Tuesday, 17 January 2017
After two days of reading The Death and Life of Great American Cities (with poor concentration and lots of clicking onto news sites), Allan and I left home in the evening to have a birthday dinner for Dave’s birthday.
It was faintly adventurous because of 70 mph winds at Cape Disappointment, 63 mph in Ilwaco, and a bit less in Long Beach by the Adrift Hotel.
Adrift Hotel; [pickled fish] restaurant is upstairs.
While the evening started quietly, the room soon filled up.
Allan’s photo. [pickled fish] has exceptionally good pizza.
Our garden gang was not in full attendance. Todd is in on a working vacation in a warmer clime.
Our gifts to Dave were the practical sort: chemical toe warmers for comfort at work and some cans of Fort George Vortex IPA for unwinding after work.
Wednesday, 18 January 2017
Allan walked his winter day route to the post office and library, and considered the Black Lake trail system.
Due to continuing blustery wind, he reconsidered going on the tree-lined trails. He says, “Mr. Tootlepedal would at least have brought back some photos of fungus,” but Allan didn’t.
In the evening, we attended a full house lecture at Salt Pub, given by our friend Debbie Teashon of Rainy Side Gardeners fame. Based on her book, Gardening for the Homebrewer, her talk addressed how to grow the herbs and flowers that can be used to flavour beer, wine, and liqueurs.
Debbie does a “hero pose” before each of her talks. She says it works to give confidence and strength.
Our Debbie, shoulders back, hands on hips.
full house at Salt Pub
Debbie at work
Debbie has been a professional photographer for decades.
Debbie’s next speaking engagement, Toasting Your Health, From the Garden to Your Glass, will be on one of the big stages at the Northwest Flower and Garden Show in Seattle at 5:45 PM on Thursday, February 23.
You can glean recipes and how-tos from her book, which is available locally at Time Enough Books:
A tasty smoked tuna melt sandwich went down a treat while I listened to the lecture and admired Debbie’s gardening slide show.
at Salt Pub
a well-received talk (Allan’s photo)
Thursday, 10 January 2016
We joined Debbie for a three hour catch up session over lunch at Salt Pub. Debbie had already been for a walk with her dog after a restful sleep at Salt Hotel.
the Port reflected in Salt Pub mirrors
Bloody Mary (Allan’s photo)
Pho at Salt Pub
and broccoli cheese soup
I spent the afternoon spiffying up my signs as best I could.
Allan had acquired some clear shelf paper to cover them with. We have had torrents of rain all week (over four inches in just one day) and more is predicted for the weekend.
working on the one sign I had left to do…turned out to be a rough draft.
For the back of this one:
I finally came up with this one (below). I wish I were a better letterer, as I lack patience. I should have added that Asian women make about the same as white women; that was in the original and was changed because I wanted fewer words. I couldn’t find up to date statistics for Native American workers. I chose the word Latinx rather than Latina and Latino or Hispanic, because my reading tells me it is a word of choice for Millennials, and they will inherit this country. And so I continue muddling along toward racial justice, assuredly getting some things wrong along the way.
Here is an image that strongly spoke to me today.
I prepared for Friday’s social media theme of changing one’s profile photo to one of the Obamas by choosing a photo of them on a train and altering it in Prisma. The original is in this photo essay. A comfort on this day was Barack Obama’s promise to emerge after a restful break and continue to be “with us”.
I chose for a Facebook cover photo an inspirational image of Barack and Michelle in Michelle’s White House garden. This is the garden that the execrable Ann Coulter tweeted should be turned into a “putting green” and that Rush Limbaugh contemptuously said made him “gag”.
Is this beautiful garden going to be bulldozed? Or will Melania or Ivanka get their hands dirty in the soil? I’m curious to see.
Friday, 20 January 2017
I was unable to sleep till after 4:30 AM because of a sense of doom….and then I had a dream of finding beer cans and cigarette butts in the far corners of my own garden. In my nightmare, Allan found a leather collar, human sized with iron crosses and the word FURY on it, outside our door. We called the police. The police chief told us the collar was part of the attire of a dangerous local white neo-Nazi gang and that we should keep our doors locked and guard our garden gates because the leader of the group was clearly prowling up to our front porch. I woke to the news that a former KKK leader had expressed pleasure about our country’s new president.
Although I barely had time in the morning to glance at the news, I found two moments of amusement: Photos showed an enormous difference in the crowds at DT’s inauguration compared to the first inauguration of President Obama, and there was a spike in Google searches for the meaning of the word “carnage” after DT used it in his dark and dystopian speech.
Allan and I met for lunch (breakfast for us) with a group of liberals at El Compadre Restaurant.
El Compadre in north Long Beach
inside El Compadre
The group included local artists, Democrat leaders, and our own Mayor Mike.
second from left, a regular blog reader, Judy, whom we met in person at last.
a margarita for the drowning of sorrow
Everyone at the table had energy and ideas, and much comfort and inspiration was found there. (We forgot to sing protest songs.) We are FIRED UP and READY TO GO. Although I must admit that I am still hoping to get ten, just ten, non-peopling days IN A ROW at the end of our staycation, starting Monday. Wish me luck! I have not gotten to the bottom of my stack of winter reading yet.
On the way home, while Allan popped into Dennis Company for more sign protecting clear shelf paper, I pulled old foliage out of one planter…
…and then we clipped back the Melianthus major and a few other perennials in Fifth Street Park.
Fifth Street Park before a bit of clipping.
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