...and the future is funky

I don't look very excited, do I? But I was! I had never before ridden a train! On Alex's second to last day working in Portland, I took the train up-and-back with him. It was fun (= Way more comfy than an air plane. I explored down-town on foot while he worked. I spent ALL morning at Powell's Used Books, had a fried Munster cheese sandwich from a Czech Food Cart for lunch, and wandered in the rain after lunch. I also got to experience one of Alex's LONGEST commuting days, as the train was delayed multiple times (we didn't get home until after 9 pm!)

...for your destiny

"I will fight for your destiny! I'm a king!"
--our 3-year-old neighbor, brandishing a stick.

Aug Tour: Port Townsend

In a false start for our tour, Kalaloch played the first show in Port Townsend, WA last night (Saturday) at The Boiler Room. We had a handful of people listen who seemed to really enjoy themselves. We felt like we played really well--so I deem the night a success.

The other bands were great. They were all on tour from Portland. Ghost to Falco, Wooden Indian Burial Ground, and Unit Breed. We had never seen the latter two--and found in them a couple of new bands to watch for in Portland.

We stayed Friday night @ Alex's sister's house in Kalama--then drove up Saturday morning. I wish we had had more time--it was gorgeous!

This is a view from the top of the mountain we camped on. Behind Alex is Hood Canal--a bay parallel to Puget Sound. In the very far distance we could just make out the Seattle skyline.

Port Townsend is a town that flourished in the late 1800s. Complete with Victorian buildings and Shanghai tunnels.

The seagulls made their home on the room and pilings of the old clam cannery.

At sunset, hundreds of birds took flight...as if on cue.

We have four more days to get press kits sent out, make show posters, practice, pack, and then we kick off our tour in Salem on Thursday and hit the road Friday!

Glenn is Home!

Yeay! My nephew Glenn got home from his mission in Sao Paulo Brazil on Thursday. He family met him at the airport, and immediately drove him to Buster's BBQ--the family's favorite place to eat together. A bunch of us took a LONG lunch from work to meet up there. It was lots of fun.

Glenn was not as weird as most missionaries are when they get home. He did forget words, pause to translate words from Portuguese to English before he spoke, and marvel at how everyone had changed. But, he wasn't too weird. (If you have had a missionary come home--you know what I mean!)

Some of my favorite moments: Glenn didn't know how to say "cashew" without an accent. He saw how tall Fontainne had grown since her back surgery and said, "They have been...how you say...feeding her yeast. What? You guys say that in America, right?" His reaction when we told him we bought him tickets to a Counting Crow concert next month, and my surprise when I read in his journal (in his list of things he wants to do when he gets home): "Go to a Counting Crows Concert."

It was a fun day. I'm glad our Glenn-bob is home. It just wasn't the same without him!

Crazy

I tutored a crazy lady once. Perhaps I should have never said yes. I knew she was crazy from the moment we first spoke. With her conspiracy theories, mysterious (but undetectable) injuries, and many dangerous enemies--it was clear that she was completely nuts.

But, I have a soft heart, and she did so desperately want to pass her math class and gain back the independence that she lost after her bankrupting divorce. So I tutored the crazy lady. At her house. During the summer.

She made a little progress...but that progress would all but disappear by the next session. Her short-term memory had short-circuited...but her long-term paranoia was ever-present. Eventually she asked me to be an advocate for her with her math instructor. We all sat down together and discussed what she needed to do to succeed.

As the final exam approached, I really felt she had a chance to pass. Certainly not succeed--she was too messed up for that--but I really thought she could pass. Her teacher had told us that if she turned in all of her homework and took all the tests, he wouldn't give her an F. But...even that was too much for her. She didn't turn in every assignment. She didn't turn up for the exam.

And then--AND THEN--she calls and begs me to go talk to her teacher. He gave me an F! He said he wouldn't fail me! Did you turn in all of the assignments? Well, I couldn't because of the woman that was trying to get me fired due to some unresolved circumstances in which I was affiliated. Did you take the final exam? Due to my injuries that the woman gave me when she tried to get me fired of which I am talking to my attorney...No? No.

Then...I'm sorry. You didn't do the things you said you would do. I cannot talk to your teacher for you. I think the grade he gave you was fair.

And that was the last I ever heard from crazy lady. One, maybe two years ago. Until today.
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.
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Crazy lady called me at 7:30 am on a Saturday morning. Really people? That is not phone call time. That is sleeping time. She had a very cheerful voice, and I recognized the name, but couldn't place where I knew her. Until she began speaking. I knew she was crazy from the moment we spoke.

Back when we were affiliated together, when you were working with me, the lines were well wired and I am acutely aware that you made a call to the lab. What lab? What do you mean? Now, I know that you know what I'm talking about so let me finish. I am affiliated with a group of woman and I made a call to the organization in Portland through which I have contacted an attorney because I know that you were involved with the wiretapping and that all things were well documented. It has become clear that because of that with which you are affiliated--and due to the surrounding circumstances through which all things are accomplished and thus far connected from various organizations and the--I'm sorry, but I have absolutely no idea what you are saying. Of course you will say that because it's so easy to play naive, but let me finish. I know that the organization with which I am affiliated has long past known about your affiliation with various groups and things with which you knew about and organized the various phone calls with which I am aware. I'm very sorry dear--and many past witnesses can attest that you were there to--I really don't know what you are talking about--because of the perceived circumstances--I have to go. Good-bye--and the involved persons--CLICK.

Perhaps I should have never said yes. It was clear that she was completely nuts.

Portland Days are Numbered

In 13 days, Alex will work his last day in Portland.

Alex has been commuting by train from Salem, OR to Portland, OR for nearly a year. In the beginning, we planned to move to Portland. But, life didn't happen the way we expected, and now we find ourselves committing to stay in Salem a little longer.

Alex has really enjoyed working in Portland. (Note that I did not say Alex really liked COMMUTING to Portland). He took advantage of the extra long days (waiting for the train) to walk around downtown and enjoy the sites.











But, we are both excited about his new job. In 13 days he'll say good-bye to BIG PINK and return to his old company (MaPS credit union), but in a different capacity. He'll be working as the Director of Research. Sounds cool--but there are no nuclear weapons or fast cars involved. (Come on people, it's just a credit union.) Also, he'll be closer to home. Yeay!


I'll leave you with a few of my favorite pictures from Alex's downtown P-town collection: