Books!

I’ve been reading again, Internet. I’d stopped for a little while. Oddly, it felt good to stop. I’d been a bookseller for a long time, then a book reviewer and also a teacher and I don’t think I read anything for about seven years that I wasn’t, somehow, going to use later. I completely fell out of touch with what was happening at the bookstores and I just didn’t even care.

But I’m back. Back on the book horse. I’ve read two lately that I think you’ll like. I read Little Bee by Chris Cleave. It’s about a Nigerian girl who comes to England as a refugee. OMG. Makes you never, ever want to buy gas again. I was thinking about that. About how oil is in everything. Including our food. This is my favorite article written on the subject. I highly recommend reading it. I don’t know what to do about the oil thing. If someone has a solution for eliminating petro-chemicals from my life, leave it in comments.

I’m reading The Passage by Justin Cronin right now. This book is scary. And not scary in the way a crime novel is scary, or in the way a horror novel is scary. I’m only 80 pages in and I’m having dreams about the characters. Scary dreams about the characters. Cronin wrote Mary & O’neil, one of my all-time favorite books. He’s got some serious literary chops and he’s shifted his focus away from the problems of white New Englanders to vampires. These aren’t sexy vampires. These are scary vampires. It’s set in America in the not too distant future and it’s scary. Speculative fiction is the word for this genre. I don’t normally go for this sort of thing, but it’s scary.

So if you want a couple of books that will scare you and make you feel guilty for the living the American life with your consumption and whack government then go and read these books.

Softball!

I played softball on Saturday, Internet. No, I don’t know what’s become of me either. Fancyhats’s friends were in town and softball was something they’d all do so it was a very sunny, wonderful, warm weekend and they reserved a field and wanted to play. And they needed bodies to fill in various positions.

At first there was no way I was going to play. Mainly because I have no physical coordination. The other day I hit my head on my desk. I have bruises all over my arm from walking into the edge of my cubicle. And Fancyhats played sports throughout his life and he’s full of instructions and so that means that me doing something I won’t be good at, plus his…um…helpfulness… was sure to lead to a fight.

I have played softball once before.  I was nine. I think I played for about two months. And then in my twenties, I enjoyed going to the batting cages every once in a while.

Still, I was pretty sure I was going to get my teeth knocked out and wind up a single woman again after the ultimate fight with Fancyhats.

Then Fancyhats told me I was on his team and handed me a glove and away we went. I excelled at standing next to third and daydreaming. And Fancyhats did not once give me advice I didn’t ask for. He was quite the stud out on the field and he made several home runs and caught a ton of balls and I wished a gently hit fly ball had come right to me so I could have caught it.

To my credit, every single time I came up to bat, I hit the ball. Because I’m awesome like that.

But now, I’m sore. Very sore, Internet. Apparently swimming five times a week means nothing when you’re going to give 110% or there’s no I in team, or some other sporting phrase thing about playing with balls and bats and other people.

Shiny Men

Last night I had an interesting cultural experience. We went to see the Portland Beavers play. The Beavers, for those of you who don’t know, are Portland’s minor league baseball team. Even saying that makes me a bit uncomfortable. I’ve had to really accept a lot of things after moving here (painfully slow drivers, pincher bugs being called earwigs, the fact that I don’t garden might be an arrestable offence) but as a person who’s only lived in cities with major league baseball, the whole minor league baseball team thing makes me nervous. As if *whispering* Portland might not be a big city. I KNOW!

Also they’re called the Beavers.

We’ve seen the Beavers play many times and here’s how it normally goes: we bring Archie, we eat hot dogs, the Beavers play like the Bad News Bears before finding their hearts in the game or whatever, and we leave after about four innings.

Last night we went on Thirsty Thursday and this is a night when beer is cheap. There was a whole different crowd there. And when I say crowd, I mean there were 250 people there, instead of 85. Yes, this is a stadium. Yes, more people show up to Back Fence events.

And this crowd was a crowd I don’t believe I’ve seen in Portland. Ever. It’s the Shiny Men crowd. These are guys with shiny hair and shiny skin and shiny clothes. I bet they have shiny cars too. They wear shiny silver sunglasses too. And their girlfriends look like their biggest goal in life is to be the trophy wife of a shiny man and to be extremely tan.

These men were sauntering around the stadium, greeting each other with complicated hand slaps and shakes and punches and generally preening.

And their girlfriends just seemed so proud to be with them. These dudes spent more time on their appearance than their girlfriends did, I’m sure. And they were all 22. Because I could be these girls teen mother, I wanted to shake them and say YOU’RE WITH NO GREAT PRIZE, YOUNG LADY. But their boyfriends might have hit me.

After a couple of hours of watching this and the game, we left. As we were walking out, Fancyhats, who was wearing a baseball cap the correct way, turned it around, put his sunglasses on and STARTING WALKING LIKE ONE OF THESE GUYS!!! Oh my god, Internet. He knew just how to do it. If I’d had pepper spray in my bag I would have used it on him because all I could think was two things — I am going to be date raped now, and please don’t tell me I need to lose any weight. Because that’s what shiny men do. I know. I’m from San Diego. Home of the Shiny Man.

Alaska

Again!

Fancyhats does not feel like I did Alaska justice. So I will try again. Basically it was awesome. It was what you expect from Alaska, huge open spaces, moose, porcupines, beautiful landscapes.

My favorite thing we did was go clamming. Here’s what you do when you clamming:

1) wait for a low tide

This we did for a long time on the beach. In Alaska. We were all bundled up. And we were waiting. But then the tide went out far enough and…

2) Look for round indentations in the sand

Once you see them, you see them everywhere. And we started seeing them.

3) Get your shovel (or shobel as Archie called it) and dig straight down, then pull the shovel straight up.

You do this because you don’t want the clam to break. Even though most of them do. We were digging razor clams, which have thin shells.

4) Then you get down on your knees and dig with your hands.

Clams move fast, Internet and you have to dig fast.

5) When you feel the shell, you pinch it with your tiny, strong knitting fingers and pull it out.

When I was digging with my hands, I had this thought, Huh, why is the muddy, sandy puddle I’m digging in suddenly bright red? That’s weird. And then in the next hole the same thing happened. And the next one. And then I realized that I’d cut my finger and it was bleeding everywhere. EVERYWHERE, INTERNET.

By the time we were done we had a lot of clams and my right hand was covered in cuts, but WHATEVER. We had clams. And it was awesome.

So that’s your guide to clamming in Alaska.

You’re welcome.

It’s Time for My Annual Popina Swimsuit Adventure!

You all know that Popina Swimwear is my favoritest right? This year I got not one, but TWO of their awesome vintage-style swimsuits. I got one of their awesome tankinis (in a small top and medium bottoms — down a size from last year!) and I got a one-piece, which I use for swimming.

And I already went swimming in my one-piece. I totally did EIGHT WHOLE LAPS. I know. I can only do eight laps. And I need to stop at each lenght of the pool to catch my breath, but WHATEVER. I credit my Popina swimsuit.

Here’s the one-piece I got. Always room for fashion and looking cute, right?

The suit is sewn in a very clever way so that my stomach is all sucked in and I look svelte. Pam, the owner and designer, is basically a genuis.

And here’s my new tankini. I got a black halter top and these adorable bottoms.

OMG, aren’t they so cute!??

As always, the trip to Popina was easy. I took a ton of suits into the dressing room and the Popina folks gave me space in there. There was no “how are you doing? Do you need a different size?” I hate that. But when I did need another size I just poked my head out and they grabbed another size for me.

Basically, I love Popina. The owners are fantastic and they treat their employees right and they make a huge contribution to Portland’s arts culture. They rule.

You can order Popina swimsuits online, if you’re not in town. The sizes are true so you don’t need to guess. Pam knows how women’s bodies work and how they look best and she makes suits that flatter. I think you should get your swimsuit there too.

In the interest of disclosure, Popina gave me my swimsuits. They did not request a post in return. I wrote a post because I think Popina is one of the best businesses in Portland and I’m always happy to support them. And they make the cutest swimsuits in the whole world.

Alaska!

We had an awesome trip. I’m going to make you look at pictures today.

Thank you Blomily!

Thank you, everyone, for your birthday comments! You all are too good to me! We had a very quiet night. Dinner at Pizza Fino, which is my favorite place to eat in North Portland. The cocktails are so good. And yummy pizza and salads. Highly recommended. And then home for cake! Easy peasy.

In a few days we leave for Alaska. This is causing my eye to twitch. But it’s okay. IT IS OKAY. I’m going to bring a bunch of mass market crime books. And I’m going to read them while listening to the Kenai river. It’s going to be awesome. If I can do everything I need to do between now and then. OH MY GOD.

And I’d like to give a special shout out to Aaron the Truck Driver. Are you guys reading his blog? Go check it out. Totally cool even though he thinks social media sucks. HE IS WRONG. But also a Californian so the two cancel each other out.

Okay, wish me luck. Also, wish me a nap. Because I would like that.

Also high five to everyone who said nachos are dinner. We will totally form an army of nacho eaters and avenge anyone who says nachos are not dinner. Or just live our lives happier because we know what’s good.

It’s My Birthday!

OH GOD, INTERNET I’M HALFWAY TO 70!!!!!!!!!

That’s the internal voice today. But externally, I’m going to say hello, IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!

Well, 35.

What can I say? I have a great life. With the exception of being as old as the hills, I have a wonderful son, wonderful friends, Fancyhats who told me last night that he was sick of being portrayed so good on my blog and why couldn’t I do more to roughed up his image, and my family rules. Oh, and I have an awesome career!

I still have anxiety sometimes, and when it’s rained for more than a month in Portland like it has as of today — more than seven inches in two weeks — I get the SADDS really bad, but other than that I’m something I thought was not possible for anyone. I’m happy.

I’m busy all the time, but everything I do is something I enjoy.

So much of that comes from blogging. Every single of one my friends, I met as a result of blogging. Way back before Fancyhats and I were an item, before we had even really hung out, but right after he went to Back Fence for the first time (and brought a date!) he started a blog to impress me. My company hired me because I’m a blogger. And I have all of you. My blagly. blamily. flog. What I’m saying it you’re my blog family. Thank you for coming with me on this crazy life.

And mad ups to my mom for giving birth to me and always setting an awesome example of being awesome and strong and smart. And to my stepdad. I can’t believe he still loves me and supports me after all of my insanity he’s suffered through. He rules like that.

It’s Mom Fancyhats’s birthday today too. Weird, right? Happy birthday to her. And I hope she writes a book on how to raise a good man because I could use that book.

I think that’s it. Here’s to all of you. To another year of being a flagily.

Also, I made Fancyhats nachos the other night for dinner and he had a fit. Told me it was snack food. Not dinner. I cried. There you are. Roughed up image.

But look how hot he is:

Finally, I’ll leave you with a song I sometimes add to this blog to get us all pumped up for the day.

35– this shit is bananas.

Can’t Look

Um, I was going to tell you all about Archie’s graduation from preschool, but I can’t. It seems like sort of a cruel thing if I dwell too much on the all ages party I went to on Saturday, then my kid graduates from preschool on Tuesday followed up with my 35th birthday on Thursday. I need a good cry is what I’m saying.

I will say that Fancyhats met me at A’s school. He was leaning up against the wall in a crisp white dress shirt, slacks and polished shoes. It was um…well…I might have collapsed on the ground and thanked whatever is up beyond the clouds in the sky for sending me one of the most handsome, grown up, smart, on-time, reliable men in the entire world. I might have done that, but I’m not dwelling.

Landslide

And to answer Will’s question, I will not be having a birthday party like I did last year. Last year I think I had enough birthday party for several years. It was a lot. A lot of fun, but I think all of us still have a tiny hangover leftover. OMG.

Also, I was going to write a post about hair elastics and DO THEY SPROUT LITTLE LEGS AND WALK AWAY? Because I resisted buying a pack forever. I know how they just disappear and I wanted to see if I could make my last two last until I don’t know when.

Well, I broke down and bought a pack last week and now they’re half gone. RIDDLE ME THAT, INTERNET. I go three places throughout the day — work, pool, home. I think I’d see them again in my routine, don’t you? WELL I DO NOT.

I see other people’s hair elastics on the streets and on the floor, but I do not see my own.

Here’s my point: MY BLOG HANDLES THE TOUGH ISSUES.

And thanks to Ben, I now have this song in my head. I want all of you to have it in your head too.

Confession: I sometimes drive in my car and listen to Fleetwood Mac and think about Fancyhats and cry. It’s cathartic. I think I cry because I love him so much. Or whatever.