rose city journal

the new place

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 00:13:00 +0000

I moved to Lake Oswego this month, surprising everyone. Mostly myself. Don’t get me wrong. It’s beautiful here, in the charming First Addition neighborhood. It’s just not very… Lisa.

Last Saturday we drove down State Street after returning the moving truck and I had to laugh at the darkened road- truly, the sidewalks roll up at a surprisingly early hour here, even on the weekends. And it is so very quiet here.

At night, there is no sound at all and you can feel the darkness- it’s that oppressive. I have never in my life slept in such quiet blackness. It’s hard to believe that I am just a few blocks away from shops and restaurants.

My place is charming, mid-century modern at its finest and very evocative of lake homes, in its own way. After years of urbanity and historic, transitional neighborhoods, living here is different. There’s no telling how I will feel after six months have passed. But for now, I’m open to new experiences, meeting new people and generally enjoying the river, lake and neighborhood views.

Photo by Wilson Chen, one of the City of Lake Oswego Photo Contest Honorable Mentions. View more photos from Lake Oswego photo contest winners online.

the love-blind

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 00:55:00 +0000

Do we ever really know the people we love?

I frequently stalk my ex-boyfriends online. That isn’t quite as harsh as it sounds. I just like to have a picture in my head of what everyone’s doing now. Through my online searches of names and email addresses, I’ve come up with the following information about people that I’ve dated: One ex moonlights as an escort, one is apparently a member of some sort of circus-slash-fetish vaudeville troupe and one of them, who lived at home until he was 30, finally bought a house- right next door to his parents!

I bet he still strolls into the kitchen every morning calling out, “Ma, what’s for breakfast?”

All of the bits of information I’ve found online (except for the last one) threw me into a state of confusion. I thought I knew these people. I thought I knew them fairly well, actually. But now I have to wonder: do we ever really know the people we care about?

A dear friend of mine was shocked to find out about her husband’s secret credit card debts. Even more surprised to see the number of charges that appeared to be from strip clubs… while he was supposed to be at work. Their marriage fizzled and his hidden drug abuse/various other addictions started all coming to light. It was pretty gruesome; thankfully, she got out in time and managed to make a new life for herself.

But how is it possible that she didn’t know?

I don’t mean that as a criticism. I place the blame for everything that went wrong directly on him, where it belongs. But where was my friend’s radar for lying, for cheating, or for deception? She isn’t slow. In fact, she’s one of the most dynamic, intelligent people I know.

But when it comes to relationships, do we love ourselves blind?

I know that there were things I chose to ignore in my past relationships. Flaws I was willing to overlook. Messages that I just didn’t want to receive. But when you ignore the small things (and ok, some of the medium-sized things too), after a while, do you start wearing blinders? Because I have to think that must be how we miss the big deceptions. By starting with the small lies to ourselves, first.

And if I’m being completely honest I know that sometimes, someone has tried to tell me something… And I didn’t want to listen. I shut down and shut them out and pretended that everything was fine. I want to have adult relationships that enrich my life and deepen other peoples’ lives, too. But I know I need to get past this hurdle first.

Do we choose to make ourselves love blind?

And how can we take the blinders off?

a country of neighbors

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 18:13:00 +0000

While visiting the Midwest this month, we stopped by a friend’s house in the country. He has something special in his property, with several acres of land, a charming timber-lined home and a large pond, positioned many miles away from the nearest superstore, chain restaurant or strip mall. I love it, but I always have the feeling that I’m on vacation when I visit. I mean, I was on vacation this time, but even when I lived in the area, visiting always made me feel like I was at someone’s weekend home- not their residence. I’ve lived in and around cities for years, and I know that the surrounding woods, while charming, would begin to chafe after a while.

My friends were so enamored of the property they asked if it were for sale. I gather the primary reason for this was because it was so remote. “No neighbors,” Calle commented, as if this were a good thing. “It’s just so private,” Shel agreed.

And this got me thinking, about people who choose to live away from it all. Good fences make good neighbors, but what about people who think that it takes many acres to make good neighbors?

For a long time, I’ve been lucky to have found good neighbors. Everywhere I’ve lived; I’ve hung out with neighbors, been fed by neighbors and even vacationed with neighbors. And I have to say, I love the connection. That no matter where I go, I seem to find new friends (or maybe they find me). But what of these other people, who make a conscious decision to distance themselves from the city- and in so doing, distance themselves from everyone else?

Why would anyone want to do that?

Having spent an inordinate amount of time in the suburbs in my own youth, I craved city movement and sound for as long as I can remember. Soothed by late night brawls, quieted by curious tourists and calmed by a never-ending search for on-street parking, I’ve made my home in one city or another for years.

I asked my friends, so in awe of that country home, about their thoughts on neighbors. If it was growing up in a city that made them yearn for the country. Had they had enough of city noise to last them for a lifetime? Or was it something else?

Yes, my friends explained, they were romanced by the idea of a quiet, country life. But they also seemed less inclined to know their neighbors. To be forced to attend neighborhood gatherings or obligated to hold impromptu happy hours over easements. And maybe that stems from childhood, too. In my family, we organized the block parties. Had untold social gatherings for every special occasion (and some not so special occasions, too). I baby-sat the neighbors’ kids, swam in the neighbors’ pool, and busily baked cookies to welcome new friends to the neighborhood.

Yet somehow, I ended up in the city. I feel lucky for the friends I've found in the cities where I've lived. And my friends, though definitely charmed by the idea of a move to the country, seem to also enjoy all the benefits a city has to offer, including their neighbors. They frequently stop off at block parties and are often rushing out the door to help a neighbor in need. Though they still dream about a move to greener pastures, I think they'd miss their friends.

And maybe no matter how far we move away, there’s part of us that needs that country of neighbors- a country of friends.

day trips from portland- mt. angel oktoberfest

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 18:56:00 +0000

The Mt. Angel Oktoberfest kicked off yesterday and runs through this Sunday. The heritage festival celebrates German culture with traditional music and dancing, yummy food and my favorite, German beer. The Mt. Angel Oktoberfest also features a classic car cruise-in, a small dog race (natch) and many arts and crafts to help you get a head start on holiday shopping this year. Prosit!

Mt. Angel Oktoberfest
Open Thursday - Saturday From 11 a.m. to midnight.
Open Sunday from 11 a.m. to 9:30 p.m.
5 N. Garfield St. Mt Angel OR 97362

the best wine, but the least observant employees

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 20:00:00 +0000

Patty and I breeze into a liquor store for last minute supplies before the fireworks and are confronted by a very intoxicated woman and her… “date.” The alcoholic influence is evident because the first thing we see is this woman on her back in the middle of the floor. Since the guy helped her up (while she kept chatting, as though nothing was wrong), we moved along to the back of the store to make our selections.

When we strolled to the front of the store, the couple had buzzed off and I told the cashiers, “That woman was very drunk.”

“It’s true,” cashier #1 twinkled at me. “We have the best selection of wine anywhere.”

“She fell down in the middle of the store,” I further clarified.

Nodding and smiling, cashier #2 offered: “It’s much less expensive than if you go over the state line.”

“She was on her back,” explained Patty.

“Yes,” they responded in unison. “It really is the best selection and the best price.”

where are you?

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 17:20:00 +0000

As we move through life, we’re often lucky enough to make the kind of friendships that last forever… that last a lifetime. Through all of our ups and downs, these are the people are there for us- we can count on them for anything.

But what happens when you find such a friend, and then you lose them?

Sometimes we fall out of touch with those we love. People grow up, get married, have kids, get divorced, move, switch jobs- any one of these things can lead to the loss of a friend. But when your energy is spent only on making heart friends; when you have fun with acquaintances but dismiss the thought of anything deeper, how do you explain losing someone who once meant so much?

As I continue to plow through my 30’s, thinking about the future and where we’ll all be in 30 years, I often think, I hope I’m lucky enough to retire near my friends. Or that at least, we’ll continue to travel together, and still see each other, once in a while. Thinking about how we’ll live out those years and starting to give the future some due consideration, I have to wonder about the people that I’ve lost over the years.

The ones I thought would be on the deck chair beside me in my twilight years. The ones I thought would still be teasing me about my snorting giggle and the ones who would still be getting silly after one too many margaritas. There are a few who slipped through the cracks, and they’ve left a terrible void. If you’re out there lurking and you feel the same way, let me just say this:

I miss you. I hope it wasn’t something that I did wrong. And I hope to see you again, one fine day.

best places to watch riverfest fireworks

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 17:02:00 +0000

So, since I'm going back to Cincinnati for a nice long visit with friends and family this weekend, I should bump this post about the best places to watch the webn fireworks.

For Portland readers who are scratching their heads, the Riverfest fireworks in Cincinnati are a huge annual event; a half million people will be along the Ohio river watching the fireworks display (synchronized to music provided by WEBN, a popular lock rock station) on the Sunday before Labor Day.

Another million (or two) people will be watching from one of the seven hills in Cincinnati, enjoying park picnics or a private party. Your faithful blogger will be at the latter. ~

preserving forest park- day of stewardship September 19th

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 16:28:00 +0000

The Forest Park Conservancy is holding a Day of Stewardship on Saturday, September 19th.

Volunteers will help clear invasive weeds that are choking native habitat. In addition, volunteers will work on trail restoration and repair at five separate sites. Volunteers can get more information and register online for the day of stewardship at Forest Park.

More Information about Forest Park Conservancy

The Day of Stewardship is an important part of the Conservancy's ongoing effort to restore Forest Park's 5,000+ acres and maintain and improve its trail system of 70+ miles. All of the Conservancy's events are coordinated in partnership with Portland Parks & Recreation.

Forest Park Threats Include Overuse

Portland's Forest Park, one of the largest urban parks in the U.S., currently faces a number of threats, including overuse, encroachment by aggressive non-native vegetation and development. Forest Park Conservancy provides essential volunteer support and resources dedicated to helping restore and protect the Park's health and well-being.

Contact:
forestparkconservancy.org
(503) 223-5449
Twitter: PDXForestPark

language lessons

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Sat, 29 Aug 2009 04:35:00 +0000

Cheryl’s nephew Aero is visiting from Mexico. He’s come to Portland to immerse himself in the language. He’s twentysomething, very sweet, lives at home with his folks and works in some job that involves math.

We frequently, quite by accident, get into very personal conversations with Aero when I am visiting Cheryl's house. It’s something to do with the language barrier. He asks a simple question and we are so forthright, we blurt out an overwhelming amount of information in response to a question that really, probably could have been shrugged off with some simple A-B answer.

We are sitting at the dining room table when Aero asks Cheryl a question about her marriage. Cheryl, stumped for an answer, brightly changes the subject:

“You know what, Aero? Lisa’s never been married. Not even once. And she’s in her 30’s!”

I am looking at her stupefied, when the questions begin:

“Why you never marry, Lisa?”

“Well, I…” Sighing, I give Cheryl a thankyouverymuch look and try to formulate a response.

And it’s funny, I couldn’t really… come up with any good reason for never getting hitched. Instead, like a flash, came a whole long list of reasons why I haven’t married. What I was thinking, was this:

Well, he told me one thing and then he changed his mind, eight months later.
He ended up being a crazy drunk.
Him, I would have damaged him completely.
I am not sure why that one didn’t work out. I liked him a lot, actually.
He cheated.
He lied.
He… just wasn’t the right one.

I have no idea what look was on my face while the play by play was running through my head, but Cheryl finally shook me out of my reverie by saying emphatically,

“Well, she just hasn’t met the right person, Aero. That’s all.”

Ah, they nodded, looking at me speculatively.

That’s all.

the house-sitter

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 22:36:00 +0000

I am house-sitting for my folks at the beach.

My dad, upon leaving for their trip: “Well, if you decide to vacuum the hardwood floors…”

My mom, choking with laughter, “Sure, Lisa will vacuum!”

Me, indignant: “What?! I might vacuum!”

By this time, they are both laughing so hard that the conversation more or less ends. Maybe I’ll clean the whole house, I think (still smarting from the slight). That will show them.

They return tomorrow.

Needless to say.

I have yet to empty the dishwasher, dust a windowsill or pick up a broom.

I don’t think they’re showing up until late afternoon. I think I can get everything done tonight and just rest tomorrow. Or get everything done tomorrow morning and relax during the afternoon. Or maybe I could just…

Aw, screw it.

day trips from portland- scandinavian festival

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Fri, 14 Aug 2009 15:30:00 +0000

Junction City's annual Scandinavian Festival runs through this weekend. For almost 50 years, the festival has been celebrating the area's Scandinavian heritage with crafts, food (don't forget the lefse!) and the Scandia Run, a 10K flat course (walkers can choose to take the 4.4 mile Scandia Stride). The cultural festival also features folk dancers, storytellers and plenty of people in traditional dress. A beer garden and wine terrace rounds things off perfectly. It's great fun and at just under 100 miles, an easy day trip from Portland. Uff-dah!

Scandinavian Festival
Through August 16th
Junction, City Oregon

bridgeport brewery block party

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 17:53:00 +0000

This Saturday, August 15th from 4-10, BridgePort Brewery is throwing a block party on NW 13th in the Pearl District. The beer festival is in celebration of the brewery's 25th anniversary.

$1 for every beer sold during the block party will go to the portland audubon society. In addition to live music, beer and whatnot, members of the audubon society will be on hand with some live birds. Your faithful blogger will get into the spirit of the thing by drinking beer... and twittering, ha.

BridgePort Brewery
1313 NW Marshall Street
Portland, Oregon

the weddings

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 18:44:00 +0000

From start to finish, the two weddings I attended this weekend were lovely and couldn’t be more different: a traditional wedding, held in a house of worship (after which, I scuttled home to sleep off my miserable summer cold) and a charming, bohemian outdoor wedding, held alongside a river. From blushing brides to cheerful, expansive grooms, the weddings were just what I’d hoped they would be- full of love, laughter and tears (even from me, I have to admit).

When you see the little nieces and nephews grow up; when you watch them move into the next chapters of their lives, there’s something sweet and yes, beautiful, about watching them go. And there was more than just wedding celebrations happening this weekend.

It was about family; strengthening the bonds with the matriarchs and patriarchs, heads bent together with the littlest of the group to feed baby goats through the fence, gossiping with the one-time adults who became, over time, my best friends and contemporaries. Little girls in flowered dresses, tiny boys trying on gamma’s silk gloves and the hearty, champagne-induced laughter of everyone’s parents- these are what wedding memories are made of. From a cancer-stricken father who cheered everyone with his fluffed line (“Who gives this bride? My mother and I do-”) to the sedate giggle of a grandmother, the time spent with my family this weekend glows like the little flame on the unity candle- warm and soft and leaving me in its knowing.

Bryan and Casey, Danielle and Matthew, much love and felicitations on your new lives together- you make our family complete.

the confession

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 22:22:00 +0000

Call it the hallmark of a misspent youth, but authority figures have always made me nervous.

And yes, that most definitely includes Customs officials. Despite going through interviews with customs officers every other month this year, I still find myself a little… unnerved in their presence.

Returning from my latest trip to Canada, I went through the usual rigmarole at customs. Made more tedious, no doubt, by my initial attempts to always, yes always, not reveal any more information than what’s asked of me and by my inevitable, ultimate confession of something completely irrelevant and absolutely unnecessary.

Case in point:

“So,” the handsome officer asked me sternly, “you were here on business?”

“Yes,” I replied. (just the facts, man. Just the facts.)

“What kind of business?”

“I’m a freelance editor for a Canadian website.”

“Mmm,” he said, taking in my disheveled hair and ratty t-shirt. “Is it (voice lowered) an adult website?”

“No, no… Much less interesting. I’m a Business and Finance Editor.”

“Hmm,” he said, looking like he believed me less than a little. “Isn’t it true that 90% of what’s on the internet is adult-related?”

See, right here, I could have just said, I don’t know. Finished up and walked away. Instead:

“I don’t… I’m not sure. I hardly ever look at those sites,” I fumbled, blushing furiously.

With a cough that might have been disguising a laugh, he nodded at me and encouraged me to keep going.

“I never look at any online porn for more than 45 minutes at a time. Really!”

“You’re awesome,” he said, sending me on my way. “Keep that sense of humor!”

I fled as quickly as possible, face burning.

Can I help it if I crack under questioning?

freedom friday

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 18:58:00 +0000

“Today is Freedom Friday,” my sweetie-niece informed me last week. We are lazing around by the hammock while my sister busily deadheads flowers in the garden.

“Wow! What’s Freedom Friday?”

“Well,” she explained. “Friday is my favorite day of the week. And I think you should have one day where you get to do whatever you want. It’s Freedom Friday. Invented!” she shouted, small fist punching the air. Muttering under her breath and beginning to look a little heated, I caught a quick eye roll from her mother, still working hard on the garden.

“I think it’s an amazing invention. What are you going to do for Freedom Friday?”

“Go to the pool! It’s a great day to go swimming,” she cooed, looking sideways at her mom.

“Well,” said my sister, viciously snapping at stems, “if it’s Freedom Friday, and we get to do whatever ‘we’ want to do, then maybe I don’t want to go to the pool.”

Freedom Friday. Keeping oppressed nine year-olds home from the pool on a weekly basis.

the sun goddess

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 01:29:00 +0000

My neighbors giggled down at me, leaning over their porch rail: “Can we lay out on your lounge chairs?”

Of course, I replied. No one else is using them, anyway. Consider them yours. After they were settled, and soaking up the rays, I couldn’t help but mention, even though I knew it would do no good, a little something about the dangers of the sun.

The girls managed to put serious faces on for a minute or two, echoing their agreement (“Oh we know it’s bad”) until they lapsed back into the lawn chairs, oiled up and ready for several hours of skin-crackling fun in the sun.

But I remember what it felt like to lay out in the sun.

Trundling after my older sister for an afternoon of sunbathing, we brought only the basics: an old quilt, a book designed for summer reading (not too “thinky;” just lots of sex and dysfunction), suntan oil and of course, lukewarm Tab sodas. Laying out was one of the ways I could show off my newfound maturity as a fifth-grader.

The blinding sun, the rolling green grass that went on forever and the memories of that time rest warmly on my heart.

And being a sun-worshipper stuck. It stuck with me for all the years I lived in Oregon as a kid, when the sun only dared to show its face in the summer months. It became a necessity when I moved to the Midwest and sunny days started in early spring. Eventually, my tanorexia became something that needed maintenance all year ‘round.

I know that I’m lucky, to have some good Norwegian genes that have so far kept most of the sun damage at bay. We also have some weird gene in our family that allows us to tan really quickly- a half-hour in the sun, and we look like we’ve been in South Carolina all week. And without making excuses, I have to say that we didn’t know as much then as we know now about sun-related health risks. Including, but not limited to, immunosupression, skin cancer and cataracts. Whew.

And I have to laugh at my dear friend Ann in Wisconsin, who like my neighbors, bundles up in 60 degree weather and sits outside in the sun to “get some color.” Living in Oregon again, with my web feet firmly planted on the ground, I’m even less inclined to work on my tan this summer. No, I won’t oil up, lay out or use the clock to decide when it’s time to turn over (yes, we really used to do that).

Instead, I’ll languish in my natural, semi-matte color. And fondly remember the dark days.

things to do in portland- oregon craft beer month

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 19:20:00 +0000

Until my brother starts reading my tweets, I’ll keep stealing his jubelale. In the meantime, I'll find other avenues for beer-succor at the Oregon Craft Beer Month. The Oregon brewers' annual celebration offers plenty of fresh brews for Portland beer, ale and lager connoisseurs throughout the month of July.

Learn more about Oregon Craft Beer Month events at local breweries in your area at the Oregon Brewers Guild.

rose city journal on twitter

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 21:20:00 +0000

the rose city journal blog finally broke down and started up on twitter. Follow at will.

maddening

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 20:55:00 +0000

A tip from a reader and a quick perusal of the web unearthed a maelstrom of accusations against an ex-boyfriend. If the rants are to be believed, he a. has multiple STDs b. is a deadbeat dad and c. has bad BO. All of this could be spot on for all I know, but I suspect that something else is going on.

Since most of the recent posts were clumped together, you know, unique posts but posted a few minutes or a day apart, I’m guessing that the same person posted the majority of them and that most likely, he either broke up with someone or had some kind of business deal gone bad. Either way. It probably could have been cleared up with a phone call, instead trying to crucify him on the website.

It doesn’t feel very good to read bad stuff about yourself online. As I’ve mentioned previously on the blog, there were some very pointed things written for my benefit online last year, and they were very hurtful. I didn’t deserve it. But sometimes, there are ways of doing things where you don’t encourage that kind of behavior. The thing about this ex is that he has a habit of making people… mad. Really, really mad.

He even made me mad. Me, who never really gets flustered about anything. Well. I’m pretty unflappable most of the time.

“I want to call him up and tell him exactly how I feel,” I remember telling the third smartest person I know. “Don’t do it,” she wisely advised. “Take the high road, instead.” I did take the high road and chose to let it go. Others, not so much.

In addition to the recent spate of online activity, there have been other posts about him in the past. And when we were dating, it was hang-up calls, late-night phone calls from his ex screaming obscenities and on one memorable night, she stopped by at midnight to pick up some of her belongings.

After months and months of showing no interest in them at all, she suddenly decided, upon seeing us arrive home late one night, that she needed to pick up her stuff. Much hilarity ensued, including but not limited to, her shrieking at him, me staying inside the house and several neighbors coming over to see what was happening.

So now, when I see the posts about my ex online, I’ve got to think that he’s pissed yet another person off. Someone who isn’t willing to just walk quietly away. I feel very bad for him. It’s extremely unpleasant to read, and the majority of what’s out there seems unfounded. But I also know that most of what we sow comes from stuff that we reap.

~ Reading over this blog post, I have to laugh because one of the first things that I wrote was that I’ve had pointed things written for my benefit online, too. In the “for what it’s worth” category, that wasn’t my fault… I just picked the wrong person to befriend. It’s not a mistake that I plan to make again.

the tattoo

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 19:17:00 +0000

Like tattoos on our mindsets, old hurts seem to stick around forever.

Residual pain sears into our skin. And it doesn’t matter what he says or how he says it, when he says the words you can’t bear to hear, you feel like you’re jumping out of your skin. Her words drip with malice or maybe jealousy (you never could decide) until you want to disown her. Worst of all are the tattoos left from the painful things you did. When you were the one that hurt someone, deliberately or otherwise, with your words.

But that man can no longer hurt you. He’s gone weak and ineffectual with time.

The sting is gone from her words. Her future was always her destiny and that’s punishment enough.

And the words we gave, the stupid, hurtful things we said and never ever meant to say are gone now, too.

If we choose to let them go.

Choosing to free yourself from your past mistakes and choosing to give up the ache caused by others isn’t easy. The process can be painful… Like removing a tattoo.

But the burns will fade.

The scars will heal.

And a ghost of a memory can’t hurt you anymore.

It can’t hurt you ever again.

North American Organic Brewers Festival

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 17:08:00 +0000

Because we don’t have enough festivals that celebrate local beers, the North American Organic Brewers Festival (NAOBF) comes back to Portland on June 26th, 27th and 28th. The beer festival will be held at Overlook Park and runs daily throughout the weekend. Of the many beers I plan to taste, Pinkus Munster Alt from Germany’s Pinkus Mueller, Au Naturale Blonde Ale from Grand Teton Brewing Co. in Idaho and Crannog Ale’s Red Branch Irish Ale from Sorrento, BC are at the top of my list.

If you see me at the beer festival, please come up and say "hi!" I could however, do without the drunk guy yelling, "hey, blogger girl! Yeah, you- bloggerrrrr girrrrl!"

North American Organic Brewers Festival (NAOBF)
Friday, June 26th 12-9
Saturday, June 27th 12-9
Sunday, June 28th 12-5
Overlook Park
Cost: Free
$6 for a “reusable, compostable, cornstarch tasting glass;” samples are $1 a token, a full glass is 4 tokens. Strong beers and certain imported beers may cost more.

swine and pearls

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 06:29:00 +0000

My nephew is currently attending my alma mater. I wanted to look something up about his major, urban planning, and accidentally pulled the Urban Dictionary entry for Miami University.

I was so surprised, I blurted out in my best Miami voice, "Oh. My. Gawwwd," which made me laugh even harder.

you don’t see that every day

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Sun, 24 May 2009 16:33:00 +0000

Further proof that bikers have migrated from a dangerous subculture to an entirely different culture of mainstream people with expendable income: I am standing outside the fish and chips shop on Hwy 101 in the little coastal town where my folks live when a “gang” of motorcycles chugged by. One of them had his stereo blasting.

His music of choice?

Michael McDonald.

awkward family photos

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Mon, 18 May 2009 22:43:00 +0000

You just... can't... stop... looking at the embarrassing, odd and strange snaps on awkwardfamilyphotos.com.

I'm trying to find a shot to accompany this post but the photos I have of my family are all pretty good. I'll keep looking around and will update when/if I can find something... awkward enough.

the dog days of summer

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Sat, 09 May 2009 23:33:00 +0000

You quit your job four years ago to become self-employed.

You didn’t foresee the far-reaching effects of the recession, or maybe you did, but never really believed that it could impact you directly. And even when the recession has affected you, somehow, you remain cheerful and resigned, accepting the good with the bad and continuing to move forward.

You moved across country to be close to family. No one forced you to do this. You took a good long look at where your life was going, and thought about how much you missed your family every day. How your parents weren’t getting any younger. It seemed like the best decision you could have made. And you have no regrets, even when you miss the people you left behind.

Today, for some reason, you remembered a street in the town where you lived that was lined with old houses. Pristine, oversized white homes with crisp dark green shutters and pretty tree-lined lawns. American flags snapping in a stiff breeze, lying dormant in the hot months of summer. You’ve always thought of them as cupcake houses. They remind you of the house where you were born. They’re in the same town, actually. In the same neighborhood.

Right about now, you thought, everything’s green, those big trees are swaying gently over the wide street and somewhere, a child is soaring through the treetops on a swing. Laughing.

Some days, like today, you miss your friends and wonder what they’re doing. Wonder if they’re barbecuing and enjoying the first signs of another long Midwestern summer. Drinking bottles of beer from Oregon or sipping big glasses of wine and playing a beanbag game. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Laughing as they get farther and farther from the goal with every emptied bottle.

You know you did the right thing. But sometimes, you miss them. And you have to wonder: Are they somewhere missing you?