Shome mishtake, shurely?
Jun. 4th, 2011 06:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceThe weather continues to be wrong: after rain in California in June, we have lovely hot sun and immaculate skies in Portland, to the point of buying new sunscreen and leaving all the doors and windows wide.
Yesterday m'hostess and I did all the walking, pretty much. We went to explore as it were the next neighbourhood over, and found a rhododendron garden around a lake which frankly I might go walk in every day if I lived here, if it weren't raining. Despite the three-dollar entry fee (free on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, though: what's that about?). It was just fab (tho' Mark mocks me for using the word), and I did take photos, but I don't think I have any way to download them to the laptop, and by the time I get home the moment will presumably have passed. Hell, I still have many photos from last year's trip to the States which I've never sorted through, let alone posted. It's all too effortful, y'know...?
Then there was lunch in an odd little teriyaki place that was almost dishonest about its almost-absence of sushi (we ate tempura instead), and then more walking via stores and a Wall of Herbs and a little old lady buying slippery elm, who was happy to explain its uses. Keep Portland weird, that's what we say.
And then we were barely home in time to get some work done (somehow she gets paid to read Cryptonomicon, while I get paid to make stuff up about oyster bars in the 60s: isn't adult life meant to be grimmer than this?) before whisking each other away to collect Mark from the railway station for her, and then Karen from the airport for me.
And then dinner and so home, and a general collapse of stout parties; and, well. I love this house and all who currently inhabit it, and right now the one I understand least well is possibly myself. Why 'zackly am I up again and working, at 7am, when everyone else is emitting snoozons to the max...?
Yesterday m'hostess and I did all the walking, pretty much. We went to explore as it were the next neighbourhood over, and found a rhododendron garden around a lake which frankly I might go walk in every day if I lived here, if it weren't raining. Despite the three-dollar entry fee (free on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, though: what's that about?). It was just fab (tho' Mark mocks me for using the word), and I did take photos, but I don't think I have any way to download them to the laptop, and by the time I get home the moment will presumably have passed. Hell, I still have many photos from last year's trip to the States which I've never sorted through, let alone posted. It's all too effortful, y'know...?
Then there was lunch in an odd little teriyaki place that was almost dishonest about its almost-absence of sushi (we ate tempura instead), and then more walking via stores and a Wall of Herbs and a little old lady buying slippery elm, who was happy to explain its uses. Keep Portland weird, that's what we say.
And then we were barely home in time to get some work done (somehow she gets paid to read Cryptonomicon, while I get paid to make stuff up about oyster bars in the 60s: isn't adult life meant to be grimmer than this?) before whisking each other away to collect Mark from the railway station for her, and then Karen from the airport for me.
And then dinner and so home, and a general collapse of stout parties; and, well. I love this house and all who currently inhabit it, and right now the one I understand least well is possibly myself. Why 'zackly am I up again and working, at 7am, when everyone else is emitting snoozons to the max...?