Before it was too hot, I rose early to see the Art in the Pearl; Portland and the Greater Area would be in the high 90s (31C). My alarm went off at 6:30, but I, at first, did not know what the noise was; I hear on the other side (I am deaf on the left side), and I ignored it for a while. I turned it off and rolled over but rose 45 minutes later, thinking I did not need to be that early.
I found my slippers and robe. The AC drives the house to 64F (18C) to make the orchids happy. I found the electric kettle, filled it, let it boil, and poured hot water over the coffee grounds I put in my French Press. These grounds, I thought, were the last of the locally ground and roasted coffee from Hillsboro; there was enough left for Sunday. I had pastries from French Baguette in Beaverton with apple sauce and yogurt.
I started to write and would write for about two hours to complete the recounting of Friday. I had some problems remembering the details, but slowly, my memory unwound and reassembled. The process is about taking flashes of memory and trying to find other mind pictures and connect them in order. For some blogs, I have to add in parts when I am near the end, as memories surface that I had missed entirely as I read the recap from top to bottom.
Yesterday, I could not recall lunch until I went through the trash and found the remains of lunch, and then the memories suddenly poured in. When blocked, I will look in the kitchen, bedroom, and at the photos on the iPhone and suddenly find a whole part of my day missing. This has always been true for me; I do not have photographic memories. I am especially bad at passwords, number sequences, and combinations. Nonetheless, I try to recall each day before it fades into the sixty previous years!
By mid-morning, I had the blog published, cleaned up, and dressed. I boarded Air Volvo and took it to Portland with only the usual traffic and witnessed no extra legal driving. I planned to spend the whole day in Portland to celebrate the Labor Day Weekend, finishing with a board game at Richard’s house at 6. I arrived in the Pearl District and parked in the not-cheap underground garage as it would not leave the vehicle on the streets in the scorching sun. Also, street parking is often limited to a few hours.
I found some confused tourists trying to use the garage and explained the less-than-intuitive process and location, including that they want P1 and that the lobby is 1. The parking is under the “Finance Building,” and they turned around and saw the unexpected facade of the building. “Remember this,” I recommended. I headed down the hill towards the river while the tourists followed unreliable maps on their phones (the location signal is often a block off) and would soon be sporting the pink Voodoo Donuts Box.
The Art in the Pearl is in the South Park area and only incorporated two blocks this year; I remember it was larger the last time I attended, encompassing the whole park. The artworks were excellent this year and expensive, with hand-blown tumblers priced at $75 each. There were a few buyers here and there, often prints. Anything that I thought spoke to me was over a grand. There were some tables to make art, but I skipped those.
I looked at the few food options, and instead, I headed toward Voodoo Donuts, tourists, and the Saturday Market. The crowd and the vendors were slightly reduced by Art in the Pearl, but only slightly. I am starting to look for Christmas items, but I found nothing this time. The prices here, while not cheap, were not in the thousands. I found chai hot at a Tibetian food place I have been going to for years at the Saturday Market, sadly but maybe intelligently, no longer offering yak butter tea, and found a wall to sit on. My back was yelling at me. I was at 3500 steps in, where the problem had started the day before. The market is busy now, and there is no place to sit. I head out, trying to ignore the pain.
I did part of the river walk and found the USS Oregon Memorial, where the battleship’s mast and anchor chain still reside. USS Oregon, like the USS Texas, to their respective states. The people of Oregon decided to donate the USS Oregon to the war effort for WW2, and all that remains is a few parts of it now. I took a few pictures; the grey bits are now decorated with local colors.
I walk back a few blocks and even resort to my phone as I am off by a block. I located Kells, our local Irish-style chain, on the 2nd, and they have plenty of chairs and good beer. I get both, plus corned beef and veggies. I have just a taste of the mashed potatoes, which were not good for me (and I had too much yesterday). Being Portland and the world we live in, the menu has lovely Irish items like shepherd’s pie and lamb stew, Irish nachos (potato slices instead of chips), and various mango drink specials. I ignore these invaders and revel in the Irish.
The back pain is gone, Irish treatments work, and I head out again. I walk by Voodoo Donuts, and there is a long line. I remember Ground Kontrol and heading back to the Pearl District by a less efficient route to find this arcade. There, I buy a card and play many pinball machines, including my favorite, Addams Family (a later version). Instead of coins or tokens, you wave your card now to play. My favorites are not expensive, and the old Asteroids game is cheap, but my score was embarrassing. The machines take 1/2 of my card before I notice, and time has barely passed. I am the oldest person there. What I mean is that I could be the father of the next oldest person. But, unlike my memory of the 1980s in Lansing, Michigan, of Pinball Petes, this place is clean, smells clean, has cheap drinks, and moderately expensive simple food (mostly hotdogs with vegan choices available–it is Portland). While I did not find my youth or any skills remaining, it was enjoyable, and I placed my Ground Kontrol under my driver’s license. I will be back!
(that is not my score!)
I have no terrible back pain, and what pain starts goes away if I walk at a slower pace. Thus, I enjoy Portland and look at all the shops I don’t recognize as I walk back toward the parking garage. Instead of boarding, I head to Powell’s and get a paper cup of cold water at the tourist-packed coffee shop. I sit on a stool, watching the tourists out the window. I found two excellent books in the maritime section but managed to resist them (but I know where they are). One of the books is an older book on Clipper ships with lines for the ships and their story, including two models of have. Very tempting. These are the ships folks think of when they think of a sailing ship, but they often confuse them with the surviving sailing ships, mostly Wind Jammers. Even Cutty Sark, a Clipper, is a transitional ship to Wind Jammers with its iron beams and cement (yes, cement).
Instead, I head to the gaming store and purchase some small bits for a newish role-playing game, Mothership. I have yet to play it, but I like the idea of creating a sci-fi horror story. The staff had played the game and told me that there is an alternative non-horror-based Mothership version, which is interesting. Next, I got a BLT and an excellent beer at the Hawthorn location for The Luck Labrador. I read some of the folded card adventures for Mothership and was happy to discover that these one-shot horror stories were excellent. They remind me of the stuff you see for Savage World’s one-sheet adventures.
I headed to Richard’s, and he made me a coffee to counteract the food and beer, and we got to Wrymspan four players: Richard, Lauren, Kathleen, and me. Richard had me explain the game to Lauren, who had not played before. I managed, I think, to get the process and how to win to Lauren, and we started. My start was rough, with no good plan and cards that did not match. Richard faced the same issue. Lauren and Kathleen practically yelped with delight as their cards and resources aligned.
I have never seen a game with so many extra coins, except for me! Richard and Kathleen would often have four extra coins in a round. They were unstoppable. Richard filled his board and was very happy. In the end, I scored an excellent 80 points, one point ahead of Lauren. Richard was over 100 and was not caught by Kathleen.
I drove Kathleen home. We talked about the lack of progress in technology and the next new thing. Corporations seem happy to extract cash from the existing tech and are not using it for the next disruption. We both bought laptops and found the newer models not much of a leap from the last ones. It seems Wall Street has had it with disruption and is just extracting cash from a slow change of existing products.
With that discussion done, Kathleen was home and I soon recrossed Portland and Beaverton. I arrived without issue, did the dishes, and soon was home. I finished a book and went to sleep.
Thanks for reading.
Alohawild (Michael Wild's) Website 