Weekend

Internet, let's just say I'm making up for a series of bad weekends with a series of really good ones. I'm pretty sure I had a series of fairly lame weekends sometime this past winter. (I wasn't actually able to find much evidence of that on this blog, but then you can't really take everything here at face value, either.) I would like to say that I'm making up for the past year's less fortunate weekends, ones filled with grading or writing conference papers or simply staying home alone under my covers, because the past few (and, hopefully next few) have been so otherwise embarrassingly awesome.

This one started Friday evening with a small dinner party at the Swinjarnary. I didn't get to see the Peanut crawl (seriously, watch that video), but I did, for the first time, feel like we had real human interaction. I talked to her quite seriously about the delicious orange vegetables she's been eating recently, and when, as I held her at the table, she alternately stretched forward for the edge of the table and then threw herself back again into my arms, repeatedly, she looked into my eyes as if she knew that she had devised quite the clever game. She has always had personality--she's been a charming little extrovert as long as I've known her (our first meeting, on May 20, is pictured on the left)--and been ridiculously good-looking, but those brain cells she inherited from her brilliant parents have apparently recently begun firing in earnest. Awwww.

Saturday, David and I drove to Portland, arriving in time to pick up my replacement contact lens (I don't think I mentioned that when my new pair arrived several weeks ago, the left lens had some foreign material stuck to it, rendering it unwearable) before making it to Edgefield McMenamins for an evening concert by Andrew Bird and the Decemberists.

I'd purchased our tickets to the (eventually sold-out) show months ago, after missing Andrew Bird in Minneapolis the weekend of the Pop Culture Conference and discovering to my joy that he'd be in the Northwest at the same time I would. I'd seen him before and was really excited about this show, but the large, grassy amphitheater was sadly not the best venue, in my opinion, to display his considerable talent. He was also technically an opening act, so he didn't play long, either, and not my favorite tunes.

The venue was spot-on, however, for the headlining act, the Decemberists, whom I had never seen live and whose music I had only begun listening to in earnest in anticipation of the concert. Their most recent album, The Hazards of Love, is what is often referred to as a "concept album," but in my estimation is more accurately considered an epic modern opera. They played the entire opera, from prelude to final reprise, in one seamless flow, quasi-costumes such as a spangled white dress for Margaret and a sparkly, red-belted black number for the Queen adding to the engagingly theatrical effect. It was unlike any other concert I'd ever been to, and deeply emotionally and aesthetically satisfying: there's something about being able to follow the story and know what's coming next that's a bit thrilling, even though the tale itself is terribly sad.

After the concert, from which we escaped a bit early, allowing us to get out of the parking lot in reasonable time, we met college/camp friends of mine in Sherwood. We stayed up late eating and chatting with them before heading back with Beanna to her apartment in Vancouver.

Sunday morning David and I had brunch with Beanna before heading back to the east side of the state in time to catch the matinee of Harry Potter with his parents. Oh! But on our way, we stopped at the Bonneville Fish Hatchery and Sturgeon Center and got a few pictures with the sturgeon (our only photos of the weekend, sadly, on the real camera):




If it gets better than this, it's not much.

Abraham

So, last weekend!

David came out to Walla Walla Thursday night to join us for the Community College's production of Grease out at the Fort Walla Walla Amphitheater. It wasn't mind-blowing, but it was definitely fun, and I'm completely a sucker for outdoor theater in the summer.*

Friday morning I rode back to Hermiston with him, and that evening when he got off work I had one of the best burritos I've ever had, courtesy of the taco wagon by the bowling alley, and then we went out with his cousin.

Saturday morning, we did the Hermiston FunFest 10k run, which was mostly fun, but would have been improved by an earlier start (it was already getting hot at 8 a.m.) and actual water stops along the course (though goodness knows I was grateful for that box of bottles at mile 2!). It was the first race I'd run since Phoenix, and my first ever 10k.

Paul and Ter drove to Hermiston that afternoon to join us for a big family dinner. Given our rather full schedules this summer, it was the only time we could schedule it, even though David and I had to leave rather earlier than I would have liked so that we could make it to Salem by 7:00 to hear Abraham.

Yes, we drove from Hermiston to Salem--241 miles, each way!--because I love my Brother Rockstar. And as it happens, not surprisingly, it was completely worth it.

First of all, we got to drive through the Gorge, and even though it was our third trip this summer, it was no less beautiful. It was when we arrived, however, that we knew the entire drive had been worth it. The venue was KathKen Vineyards, a 50-acre vineyard nestled in the nicest little hollow just northwest of Salem. We were greeted at the gate by Kathy and Ken themselves, who were friendly and raved about how much they liked Joel and his music. As nice as that was, I wasn't completely smitten until we parked and I stepped out of the car. It was in that moment that I knew that the four hours in the car--and the four we'd have to drive back--were a small price to pay for the experience.

Ahead of us stretched a broad hillside with vines absorbing the last of the sun's rays. Behind were tall firs, covering a slightly steeper slope and surrounding the stage just visible through gaps in the trees. The air was blissfully crisp after the sweating we'd done that morning, and carried on it the tinge of one of my favorite smells in the entire world, sun-warmed conifer, along with campfire smoke. It was the smoke that had saturated us by the end of the evening, but the fire's welcome warmth in the clearing, as well as the friendliness of its tenders (even as ash floated into our drinks), made it a small price to pay.

The crowd was small, and the setting casual enough that David and I got to chat with Joel and the other band boys before they took the stage, and then again, at plastic tables pulled just to the edge of the vines, during their friends' set. The acoustics were surprisingly good for such an apparently absorbent terrain, and although the cool humidity ravaged the guitar strings, the performance was energetic and fun, a thoroughly enjoyable combination of new material and familiar songs.

After Abraham played, and while they were preparing the stage for the next act, David and I climbed the hill and were surprised to discover that from the height of the top of the slope, we could see to the horizon where hills washed out and glowing in the setting sun overlapped in semitransparent layers.

Overall, it was spectacular, one of the most fun shows I'd been to in a long time. A really delicious Riesling from KathKen's collection was the icing on the cake.

When the bands were packing their stuff up for the night, David and I said our goodbyes and drove to Portland, where we met up with more friends before crashing for the night at Beanna's. In the morning, we met up with them again for brunch, did a quick swing through a neighborhood farmers' market, and then headed downtown, where I scored a jacket I'm very excited about at REI and a few dissertation-type books at Powell's (narrowly avoiding a cultural studies/comparative lit-induced meltdown--eeps).

It's true that the weekend did involve quite a lot of driving, but thankfully David and I do tend to get along and (mostly) enjoy it. We're going back next weekend to hear Andrew Bird and the Decemberists--and then we're going back again the weekend thereafter, because after hearing me moan and debate about the upcoming Lacamas Lake Half Marathon, David went ahead and registered me for that race and himself for the 4-mile! I'm really excited about it, and think that if you're in the area you should definitely come (and run); seriously, doesn't this look fun? I'm working on Beanna, although, as she's been kind enough to let us crash with her while we've been in town, I'm not pushing my case too hard.

More pictures and a few videos (with apologies for the poor quality; they sound ever so much better live!) are here; as always, click to view larger images or to leave comments.


*Speaking of which, did you local people notice that they're doing The Taming of the Shrew there next month? I definitely want to go; who's with me?

Summer Squash Cilantro Pesto Feta Pizza

I had another amazing weekend, and I'm going to tell you all about it, but it's going to require sorting through 163 photos and videos (from only about two hours of the entire weekend; somehow we managed not to photograph anything else!*) and a fair amount of writing, and I'm not equal to the task at the moment.

So, in the meantime, here's something a bit easier: the recipe for a pizza Ter and I made a few weeks ago, inspired by one currently served on Thursdays at Hot Lips near PSU in Portland.




Summer Squash Cilantro Pesto Feta Pizza

In blender/food processor, whiz:
1 bunch cilantro, washed
~1 handful fresh garden basil
~3 cloves garlic
~1/2 can green chiles (we froze the rest in a resealable plastic bag)
1 small handful pine nuts
enough olive oil to make it saucy--maybe 1/3 cup?
~1 tsp sea salt
dash freshly ground black pepper
dash red pepper flakes

Spread on prepared crusts (the above makes enough pesto for two; I'm sure the excess could be frozen if you only wanted one), and layer with thinly sliced summer squash rounds and Walla Walla sweet onion (our addition). Sprinkle on feta. Bake in 400° oven until lightly browned.

We made it on Andy's Market's whole wheat crust, but I think it would be even better on a thin homemade one. I think it would also be delicious with zucchini. Of course if you're feeling vegan you could omit the feta--though this would make me very sad.

*One thing I wish I had a photo of is the Geo Metro (Popcan!) we saw in Hermiston. Plastered across its back bumper was the sticker below. Oh, Metro drivers, I love the way you think.

Michael Jackson

I don't know what to say about Michael Jackson.

Two Thursdays ago, as I was driving to Hermiston in advance of the coast trip, I heard the news on NPR that, at age 50, Michael Jackson was dead. I was stunned and saddened, even surprising myself by blinking away tears as I drove.

It's not that I was a hardcore fan: I don't own a single album (though I was given the MP3s of Number Ones, several of which feature in various Marathonator playlists), didn't follow his legal difficulties, and never felt any sort of close personal connection. But somehow, he was part of my life, as he has been for millions for decades and will doubtless continue to be.

My first Michael Jackson memory is, as a child, asking my father, upon seeing his face on a magazine cover, whether Michael Jackson was a man or a woman. My dad replied mysteriously, "No one really knows." When I recounted that story to him last year, he laughed at his response--but at the time I was genuinely confused.

I remember trying unsuccessfully to moonwalk. I remember singing "Heal the World" in eighth grade choir. I remember looking at images of the tragic evolution of his face. I remember running to his music. I remember dancing to it at many parties (and hope to continue doing so). I remember being consistently impressed and cheered by his own dancing in his music videos.

Michael Jackson is, as has only become clearer in the wake of his untimely death, a worldwide phenomenon, leaving his indelible impression on decades of music, fashion, dance, and videography. His impossible bigness tended to hide the fact, I think, that he was, after all, human and fallible and fragile. The impressive thing is how that bigness seemed somehow to reach all of us in our smallness.

I'm sad that he's gone, though of course he isn't, not really, and won't be. I'm not the first to suggest that what we'll remember of him will be the good stuff--the contagious music, the mind-blowing dancing, the trailblazing videos--rather than the very visible and painful effects of the fame they earned him. I hope it will be.

Spectacles

I ordered checks early last week, and since they were promised to have shipped Tuesday morning, by Friday evening I was anxious for them to arrive. David was here, and I asked if he'd check the mail for me while I was working in the kitchen. As he came back from the mailbox, he called, "There's a box for you, and it looks like a check box, but it doesn't look like the sort of thing a bank would send..."

I assured him that since they'd had to redo my check order and were sending them to a temporary address not printed on the checks, it might look a little sketchy. When he came in with the box, it was sketchy, the addresses printed on a torn-off piece of paper and packing tape sloppily holding it in place and sealing the box. Opening it, I still expected my checks, despite the chunk of Styrofoam and wad of cotton holding the smaller box in place. I was knocking the larger box on the counter to dislodge the smaller one when David pointed out, "I think those are your glasses."

Indeed they were, and despite their dodgy outer packaging, inside they were in a solid case with an enclosed polishing cloth. The glasses themselves were pristine: shiny, clean, solidly-constructed, and appropriately weighty, despite their $12.99 price tag.

Given my ridiculously strong prescription, I'd paid $45 for the highest index, thinnest lenses (though all of their lenses come with antiglare, scratch-free, and UV coating), so the total (including taxes, but not shipping, which was free) was $55.09.

I was so excited to receive them that I immediately put them on and then attempted, squinting fiercely through the over-correction, to see my reflection in the mirror. My head hurt for the next 15 minutes, so the next time I modeled them while wearing my contacts, I kept my eyes closed!

Here they are on (sans contacts):

...and from the side, with crazy-face:

My one complaint, and it can't be fixed, is that because my prescription is so strong, the lenses distort my face, shrinking my eyes and making the sides of my head behind the lenses appear caved in:

The thinner lenses do help, and if I were really concerned about it (i.e., planned to wear these for more than a few minutes in the morning/evening and in the event of a contact lens emergency), I'd probably try a narrower frame or maybe one with a half rim. The black are also a bit harsh; those red ones so many of you voted for were my very close second choice!

Overall, however, I am delighted, and love being able to see clearly (my prescription had changed rather dramatically in the past decade, including the correction balance for each eye), being scratch-free, and having appropriately fashionable and current specs.

I would completely recommend online buying to anyone who wears glasses. I'd suggest doing some research first--trying on frames in real life (and taking pictures!), measuring a current pair that fits well, and comparing different sites (goggles4u is consistently cheapest, but difficult to navigate)--but, really, for $55 (or $40, if you need only slight correction) , it's hard to go too wrong.

Go forth and experiment, I say--and then share your stories!

Goodness

Ted already posted most of my favorite pictures from the Independence Day bash he and Hathor hosted yesterday, but here are a few he didn't (mostly of V, because I love that little Peanut--and she has the most irresistible fat creases!):Bonus: Video of V's signature faceplant:


And here's the munchkin today on her official half birthday:
In other news I've been underreporting (I've been seeing the Peanut [and her parents, with whom I've now been friends longer than I haven't!] as often as I can this summer), I'm living in the Garden of Eden. We have picked Bing and Rainier cherries, Reka and Duke blueberries (80 pounds to date, with more to be gathered), and raspberries from the backyard.

Ter's garden also includes basil (remind me to tell you about my attempt at Hot Lips' summer squash, cilantro pesto, and feta pizza); parsley (we've made tabouli twice, last time with petite lentils and feta); kale (which we blend into green drinks); and broccoli (though I was out of town for its only picking yet). Tomatoes and cucumbers should be coming on soon.
And speaking of living in paradise, last weekend after the beach we Oregoned it up on our way back to Hermiston: Tilamook Cheese Factory; the Portland waterfront; the Historic Columbia River Highway to the Portland Women's Forum viewpoint, Crown Point, Latourell Falls, Shepperd's Dell Falls, Bridal Veil Falls, and Multnomah Falls; and the Bonneville Fish Hatchery and Sturgeon Interpretive Center. Here are a few of those pictures, courtesy of Becca:

More to come!