Happy Talk Like A Pirate Day, 2006!

Nic Pirates

(look at the happy, blurry pirates! I’m not sure what’s up with the man in the kilt and the killer lady with the red squirt gun. Scottish and modern pirates, I suppose)

Just found an entertaining site that features Bus Pirates. There are two funny videos for those of us who are easily amused. As a frequent bus rider (although in Portland, Oregon rather than LA) and pirate, I quite enjoyed the combination.

I am a pirate piker, as my mother would say. I am a deckhand pirate. A pirate who can’t afford a metal sword. A pirate without a hat. A pirate lacking any beautiful swag. But I don’t care! Ha! Someone has to swab the deck, and it will be me. Arrrrr!

Pirate Notes

A couple of years ago, we had a great Pirate Event here in Portland! We had the chance to revel with the Pirates of the Caribbean movie, play the music, and meet the Talk Like a Pirate maties. The best bit is we were fully attired (in pirate gear) and talkin’ back to the screen. There were suggestions on how to interact with the Pirates movie, but bein’ a ruly group o’ pirates, we weren’t so much for the rules. Shiver me timbers, I was beside myself! For more information, go to http://potci.nwboom.com.


May I encourage all of you to visit www.piratepots.com?

In honor of our holiday, I received a lovely tankard for all my grog needs. I hope you can have one, too. Plus, the pictures will inspire us all to spiffy up our pirate duds.


International Talk Like a Pirate Day, 2005!, September 19, passed back in September. Did you practice your “arrrs” “ahoys” “bludgeon me with a tankard” and “Shiver me timbers, that laddie’s lost his pants!”? I didn’t think so! Please visit the Talk Like a Pirate official site, and I look forward to conversing with you all.


I would like to pose the following question: can I be a cold weather pirate? Or a cooler weather pirate? Is this acceptable? Frankly, I don’t feel very pirate-like in hot weather (except for a spot of crankiness). Instead, I feel like a parched sea anenome. Although being a pirate in freezing weather might suck too. Unless we’re raiding on land and not sailing through the freezing water and having important bits shrivel up.


Pretend pirates, even those who have climate preferences, who aren’t actually armed and aren’t able hurt people very well, are the best thing ever. Even better than sliced bread. Actually, sliced bread kind of sucks, particularly if you’re a pirate. Ripping hunks of bread off a large piece of bread is much better.

Pretending to be a pirate and dressing up and talking like a wacko is fun. So, join us here in exploring the bounty of the high seas. We can use the word “booty” until it makes you (or someone) want to puke. I’ll probably still find it pretty witty, maybe even more so because someone puked. Sorry.

Click, if you dare, to discover the ultimate pirate band. However, in a moving and lyrical counter-essay, you may click to discover the joys of being a hobbit.


Although Master and Commander isn’t exactly about pirates, the movie does have some pirate-like elements such as sailing ships and battles.


Here is a link to the definitive pirate website – talklikeapirate.com. This site celebrates many things, including the universal Talk Like a Pirate Day, September 19. Although this is a special day to recognize the joy of talking like a pirate, I would encourage each and every one of you to celebrate pirate talk every day of the year.

Additionally, I would like to propose that we all come together to get a convertable Pirates from the Webautomobile to decorate like a sailing ship of the high seas (including cannons) to drive around Portland (and other locales) this summer and claim booty.

(Isn’t it interesting how the royale “we” was used in the first half of this page, and then I switched to the plebian “I”? I must be losing my confidence.)

Rants 2006


Summer 2006

I hate shopping for pants. Frankly, I hate most women’s pants. They are uncomfortable, unattractive, and expensive. What’s up with being so low-waisted you get a plumber’s crack, so tight you have no room to sit, so wide you trip on the legs, or so narrow your calves are trapped like sausages? Or even worse, more than one of these problems! And women’s pant styles change all the time, so if you find one that fits well, good luck finding it in six months. I’m going to start wearing garbage sacks. So there.

Hot weather. When I can take no more clothing off and it’s still too hot, I would like to issue a complaint. I fear we have round two of the heat coming up shortly.

Sadly, I fail to appreciate the classic American musical form. It’s, well, annoying and tedious. And the music doesn’t “do it” for me. I wish it did, but it doesn’t. I can think of a very few exceptions: Little Shop of Horrors and, uh, Little Shop of Horrors. Oh, Avenue Q was fun, but because of Sesame Street music, not American musical music. Um. I think I survived Sweeney Todd fairly well, but I recall a lot of blood that I think perked things up.

Pigeons are horrid, horrid creatures.

Spring 2006

Went to a fancy-pants political gala last night, and the self-important adults all seemed a little ridiculous. Far too many grown-up events remind me all too much of Model United Nations when I was in high school — we had lots of fun bustling around making loser countries feel left out and passing notes. But somehow I assumed that things would function on a higher plan when I was grown up. But at least we all get to pass notes and use our special electronic communication devices. Speaking of which, I’m ready for my Star Trek transponder!

So I recoded this site, but then I got bogged down in the number of pages that need to be transferred. Oh well. And then I stopped updating all together. So sad.

Why won’t the java applets run on my computer? Why? I want to join my class chat rooms, but instead I am stuck outside. And I can’t even press my nose against the window and see who is talking. So lonely…

Pirate Band

When I grow up, I want to be a pirate. Not a modern, machine gun toting pirate, but a Captain Hook, a Dread Pirate Roberts, Goonies kind of pirate. I’ll do away with the peg leg, but probably keep a old earring, lots of tattoos, a parrot or two, and as much pirate language as I can invent. I’ll never wake up early to go to a meeting, or wear formal work attire besides traditional pirate gear.

I’ll be a fearsome pirate, one that will send sailors jumping out of fear, but I’ll grant acts of mercy in private. I’ll sprinkle my speech with “arrr” and “aye, matey,” and try to mention booty whenever possible. I’ll be a goofy and loud pirate, with plenty of weird wardrobe choices. I’ll have a big ship with sails, a poop deck, and a plank for special occasions.

I’ll have a large and jovial band of pirates that will torture our foes with terrible jokes and a fondness for pranks. We’ll know what a foc’sal is, and we’ll toss nautical terms around with ease.

We’ll be equal opportunity pirates, encouraging small people and those of us with glasses to join our merry band. We might rob the rich for the poor, but we won’t feel constrained by it. We might traffic drugs, but only to spike the food of pompous asses, particularly university presidents and corporate teambuilders. No one will be allowed to mention Foucault or the French at all. If you are into wearing black and discussing the role of nihilism only to undermine what suffering and torment you endure in your middle class life, we’ll make you walk the plank, perhaps off the coast of South Africa.

We might sit on deck after dark sharing our deepest secrets, but we’ll never let the outside world know.

We’ll have lots of books hidden in the hold, under our booty of gold, silk and rubies. There’ll be no television, but at every port, we’ll have a favorite movie theater that would save all the great films and have recorded our favorite television shows without commercials. We’ll show the good British ads before our movies, but never the crazy Dutch ones unless they have pirates in them.

If we want to adopt an accent, we’ll yell enthusiastically and heartily smack each other’s backs, particularly if the accent is Indian or Australian. There will be a short wave radio on board, with its antenna strung in the masts, and we’ll listen to stations across the world to practice our accents.

We’ll dance, but only with much vigor and silliness. If anyone wants to dance slowly and romantically, they’ll have to dance behind the poop deck. If we catch them, they’ll have to do the troll dance.

We’ll have a telescope or two on board, preferably with some sapphires stuck on it for the gaudy pirate look. At least one pirate will know which stars are which, and will tell the rest of us if we want to know. We’ll sail to where we might see the Northern Lights, taking photos that will be reproduced in National Geographic or Science Magazine.

If you get married or have a kid, you’ll have to leave the ship, but we’ll let you back on board once the kids leave home or join their own pirate ship. We’ll never worry about cholesterol or heart disease, and always eat ice cream for breakfast and brownies for snacks. We’ll have a pirate masseuse, and raid luxury yachts to use their hot tubs.

You could be a vegetarian, but we have to eat with our hands, and spit when we’re talking excitedly. We would look with admiration on those who eat insects or lick slugs, but frown upon crossing our legs or ironing clothes. In fact, the iron would only exist for making grilled cheese sandwiches or melting things.

We’d do away with the death penalty, making those who break our codes walk the plank in shallow waters off New Jersey or Los Angeles.

When I grow up, I’m going to be a pirate. I’ll terrify my enemies with my vulgar tongue, and overwhelm my admirers with my dashing good looks. I’ll sail around the world demanding booty and investigating anything and everything. I’ll be the happiest and most pirate-y of all the pirates, and you can always join my pirate company.

A review of "Master and Commander"

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World
2003, directed by Peter Weir

I must admit, although I’ve been repeatedly told I would enjoy enjoy them, that I have not read the Patrick O’Brian novels about Capt. Aubrey and Dr. Maturin sailing around on very large ships. This may have helped with my thorough enjoyment of Master and Commander, but I am also feeling inspired to start reading the books sometime this spring. I also like sailing and ships in a very layman/landlubber fashion, which gave me a disposition to enjoy Master and Commander.

But as for the movie — a fun and gripping trip with a British ship chasing the bad French around South America in the 1800s (starting in the Atlantic and ending in the Pacific). But are the French actually chasing them? Ehahaha (as the French say). The plot was fairly well crafted for an action film, and some nice twists kept me interested. I assumed there were several holes left open for sequels, including the subtle possibility of an onboard spy and something going very awry just after the conclusion of this film.

Perhaps some of the geopolitical details are a bit off, but the sailing and the battles are great fun, and there are some nice relationship points between the Capt. and Dr., as well as within the crew. I was prompted to some intriguing thoughts about ages of young officers in training on these tall ships, and briefly left feeling like a real weanie of a 26-year-old since I’ve never crewed a ship let alone commanded one. On the other hand, I’m a girl, so they probably wouldn’t have let me.

The fine and entertaining portrayal of 19th century medicine also helped me get over not sailing around on a tall ship. Several different moments left me both amazed and queasy.

Although the acting, particularly by Paul Bettany as Dr. Maturin, was quite good and the visuals were amazing, I was personally most appreciative of all the sound in Master and Commander. I could watch this movie again with my eyes closed to get an even better sense of the creaking and cracking on a wooden sailing ship working through storm and calm, as well as around the southern tip of South America.

As a final note, the Galapagos Island bits were great for those of us who have not managed to visit — look for the not too difficult to spot allusions to evolution and Darwin.

A solid and fun film, particularly if you enjoy ships and action. Some gore and tense moments, but what you could realistically expect from sailing ships faced with wild storms and large balls of metal being hurled through their hulls.

Rants from 2005

November 2005

School is hard. I had forgotten, and I must admit thought unkind thoughts about those who complained. But now that I am required to work well with others, listen to lecture, and read dense theory, I remember why college wasn’t just a party full of pirates and fart noises. Oh well. The whole learning thing is good, though.

Going upside in yoga is scary. I have decided to ignore this aspect, and stay a beginner for good deal longer. This reminds me vaguely of doing martial arts and enjoying the first little bit and then getting real antsy about the more advanced levels. Perhaps this has something to do with my lack of inclination to compete or do things are hard. I will be a lazy, mostly staying right-side up yoga person. I do work hard at my downward facing dog position. That’s hard work and not too scary!

Wahhhh! I want to go skiing! What’s with this whole working and going to school thing? How boring!

June 2005

I am not a parade watcher, so I regularly miss the Rose Festival
parades. I have no particularly strong reaction to blocking off
sections of the sidewalk for watching the parade, but…why can’t
they pull up the tape they use to block off their section? It’s
frickin’ ridiculous. Now I walk along MLK Blvd, examining half balled-up
bundles of tape and whole areas still marked off for “Row”
or “Dale” or “Royale Pain.” Pick it up!

My cell phone company was ATT Wireless and is now
Cingular (through no action on my part). They suck. Their billing
is confusing. Basic questions, like how many minutes are on my plan,
are not answered. Their website is confusing and unhelpful. Waiting
to talk to someone is long and slow, and when I get a different
answer every time I call. And I have never seen any of these “rollover”
minutes they are so proud of. But I guess I don’t have to have a
landline with Qwest (dumb name, although I’m sort of used to it
now), so that counts for something.

May 2005

Well, I would love to say that April passed entirely without a rant,
but of course that wouldn’t be true. The poor rants just did not
get translated to here. But May looks to be good, strong, healthy
month for rants.

1) Tax cuts for very wealthy (billions and billions) and program
cuts for the very poor (gotta balance the budget even though the
cuts aren’t going to come close to paying for the tax cuts). Guess
who loses?

2) Groups of motorcyclists sitting outside Santa Fe or Starbucks
on NW 23rd and making not nice comments. Damn them and their Japanese
motorcycles! I would take a group of older guys on their harleys
any day.

3) What exactly is the point of leaf blowers? Most of them are stinky,
noisy, and not really picking up any leaves — just blowing them
into someone else’s area.

4) Dog poop and self-righteous dog owners.

March 2005

Dude. Here I am, finally returning to my dear Blue Hooded Sweatshirt,
and my layout is all screwy! And my dearest website support guy
is on another continent. Hmmm…and why is bHs looking different
in Firefox and in Microsoft Internet Explorer? This is most aggravating.
Perhaps I should take a cue from the below rant and just walk away
for a bit. Yes. That’s what I’m going to do. So, enjoy the new,
creative layout. A chance to reflect on the random nature of the
web and technology and beauty.

Damn the web and its nefarious tendancy to suck hours
away from my life! I thought that not having access to television
would lead me to think deep thought and generally improve as a person.
Instead, I incessantly scan various online news sources, as if I
can singlehandedly track the details of the world, and as if it
matters that I track the details of the world. Well, I cannot. I
don’t want to. I want my time back. But I can’t manage to stop,
and what if something really important happens? I want to be the
first to know!

Do I like or dislike it when the radio folks are also
in the advertisements? I can’t decide. Initially, I thought it was
a bit odd, but then I realized NPR essentially does that all the
time. And then I started to rather like it — sort of like cable
access tv, but on the radio. So, kudos to Gustav and his wife on
94.7 and their quest for enough money to pay for the new kid. I
hope they are paying you well!

Teenage Bus Riding

My best friend Liz rides the bus all over Portland with me. We like waiting for buses and entertaining ourselves and everyone else at the bus stop. Downtown stops provide the best crowds, but a random innocent in SE isn’t a bad audience, either. Riding the bus is also good. We continue to work to provide a good time for the bus at large, but we can also go incognito to eavesdrop on other passengers, elbowing each other over particularly good bits about Wanda’s recent breakup or Doug’s missing snake.

Not every bus wait or ride is that great of a pleasure, but a every now and again a truly special moment comes along. The most painful, and most reenacted, took place seven or eight years ago on the #15. Cruising up from downtown, the packed bus had slowly emptied out. There was no air conditioning on our bus, and I’m not even sure if there were air conditioned buses back then. It was nice to sit, but the heat was enough to dampen even our spirits.

By the time most of our fellow riders had decamped at Good Samaritan Hospital, I was wilted. Liz seemed to be equally done in, and we continued down NW 23rd in silence. The two or three remaining passengers were scattered about the bus, also silent. Bus fumes lightly wafted down the aisle, and I could smell my own sweat slowly fermenting. Our driver was quiet, having used up her good cheer with the poor souls on crutches who had just staggered off the bus to the hospital.

I slumped against Liz, while trying not have too much of our sticky skin touch. The plastic seats that are now mostly gone from the Trimet bus fleet were seared into the backs of our legs and arms. It was the longest, grossest bus ride ever – probably all of ten minutes.

And then Liz started to quiver. She clutched her stomach and starting muttering “Oh no, oh no.” I was concerned, going into caretaker mode. “Liz, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Do we need to get off the bus?” She didn’t respond, only getting greener and greener.

Her quivering turned into heaving, and she started to make little retching noises in the back of her throat. She kept shaking her head about getting off the bus as we came up to the turn onto Thurman. I was really worried the turn would cause her to hurl, and she looked super concerned as we started to round the corner.

The bus driver was looking at us nervously, and the other passengers were perturbed, trying not to stare and failing miserably. What was wrong with these teenage girls?

I wasn’t feeling so hot myself, and I’m thinking, if she barfs, I might barf too. The ride was looking dire.

Horribly, the next thing out of Liz’s mouth was not vomit, but laughter. She had psyched all of us out, and although I was relieved, at the time I found the situation no more funny than the driver. I was fully convinced I was about to be covered with puke by my best friend on public transportation – not an activity I had any desire anticipate or live through. After hitting her a few times on the shoulder to express my displeasure at her skilled acting, it was time to get off the bus. Never have I been happier to depart public transportation. The driver also seemed pretty pleased to see us go.

Rants from 2004

December 2004/January 2005

You know people who wear their sunglasses resting above their eyebrows on their forehead? As if they have a second set of eyes in their forehead they must protect. They suck.

November 2004

Well, I’m having a hard time working up the energy to really let it all hang out after the election. Despite feeling sad, pathetic, impotent, and rejected, I’m sure I can stir up some sort of rant in the near future.

However, while I’m working on an election rant, let me share with you my feelings about car drivers turning across crosswalks:

Could you look both ways and refrain from running me over while you’re trying to beat the truck plunging down the road? It’s really not so much to ask. I do have a walk sign, and
it’s raining, and you’re inside your lovely oversized SUV. Someday, I’m going to smack you on the hood, I swear. And then it’s on!

October 2004: It’s time to play political roulette (with an Oregon bias)

Somehow the Rant section seemed the best for my various election preferences. Do note the source (me), and take these with a grain of salt.

Before we get to my opinions, here are some places for real information:

Oregon Votes, the best place for official information on voting in Oregon

Willamette Week endorsements, the links to the actual endorsements at the bottom
of this article

Portland City Club endorsements and background reports, although I don’t always
agree with their conclusions, I do appreciate the information

Portland’s best news source, Portland Communique, more interesting thoughts on Portland and have patience with the new layout. Endorsements are running down the right column

Okay, now that we’ve gotten some real sources out of the way… Uh, I haven’t sucked it up and registered as a Democrat.

But on the federal and state elections, I’m voting that way ’cause of the whole common good thing and caring for those who are unable to care for themselves (old people, sick people, kids; really, all of us at some point or another). Democrats are not so impressive on this concept, but they’re a skosh closer than the Republicans

Oregon politics are far more confusing.

State Ballot Measures – when in doubt, vote no!

31: No Dead People On the Ballot – yeah, even though constitutional
amendments make me nervous, I suppose this makes sense.

32: Mobile Homes Really Don’t Move – yeah, once again,
a constitutional amendment, but I suppose this also makes sense.

33: 6 Pounds of Pot for Sick People – dude, this is one
long ballot measure. Phew. Double dude, six pounds of pot is a shitload
of pot. Uh. Huh. I dunno.

34: State Forest to the Rescue – is there a problem in
how state forests are being managed? Yeah, probably so. Does this
measure make it better? Uh oh, dunno again.

35: Stop Suing the Doctors – medical malpractice insurance
is out of control and health care costs are way too high. But limiting
how much we can sue doctors doesn’t directly fix either of these
things. So, even though I signed a petition for this ballot measure
in a moment of weakness, nope.

36: Let’s Enshrine Hate in Our State Constitution
– can you guess how I feel about this measure? The ideal Protestant
Christian marriage is ending, and people are scared. But this is
NOT how to take care of our children and celebrate loving relationships.
Only a few generations back, Protestant Christian marriages viewed
the woman as property of the man. Phew, I’m glad I’m not fighting
against that in the Oregon Constitution. Vote No!

37: Gosh Darn’ It, I Wanna Do Whatever I Want– yeah, this rather
goes against the whole common good thing. My entire political life
has involved fighting against these ballot measures aimed at eliminating
taxes and property restrictions. Vote No!

38: Make the Workers Comp Insurance Problem Go Away – SAIF sux, but this isn’t going to fix the workers comp issues. Nope.

Multnomah County Ballot Measures

26-57 through 26-63: yeah, sure, clean up the County Charter. I’ll
vote yes.

26-64: Don’t Want to Pay Me Taxes –
Arr, matey, the taxes do suck, but they pay for good services that the state isn’t going to deliver. No shirkin’ yer duty. Vote No!

Portland City Council

Tom Potter for Mayor: like his style, better not embarass me like Derry Jackson.

Sam Adams for City Council: worked with the guy, I know he won’t embarass me and will get stuff done. You can visit Sam Adams’ website for more information.

Now, back to the normal business of ranting about
sillier stuff…

Should I even say who wrote this rant?

Hummers. Why does anyone living in Portland possibly need one? They
are way too large and equipped with extras that might make sense
in Iraq or the Florida Everglades (ignoring any environmental protections,
of course). The snorkel is a nice, oh so essential touch for Portland
driving. A hummer says, “I might run you over and never notice,
and if it’s doesn’t muss my nice paint job, I really don’t care.”
Gack!

Still upset about lack of turn signals

I am still upset about people not using their turn signals. And
what’s up with people turning their signal on after they have already
begun their maneuver. Poor form. While I’m at it, I’d like cars
to stop trying to run me over while I’m crossing the road – at a
crosswalk, with the light. I will thump your hood as you
squish me!

The runners

What the hell is up with the people running in the middle of the
road?!? I mean, there IS a sidewalk, and although we do walk here
in Portland, there is almost always plenty of room on the sidewalk.
And unlike cars, walkers won’t kill you if you bump into them.
Do these runners somehow think their running is so intimidating,
so impressive, the cars will willingly cede the road to them? I
think not! As a frequent walker, I can assure you that cars are
dangerous, stupid beasts. Whereas runners in the road are just stupid.

The noise

I have a problem with commerce. Notably, commercial trucks on residential
streets prior to 8 am. I suppose I could make it slightly earlier
for main streets leading to grocery stores, but 6:30 am is too early.
Too early, dammit. And what’s with every apartment building
having its own trash and recycling collection company? Particularly
cruel at 6:30 am. Garrrrrrr! I shake my fist at your noise.

The failure of the future

Where are the flying cars? I was promised flying cars and all I
got was this stupid little phone. Tiny phones do not compensate
for flying cars. This sucks.

Nader

What is up with this loser? If he siphons votes away from the democratic
candidate simply because he wants to run, I’m going to jump up and
down in frustration. I’m all for third candidates and more interesting
debates during elections, but Nader just doesn’t do it for me. Dennis
Kucinich or Howard Dean are more interesting, if somewhat more mainstream,
and you don’t see them insisting they need to be on the ballot.
Arrr. Just makes me want to smack someone.

Turn Signals and Voting

You better use your turn signal and vote. I don’t care if you don’t
see the utility of either of these items. They are the bedrock that
our civilization rests upon, and if you keep failing at either of
these tasks, I will find you. Oh yes, I will. And then we will glue
your hand to the turn signal and paste your voter registration card
to your belly.

Neighborhoodies

Neighborhoodies? For that matter, hoody. How did I miss this term?
Am I some sort of freak? Don’t they sound kind of dorky? This reminds
me of those hooded Mexican sweatshirts that were popular in middle
school and early high school. I got one and thought it was comfy
until I looked around and realized everyone had worn their Mexican
sweatshirt last year. They had a freakish slang term too, which
I cannot remember.

Dammit, I’d like my civil liberties back.

Where have the good old days
gone when the biggest free speech issue I fretted about was whether
Oregon should have stark naked people dancing as a freedom of expression?
Apparently, I can still fret about this particular subsection of
liberty, but I also get some bonus issues as well. The Man is in
fine form these days, sticking it to the people and taking names
on a regular basis. He’s got some lists going, he’s
reading your mail, admiring your literary taste, and apparently
deciding who’s being naughty and nice. And it’s hard
for me to decide which bureaucrat best embodies The Man, but with
so many good options I think The Man is retrenching himself in the
American government and not leaving anytime soon. I’m guessing
that he’s going to have moles all over the place and even
if GW isn’t reelected, The Man will keep on pushing for watching
our every little move. It’s enough to make me start streaking
as a political statement for freedom everywhere.

[*note, this was written prior to seeing School of Rock, which adds many dimensions to our discussion of the Man. Please watch and learn]

Snow and Ice Experiment

Recently, all of Portland carried out a most satisfying experiment involving snow and ice.

The storm was supposed to blow into town on Monday afternoon, dumping inches and inches of snow. Businesses closed early and everyone stocked up for the storm of the century. Local TV stations went crazy. The temperature hovered in the teens and low twenties — cold for Portland! The snow began to fall sometime after midnight, and by 6 am there were inches and inches of very dry snow. Schools closed, governments shut down, buses were slowed, businesses never opened. TV was nothing but storm coverage. And it kept snowing. Wednesday was the same story. Snow. Cold. And then the freezing rain showed. Still below freezing, the snow and ice stacked up. The weird roof of the YMCA Pool collapsed. People fell. Idiots drove while talking on their cell phones. Snow plows labored. People forgot to shovel their sidewalks. Parties were thrown. And then it began to melt. But slowly, so there was no flooding.

Two weeks later, piles of dirty snow still hide in corners, but mostly there are only fond memories of the slow week in Portland. And 40s and rain never looked so good!