Thursday with Summoning

I rose early with my alarm to start the blog, enabling me to finish the blog before lunch plans, Scott. Scott and I have both retired from Nike. I put on my slippers and headed to the kitchen–it was still in the same place; the house was cold, 66F (13C), and the orchids seemed to enjoy it. I did not stop by the 185th Corner fruit and veggie stand, meaning I had no bananas for breakfast. Instead, I would open a can of peaches, 1/2 for breakfast, and go with a few scoops of cottage cheese dusted with sea salt and smoked paprika.

I had liberal joy in my cup. I was tasting the opportunity to help others and maybe raise taxes on those who can afford it to pay for it and make a real, measurable difference. My cup of liberal coffee glows with opportunities, suggesting a minimum tax in the bitterness to pay for helping others—not direct inflationary payments, but improving and maintaining the country’s infrastructure and creating real jobs while reducing pollution. My coffee, Equal Exchange brand, made in my French press, was flavored with “Yes We Can!”

I spent the early morning writing, reading emails, checking the news (looking at Jerusalem Post, NW Times, and CNN), and updating my transactions in Quicken. I write for about two hours to get a story done. I am fighting with Grammarly and often have to retype my sentences to return them to their original meaning. I still use it to correct wrong words, typos, missing plurals, and mixed tenses in sentences. Still, it often offers a fix to the paragraph, not just a typo fix, and those I usually reject as I later find the changes are more profound than I realized. I did notice that I had a malformed sentence, which caused the AI to go out of its mind. Once I re-wrote the sentence, we both aligned. I will carefully check that Grammarly is crazy because I have a poorly formed sentence.

Next, Apple fails to email me the photos from my iPhone. I have seen this before. I try again. No email. I text myself the images and then download them to my Apple’s picture directory. I’m not sure what is wrong with Apple-land, but the emails never surfaced (it did work for this blog). I publish the blog, dillydally for a while, and then dress and head out.

The trip across Beaverton took no time, and soon, Air Volvo had me at Elephants Delicatessen at Cedar Hills Crossing. I decide on the Italian, a cold sub, and Scott selects the delicious and artery-freezing Ruban sandwich that is so good (I might have sandwich envy). And while I often have a like sub from other sandwich shops, Elephant’s does not taste like generic deli packs laid on bread, but somehow is more complex and suggests that this is really a sub with roots in Italy.

Scott and I talked about travel, including my recent trip to Chicago and my upcoming trip to New Orleans. Scott and his family are meeting in Italy in December. We chatted about housework and politics. It was a pleasant chat.

I return home and just hang out. Next, I dress in my blue suit with a golden vest plus a 1980s tie. I remember older friends telling me they had ties older than me. When did I become that guy? Next, I added black shoes with dark socks to my ensemble, which I had to put on three times to find a matching pair (when did I get so many black socks that don’t match!?). I pick the boater hat as this for the H.P. Lovecraft Film Festival VIP and summoning party. It seemed an excellent choice on a sunny day. It is now past the summer, and the hat is not technically allowed, but still, it looks good on a sunny day. In days in the distant past, I read that hooligans would knock off the straw hats worn in the fall and warn the wearer to change to proper headwear. I received no criticism today.

I boarded Air Volvo early as Rossi Farms was hosting the summoning near the airport, and I had never been there. It was Thursday rush hour, the worst day for travel in Portland. I would rely on Nav to get me there.

Nav was unhappy as I headed to the car wash and cleaned Air Volvo because it was too early to leave. Next, Carl’s Jr. supplied one of my guilty pleasures: a single Western Burger. Bacon, onion rings, BBQ sauce on a burger, and a promise to add to your waistline and thicken those artery walls!  But it is so good, and I have anti-cholesterol drugs (my doctor is grimacing somewhere). I forgo the fries and drink a chemical-rich Diet Coke, thinking it will help.

After finishing the burger and managing not to spill food on my tie or vest, I headed across Beaverton and Portland. The traffic was, as expected, heavy, and once again, I was amazed at how polite and slow our drivers were. I queued, took two light cycles, and reached the highway, but I was in no danger of reaching the speed limit. The Highway 26 parking lot was available today. A new thing is that motorcycles run fast between lanes, likely an extra-legal expediency. I am unsure I could stomach flying between lines on a cycle with only a helmet to make my remains, post-crash, recognizable (I see no other value of a helmet in this type of driving). But I am glad something is moving (being overly polite Oregon drivers, we just smile and applaud their risk-taking).

(We listen to songs from the period or appropriate to the theme, including Mac the Knife and Anything Goes)

I was not in a hurry and running too early. I watched aggressive and useless lane changes. Also, I witnessed the frustrating vehicles that cut in after I politely crept along for ten minutes. But we, being overly polite and passive-aggressive, just rolled our eyes and let them in. Soon, I will be above 12 miles an hour, and traffic, while packed, will increase its pace. I am shocked by the apparent non-moving exit to the airport, a warning for my next trip. I exit the now-moving highway traffic and soon am forty minutes early.

(Cody summoning the festival)

I read my book on my iPhone’s Kindle app, which syncs with my iPhone and Kindle device. I see a group of folks waiting, and I join them. I started reconnecting with folks who, like me, are here yearly. We are lined up and getting our badges nearly on time, which is unusual for this event. Soon, the following line is no charge for wine and beer. I join folks (names escape me again) at a table from Canada I have seen for the last two years. Other folks I have not seen for a year connect with me, and I will see many of them in the Call of Cthulhu game on Friday morning.

I talked with a local author, Cody Goodman, about AI. Later, he led us in two summoning rituals held in Rossi Farm’s ghost town section. The second one was longer and more funny, including a prayer to stop any criticism of the ritual. I chatted about food, travel, and AI stuff. There is finger food, including the ubiquitous, for catering, meatballs in a red sauce, and country fall desserts like donut wholes and pumpkin pie.

By 9:30ish, I am cold and ready to have Air Volvo wisk me across Portland and Beaverton to the Volvo Cave. I am more tired than I realize, and the other drivers are more drunk or high than they should be. My fellow drivers seem to believe drifting across the lane lines is usual. Air Volov arrives with all its paint, and I am happy to put the blue suit away without tears, torn bits, or blood stains.

I am soon showered, in my PJs, and reading. I fall asleep while reading, put away the Kindle, and turn off the light. I sleep through the night.

Thanks for reading.