rose city journal

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?

the sixth man

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 15:06:00 +0000

At first glance, Travis Outlaw might escape your attention.

The charming Portland Trailblazers Forward and sixth man off the bench often comes across as shy and diffident. The bashful basketball player, who hails from the Deep South, is unassuming in front of a microphone. Drafted right out of high school, Travis hasn’t yet found a way to conceal his emotions. It only adds to his appeal.

We can always tell when Coach Nate has given Trav a bad time. TO’s eyes widen and as the young man dips his head down into his jersey, his face tells the tale of a kid in trouble with dad- again.

And we can also tell when Catfish, as teammates call him, is happy. Leaping off the bench, the sixth man comes to life when needed- and never disappoints. Travis springs from the bench with an energy that NBA fans need to see; an energy that’s sadly lacking in some of our most revered basketball stars today.

Quietly moving through games with extreme elegance and grace, Travis is comfortable and confident in his role as the sixth man. In fact that’s a good way to describe him- because he seems inspired by a quiet confidence.

As we move into 40 Days and 40 Nights, almost all eyes will be on the star power of the Portland Trail Blazers: the powerful Greg Oden, strong-willed Steve Blake, dashing LaMarcus Aldridge, graceful Rudy Fernandez and the eloquent Brandon Roy.

But for some of us, the game won’t really begin, until the sixth man enters.

the line

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Sat, 04 Apr 2009 15:53:00 +0000

“We have to move quickly,” he said nervously. I glanced over to see the sweat beginning to bead along his brow. Red-faced and perspiring, panic was quickly settling in. Clearly, it wouldn’t be long before his oncoming dread took him over.

“It’s fine,” I said cautiously. “Just try to relax.”

“I can’t, I can’t,” he mumbled, fear tumbling over. “We have to go now. If we don’t go now- You go, and I’ll finish up here.”

I could see him poised, getting ready to jump ship, and knew, I had to act quickly to keep him calm. To keep him from running away.

“It will be fine. Just relax.” But I worried, and looking around, I knew it wouldn’t be long before he left me. And then:

“I have to go. I have to leave. Please… Just go on without me.”

“I am not going to get in line. The last time I did that, you didn’t come back in time, and when you did show up, you didn’t have everything.”

“We have to go! Go now! Look at all of those people! They’re going to get in line right now! Just go. Please, please. Just go.”

Why do men think going to the grocery store is a form of torture?

Turn off the TV week 2009

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Tue, 31 Mar 2009 20:01:00 +0000

National Turn Off the TV Week is right around the corner- this year the program, which encourages a bi-annual TV-free week, will run from April 20th through April 26th.

Last year, I documented my participation in National Turn Off the TV Week (see “What Hath God Wrought?”). I work from home, so my television is on all the time. I never really realized that until I participated in the experiment. The week was hard, I mostly listened to NPR and if the Blazers are playing during this year’s hell week, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stick to my guns. But I’m game.

Turn Off the TV Week is meant to help people take control of the information they receive, instead of letting the information control them. Television has long been lampooned as an unhealthy intrusion into our lives. Everyone knows, you should try to limit your TV time and kids should be forced to play outside instead of slacking around, watching NICK.

But I’d argue that there are some good children’s programs on TV. Sesame Street stands out. PBS offers a number of programs to help kids learn and many of them have study guides available for teachers who plan to screen shows in the classroom.

But lately, I can’t help but notice that the TV shows on Nickelodeon look more and more like tween soap operas. DeGrassi was the first, and undoubtedly the best, soap opera for kids. Since then, the market has exploded and much of the programming for kids has gone downhill. When I run across new schlock marketed towards kids, I have to wonder: what happened to all of the good guys?

The good guys. You know, the ones we idolized around the time that we still thought twinkies were good, trees were for climbing and windowsills were for dreaming. The men and women on TV, yes, television, who made us feel comforted. Special. They taught us stuff, and we, enraptured, pulled up a chair to listen- and learn.

PBS’ Mr. Rogers focused on the basic skills needed to grow up: cooperation, persistence, patience, sharing, the ability to pay attention and to manage frustration. Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood was a values-based program, and the values the show preached still ring true today:

· Children are precious, and their earliest years are exceedingly important in laying the foundation for who and what they become.
· Children grow best when raised in responsible and caring ways.
· The ability to love and be loved is supremely important in every person's life, and that ability is best nurtured in the early years.
· Discipline and control are essential to healthy living -- and the best discipline and control come from within.
· It is important to recognize the worth and the unique abilities of each individual child. Children can -- and do -- contribute in many ways to the life of a family. (PBS Kids)

And for almost 30 years, Captain Kangaroo charmed small viewers. The venerable host of children’s television had firm ideas about what he wanted his show to do:

“It is my contention that most people are not mugged every day, that most people in this world do not encounter violence every day. I think we prepare people for violence, and I think it just as important that we prepare people for the definition of being gentle. ... for so many years gentle has been equated with weakness but it requires more strength to be gentle. So it's the every day encounters of life that I think we prepare children for and prepare them to be good to other people and to consider other people.” (NPR)

I'm not going to sit here, TV blaring, and tell you that I think television is an unnecessary evil. There are plenty of people in my family who watch only PBS. That isn't me. I did turn off my cable several years ago, when I thought I was watching too much television. Then I heard Monday Night Football was moving to ESPN. Which I think is kind of criminal and unfair, but that's another blog.

Every time I hear Morgan Freeman’s voice, I think of the Easy Reader.

the success story

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Sun, 22 Mar 2009 23:12:00 +0000

One of my favorite success stories of all time came from a couple I met while vacationing on Lake Erie. They lived in a beautiful home on charming Ruggles Beach, a private beach that rests midway between Huron and Vermillion, Ohio.

Their home wasn’t brand-new; it wasn’t an oversized McMansion with a triple car garage or a multi-layer stucco wonder. It was an older, white home with glossy black shutters, a creaking wrap-around porch and it rested high up on a perch, with one of the best views of the lake. I couldn’t resist telling the owners, as we shuffled around during one particularly lazy happy hour, how much I loved their home.

“We love it too, Lisa,” said John, the homeowner. “It was our dream to move here.”

“You’re lucky,” I told him, green with envy. “It’s amazing.” But it wasn’t luck, explained John.

“We always loved this house, and it went it came on the market, we couldn’t afford it. So we made some changes.”

John and his wife Lois had already got the kids off to college. So they moved, lock, stock and barrel, from their mid-century rambler in Cleveland into a trailer- and bought their dream home.

They had to use it as a rental property for years in order to make the hefty mortgage payments. Something they weren’t prepared to do and hadn’t done before, and it was terrifying. Worries about what was happening when they weren’t there, whether their precious dream home would still be in one piece after the spring-breakers left and how they would be able to pay for the inevitable, persistent home repairs, kept them up night after night.

But they did it.

In a world where so many people seem to focus on acquisition, and others can’t seem to decide what they want, I think John and Lois’ story is pretty impressive.

It shows determination, sacrifice and most of all, wisdom- they identified their dream, they made concessions to make their dream happen and ultimately, they got exactly what they wanted. It might not be your dream, or even mine, but it worked for them. And they’re more than happy- they’re content.

And isn’t that the true measure of success?

Walk MS 2009 Events in Oregon

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Sat, 14 Mar 2009 19:13:00 +0000

Rain, snow or sunshine, the Oregon Chapter, National Multiple Sclerosis (MS) Society will celebrate Walk MS 2009 in 10 communities across Oregon and Vancouver, WA. Join Us—on our fully accessible, 5k routes and help raise more than $600,000 to support direct services for nearly 7,000 people with MS and their families in Oregon and Clark County, WA; and national MS research to find a cure for this chronic disease of the central nervous system. Register online for Oregon Walk MS 2009 events.

Walk MS Portland - Saturday, April 4 - Pioneer Courthouse Square - 715 SW Morrison St, Portland, OR 97205. Walk starts at 10:00 am; Registration opens at 8:00 am.

Saturday, April 18 - Walk starts at 10:00 am; Registration opens at 8:00 am for Bend, Eugene, Heppner, Medford, Pendleton and Vancouver, WA:
Walk MS Bend - Les Schwab Amphitheater - Old Mill District, 520 SW Powerhouse Dr. #626, Bend, OR 97702
Walk MS Eugene - Alton Baker Park - 100 Day Island Rd, Eugene, OR 97403
*Walk MS Heppner - All Saints Episcopal Church - West Church, Heppner, OR 97836
Walk MS Heppner starts at 9:00am, Registration opens at 8:00am
Walk MS Medford - TBD
Walk MS Pendleton - Roy Raley Park - SW 10th Street, Pendleton, OR 97801
Walk MS Vancouver, WA - Red Lion Inn at the Quay - 100 Columbia St, Vancouver, WA 98660

Saturday, April 25 - Walk starts at 10:00 am; Registration opens at 8:00 am for Corvallis, Merrill and Salem:
Walk MS Corvallis - Oregon State University - MUP C Quad, 112 Memorial Union OSU, Corvallis, OR 97331
Walk MS Merrill - Merrill Presbyterian Church - 210 W 2nd St, Merrill, OR 97633
Walk MS Salem - Riverfront Park Pavilion - 116 Marion St. NE , Salem, OR 97301

Fee: Registration is Free; Prize levels start with a minimum donation of $75.

For more information, visit Walk MS Oregon or call 800-344-4867.

the good fight

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 19:53:00 +0000

I believe that integrity is a critical character trait that I can’t live without. I was raised to stick up for what’s right, stand up for the little guy and to fight the battles that are worth fighting.

And it’s a challenge, as a freelancer, to keep it up. I mean, I’ve turned down work for companies that I can’t get on board with. But with the ever-changing corporate environment of they-bought-them, they-were-bought-out-by-them and they-work-with-that-company-that-does-bad-things, it’s hard to keep up with it all. I try, but it isn’t always easy.

And when it comes to relationships, I often feel like the men I date have a little… too much integrity.

I love passionate people. I’m a passionate person. I’ve yelled so loud and so long at professional baseball games, I was often threatened with being 86’d. (I really had no idea that the umpires could hear what the fans are saying. Did you know that?) And I’ve been known to file complaints with the Attorney General, jump on companies that I feel have wronged me in some way and generally to express my displeasure when I see someone getting treated badly. All good things.

But what do you do when the one you love has so much veracity that it makes you question your own sincerity? And how do you convince them that it’s okay to compromise?

And if they capitulated, and you were able to find a middle ground, would they still be the person you fell in love with?

does an NDA cover happy hour?

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 23:25:00 +0000

I have some really funny stories about drinking with clients. I also have some really embarrassing stories about drinking with past co-workers. Not wanting to embarrass anyone else, I won't give you the juicy details here.

I will tell you that I just wrote an article for an online magazine about the subject, "Business Trips and Alcohol: Why Getting Hammered with Clients May Not Be Your Best Bet." And still, I am learning.

If I give her the wool, will she make me one too?

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 20:37:00 +0000

You can’t materially change a man. But can you prod, push and plead for him to alter his ways?

And does that ever work?

For women who love fashion but find themselves chained to men who wear jean shorts (or “jorts” as Heidi calls them), white socks, sneakers and oversized t-shirts, can a Queer Eye-styled intervention from the girlfriend save the relationship? And for men who think Sundays were made for football and their nature-loving Sunday-hiking partners, can they find a compromise?

The severely romantic shudder at the thought, and proudly claim it’s unfair to change someone you love. And other women will tell you, change your guy and you’ll make him resentful or even worse, weak. But is there some common ground here? Instead of trying to change someone, can you make some subtle adjustments to make him the man of your dreams?

And is it fair to ask?

When I was younger, I dated a guy who was sweet, funny, kind and ready to marry a month into the relationship. Me, I wasn’t so sure. In hindsight, I was way too young to consider anything of the kind. But there were other problems too.

Although he was nice, respectful, a lot of the qualities we look for, we were wildly incompatible in every other area. We didn’t have any of the same long-range goals, other than to be together. To be happy. Not that those are bad things. But when you find yourself at odds on everything else, it’s often time to look for some kind of a change. For me, that’s always meant moving on. For other women I know, of heartier stock, they’ll sometimes stick it out- with often devastating consequences.

One woman who “made” her man stick to a strict regimen of non-fast food eventually found a cache of cupcakes in the closet and a stash of wadded up Big Boy bags in the glove compartment of his truck. Another friend who enlisted her fiancé to go running found him crashed at a marathon checkpoint. Both women insist that now their guys have really changed, and it was their delicate prodding that made all of the (apparently appreciated) difference.

But I have to wonder, given my profound belief that you cannot change another person, does subtle encouragement ever really work on your partner?

And even if it does, is the reward really worth the effort?

Graffiti often found at rest areas and truck stops everywhere:

My mother made me a ________ (misogynist, homosexual, psycho).
See the title of this blog for a response.

How About a Break-Up Top?

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 04:41:00 +0000

Cheryl, answering a random call while we shopped at Macy’s: “I can’t talk now. We’re buying interview pants. Click.”

march madness

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 04:38:00 +0000

ESPN’s crawl during college b-ball games makes me crazy. It distracts so much from the game, I can barely concentrate on what’s happening. But it occurred to me, it might be a good idea for me to develop my own news stream. That way, when I’m talking to someone, I can start spouting current news and events to keep things lively.

Instead of focusing on the issue at hand, my unending litany of complaints about non-paying deadbeat clients or my latest last-ditch attempt to crash diet (if I eat only fruit and vegetables all day, do Girl Scout cookies still count against me?), listeners can instead look at the latest headlines: “Jermaine O’Neal Traded to Miami, D-Wade Ecstatic.” “Stoudemire House-Hunting in Chicago?”

The headlines, bold and honest, could rotate above my head while I’m talking, so friends could still pretend to make eye contact, nodding in agreement at my long-winded tales. It wouldn’t take much effort to convince them to look up there; today they can barely stop texting, answering calls or reviewing email to listen to me anyway.

I remember a world without cell phones.

the prospect

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Thu, 05 Feb 2009 20:22:00 +0000

Deep blue seas wash over the polished wood of the deck. Squinting, I turn my head to avoid the blinding glare of the sun. He turns to me, shouting something about the mainsail. I shrug, yawning from the remains of a nap, and slowly sip my icy drink, contemplating a swim. He laughs and calls my name. Again and again I hear my name and smiling sweetly, I-

“Lisa? I was asking where you see yourself in 10 years?” The recruiter smiles at me, puzzled, and I wonder how long I’ve been away.

Thud. Back to reality.

Is there any way to skip the interview process and just get right to work?

greetings from glasgow

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Mon, 26 Jan 2009 22:56:00 +0000

My apologies if this seems a bit disjointed. I’ve had very little sleep (about an hour and a half) and am still reeling from a long day of travel and a full day of touring Glasgow, Scotland.

We experienced every sort of weather imaginable, from rain to snow to sun, all in the space of a few hours. I find myself having to re-think my ideas about “historic,” after visiting the University of Glasgow (pictured here in a close-up) and the Kelvingrove Museum.

I’m very drawn to Glasgow and to the people here. In a funny way, it’s not unlike the places I have lived before: industrial, a mighty river with remnants of a bygone era of water-based transportation and some very friendly, down-home people. Some characters too, but that’s for another day.

Glasgow is experiencing a renaissance of sorts, so it’s an especially exciting time to be here. What you and I call gentrification or rebirth, the people of Glasgow call a confidence; a brand-new set of inspirations and aspirations for a once-downtrodden city.

I am traveling with two other writers from outside of the states, the North American Scotland tourism bureau contact, the local Visit Scotland rep and our tour guide. They are a fun group and we’ve all had lots to talk about. I am staying at the Radisson SAS Glasgow for the first couple of nights, a fairly international hotel right in the heart of Glasgow. My room is divine and I am still getting used to the quirks of being responsible for my own energy use (lights and laptop turned on with my room key) and the lifts which go directly to my floor each time.

Tonight we are going to a fancy chips restaurant and tomorrow is my first visit to a Scottish castle, a trip to a golf clinic, and the thing I am looking forward to most, a Robert Burns poetry reading and workshop. In a couple of days we'll move on to an ancient estate for a night and then to a castle to stay outside of Edinburgh.

I will have lots more to write later. For now, I am falling over with exhaustion and a quick trip outside left me dizzy, watching cars whizzing by in the wrong direction, trying to catch a few familiar words from passers-by and generally just being overwhelmed with everything that’s happening. It is beautiful here, the people are also on the whole pretty good-looking, and I have a better concept of what it means to look Scottish already.

the lesson

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 16:38:00 +0000

St. Mary's do-everything guard Patty Mills takes a minute during the San Jose State game to show my favorite ball boy (and nephew!) how to properly mop the floor.

Photo Robin Schoettler Fox

2008 weblog awards

rosecityjournal@comcast.net (Lisa) — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 06:06:00 +0000

The rose city journal is a finalist in the "Best Diarist" category of the 2008 weblog awards. You can vote for your favorite Diarist online.