she's just saying...

Wiener Envy

Ever since I stopped blogging in July, I have been wondering what event would motivate me to start up again. Many comment-worthy events have occurred since then, but I haven't been compelled to post until today. The must-blog event has finally arrived.

 

Bend has been blessed by the presence of the Wienermobile all week. Numerous sightings on Facebook have allowed the wiener-focused to follow it around town. And of course it's tweeting and posting on its own pages. Henry spotted it on our drive to school this morning and we risked a tardy warning to stop and admire. It was parked all alone in a motel parking lot, waiting for its handlers to wake and fire it up. (unintentional lame pun there)

I have nothing profound to say about the Wienermobile; I just like saying the word. However, no matter the number of hot dogs it causes to be eaten, it's also performed another valuable service: it's gotten me to start up the blog again. So really, we're all wieners.

a Famous Knitter comes to town

Bend is honored to have a Famous Knitter here this week. Non-knitting people are always surprised to know that there actually are famous knitters. But why not?  Patterns, other than the simple scarf or washcloth, have to come from somewhere. There are real designers behind them, selling and publishing their work in books and magazines. So the knitting world, like the fashion world, revolves around designers, and there are a number of well-known ones.

But I digress. (I'm going to assign a shorthand abbreviation for that: BID. And now I digress on my digression.)

My knitting group has organizes a two-day workshop with a knitting designer/teacher, and she has arrived. It's Lucy Neatby, she of the blue and fuschia hair and mismatched colored boots. Lucy is a combination of organized, detailed instructor, technically brilliant designer and creative artist. Her DVD series has taught thousands of knitters from the basics to intricate techniques, and she's really cool. And did I mention she's staying with me this week?

My cats are thrilled to have another lap to claim.

10 things I haven't done in Bend

Top Ten Tuesday and all that...

I moved to Bend sixteen years ago this month. And in that time I've enjoyed much of what Central Oregon has to offer. I've skiied, boarded, snowshoed, rockclimbed, canoed, rafted, backpacked, drunk beer and been to the Monster Truck Rally. But just like those New Yorkers who've never been to the Empire State Building (most of them), there are a few things you'd think I've done that I haven't. (Warning: very local post here with no explanations. Deal with it.)

I have never:

1. Cut down my own Christmas tree
2. Biked on Phil's Trail
3. Floated the river in an inner tube
4. Done Art Walk
5. Been on a Pole Peddle Paddle team
6. Rafted Big Eddy
7. Been in the Christmas Parade (we have done the Pet Parade - evidence below)
8. Eaten at Dandy's Drive-In
9. Skiied the cone
10. Served on jury duty

Mum's the word on that last one. Though I'm a faithful voter, somehow I've escaped the jury rolls so far. (Now I've jinxed myself, of course, and will likely be serving shortly.)

 So I've confessed mine: what are yours?

  Note the patriotic choice of binky

Rattlesnake hits the High Desert, reports back

NOTE: By popular demand, I am reposting this from April 1st. However, please be aware that this is not funny. Or true. So don't send me any scolding emails. Thank you.

April 1, 2011, Bend, OR: Inspired by the Bronx Zoo's Cobra, one of our local rattlesnakes escaped from its exhibit yesterday to explore the town of Bend and its environs. However, after 24 hours on the loose, the viper returned and attempted to re-enter its enclosure, complaining that there was nothing new to see in the area.

Fresh from the twice-daily appearance in the hit show Venom & Vipers over spring break, the rattler thought it was time to break free and see what the big city had to offer this aspiring singer/actor/dancer.

"Really, what a let-down. B.Z.Cobra hit the Empire State Building, Times Square, Yankee Stadium. All I got to was the D&D, and they carded me. Drake Park was filled with geese - a little too messy if you know what I mean. I had to shed a skin just to clean up."

The viper continued: "It was way too far to Bachy*, plus I'd freeze my rattle off up there. Buying snow gear was going to cost an arm and a leg, neither of which I have."

"All I saw for miles around was sagebrush. I come from sagebrush! At least back here I get all the mice I want and have a 24-hour heatlamp. Plus I hang with the gila monsters - pretty cool dudes once they loosen up."

Museum officials were quick to reassure the public that the snake enclosure was secured. "HD TV and a Wii have been added to the exhibit so the snakes can exercise, although Wii Boxing is unavailable to them at this time for logistical reasons," said a spokesperson.

Image courtesy of Jill Rosell Photography - thanks, Jill!

*Mt. Bachelor for all you non-snowboarders.

Summer camp, already?

If you could relate to my posts about the hell of summer activity scheduling for Henry, this may be of interest.

"Big News! Bend Park & Recreation District is opening up summer registration for their recreation programs online on March 17^th  for district residents and April 1^st  for those who live outside the district. This is a big change. Normally, programs open in May. So, now you’ll have an extra month to plan what your kids will be doing this summer. Go online and be green on St. Patrick’s Day, March 17^th. To register go to https://register.bendparksandrec.org"

So now the signing-up part isn't so bad, it's just the scheduling and the paying for.

(Yes, I know this is last year's catalog cover - but I had to publish it one more time...)

High Desert Under Labor Day Freeze Warning

News Story - KTVZ Bend.

I know - it sounds like a set-up for a joke, but it's not. Bring in the houseplants, cover the tomatoes. If you ask me we could use a touch more global warming in our neck of the woods for the next month or so...

Urban renewal

I flew up to Seattle and back yesterday. For an eye doctor appointment -- gone are the days when I would fly a one-day r/t for business. It was fun to be back on city sidewalks.

There's nothing like a city for energy and buzz. Bend, on the other hand, does not have buzz. It has mellow. Pleasant, but definitely laid-back, even if you're working just as hard. I used to be hooked on that buzz, but I don't know if I could handle it now on a daily basis. But it sure is good to experience it now and then, and there's a lot about cities I miss.

You can now take a sparkly bright new train from the airport right to downtown for $5 round-trip. I put on my city commuter face and it was very easy. Sometimes cities do things right for a change. After my 4-hour appointment (seriously!) I had time to experience the city and so of course headed for the nearest yarn store for an absolutely necessary purchase.

This is what I love about cities - here are the other stores on that block:

• Alchemy, a bookstore with "magical" books and supplies. It looked intriguing but I didn't explore.
• The Honey Hole, a neighborhood cafe. Ditto the above.
• Babeland, a sex toys shop. Um, ditto?
• Stitches, the yarn store, my destination.

That's as far as I could go, as I had to stumble my way back to the airport. Stumble because (irony alert!) I broke a contact lens at the eye doctor's. My eyes had been dilated and because I didn't bring my prescription sunglasses I had to wear one contact under my regular sunglasses. Blurry and half-blind, I wasn't in the mood for more shopping or sightseeing. I needed to sit down near the flight gate, have a beer and peer at a magazine.

All in all, another novel day. For those who are wondering, this new eye doctor does recommend the still-somewhat-experimental surgery for my right eye. For those who are now really wondering, I have glaucoma and underwent a long and annoying surgery experience on my left eye that no one wants to repeat. Though the drugs were good while they lasted. Until they weren't.

slap-happy summer

Note: I'm leaving this post up until I get some responses! Summer memories, people!

Up in our neck of the woods, spring came slowly and haltingly this year. It's always slower than everywhere else in the country, it seems, but this year was the coldest, wettest I remember. Summer finally showed up about July 5, and it's been truly lovely. Not too hot, until last weekend. And then the mosquitoes hatched.

The entire town is complaining - it's the number one comment on Facebook this week.

From our local news station:

Four Rivers Vector Control officials say the mosquitoes are overwhelming this year.

"This year we found that everything we looked at was hatching out all at once," said Four Rivers District Manager Chad Stubblefield. "In some places we even found 500 mosquitoes to a dip cup full of water."

You know it's bad when the westside Safeway (the big one) is SOLD OUT of mosquito spray. Really. The shelf was empty yesterday. I had to get some weird left-over brand. Hope it works.

On another summer note, it's been hot and even muggy with thunder and lightning. So it feels like a perfect time to play cards. Didn't you play cards in the summer growing up? War, Hearts, Rummy, Crazy Eights, I Doubt It, Uno?

Henry and I have different tastes in card games. I like a strategic game like gin rummy and thought he'd enjoy a simplified version of rummy for kids. He likes something called "SWAP!" which involves a lot of switching colors, swapping hands with the other player and slapping the discard pile.

So, we sit around these evenings, slapping mosquitoes and slapping cards, enjoying our Oregon summer and making memories. What are yours?

the old and the new

When bikes attack

Well, summer has finally arrived here -- it's been two nights since we've had to turn the heat on. The local visitor bureau has determined that cyclists are the niche of choice for its marketing efforts and the streets are jammed with fiercely lycra-clad racers as well as a more casual wheeling crowd. There also seem to be a lot more young adults on little bitty bikes in my neighborhood as well, which was recently explained by my neighbor as being due to a rash of DUI's at the end of the school year. At least they're only behind two wheels now vs. four.

I have a bike. I bike downtown, to the store, to concerts etc. I don't do it a lot, but I can. I've mentioned my deficient cycling skills here previously, which I blame on the geography of my childhood home, growing up at the top of a long, narrow, winding hill with poison ivy in the ditches, ducking out-of-control suburban station wagons driven by moms hopped up on caffeine and late to the PTA meeting.

However, I've gradually realized that something more nefarious is going on.

Bikes don't like me. They sense my fear and it turns them mean.

When I'm around them they tend to jump out and attack my legs, leaving scrapes and bruises even when I haven't tried to ride them.

I'm not exaggerating. This was recently witnessed at the farm stand when a strange bike bit my shin. I had my hand out for it to sniff and everything. I hadn't even made eye contact.

My current bike is a gentle old nag who is pretty kind, though it's been known to throw me at intersections. And when it smells alcohol on my breath (say, after concerts), it likes to buck and rear, then stand by and snicker. I can show you the scars.

Loose morels

Morels are a type of wild mushroom that grow in the Northwest in the spring. Their flavor is deep and mysterious and substantial, and they look really cool too, like little alien coneheads.

There's an underground culture of mushroom pickers here in Central Oregon who jealously guard their picking spots, so really it's easier to pick them down at our local farmstand. Adam gets them from a picker on his way back into town every day, and sells them dirt cheap. 

For some odd reason most morel recipes online involve saltine crackers, bread crumbs, or even corn flakes. All you need to do is saute them in butter or olive oil. You can add some shallots, parsley, garlic and lemon juice, a splash of white wine, serve them on toast or whatever. Or eat them with a fork right out of the pan.

The morels of the story

(Puns: the last refuge of lame writers.)

Hair Play

Another account I worked on in LA was the Mattel advertising account. I only worked on one small part of it, as it was a vast empire made up of divisions such as Matchbox, Large Dolls, Boys Toys, Polly Pocket and of course, Barbie. (I worked on Boys Toys including some weird air hockey puck, WWF wrestling dolls and the Ren & Stimpy Talking & Farting Dolls. Ah, those were the good times.)

One of my favorite things about the account was the unique language used (love weird niche vocabulary). For example, to brief the creative team, we had to identify the wow factor of each toy. And the Barbie and Small Doll folk frequently discussed the intricacies of Hair Play. 

I am reminded of this lately because I'm engaged in some Hair Play myself. I've been growing my hair longer and have hit the level of Below The Collar Bone, the longest I've ever had my hair. I've always been a short hair person, and am having a bit of adjustment to being a long hair person. Do you put it inside your shirt collar or outside? In front of your shoulders or back? How often do you wash it? How do you style it? All questions I never had to deal with before.

It was looking more and more like cotton candy and not in a good way so I got it trimmed this week. My hairdresser is so good that I hesitate to give out her name.* We've been together 14 years. I'm not the best advertisement for her because I've got weird hair, fine but wavy and regrettably frizzy. But she always makes my hair look fantastic for the first couple of weeks.

She did it again Monday. She got out a hair iron and "product" (another word I love) and totally changed the texture of my hair. It's silky. I've been tossing my head like a hair model, running my fingers through it and flipping it around. Barbie's got nothing on me this week. At least in hair play.

Before

After

*But I'll tell you anyway. Traci Klune at Salon Indulgence. Tell her Melissa sent you.

It's not a Wheaties box, yet...

The line for autographs starts at the right.

PS: That's Jen's girl, Chloe, with the Mona Lisa smile in the back.

Top ten Tues: Breaking Pet News

In September I posted a bit about the local newsrag, the Bulletin, and its ceaseless coverage of happy (and not so) pet news on the front page above the fold.

In the hubbub of Easter, I overlooked another high-profile local news story: Cat in Tree. This story got two days of front page headlines: once about said Cat In Tree, then a follow-up: Cat Gets Out Of Tree. 

So, I thought I'd compile a list of the top ten Animal News items covered on the front pages of the Bend Bulletin in the last couple of years, as follows, in reverse chronological order. This list only includes Real News stories, not any articles from the weekly Pets section, the "Meet My Pet" feature, the lost animals column, the Best Pet Photo contest, etc.

They are:

1. Llama attacks jogger: found to be suffering from "Berserk Llama Syndrome" [the llama, not the jogger]
2. At-large wallaby returned to owner
3. Pet fish killed in domestic disturbance [found with knife through it]
4. Nickolas the Llama is found
5. Buster the Dog is found
6. Deer, shot by an arrow, survives
7. Deer dies in backyard [not the same deer as #6]
8. Local chimp bites off owner's finger
9. Cat gets stuck in tree
10. Cat jumps out of tree

And today's: Local Mountain Goat Tickled by Motocrosser

(Probably not really what's going on here, but I didn't read the whole story)

...just as long as they spell my name right.

where the magic happens

The local alternative weekly, the Source Weekly, asked me recently to write a personal article about blogging. And now I'm blogging about my article about blogging. Now that's meta.

Anyway, they didn't spell my name right in the byline, though they did in the little bio after the article. They also didn't publish my photo, for which I'm thankful. But no matter. They got the blog name right.

I'm still not quite sure why they wanted this article, other than the reporter telling me she reads my blog and enjoys it (hi, Sara!). The issue was the Women's Issue, though primarily focused on women in the work world. Also, I'm over 50, which I'm sure the Source didn't know because if they did I'd have been banned from publication. 

I used to work at an alternative weekly in Boston, the Boston Phoenix. I was the traffic manager, in charge of making sure all the ads ran that were scheduled. And all the local clubs would call in to me with their band listings for the week, which was kinda fun for some reason. What I remember most is the coincidence that my sisters' high school friend worked there. (shout out to Clif here) And all the futon ads.

That experience is actually what propelled me to get an MBA and go into advertising. The place was wildly stressful and chaotic (these were the days of physical paste-up. It's when the layout artist actually - oh, never mind.) The national cigarette and liquor ads would come in from the ad agencies all nicely finished with paperwork and such. They seemed so professional.So calm. So organized. Ha.

Since my major from a private East Coast liberal arts college was Art, I clearly needed more education, so I got an MBA in marketing and was recruited by an NYC ad agency actually on Madison Avenue. The rest is history.

So I have a soft spot in my heart for alt weeklies, even if they not proofread so gud.

Does it count as sunny if you have no shadow?

Bend boosters like to quote the statistic that we get 300 days of sunshine here -- it counteracts the Oregon = rain perception people hold. Everyone quotes the same number: 300. Realtors, the Chamber of Commerce, the medical clinic, golf resorts and the local HVAC company all repeat this frequently. (With the notable exception of a surly curmudgeon whose entire blog exists to dispute this number.) I'm not sure how the "300 days" stat was compiled, but I'm just saying we'd better see sunshine non-stop through New Year's if we're going to hit that this year.

Due to the frequent brilliant sunshine there's a interesting phenomenon that occurs in Central Oregon around February and March. By now we're seriously bored with winter and start to believe that sun = spring. People shed the down and fleece and run around in shorts and t-shirts. Myself, I stop wearing jackets to work and start leaving the doors open, until I realize I'm freezing. 35 degrees is 35 degrees whether it's December or May.

(There's a subset of guys who wear shorts year-round here. They tend to be of three kinds: snowboarders, 30-something dads who pretend they're snowboarders, and the UPS guy. The shorts are the long cargo-type, so at least we're spared large flashes of goosebumpy flesh.)

The kids immediately wear tank tops (gals) or take their shirts off (dudes) and hang around the park downtown. By the way, I seem to have turned into the kind of mom who says: "Those children must be freezing!" How did that happen?

Then it turns gray and cold and rainy again and we remember it's only February.

I'm happy to report that I'm in a far better place than I was this time last year, when I wrote this depressing post.  Wow. Good thing I didn't have my biathlon rifle back then.

Where the cool kids hang out. And the geese. On a much nicer day than today.

How you know you live in a ski town

Emergency! Emergency!  Should we call the police? The sheriff? 

No, wait! Let's check the conditions!

How many screens does it take

to run a business?

This is my friend Brian. The two monitors on the left are Mac and the other two PC, all run from one keyboard and mouse.

Notice he's texting from his phone in the middle of all this.

I was pretty impressed. A great guy and a great company.*

*No promotional consideration was paid for this endorsement, except lunch.

Another random grammar rant - local dog version

Our local cable company has a pretty good reputation for customer service and innovative technologies. What they seem to be lacking is a sixth-grade grammar education.

Bend has the reputed highest per-capita dog ownership in the state, most of which are black labs, and they're smart and fast and loyal etc. so I get the visual and have no quibble with that.

However, though this will once again label me a grammar prude, the tagline bugs the heck out of me. "We better be good." It's just wrong. "We'd better be good" is the correct usage here. I know, I know, it's ad-speak, informal, colloquialism, etc. but it grates on me every time I see or hear it.

Of course, this time of year whenever I see that particular tagline I tend to follow it up with "We'd better not cry, we'd better not pout." And I'm telling you why.

I do so know what a chicken gizzard is!

The preteen years have started, for reals.

This morning I emerged from my boudoir and heard Henry talking on the phone, at about 7:30 am. Who the heck are you talking to? I asked. Turns out he called in to the radio station he listens to on his clock radio, one of those inane entertaining local morning shows. Seems they were discussing what a gizzard was (scintillating!) and asked people to call in with their answers.

Henry, never shy, immediately picked up the phone and got on air. Here's the rough transcript:

"Hi there, what's your name?"

"Henry."

"So Henry, what's a gizzard?"

"Um, it's that red thing chickens wear, on their chins."

"Oh, is that what it is? How do you know this - are you a chicken farmer?"

"No, my mom's the vice president of the High Desert Museum."

Outed on air! Though it doesn't say much for the Museum that I supposedly called that red thing a gizzard. Sheesh, everyone knows that's a wattle.

visited by a bear cat

As my long-time (read: one year) readers know, we used to raise foster kittens here for the Humane Society. It was messy and time-consuming but we loved it. Unfortunately, now that I have a further commute and can't come home at lunch, we can't take care of the little furballs, but maybe again someday.

One bunch stood out because the kittens were so cute -- big and roly-poly. (Of course I love all my kitties equally. Just some more equally than others.) One guy was adopted by the neighbors across the street, who named him Bear. 

He turned into a bear alright, primarily in size.

Because Bear was raised in this house, he enjoys coming over and visiting the old crowd. He especially likes the fact that our cats eat canned food, and likes to drop by for a little snack. During the summer our doors are open and we'll see him walk by on his way to the cat food. Now that it's colder, he waits at the door to be let in just like the resident cats. Henry always lets him in, and occasionally I'll walk into a room and see Bear lounging about. I normally throw him out, as he has a big appetite and cat food gets pricey.

That happens with kids, too. Somehow on Sunday we ended up with seven here. As long as they don't eat the cat food, I'm fine with it.