Monday Too Much Food

I rose at about 8, and all day, I was hungry to do things and to experience things. But first, I had to write a blog post, which took most of the morning. I also made breakfast of plums from Scott (more like plum-flavored water bags) and some buttered artisan bread. This was with liberal coffee, Equal Exchange, made in my French Press.  I now have a Treasury Direct account, and that requires a one-time code time each time I access it. I was excited to see that it scored $100 for investments in old-fashioned saving bonds (except these are indexed for inflation and pay 4.28% interest–but there is an annual limit of $10,000 in purchases, and you must hold them for a year).

I wrote over 2,000 words, and this took most of the morning. I was surprised to see the weather was cool and damp; it looked like fall and not mid-summer in the Pacific Northwest (PNW). Our Oregon mist was back, and even rain. My roses were almost dancing, slowly, in the damp. The PNW always looks right with some cloud-diffused sunlight, and everything is damp. I turned on the oven, it was about 62F (17C), and baked a Trader Joe’s Steak and Stout pie. I cleaned up, dressed, and was ready to head out in the cool PNW fall-like afternoon.

I dressed in a white dress shirt and my blue sweater vest as this would be warmer and dryer than a more casual outfit. I picked blue as I had worn green for church the day before. This time, I selected Air Force Ones.

I decided on the MAX into Portland and the Chinese Garden; I have a membership. I put on the wool Indiana Jones hat, which is meant for water, and grabbed an umbrella in case the mist turns to rain. There is no reason to get drenched. Air Volvo got me to the Quatama MAX station without issue. The Monday afternoon had not even filled a row of cars parked for free at the station. MAX usage sank during the pandemic, and with folks working from home there is less need to head into Portland. Also, the exodus from Portland (and other metropolitan areas in the USA) continues; Portland has fewer desk jobs. MAX is running three-car trains with about ten-minute waits.

The train was quiet and about 1/2 empty, even after passing through the busier stations in Beaverton. I enjoyed the trip to Portland, read some Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, and soon was in downtown Portland. My stop is the last one on this side of the Willamette River. Portland is bisected by the river and joined by twelve bridges. I walked a wet two blocks with my situational awareness training, having me nonchalantly change street sides when there was a fight over a recycling bin. A small amount of illegal camping was near the Chinese Garden, which covers a whole block in Portland (which is carefully fenced), and I got to see some street theater.

Avoiding involvement in the now-recovered recycling bin, I showed my membership after passing the gate door (which can be easily locked to protect the volunteers from becoming involved in street issues) and was given my pass. The contrast of calmness and the beauty of the lotus flowers, small ponds, traditional structures and rocks, and the plantings to the streets of Portland is startling. Soon, I forgot the risks and noise of the streets and just relaxed. The mist became rain, and I used the umbrella. I made two circles and tried to see every room and view. I wanted the extra steps and the garden looked lovely in the gray of rain in the PNW. Perfect.

The waterfall was off, and when you looked in, there was a guy trying to repair it. I was told it had a leak, and I replied I was not surprised as that is really what a waterfall is. Hopefully, the unwanted leak will soon be located and plugged, and the falls can be brought back.

I stopped next at the tea house and ordered tea and wonton soup. I had this snack while reading some more Conan Doyle stories on my iPhone’s Kindle app. My memory is that the complete Holmes stories are free.

This time, I walked in the opposite direction and did one more lazy circle in the garden. The mist and rain had halted, and the day was slowly warming, too. I managed to answer a tourist question about the garden. I have been to a few in China and remember some of the words from various tours years ago and some I took of the garden here.

When you start being a guide, it is time to either sign up or leave. I chose to move on to the streets of Portland. The old Chinatown area has been sketchy and failing for years, and the current poor economic conditions have exacerbated the decline. The old buildings, many from the sailing ages and built with iron pillars that were made from the iron ballast for the sailing ships, have survived to now (most are gone in other cities from fire and earthquake). I took a few pictures.

I find myself surrounded by tourists who ignore me. They head to Voodoo Donuts after we cross Burnside (the dividing road from the old warehouse district (Pearl) and Chinatown, and I laugh and tell them about my favorites for them to consider (bacon maple bar and the voodoo donut of a zombie that bleeds cherry filling). They happily consider the options; the line is not too long today.

I plan to walk back to the Pioneer Square area to reconnect to MAX. I saw many Asian-style places, and the combined indoor Pine Street Market had some interesting options. This place is a group of different eateries in a combined space, much like carts. I will be back.

(If I had to pick a location for my evil cult headquarters in Portland)

I was walking by Portland Burgers and decided that I had to try the place. The fried items, pickles in my case, added much to the cost. The beer was also not cheap. I would recommend the mini-burger as even that is a lot of food. I regretted the deep-fried and bread pickles later. They accidentally gave me two orders, and I shared them with others who were soon stuffed with mini-burgers (that are not that mini) and shakes. If you want fries, shakes, and a good burger, this is the place–but at Portland prices.

Stuffed, I walked four more blocks to the MAX line and had a short wait for a blue-line train back to where I started. I read more about Holmes and “The Musgrace Ritual,” starting with Doctor Watson’s description of Holmes’s messy habits that sometimes distract him. It includes, I think, Watson’s best deadpan:

I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime; and when Holmes, in one of his queer humors, would sit in an arm-chair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges, and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V. R. done in bullet-pocks, I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it.

The text is in the public domain, which you can find here.

My trip was uneventful. I looked, surfing on my iPhone on MAX, into taking Calculus I again at PCC as something to add to my days and to tighten up my math skills. I could do the work without PCC, but having a schedule and seeing folks would be worth the cost. I will think about it. I was thinking of doing Vector Calculus (what we called Calc 2 when I was in college), but that would require a test, and I doubt I could pass the test now. Just a thought.

My tummy thought that the colon issues (an all-or-nothing experience best not shared here) and the introduction of greasy pickle fries and spears with a hamburger with sliced smoked brisket on it were insane. I managed to keep everything inside, and my colon did not decide to exit my early dinner early, either. I also walked for the first time over 5,000 steps in one go and was tired. I sat in my recliner and watched Star Wars Ahsoka on Disney+. I liked it and did four episodes. But I am not sure how close these align to the canon of Star Wars as they mention the Grand Admiral Thrawn (a favorite of mine), who existed only on the edges of the stories, mostly in books (I have read them all). I am sure with the return of Thrawn, it will be a kick.

Feeling less bad and sure that deep-fried and battered pickles should not be tried again, I head to bed early with a long hot shower. I was going to read but decided that sleep was better, and I must admit that I don’t remember much after that thought. I did have dreams of Star Wars (I was not on the good side–I said I liked Thrawn) and had to wake up when I dreamed there was some kind of heat loss issue on the bridge. I woke up, climbed under the covers, and returned to the highly efficient side of Star Wars.

Thanks for reading (and for those it fits: rebel scum!).