1868, a little-known writer by the name of John William DeForest proposed a new type of literature, a collective artistic project for a nation just emerging from an existential conflict: a work of fiction that accomplished “the task of painting the American soul.” It would be called the Great American Novel, and no one had written it yet, DeForest admitted. Maybe soon.”  (excerpt, “The Great American Novel,” The Atlantic, March 14, 2024 )

[9] Yes, he smoked a pipe – fully admitting that he took it up because (1) it was different, and (2) he thought that it made him somehow seem more “literary.”

[10] “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

The Weekend Vacation Pictures I’m Not Showing You

April 25, 2025

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, community, current events, family life, foodie, freethought/humanism, friends, health & wellness, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), politics, reproductive rights, science, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , , , , , , , , Comments Off on The Weekend Vacation Pictures I’m Not Showing You

Department Of Headache-Free Travelogue   [1]

Moiself  and MH took off last Friday to spend the weekend with daughter Belle.  After starting the day with an appointment with our lawyer (to update our wills – a task which was much overdue and was in no way related to our calculating our odds of survival in making the trip) we drove north to Auburn, WA.  Auburn is the headquarters of Schilling Cider, where Belle works as QA manager, and also home to Belle, whom I recently insufferably boasted wrote about ( here ), re her passing her Pommolier exam.

We met Belle at her workplace in the late afternoon, got a brief “update” tour (we’d been there a couple of years ago) and had dinner with her at a local Thai restaurant.  After an acceptable hotel sleep   [2]   we picked her up the next morning at her apartment, drove south & west to Tacoma ( where both Belle and her brother, K, went to college,   [3]  and where Belle lived up until a year ago) for breakfast at one of Belle’s favorite diners, the  HobNob.  On our way there we discovered that Belle didn’t know what it meant to hobnob; she thought the term was a noun,    [4]   rather than a verb.  I told her she should pretend that MH and I had a certain amount of celebrity (or at least notoriety) so that she could say she had hobnobbed over breakfast.

Suggestion for Good Clean Fun ®:  try saying hobnob over and over and over. Or,  elbow, or  farm – in just a few moments you’ll sound like you’re making up nonsense, instead of repeating actual works that have actual meanings….

 

 

Once again, I digress.

After breakfast we drove across the Tacoma Narrows Bridge.  The TNB’s claim to fame is its predecessor, the original TNB bridge, nicknamed Galloping Gertie.  GG’s collapse a mere four months after it opened (July 1940; likely due to an  aeroelastic flutter during a windstorm) was caught on film, and became  de rigueur viewing in West Coast high school physics classes for decades afterward. 

 

 

After a gallop-free bridge crossing, we headed up the east side of the Olympic Peninsula to Finnriver Cidery, where we had lunch and then a private tour   [5]  of their orchards and facilities.  Since the tour guide and Belle are both in the hard cider industry, I got to hear them exchanging a lot of shop talk (perhaps even a few trade secrets?).   It was a beautiful drive; Finnriver was an impressive place (Belle had been saying for two years that she “had to” take us there one day); the tour of the orchards and facilities was interesting, informative, and also tasty – during the tour we got to sample taste several different varieties of their ciders.

 

 

 

 

Afterwards we drove east to Port Townsend, the “…historic seaport with an artistic soul” on the northeastern tip of the Olympic Peninsula.  We stayed in a downtown hotel, walked around the downtown waterfront area, had dinner at Tommyknocker’s, a restaurant specializing in worldwide variations on Cornish pasties and other British Isles dishes (I was the only one who ordered a pasty – a vegan/Indian spiced variety).  After dinner we returned to the hotel to play games from the hotel’s collection in their library.  MH and Belle played a new version of Sorry; I joined them for Scrabble on the condition that, as MH put it, “You can’t win.”  [6]  After breakfast on Sunday we made a leisurely trip back down the peninsula, returned Belle to Auburn, and returned ourselves back down to Oregon.

Sorry (not really) if I bored the crap outta y’all, but this is so much more relaxing than the It’s-even-worse-than-I-thought ®   political primal scream commentary moiself  had originally planned for this space.

 

 

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Department Of Yeah, What He Said Quote Of The Week

 

 

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Department of Quoting The Who,

“Meet the new boss/same as the old boss”
( The Who, Won’t Get Fooled Again )

So, yeah, a pope died this week. Which means there will be a new one, soon.

Some of my religious friends   [7] – those on the more liberal side re Christian theology – have said nice things about Pope Francis over the years.  Moiself  has seen no reason to not remain been skeptical.  Sure, I wanted someone with that kind of (regrettable) power over the ignorant ovine masses faithful to be more broad-minded than his predecessors; but as I’ve said before, PF’s kindler, gentler façade is just that:  a façade.  It’s a new window dressing on a cracked, skewed window.  The House (of Roman Catholicism) got new drapes, while it’s 2000-year-old window frames, door jambs, and its very foundation continues to erode.

Given his (or any pope’s) influence, PF’s proclamations could have inspired his flock to action that would have benefited people all over the globe. But the only reason he had that “authority” (religious, cultural political, whatever) is because people gave it to him. 

“I have as much authority as the Pope.
I just don’t have as many people who believe it.”
( Comedian, author, social critic George Carlin, from his book, Brain Droppings  )

People continue to pay attention to proclamations from the Vatican (or other religious institutions and leaders) as it they were relevant to our century.  Coming from pre-scientific, superstition-bound folk, that is understandable.  From present-day, religion-free progressives and their liberal religious brethren, this is mind-boggling:  y’all be reinforcing the influence of the elderly inhabitants of the Vatican – an institution that was historically and is currently hostile toward rational thought, intellectual freedom, and human rights (no matter how many “nice” things they may say re classes of people they formerly abused and still [if tacitly] denigrate).

 

 

The more I think on it the more irritating I find the progressives’ and liberals’ praises re PF.  I mean, what did Franky-boy say that hasn’t been said – and better and sooner – by others?  PF began his pope gig by playing nice, by saying kind things…uh yeah, a decent human being is supposed to be like that.  Why were progressives fawning over a religious leader, and not for being factually correct, but for being nice?  

PF said a few “nice” things ( “nice” if contrasted with, kill them infidels and pervies ) things about gays, and made an acknowledgement of the existence of global warming, and liberals suddenly pretended *not* to remember the RC church’s 2000-year history of getting everything wrong, and then ignoring/refusing to right the wrongs in the face of the evidence.    [8]

Franky-boy said that “women in the church are more important than bishops and priests”…right after saying “…on woman as priests, that cannot be done.”  Thanks for throwing us that cheap/holy bone, Your Inadequacy-ness.    For *twelve* years PF was the leader of the his faith’s hierarchy, that “clutch of hysterical sinister virgins”    [9]  who assert their divine mandate to dictate sexual standards and reproductive health care proscriptions to and for women, while banning women from that same hierarchy.   And he did not use his pope power to change that.

 

Ordain women or stop baptizing them.

 

I’m tired of blathering about it all these years; I’ll let others more articulate and accomplished than moiself  blather their share.

Andrew L. Seidel, Staff Attorney for the Freedom From Religion Foundation had these observations after the pope’s brief visit to three major US cities in 2015:

“The pope’s whirlwind visit was a public relations coup for the Vatican. But scratch the surface of the PR machine and we find that the pope is all talk….

The pope speaks a great deal about healing the wounds of child abuse–child rape and torture is the more appropriate phrase–even saying “God weeps.” God might weep (if he existed), but they must be crocodile tears, because the pope speaks, but does not act. The pope has the power to stop the rape and torture of children. The solution is simple: Turn over priests accused of this to the criminal and civil justice system and stop hiding and shuffling them around the globe. Turn the rapists and their protectors over to the police and use the vast wealth of the Vatican to make some amends to the victims….He has this power and budget, but does not use it.

He denies women control of their bodies and lives, and upholds the Catholic ban on contraception, even though condom-use would save millions of African lives. He cares more for the rules of his god – supposedly all-powerful though easily defeated by a thin strip of latex – than human life. He’s the pope, he could change the church’s stance, but won’t.

He opposes equal rights for LGBTQ people. He may “not judge” them, but he has the power to change billions of minds and help LGBTQ rights…. But he won’t….

When someone has the power to change a moral evil but does not, their words and excuses are irrelevant. Actions, as the saying goes, speak louder than words. Frank talks a good game, but he’s not doing anything. Talk is cheap….”

(  Excerpts, Reminder: The pope’s still conservative and a moral hypocrite,”
September 30, 2015 by Andrew Seidel )

 

 

“Anita Bryant did more for gay rights than this co-opting, faux-queer-friendly fraud ever did. At least Anita made us angry and inspired rebellion and fury against her stupid homophobia…. But this new guy does nothing and pretends to be gay positive.  Remember that song Smiling Faces Sometimes by the Temptations, with the lyrics ‘Beware of the pat on the back. It just might hold you back’?  This is Francis. ‘Good queer,’ he seems to imply when he utters ‘Who am I to judge?’ about gay marriage. Who *are* you?! You’re the fucking Pope for Christ’s sake, that’s who you are.“

( quote from Mr. Know-It-All: The Tarnished Wisdom of a Filth Elder,
by John Waters )

 

Ordain women and LGBTQ folk or stop dressing like drag queens.

 

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Department Of Heaven On Earth

Those of us who are Atheist/Skeptics/Humanists/Freethinkers/Brights generally hold no belief in an afterlife; we know that humans find and make our paradises (or netherworlds) right where we are, in the here and now.  And according to a study I just made up, whether y’all are religion-free or superstition/supernatural-bound a POOF  (“person of observant faith”)    [10]   there is nothing more satisfying for epicureans/foodies/gourmands than reading through a new cookbook.

Moiself  can’t think of any place else I’d rather be than right here, right now, flipping through the pages of a new   [11]   cookbook.  Dora Ramirez’s Comida Casera is home cooking (literal translation), Mexican plant-based style. And from what I’ve seen so far, Ramirez has a lot of sabroso (tasty) style.

As is my custom with a new cookbook, I read through it and mark on a piece of paper (which I keep with the cookbook) what recipes moiself  be interested in trying.  So far, I’d be marking just about every page.   ¿Como se dice YEE  HAW en Español?

 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [12]

 

 

*   *   *

May you hobnob with the best of them;
May you savor the joy of reading a new cookbook;
May you stop praising dead popes and paying attention to live ones;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] As in, writing about family travels give me less of a headache than writing about the state of our democracy.

[2] Moiself  generally does not sleep well in hotels…if I get 4-5 hours’ worth, it’s a win.

[3] At the University of Puget Sound.

[4] Like…a nob that had…hobs on it?

[5] Only in that the three of us were the only three in the 1pm tour group – later tours had more people.

[6] I did win…but not intentionally, and just by eight or so points.

[7] Yes, I do have them.

[8] It took them until nineteen hundred and fucking ninety-two to apologize to Galileo.

[9] My favorite terminology for the RC’s (alleged) celebate male heierarch – from the pope and cardinals down to the parish priests – comes from (surprise!) the ever quotable, late great Christopher Hitchens.

[10] Which is an acronym I think the world sorely needs.

[11] Both to me, and to the world – it was published just this year.

[12] “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

The Weird Carpet Walking Man I’m Not Following

October 21, 2022

Robyn Parnell are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, community, current events, extended family, family life, foodie, freethought/humanism, health & wellness, Isms (religion), nature, Oregon, politics, reproductive rights, sports, travel, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , , , , , , Comments Off on The Weird Carpet Walking Man I’m Not Following

Much to my surprise, moiself  received a text from the campaign of Christine Drazan, the Republican candidate for Oregon governor.   [1]  The message said that Drazan “has a plan” (no details of course) for Oregon’s homeless situation, and asked for a donation.

My cell phone has been inundated by texts from political candidates, mostly from the Left side of the spectrum.  I block the caller# and delete them all, even when they are from candidates I support  (I do *not* give candidates my cell # and resent them finding and using it).  And what in the name of a purple Planned Parenthood placard…

 

Like this one.

 

…would make anyone on the Drazan campaign think that *I* would forget Drazan’s anti-abortion politics because of some mysterious “plan” she has?

Moiself  just had to respond to this text, before blocking/deleting:

If you are not pro-choice then you are no choice.
Shame on you.
Do not text this number again.

 

 

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Department Of Thanks For Sharing

The streets of Manzanita are a crap minefield. 

 

Like this, only with crap.

 

Welcome Fall; welcome to the roaming elk and deer, pooping while they’re roaming, pooping while they’re standing still…stepping on their own poop; stepping on the poop that their herd comrade just dropped in front of them; stepping in the dried poop from three days ago…

A small price to pay for living in and/or visiting a bit o’ paradise on earth – the Oregon coast – in autumn.

And yet another reason to take your shoes off when you enter a home.  If you’re walking around here, whether on the streets, sidewalks, trails, or beach, you’re stepping on poop, in some form or another.

Although it doesn’t show up well in this picture, this poop pattern continues up the street, on both sides.

 

 

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Department Of The Playoff Game That Wasn’t

Early last week daughter Belle messaged me, wondering if she should get a ticket to Game 4 of the Seattle Mariners-Houston Astros American League Division series playoff game.  The division playoffs are a best-of-five series; Belle’s company, Schilling Cider, is a Mariners sponsor, and was guaranteed a certain number of tickets to purchase for playoff game 4.  Belle checked to see how many tickets her company would be allotted, and found out there would be enough so that she could get one for moiself  as well…and would I be interested?

It warmed the cockles of my heart, to hear that Belle was interested in going. How Belle’s grandparents would have liked that, I told her.

Chet and Marion Parnell were longtime baseball fans.  They once told me they’d always wanted to go to a playoff game but never had the opportunity. I grew up going to LA Dodgers and Anaheim Angels games, then in the 80s I lost – or rather deliberately misplaced – my interest in the sport.  I don’t remember the exact year; it was when there was yet another player/management strike.  Free agents had become the thing; it seems like you didn’t know the players anymore (“Wait…he was a Dodger and now he’s a Yankee?”), there was no team loyalty or team identity on either side of the management/players…it used to be you could follow the career of a player, having come up through the farm system….

 

LA Dodgers: The 1970s Cey to Russell to Lopes to Garvey era.

 

Then came the latest the player/manager/owner strike.

I remember thinking,

“Hmmm, which group of multi-millionaires do I feel sorry for?”

And that was that.

I became a fair weather fan – one who would watch The Big Games ®,  particularly if there’s a team I had an interest in (rooting for California or West Coast teams, and against CHEATERS like the Houston Astros…or just arrogant assholes like the Yankees).

BTW: Why do we sing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” when we are already out at the ballgame?

 

 

Yet again, I digress.

When Belle asked if I were interested, moiself  realized that *I* had never been to a MLB playoff game. And when your 26-year-old daughter solicits a visit from her (much older, ahem) mother…

I started gettin’ spontaneous.  I booked train passage to and from Tacoma, found a (very expensive, yikes   [2]) hotel room, and crossed fingers for our odds in getting the tickets, which would be for sale depending on what happened in the first three games.

Game 4 would be on Sunday (10/16). My train reservations were for Saturday afternoon. MH advised me to get to the Portland train station early, as President Biden was in town that weekend. I took his advice to heart; I’d not been paying attention and had no idea Portland was in for a presidential visit, but I remembered a story I’d read about our most recent decent President:   An Average Person ® had traveled many miles to attend a political rally, where she got to speak with Obama.  She invited him to visit her state, because “…it would be such an honor to have a presidential visit.” Obama thanked her for the invitation, then warned her in good humor that, in reality, a presidential visit is a massive inconvenience to the area of the visit.  Presidential visits cause backups and delays for motorists, pedestrians, cyclists, even public transportation users, and are difficult to plan for, as, for security reasons, the presidential limo motorcade (and the decoy limo) and entourage routes can’t be announced in advance.  So, maybe the people who are invited to the speech or meet-n-greet or whatever consider it an honor, but for almost everyone else, it’s an irritation.  I like the fact that Obama was aware of/acknowledged that.

 

“Okay, remember, the decoy limo stops at Starbucks.”

 

As it turned out, Biden’s visit impacted a train’s departure four hours earlier in the day, but as I checked in I was told that my train (departing at 3:38p) was on time.  Then, for the next two and a half hours, Amtrak moved our departure time ahead, first in 5 minute increments, then ten, then….. Train station personnel on their intercoms and passengers googling on their cellphones were trying to find out what was going on.  The delay wasn’t due to the presidential visit (Biden’s entourage was already out of the area)…something about how due to a “police action” our train was stopped across the river.  Turns out there was a person “laying on the tracks.”   [3]

Our train finally arrived and we boarded, coming on three hours after our scheduled departure time.  Then, the train just sat at the station.  And sat.  Sat sat sat sat.  What now? Eventually, the conductor announced that “someone up ahead had set a fire next to the train tracks.”

Fucking Portland, I texted to Belle, who had already moved back and then cancelled the dinner reservations we’d had.  She passed the time on her end by giving me updates on the game. It was do or die for the Mariners: they’d lost the first two games; thus, if they lost game 3 (which I – mistakenly, as it turns out – assured Belle ALMOST NEVER HAPPENS    [4]   )  there would be no game four.

The hours went by; the game went into overtime.  Belle messaged at one point,

“Heading into the 15th inning now still 0-0.
Maybe we’ll just end up going to game 3 tomorrow.”

After 18 innings the Mariners lost “the longest 1-0 playoff game in MLB history.”     [5]

There would be no ballgame on Sunday.  Still, I had a very lovely day with my daughter, which included taking the ferry to Vashon Island. Belle, who works at Schilling Cider, wanted to show me another cidery she and her fellow Schilling-ers had visited.  We got to-go sandwiches and enjoyed a picnic on the orchard grounds of Dragon Head’s Cider. We sampled their amazing Columbia Crabapple blend, chatted with the affable DH employees, and just chilled out on an unseasonably   [6]    warm October afternoon.

 

 

After our island visit Belle wanted to go to her apartment to see her cat and rest up for the evening.  When she dropped me at my hotel moiself  noticed that the area  –The Point Ruston development in Tacoma’s  Ruston Way Waterfront – was hoppin.’  I got in the hotel elevator along with four other people – two couples, both of whom asked me, “Are you going to the concert tonight?”

Now, you could hear music coming from outside the hotel, and I said something about how I’d just told my daughter that it was such a nice night, you’d think someone would have scheduled a band to play outside in the amphitheater (where they have a summer concert series)…but then this weather is unexpected so it would be hard to book a group at the last minute…

My elevator buddies all looked momentarily confused, and one of them said, “No, not that – Elton John.”  I thought she meant an Elton John cover band was playing outside.  I laughed, and said, “Yeah, right, I don’t think so,” and another one of them chimed in and told me that Elton John was playing at the Tacoma Dome. 

Later that afternoon I went out to a nearby market, and returned to the hotel for another Elevator Encounter ®.  A couple who’d just checked in got in the elevator and didn’t know how to operate it.  I showed them how; they punched the button for floor 5.  Another man who got in the elevator at the lobby floor didn’t say anything, and didn’t make a floor selection.  When I got off at my floor (3) the couple wished me an enjoyable evening.  I turned around and asked, “Are you going to the concert?” they enthusiastically replied, “Yes!” and asked if I was also going.  I laughed and said that no, “…and I had no idea it was even taking place until people in elevators started talking about it.”    [7]

 

The Amphitheater Where Elton John Is Not Playing.

 

*   *   *

Department Of Weird Carpet Walking Man

That evening over dinner I told Belle the story of my elevator encounters, and also about what happened after the second encounter. The previously-mentioned man in the elevator, whom I thought gave off “didn’t belong” vibes (and wore a big scraggy beard, torn jeans and dirty shoes) exited the elevator when I did. I lagged behind; I let him go first, to keep an eye on him, lest he turn out to be the El Creepo Guy® who follows lone females off of hotel elevators to see what rooms they go to.

So, he’s walking ahead of me, verrrrrry strangely, weaving from side to side, sometimes taking large steps and sometimes tiny steps. As I observed him I realized he was walking so as to avoid stepping on the dark(er) blue spots on the hotel’s carpeted hallway – like a kid does when playing the “Don’t touch the lava!” game or “step-on-a-crack-break-your-back.”  I got out my phone to film him, stopped moiself, then relaxed when he removed a key from his picket and let himself into a room.

After dinner Belle came up to my room to get something I had for her. On her way out of the hotel I got this series of texts from her:

Belle:
I JUST SAW THE GUY WALKING WEIRD ON THE CARPET.
It had to be the same guy. He was avoiding the dark spots.

Moiself:
YES!

Belle:
Large beard.

Moiself:

YES!

Belle:
Wow amazing.
He’s like a natural phenomenon.

 

The carpet.

 

*   *   *

Department Of Carolyn Hax    [8]    Gem Of The Week

Context: re advice to a letter writer who is being told by her husband’s family that if she objects to his extravagant spending habits she will be “emasculating” him.

“Is there a worse word (or concept) than ‘emasculating’?
It’s basically a verbal encapsulation of the concept that the genders must
work in concert toward preserving the standing of men.”

*   *   *

Punz For The Day
Baseball Edition

What’s the difference between a pickpocket and a second base umpire?
One steals watches and one watches steals.

Did I tell you the joke about the pop fly?
Never mind; it’s way over your head.

Why was Cinderella kicked off the baseball team?
She ran away from the ball.

Did you hear about the baseball player who can spot a fast-food restaurant a mile away?
He leads the league in Arby eyes.

 

“What did I say about encouraging her?”

 

*   *   *

 

May you remember that those who are not pro-choice are no choice;
May you read Carolyn Hax’s column – what are you waiting for?;
May you one day be enchanted by a Weird Carpet Walking Man;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Don’t make me use the term gubernatorial, which is a word that ought to be banned in public, IMO.

[2] For reasons revealed later in this post.

[3] A protestor? A drunk or loony?  We never found out. Just pick ‘em up and toss ‘em aside, disgruntled passengers helpfully suggested, to anyone who would listen.

[4] A sweep in a MLB series playoff.

[5] 18 innings, 1-0.  Sounds to me like a soccer score.

[6] As in record-setting for the Seattle area.

[7] And that’s why I had to spring for the pricy hotel rooms, as so many places were completely booked up, with the Elton fans, I assumed.

[8] What do you mean, who is Carolyn Hax?  Just about the best advice columnist ever.