O!

I think that the expression used throughout 19th century literature should be brought back.

O!

As in: O! The joy! Or: O! The Humanity! Or: O! I do wish Pandora Radio would stop playing so much Bob Seger!

I was pretty happy when the Lewis & Clark commemorative nickles came out.

Ocean in view! O! The joy!

Although the Miss Peller in me wished they would have kept the original spelling of “ociean”

picture from the US Mint.

Not THAT kind of Labor.

This happens ever year. Some deejay on the radio or newscaster on television will say something like “Labor Day is coming up. Get out and do some labor in the yard.” This causes me at home to engage in the ritual of yelling at the radio/television. Labor day is not a day set aside to labor, or work on things, it is a day that recognizes the importance of Labor Unions. You know, those things that people fought and died for the right to organize to improve working conditions. The things that only seven percent of Americans belong to anymore. The people who brought you the weekend. So next time you hear someone misunderstand the purpose of Labor Day, please take a moment to enlighten them. Labor Day: They mean the Union kind. Not just general work in the yard.

If you enjoyed this post, you can look forward to my educational Memorial Day post in May.

This message brought to you by the association of History Majors.

“Staycation”

This summer was the first time I heard the term “staycation.” I loved it because it perfectly describes what I do for most of my vacations: stay home. Sure, I went to Hungary this summer and last summer Matt and I had an actual week vacation in Eastern Oregon, but mostly I’m at home working on projects during my time off.

However, now all the local tourism people are trying to take the term and morph it to one that means “vacationing in the state you live in.” That’s not what it means. If they are successful and this becomes the definition of staycation, I may never get another vacation again.

5 ways

5 ways I am a traitor to my generation: (born in 1974)

  • I don’t own a cell phone
  • I never was that fond of Nirvana or Pearl Jam
  • I not only do not own, but am opposed to, ipods
  • I cook the majority of food I eat
  • I’ve only carried credit card debt for four months–and that was in 2000

5 ways I am the epitome of my generation:

  • There are two people in my household–and three computers
  • My job is a means to the end–and if I could ever figure out a different way to the end, I would
  • I volunteer on a regular basis for a variety of organizations
    I would be hard pressed to do anything without an internet connection
  • I am worried about the state of the world we live in now and the state previous generations have left it, but I am confident we can tackle and solve the problems

Miss Nomer Reigns

The day of the Rose Festival Walk dawned gray and cold.

Heidi, Kelly, Miss Nomer and Christi gather at the beginning of the walk.
We saw all the floats lined up waiting to parade.
Walking into Memorial Coliseum where people can watch the parade indoors.
Inside the coliseum where Miss Nomer waved to her first crowds.
For unknown reasons there was an entire Ikea living room in the arena.
It was fun to walk along the parade route. I got to see places where there were still good seats thirty minutes before the parade started. They have been filed away in my memory banks until next year. One big surprise was that there were several announcers along the way. I had no idea they existed until today. They make announcements about the sponsors and tell the parade crowd what they are looking at. “This is the Regence Rose Festival Grand Floral Walk, a four-mile fitness walk…” The first two announces said something to the effect of “They look good now, but we’ll see how they look at the finish.” To which I replied, “HEY! Way to be supportive.” Plus, it’s four miles, not really a marathon. For a lot of walkers that’s an easy day. And, it’s not like we were zipping along.
One of many cute kids being carried.
Walking over the Burnside Bridge. All participants got the bright orange workout bags.
Some people came in workout gear and others were more festive, like these two women in rose hats.
Walking along the route I did my best elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist. It was pretty fun to have people read my sash. “Miss….Nomer. Oh! Misnomer! Honey, she’s Miss Nomer!” Others would say, “Miss…Nomer. Hmmmm.” Or, one of the announcers said, “We now have Miss Homer, walking by. What’s that? Oh, Miss Nomer.” He didn’t get it.

These ladies had very cool crowns.
Another cute kid being carried.
The finish line. (By the way, lame early announcers, I felt fine.) One surprise was that they had chairs ready if you wanted to stay and watch the parade. That was a nice touch.
And there was a very cool drum corps playing.
The real reason I never paint my nails. Not even 24 hours and it has already started to chip.
Grrr. I took it off immediately.

However, the next day my elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist, shoulder was not at all sore. I took that as a sign I was meant to be a parade beauty queen.

It takes a lot to be Miss Nomer.

When I heard about the all-new Rose Festival Walk I knew it was the walk for me. Getting to walk the Rose Festival Route before the parade? When all the people are sitting there waiting for the parade to start? Who wouldn’t want to do that? And I knew that I was going to go as my best beauty queen self. So I spent the evening before preparing to be Miss Nomer. Miss Nomer may be a misapplied or inappropriate beauty queen, but she tries her best.

Miss Nomer has to make her own sash. Luckily she has access to a large font in Word and a printer. That made tracing her name much easier.
Miss Nomer put on a mud mask for sparking skin and braided her hair to achieve appropriate “big”-ness.
You too, can make your own crown. All you need is a file folder, stapler, aluminum foil and glue.
After the glue dries, the crown is easily secured with a paper clip.
Miss Nomer even painted her nails. As she was doing this she was trying to remember the last time her nails had been painted. It may have been in college. Maybe. But it might not have been since high school.
Now it is off for a good night sleep for Miss Nomer.

Things neglected because of my Math class.

Well, the blogs, as you may have noticed. But also reading the entire paper. Every morning I arrange the paper in the following order: “How we live” section (formerly known as the Living, this section has the very important advice columns and the comics as well as the “fluffy” parts of the paper, including my TV review boyfriend Peter Ames Carlin.) After the Living section comes the Metro, then the Business section and after that the Front Page. That way, I can read my way from inconsequential (my favorite) to the local news to the national and international. But because of the Math class, some days I don’t even make it through the local section, much less to the international. That’s annoying because two days later I don’t understand what half of the letters to the editor are talking about.

I also don’t have as much time to garden, or read. The math class is necessary, but it’s not exactly pleasurable. But non-Math class things have been happening. I just don’t get to post about them. Alas. Maybe soon I will get to at least tell about the books I have been reading. And the movies I’ve seen. I’ve just watched three especially good ones. Not to mention the fact that I’m still writing letters and getting letters. Why today, I just got three postcards from one Sara Sterner. And I just spent 2 1/2 days as juror #4 on a civil case. That was fun. And Matt graduates June first.

So that’s what’s going on now.

Until later,
pcc

Jury Duty!

I’ve been waiting my whole adult life to get called to Jury Duty. You could say I’ve been chomping at the bit to do my civic duty. Way back in 1997 I was called. It was a perfect time to miss a day of school; my classes had just started and there wasn’t much going on. But all I was required to do was call a number the day of and see if I had to come in. Which I didn’t . So that wasn’t any fun.

10+ years later I get called again. This time: Jackpot! I not only got to go down to the courthouse and sit in the big room with the comfortable chairs, but my name got called and I got to experience voir dire and then! I got to be on the jury! It wasn’t the most exciting case–a civil case where we had to decide if the injuries the plaintiff sustained in a motorcycle accident in 2005 were limiting her activities today–but I enjoyed the entire experience. We had a great judge and it was fun to see how an actual courtroom compared to what happens on t.v.

In my case a lot of the procedure was the same, but what the lawyers said wasn’t quite as polished as in the movies. It makes sense, though. In the movies the actors get to memorize lines that someone else has written. Actual lawyers have to actually talk off the top of their heads. Also, when one lawyer objects and both of them and the judge go into chambers to discuss the matter? We don’t get to find out what they are talking about. The most surprising thing to me was that the jury could ask questions of the people on the stand. There was a whole procedure involved, but all the questions that were submitted by my jury were asked and answered. It provided extra insight into the case we wouldn’t have had.

For the deliberations portion, I got to be the Presiding Juror. That’s what they are calling the Jury Foreman these days. I got to help run deliberations and to write our findings on the official sheet of paper. And then I got to hand that piece of paper to the clerk so the judge could read it. I enjoyed deliberations and thought that people were fair and thoughtful. Afterwards, the judge came back to the jury chambers and we got to ask him questions about the case, which turned out to be very enlightening.

Overall, it was a fabulous experience and I’m glad I was picked.

Shiner!

There are two kinds of people in this world. One kind sees a black eye and says “Oh my goodness, what happened to your eye?” while simultaneously thinking “Domestic Violence Victim!” The other kind sees a black eye and says “Awesome!” and gives a thumbs up.

There are a few of the second kind at my workplace and in other areas of my life. There are many, many, MANY of the first kind. Okay, I don’t know that all of them were thinking “Domestic Violence Victim” but I bet at least half were.
It actually looks pretty good in this picture. It got much darker over the next few days. Oh my goodness what did happen to me? I had a meeting with my U-lock.
As I explained roughly 300 times: (Seriously. Most kids at school, plus their parents, plus other people equals roughly 300.) I was lifting my bike out of my brother’s truck and my U-lock fell off and hit me. It hurt briefly, but it was more painful to recount that story again and again and again.

When I went inside and grabbed ice for my eye, Matt became the first to ask the question. After I explained our conversation went thusly:
Matt: Sweetheart! People are going to think….
Me: I know what people are going to think.

It only becomes funnier when you know Matt’s vocation. He is a counselor for domestic violence abusers.

I think the amount of concern affected my health. I developed flu-like symptoms over the weekend and had to miss church. I was a bit relieved. It saved me 30 more times of telling the story.

The only time I like flowering plum trees…

…is right now in the spring when they are blooming. The rest of the time I find them to be an “eh” tree. Sadly, there is one right in front of the house. I think it clashes with the paint job and dream of it taking sick and having to be removed. I could then replace it with a more color appropriate choice. I’m so superficial.