I watch most of my movies at home, but I would guess I see movies in theaters more often than the average person. But not nearly as often as movie critics do. Mostly my screenings are filled with well-behaved audiences. Let’s go point-by-point.
Mostly people don’t talk. Occasionally there will be a couple who talks now and then. Writing from the future, I can report that the older couple at the end of the row during my screening of Bridge of Spies talked intermittently, but I found it kind of cute. And then there was the guy during my screening of Wild who kept leaning over to his wife and telling her the names of the landmarks. That was super cute. If it’s intermittent and mostly quiet, I’m mostly okay.
I haven’t had texting, but every once in a while someone is looking something up on their phone. Sometimes they are on IMDB. Apparently they can’t wait until the end of the movie to figure out who that person is. They always shield the top of the phone, as if that will make any difference (it doesn’t). I’ve always just informed them that I find their phone distracting and they’ve always put their phone away.
Nope. Doesn’t happen to me.
Seriously? People do this?
It’s been a while, but man do I hate it when people do this. I don’t even like it when people bring their kids to a too-old-for-their-age-group kids movies.
I never put my feet up when people are sitting in front of me. I often do when they are not. I’ve not had a problem with people doing it to me.
Also has never happened to me.
Jeff Baker seems to have a problem with popcorn. Sometimes I smuggle carrot sticks into the theater and feel guilty I’m crunching so loudly. Sorry Jeff Baker. I hope you aren’t sitting near me when I do this.
Yes! Just this weekend there was a couple who was taking their seats during the previews. As far as I’m concerned, the show has started. Find your seat and sit down quickly. These two were standing and getting things adjusted, digging in pockets etc. Although, again, when I yelled, “Would you please sit down?” they did. Portland people are so polite. I also followed up my request with a “thank you!”
Again, rarely happens. But I can remember going to a midnight movie at the 5 Mile Plaza during my teenage years and watching in astonishment at the couple a few rows in front of me making out for most of the movie. And there was the time I saw Notting Hill with the couple with the intellectual disability sitting next to me totally sucking face. I was NOT enchanted with their shenanigans.
So, overall, I have few problems in Portland theaters.
I’ve loved not having to purchase a Trimet pass (currently $100.00/month) for nine years. And I’ve also loved the fact that on evenings and weekends, I have a parking space waiting just for me in the North Park Blocks. That ends this weekend.
The lovely Mary, an 80+-year-old volunteer at school, sent me off to my new job with a book and a handmade card made with her photographs. I will miss Mary. And not just because she gives me things.
“I was eating my breakfast, and reading your letter in the Viewpoint…” began the Facebook message from Sue.
“I have a letter in the Viewpoint?” I wrote back. Then immediately got out my as-yet unread copy of the Cottey College Alumni magazine and flipped through it.
And indeed, there was my letter. Which I didn’t really intend to BE in the Viewpoint when I wrote it, I was just sending a friendly email chat to Steve Reed. But there it is.This is an edited version (which I’m fine with.) The original letter had another paragraph that talked about Viewpoint controversy my freshman year of college because it reported that an alumni and her female partner had adopted a baby and some of the PEOs (the organization that sponsors/is heavily involved with the college) didn’t really like that. Now we see in the Viewpoint all sorts of marriages and births of alumni who choose women as partners. And isn’t that a great change.
That’s me, taking a picture with my new camera remotely by using my phone. I can then upload any photos on my camera to my phone, (or computer or other device) wirelessly. It’s pretty awesome. Especially because it will eliminate the need to take a photo with my camera and then take another photo with my phone to post to social media. This normally isn’t an issue, but I did it more than I would like on my vacation and it was annoying. I could just switch over to using my phone on my camera, but I don’t like it as much as actually using a camera.
Other features I’m excited about? It has a mode where I can hold down the shutter and it will capture multiple images, which is useful for Matt’s sporting events. There’s a mode where I can take one photo and it can format it five different ways. It has a zoom function that will stay focused on your zoomed subject, even if the subject moves. And it continues the tradition of great zoom. Also, it has a slimmer profile than my previous PowerShot.
I would have examples of all these things, but in getting to know the camera, I accidentally deleted all my example photos. I’ve got it down now,though. No need to worry.
Also, for the first time in my life, I bought an extended warrenty. If I drop this one, I want to be able to get it repaired.
Well, thanks to the blog and the search function, I can tell you that I welcomed this camera into my life on October 10, 2013. It replaced my PowerShot Digital Elph, which I had for six years. Unfortunately for this dude, I dropped it within the first two months of owning it and it’s never quite been the same since. It was too expensive to repair it, so I made do. If you look at the recent vacation photos, a lot of the corners are shaded black because I was constantly having to put the lens back together.
We had an okay time together, this camera and I, but it was a little bit bigger than I liked and I missed the slim profile of the Elph. It still works (-ish), and has the same battery as my new camera, so I’ve tucked it away in a drawer just in case it needs to be pulled back into service. (Which is why this is not a requiem post.) And I walked by the place where I lost the two lens pieces, and recovered them (it was after hours, so I didn’t feel so self conscious about fishing around under the fence).
Thank you for your service PowerShot SX170 IS. You had a good zoom and we took some good pictures together.
My last dance recital was in 1990 and we performed two numbers. One was “You’re the One that I Want” from Grease. The other was to a contemporary piece, though I can’t recall which one. Our performance took place at Boise High School’s Auditorium, which was a marvelous, creaking place with backstage filled with dozens of girls in costumes, shrieking, giggling, being all sorts of excited. I did my best to ignore the dance teacher’s son, who was my age, but went to a different school and had started dance one year before me, so was in a different class. He had a harem of girls around him at all times, so I didn’t think I stood a chance, but it was kind of thrilling to have him around.This one was much more low-key. We did have outfits, black pants, colored shirts, jean jackets. This time our recital was at a community center gymnasium. We waited in the audience, and moved to the hallway when it came close to our time to perform. Most of the audience chatted throughout the performances, which drove me crazy, but I tried to roll with it. We were one of two adult groups to perform and our tap dance performance to Tracy Chapman’s “You’re the One” was well received. When I came home, Matt had roses for me.
I was looking for a jean jacket for my upcoming dance recital, and I found the winter coat I just donated. I donate regularly to Goodwill, but I’ve never seen an actual donation being sold again. It’s for sale for about the same amount I bought it for at Give and Take Resale.
We gathered at Edge just like we always did on Saturday morning. People arrived, by car, bike, on foot. We stood in groups, caught up on the news, waited for the clock to move to 8:00. The crowd was bigger than usual this Saturday and instead of starting the warm up automatically we kept chatting as our numbers grew and grew. By the time Bill got our attention, there were more than 50 of us.
It was the last workout at Edge Performance Fitness.
Matt joined first, but we’ve both been members of Edge Performance Fitness since early in its history. He started in June of 2009, after discovering Edge during a Sunday Parkways ride. He was hooked, liked the camaraderie of the classes and the friendly people. When the gym was just getting started, sometimes Matt would be the only one in the class, which he joked was his own personal training session. I came along in November of that year, after Matt kept badgering me to join. And we did our final practices for the TSDP at Edge, which you can see in this video. (Original post here). I liked how bare-bones the gym was. No TVs, no rows of machines. People came to their class, did their workout and went home sweaty and sore.
Over the years, I moved through different phases of classes. My most regular class had a variety of names over the years. We eventually just started calling it the Saturday Class. Every Saturday at 8am, Matt and I would get ourselves out the door and to the gym. At first we rode bikes, because we were car-free. When he got a car, we kept riding bikes, then eventually started driving. There was a period where the New York Times’s Ethicist column was published in the paper and I would read the question aloud so we could discuss it.
When we got to Edge, we checked in with our friends. There were many regulars who came to the Saturday class, and many more people from the weekday classes who would appear on the occasional Saturday morning. I will miss seeing them.
One thing the Saturday Class taught me was non-attachment. Mostly because the instructors eventually got tired of working on Saturday mornings and would move on. Here’s a list of our trainers and what I remember about them:
Jordan, who usually had us do a Spiderman circle and a Superman fly thing.
Mark, who was from the short-lived martial arts phase of Edge.
Chris, who treated women differently than men and thankfully didn’t last long.
Kevin, who would say, stuff like, “start easy, by maybe grabbing a 35 pound weight…”
Todd, who was impressed that we never complained because he was used to working with athletes from University of Portland.
Becky, whose workouts were endless variation on the lunge.
DeeAnn, who really taught Pilates, but would fill in occasionally. I always enjoyed her classes because they involved a lot of stretching.
Elizabeth, who liked to work us on the TRX.
Scott who loved to create complex obstacle courses which he would patiently walk us through and then when we would start running, would just as patiently redirect the three people who would set off in the wrong direction.
Kayla who had clear workouts that were sneakily hard.
Eric who made everything look incredibly easy, even though we could tell it was tough.
Blake who loved tabadas, and came from the same phase in music history as me.
I took classes in the Loft, too. DeeAnn taught me to love Pilates, even though I still find it weird. Rae introduced me to Restorative Yoga (my favorite of all the classes) and kept me busy on New Year’s Eve.
Kate Fisher was always the heart and soul of the gym, and also the owner. When people would say, “You go to that Boot Camp place? That looks intense!” I would laugh because Edge was the opposite of intense or intimidating. Kate made Edge a friendly place, where you could get a good workout. When I started, four women would carpool every morning from Oregon City because they liked Kate so much.
Bill was the other partner in the gym. He kept things going by putting that accounting background to use and kept the enthusiasm up with his hearty greetings.
One of the reactions when I told people the gym was closing was, “Well, what’s the next closest gym?” But it’s a moot point what the next closest gym is, because no gym will be like this gym. It was a place to workout, but it was a place of community and I will miss it greatly.
We ended every workout by clapping. For us, for the instructor, for having finished the damn thing, it was never really clear to me why we clapped, but I loved it. Our last workout was long, closer to ninety minutes than sixty. It was more crowded, with over fifty people rather than ten to twenty. But as always it was organized and as tough as you wanted to make it. There was good-nurtured teasing from those who liked that, and friendly encouragement from those who liked to encourage. We were sweaty and tired by the end.
When Kate called time for the last time, we clapped like usual. But our clapping didn’t stop like it usually did. This Saturday, we kept clapping. Clapping for us, for Kate and Bill, for the ephemeral nature of something so unique we probably won’t experience again. Clapping for yet another good workout. Clapping until Kate waved us off, saying “thank you” to all of us.
Here are some parting photos:
Our gym home.
Edge is the first place my photography appeared in public. The second picture from the right is mine.
The calendar, where member birthdays are listed.
Kate likes to put up pictures. There are few of mine here too.
The hallway to the bathrooms has success stories.
This bulletin board has thank you notes.
Photo of Matt and Bill from the Muddy Buddy.
Once upon a time, this was the front enterance.
Kate’s not so into whining.
One part of the workout space.
Typical gym equipment.
From the loft upstairs. The garage doors were open in good weather.
The other part of the workout space.
The back parking lot. Sometimes workouts would happen there too.
Stairway up to the loft. We ran that stairway a lot.
The loft, where I spent a lot of time doing yoga and pilates.
Kate’s mother painted a ginkgo tree in the corner of the loft.
