I try not to swing from depression to elation. That feels more manic than alive. Instead, I had a good Wednesday and did many things. The depression comes when I don’t do anything. It felt more like a usual day for me.
I rose after 7 and soon found the kitchen; it had not moved. In the kitchen, technology had summoned a pot of caffeinated joy into existence for me, which I had assembled the night before. Technology then applied power to the various parts and brought coffee to life! The dark liquid is fair-exchanged and thus deliciously bitter and liberal, my favorite flavor. With Hope, also found in the morning elixir, I headed to my office to begin my writing.
Yes, dear reader, I did go back to that boilerplate, but I like coming up with new words for coffee.
I wrote the blog, updated the transactions in Quicken for all my live accounts (IRA balances require manual updates), and paid my accumulated monthly expenses (which always reminds me of Gomez in the Addams Family, “for the monthly expenses”). While my cash is lower than I planned, the extra expense for Air VW the Gray, including paying off the Volvo failed repairs, rental car until I bought the EV, and installing a charge station, comes to nearly $9,000. Sucks! I will not curtail my travel (Mickey is next and that mouse loves ‘cheddar’), but I will be careful not to increase monthly expenses and try to keep my spending down when not travelling.
With the bills paid, blog done, I walked through the backyard, and the frost did not seem to slow anything. The bees are all over the blooms on the apple tree and the mountain ash. There are small moths or butterflies (they flutter by too soon for me to identify them). The lawn service has the grass a dark green, cut, and it appears very happy. The roses have jumped into the sky already, but show rust this time. Never had that in years. How strange. I must treat them as the red bumps are now on two roses. The roses are thick with promises of flowers.
I shower, dress, get the mail, and talk to Deborah, who is happy to hear my last birthday present arrived. I have a Calamity Mug, something I have considered buying a few times. Excellent. Next, I board Air VW the Gray and head to the nearby MAX station, then into Portland. I was happy to get a newer car, but the seats were less comfortable than the older ones. Hmmmm.
I got to see a likely illegal cash deal in non-US currency, and one passenger was having an animated talk about the vibrations in the earth that he could feel; there was nobody in his audience. In other words, it was the usual trip to Portland. I smiled and read my Canadian murder/crime story on my Kindle. I wore a coat and a white hat, almost invisible with the gray hair and the book.
I got off at the Library station, stopped, and enjoyed the cool morning in the nearby park, Director Park. It was the last minutes of morning, and a gentleman was playing old classic rock loudly on speakers. I gave him a tip, which surprised him. The giant chess set was not out, but the fountain was shooting water here and there.
The park along Park Street (North Park Blocks) was full of folks who, by their carts and mixed clothing, were likely homeless. I saw a line near the still-not-remounted Teddy Roosevelt statue (just the block remains, and you have to imagine a metal president on a metal horse). The ‘Sandwich Ministry’ was running. A group of three people was supplying sandwiches, coffee, and a drink for anyone. I gave them a donation, which made them very happy.
Aside: Pastor Steve once told the story of a man who used to drive around and give sandwiches as a personal ministry–he just did this and did not think to tell anyone. It was something he just did. He passed unexpectedly, and one unknown man came to the funeral, and according to Steve, told the story of the late man giving him a sandwich. The family then took up the role of giving away sandwiches. I do not know if what I witnessed was the fruit of this story or another tale. I was happy to see it; everyone looked calm and happy. I believe the worst of being homeless is to be treated as if you do not exist. To be treated less than human and become unseen. Being seen, handed a sandwich, and getting some peace is a great gift.
I entered the Portland Art Museum, PAM, and was there to see the Monet lily pad painting that had been repaired and the varnish removed. It was reportedly still slightly faded. I learned you cannot undo all the darkness from a varnish without destroying the original paint from the informational video across from the Monet. PAM has only a few French Impressionist paintings; most were on the wall for this show (except an embarrassingly ugly and small Van Gogh of a cow in dark shades, here).
PAM, never a wealthy institution, focused on graphic arts over its 100 years and its collection of Japanese prints, M.C. Escher original works, including canceled engraving and woodblock masters, and other paper-based art, often from well-known artists (but obviously cheaper than painting, bronzes, and so on), is extensive. PAM curators assembled next to the French Impressionists, Japanese prints, and works that echoed the influence of the Japanese prints, including a sketch from Toulouse-Lautrec. Most of the Japanese prints are the same as the ones Monet is known to have owned.
The story is that the French Impressionists were heavily influenced by these new items that had just appeared with the American forced opening of Japan. The prints were suddenly available, and the French Impressionists bought and admired them. The show’s text suggests that Monet, Lautrec, and others incorporated the colors, lines, and positions of figures found in the Japanese prints into their works.
Although the curators did not include it in this display, PAM owns Hokusai’s famous Wave print. This show included many of his other works of Japanese print art from the same time. I thought it was a small but excellent show, and it is recommended.
The Wave needs to be presented in a darker light to protect it, and, according to the docent I spoke to, it would have distracted from the Monet. I saw an original on my last trip to Chicago, and it was in a dark corner of the museum. It is smaller, and the colors were darker than I expected.
One later Japanese print used a Western perspective, showing the reverse influence. I also saw a woodcut from 1894 of a Hokusai-like wave dumping an artist in his small boat with his easel. It suggested the French Impressionists were overwhelmed by these Japanese forms (Henri Gustave Jossot, La Vague). I laughed out loud and bought a postcard of the image later in the gift store. It is here.
I did view the 1960s art and outfits, but that did not interest me enough. While colorful and sort of interesting, I was still thinking about the mix of Japanese art and French Impressionists. The room of Portland-based rock posters was an interesting historical addition.
I stopped by the store and received blank looks when I asked if the prints of PAM’s one Monet lily pad painting for sale were made before or after the varnish removal. I wanted the new look. I got a card (I sent it to Mom Wild) and napkins, suspecting they are the previous look. I thought napkins were an odd way to celebrate Monet.
Next, I walked back through the park and tipped my hat to the folks still there. They commented on my white hat, saying it was fetching. I opened the door to South Park Seafood bar, sat, and ordered some wine. I had their board of cold fish offerings. It all went well with wine and French Impressionists. It was a perfect sunny California day in Portland, Oregon. Not something we used to see a few years ago in April! I remember my roses blooming and melting away in the rain, not this year. Instead, I have new infections to deal with. Mostly, you cut this away and treat with care. You must ensure that you do not spread the fungus. Burning (!) is recommended for infected material.
The food was excellent, and I finished with a coffee and a separate shot of Amaretto. With the blues, reds, and yellows of Japanese and French art bouncing in my brain and the excellent food and drink bouncing in me, too, I found the train home and soon headed home. I was fine and soon was home, where a nap soon found me.
I keep forgetting to say that I have bagels from Susie’s Aunt Joyce from NYC from Zabar’s, and will need to acquire supplies (cream cheese and sliced cheese) to enjoy these for breakfast and dinner. I love a toasted tuna melt, though I often set it on fire when the cheese ignites in the broiler. It’s still good and easily and undestructively extinguished when removed from the broiler. It’s best to have a window open, though.
Rising, I found the kitchen again (it still has not moved), and I reheated the pasta and meatballs from yesterday for dinner. I talked to Deborah, and we locked in more of our trip to Anaheim in June. We also discovered that the Nixon Presidential Library is in the LA area. I learned that if you show a public transit card, you get a $2 discount at the tar pit museum, and I looked at taking trains and buses to get there. It looks like fun.
I also talked to Dondrea about working out dinner with her and Z on Thursday. We changed the location to Nonna Emilia Ristorante Italiano after I saw the amazingly LA-like prices at La Provence for dinner. I am going to have to learn to make croissants! Gaming was off for the night–play practice was extended for Z.
I also received new stamps for my collection, which I still maintain. With the passing of the Great Generation, also the greatest stamp collectors, their collections are being dumped online, mostly broken up, and I get a chance at some great discounts. I got a Confederate Stamp used (they are near valueless when unused, and we see fake cancels to increase values), a proof of an impossible to get stamp (there is only one known copy) that was in FDR’s album (!), and invert (my first) that I got at a significant (insane) discount. Easter apparently was not a good time to hold an auction, a buyer’s feast. I placed these in my albums (I have a Revenue album for the very specialized tax stamps) and my usual one with parts of my old Harris Album for Confederates (my Scott’s does not cover that).
I thought about a movie, but instead, I headed to Salt and Straw and had ice cream, mint with chocolate flakes (vegan positive), and then I walked the area and enjoyed the sunset. I then returned home in the EV.
With all this happiness, I was feeling better and more like myself. Meaning, sleep was hard to find. I finally slept around midnight. I woke at 3:15 to an alarm and sent a good morning message to Deborah, who was starting her day then. I fell back to sleep and missed her reply.
Thanks, dear reader, for putting up with 1900 words.
Alohawild (Michael Wild's) Website 