It sounds like the random junk in the driveway is clattering around, which is funny because I've moved it all inside the garage. On Friday I even gathered up all the spare lumber from the build and moved it into a semi-organized pile near the back of the garage in expectation for this weeks storms, and I even managed to get a couple lengths of rain gutter hung up. It's almost strange to look out the back and not see the big silver tarp looming over the back corner where the sheeting lay for almost a year. I really wanted to get more done before a lasting snowfall, but it looks like this may be it.

To be honest, though, this has never been a good time of the year for me. Not anything to do with the holidays in and of themselves, but from when the days start getting noticeably shorter the dark depression hangs over me. I often wonder if it's as silly as being afraid of the East wind. Does it hit because I expect it to come with a sun that doesn't rise very far above the horizon?

This year has even had an added bonus. The first cold and stormy day I found a pair of gloves in a hat and bundled up to go to work. Something in the combination of the extra outerwear and the snow took me back to the January before last when I was going for my chemotherapy every weekday, and for a few minutes I had a reaction just like I was back on the Interferon. They had told me that I needed to dress extra warm and take precautions so I didn't get sick, because the chemo would have me weakened anyway, and if I got sick then my immune system would have to fight two battles, or something like that. Normally I don't wear anything other than a coat, and in High School I even toughed it out a couple years in an unlined Levi jacket. Maybe it's my way of saying that if it's not winter, then I won't get depressed.

Anyway, when I would go for the infusion I wore a nice coat that Jack gave me when he ungrew out of it. I'd also put on gloves, a hat and scarf. Something about the ritual of it every morning was comforting and unusual. Combined with the pain of the treatment and the cheerfulness and compassion of the Huntsmen Cancer Center staff it made a complex impression on me that I think is embedded in my already turbulent winter gestalt. There's something really confusing about a feeling that makes your joints ache, your stomach fall and puts a happy smile on your face at the same time. But I hadn't expected the feeling to hang on this long, and for some reason I don't remember it happening last year.

And maybe that's why sleep just won't come right now. The East wind is blowing and I fear that somewhere out there lurks a brick with my name on it...

Lots more walking around today and some impressive scenery, but my camera ran out of batteries just as I came across this first one. Lots of artists choke on large installations, I think. But this one was really nice, especially once I looked at the close-ups and could make out the interconnected pieces. I got the feeling in art school I was a little too simple and literal to be considered much good, but I'm all about simple beauty. And size is hard.

Portland has kind of a funny vibe so far. I've been here a couple times before, but always alone and always just for the afternoon as I was on my way to the coast. This is the first chance that I've had to just spend time aimlessly poking around. I'm really digging the variety of architecture, especially the late 1800's masonry and the way the regooding hasn't seemed to caught it all yet. One of the best examples I saw of this today was a preserved corner facade of a building that separated another building from the street, complete with trees growing inside the old building space. If my legs work tomorrow I'm going to see if I can't get some better pictures when there's some light, and when I have something other than my phone to capture it.

I've also not seen so many people begging for cash since Baltimore in '02, and the Baltimore panhandlers were at least soft-spoken lot and only gave each person one shot. Most of the ones I've been approached by here are persistent and fairly obnoxious. The homeless situation here is heartbreaking, as you can't walk from here to the convention center without seeing several people wrapped in blue tarps in doorways and under the bridges. The hotel in which I'm staying has two buildings next door that have little cardboard gates in front of their stoops with people huddled against the chill and the rain. I'm not sure as to what good a 1' high cardboard barrier provides, but maybe it's a talisman for personal space.

The light rail system is really nice for getting around as we're in the free-fare zone, although it does tend to shake my room every 15 minutes or so enough that I'm often tempted to toss the conductor a quarter for the vibrating bed. But today the preferred mode was walking in the light drizzle that the locals have referred to as 'the rainy season'. It's been a fairly mild and pleasant, but gray storm all day, and going over google maps from one destination to another it looks like I may have walked between seven and ten miles. My legs are feeling it, too. I'm starting to get the landmarks down. There's a building with a greenish neon strip at the top that puts me close to my hotel. The North Steel Bridge shows up near the river, but there's not a lot of real skyline that is visible for a long distance to get my bearings, and without mountains or big, distant buildings I'm left to navigate from the light rail maps (when I don't get them turned around).

One if the huge differences is it's just really hard not to j-walk across these tiny roads. There hasn't been much traffic most times and it just feels stupid to stop at a streetlight with no traffic when you can practically spit across the street. And with the majority of the streets seeming to be one-way it's not like some traffic is going to surprise you. We got so caviler about it that it's almost funny the way I nearly fell into the streets several times when I've actually seen that I needed to stop. At least there's been the added humor of looking for the purported sources of the names of The Simpson's characters on the street signs. We've seen Flanders and Lovejoy, but those are the only ones I've recognized so far.

But for now it's off to bed with the rattle and squeal of the Morrison train to rock me to sleep. I think I hear one coming now.

Did I mention I tend to ramble when I'm tired?

Mix equal parts of gem salt, rock alum, white vinegar, chalk and Peebles' powder. After the mixture becomes quiet, put into it any wood or porous substance, and the latter becomes like stone.

Google tells me Peebles' Powder is powdered skim milk.

Actually I found out I can, those were just the leftover crust clumped up with cinnamon and sugar because I find it hard to throw food away, which is the reason for the pie.

We got apples at costco a few weeks ago, and only four or five got eaten, despite the fact they were fairly tasty apples. I figured they were a getting a little on, and the skins were starting to wrinkle just a bit when you pushed on them, so I figured that I ought to give a swing at seeing if I could do pie.

I found a recimape on the internets and it turned out we had everything but the crisco, so I substituted butter for shortening. Mmmmmm, butter.

All that experience working with clay slabs gave me that edge for rolling out the dough, but I think clay is more forgiving.

Look Ma, no hairnet!

And when Debbie said I had to make some vent holes I couldn't resist making it cute, 'cause I'm such the homemaker.

Just another example of why I dislike going out in public. And it's not even Christmas yet.

I woke up very amused.

*Live Action Role Playing

We were supposed to bring a picture or something to scrapbook, so I took her this picture that I took the day she got her haircut when we met at her Grandparents' place where she lived to watch Voyager.

Yeah, for a season we watched Voyager, but you do a lot of stupid things when you're young.

So Howie posted on facebook that he got invited to Rush week for our old fraternity and it reminded me of this picture I took of him with the chickens we borrowed for a rush party game...

I was a bit worried about Stan being out there, because he thinks he's a mighty hunter. I don't think he could have taken these guys, though. But he eventually made it in and is happy on my lap, trying to keep me from telling this story so I'll scratch his head some more.

--Beulah

Here I sit in Boulder contemplating my meager bag of dried fruit and nuts, wondering if I can ration it out till Saturday along with the 12 pack of cokes I got at the arco station a mile up the road...

"Is there some reason you would need a car?" The words seemed so innocuous. I decided not to push it. After all, Boulder is only a $46 shuttle ride from the Denver Airport, what could go wrong? We still got to the hotel by 8:30, and decided to head out and look for food. There's nothing but trees around here, and I don't see any buildings, so we head towards traffic lights. "We're going to starve to death", Robert said at one point. I agreed. I caught a tiny frog and had a Bear Grylls moment, only I couldn't hold on to the little thing and it liberated itself among the roadside weeds. "I think it peed on me", I said, Robert's words echoing in my head. "We're gong to starve to death."

We return to the hotel and catch the young receptionists as they were hastily closing up for the night. We're hungry and have not eaten since lunch. "Can we help you?" But their eyes dart towards the door and the cool, cool evening, with the promise of Absinthe and young men's gazes. "Is there any food?" The brunette's face blanched, "Not within walking distance!", but her blonde companion pulled at a sliver of memory. "Maybe the deli?" "Yes!" the brunette blushed, "But it is almost nine." The blonde tugged at her nose wistfully, "Maybe they're open til half past?" she suggested imaginatively. "No never, half past", said her friend. "But maybe there's something 5 blocks further? A taco bell?"

They burst into a flurry of closing activity, the conversation come to an end, and I look at Robert. "We must find sustenance, but I fear the worst." "Yes, the worst", answered Robert, "Still..." and we headed out into the night...

Pi Rho, Lake Powell trip sometime in the early 90's.