Good Morning Baltimore?

The three to zip score didn't last...
Camden Yards
White?


The title of this blog, also the opening song from the movie "Hairspray", really isn't fitting the bill. I'm thinking "bad evening Camden Yards" would have been more appropriate for this week in Oriole-ville.

I haven't been much of a baseball fan during my life, but I do enjoy going to a ball game now and again. What's not to love about hot dogs, peanuts and beer in an outdoor setting? Plus, I love going to a good baseball venue - my personal favorite is still Wrigley Field - no matter how bad the Cubs are. So when the Orioles lost 33 to 3 the other night, I figured it would be a cinch to get cheap tickets to a subsequent game at Camden Yards, the field that is just two blocks from Babe Ruth's birthplace. The ghost of Babe Ruth didn't do anything to stop the Texas Rangers from scoring over 30 points - the most of any major league baseball team in over 100 years.

I stood in line at the box office and bought the cheapest ticket I could get. Then I took that cheap ticket and made my way down to the first row right beyond first base. Okay, don't tell anyone, but that wasn't where I was supposed to sit. I only stayed for 4 innings and no one came to claim my uncomfortable seat so I'm rationalizing that it was okay.

When I was here in April, I had to stay way out in Owings Mills, MD. I've had much more fun during this trip to Baltimore since I've been able to stay in the Inner Harbor area. There are plenty of things to do, all within walking distance. The crab cakes are plentiful. People are very nice and friendly here and so I really don't have any of those typical blog entries about my run-ins with or observations of others. I'm here until Friday, so there's still time...

Birthday Tattoo

Doc. B. pretending it doesn't hurt
The outline is done
the finished product!

Doc. B.finally did it. A tattoo. I won't go into the symbolism, the decision-making process, the location, the colors, etc... I'll just say, there's a tattoo of a chrysanthemum on her left hip. Malia, the tattoo artist, is responsible for the beautiful flower and I have a synchronicity to share about her.

When baby sis was in town a few weeks ago, we all went to visit the new tattoo parlour in our hood. It used to be a bad thing if such an establishment moved anywhere near the vicinity of your home - but not anymore. This place, called Ink and Dagger, was very clean and friendly - despite the name. We looked through some of the books that the tattooers had compiled of their work and watched Malia in action. A week or so later, we scheduled an appointment for Doc. B. and the rest is not history, but rather here and now and forever - unless laser surgery can remove it.

I travelled to Salt Lake City exactly one week after Doc. B. got her tattoo. Guess who was on the first leg of my flight and sat across the aisle next to me? Malia. Good synchronicity if you ask me.

I should mention that for the size of the Atlanta airport, I interestingly saw a lot of familiar faces on my way out west. As I came through security, I saw my Team Leader. He was on his way to Maine for a wedding. Then as I was boarding my plane with Malia, I spotted one of my favorite doctors from work. He and his wife were on their way to Portland.

Next time you see Doc. B., make a special request to see the new body art!

Class of '82

This past weekend was my 25th class reunion. I had already planned the trip to Portland when the invitations came out and I also had a work trip to Mississippi planned for the week prior to the reunion. Still, I could have made my way to Michigan for the event. But I chose not to. Why? I really can't say. Perhaps it will be a future therapy discussion? My gut feeling was: "I haven't been to any of the others, why start now?"

The reunion actually sounded fun. Friday the 27th we were to hang out at Schuler's Restaurant from 7- 11 pm where there would be light appetizers and a cash bar. Then on Saturday the 28th, there was a golf scramble at The Medalist Golf Club, followed by the actual "reunion" from 6:30 to midnight. It was just 30 bucks for all of this and another $42 if you wanted to pretend to play golf (which is what I would have had to do - unlike my middle sister who hit a hole in one when she was 8 months pregnant). Oh, just a side note, middle sister will join the 40+ club in November. That leaves just baby sis to join her three siblings...

There were e-mails floating around as we neared the date of the reunion. The e-mails were addressed to classmates that apparently had not "kept in touch" over the years. I was TOTALLY on this list - as was my senior high school prom date. Unlike many of our fellow 1982 senior peers, we did not move into the same zip codes as our parents' did (thanks Dixie Chicks for those lyrics). As tempted as I was to e-mail my old beau, I refrained from doing so. There was something strange about it considering I don't think I've spoken to him since we held our combined high school graduation party poolside at mom and dad's (see photo - and if you look very closely, you might see two famous vehicles, the P.W. Van and Grandpa C's Pontiac White Whale).

Having to make small talk with people you haven't seen in years sounded stressful to me. I occasionally run into my freshman prom date when I'm home to visit family and that's always somewhat stressful enough. Maybe it's that you really liked the person at one time in your life but now your life is SO totally different that you don't know what to do or say about it? How honest are you supposed to be with someone you haven't seen in years and probably won't see again for years?

I'm completely envious of my mom who has reconnected with her high school friends. I guess you have to take risks to invite the kind of relationships she's cultivated. Hmmmm....thoughts to ponder. Is it time to reconnect with my very few high school friends? Or do I wait until the 30 year reunion????

P.S. Mom, I loved the prom dresses you made for me, the perfumes you and Dad picked out for me, and the special notes you put in my pockets...xoxo

Portland, OR 7/07

Snowshoeing in shorts, sans snowshoes, across Mount Hood

Harry the Cat wanted to go with us on our excursions


This photo's for you Mr. T. (Pike Place Market, Seattle)



The following article was prepared by an honored guest writer, Westward Ho. I only made minor changes to protect the unsullied. Thanks for the great summary of the trip out west, Ms. Ho, and if anyone ever wants to join the ranks of "guest writer" on this blog, please let me know - I would welcome the help! I keep thinking it's time to wrap things up with this writing effort and move on to the great American novel, but we'll see. I told myself I would try this for two years and see how I felt after that - that two years is fast approaching so I will accept all comments, suggestions, input and wisecracks.

Courtesy of Westward Ho:

Several of my Atlanta friends were here in Portland last week visiting me and the great state of Oregon. We had a total blast. 5 women traveling together could be challenging, but we managed to have a great time without much fuss. We spent the first weekend here in Portland checking out all of the fine establishments …beer…food…wine...shopping. You know – the good stuff in life. We hit one of the best restaurants in Portland – Andina – a wonderful Peruvian restaurant.

Next it was off to wine country for a bit of tasting and then on to Bend. The scenery was amazing as we traveled along Highway 22 and 20 and went along a river valley. We made our way to Deschutes National Forrest and through a huge burn area. The effects of forest fires last for decades, and out here each summer it gets bone dry because it doesn’t rain much in the summer. We stayed in Bend at a place called McMennamin’s in a little cottage called “The Nunnery”. (Fitting for a bunch of women, don’t you think?) The next day we drove up through the canyon lands and into the Mount Hood National Forrest, where we stayed at the Timberline Lodge up on the mountain. Mount Hood has skiing all year round. The lodge is up at around 6,000 feet, just 5,000 feet from the Peak.

We ended the trip with a drive through the Hood River Valley and into the Columbia Gorge, where we hiked, saw wind surfers going nuts, and saw the amazing waterfalls. It was a blessing to spend such good times with people I love. It really makes me value good friends.

And here's my two cents: Westward Ho treated us like Princesses, beer-drinking Princesses, but Princesses nonetheless. She picked us up from Amtrak in Portland since we had flown into Seattle. Then she drove us all the way back to the Sea-Tac airport at the end of the trip. She stocked the fridge with just about every Portland brew possible, which is quite an achievement given the number of breweries in the state. She let us drive her car while she was at work one day so that we could traipse around town and tour a distillery (Kali's kids go to school with the distillery owner's brother's kids). She gave up her bed and slept on a blow-up mattress. She didn't chastise us when we stopped to fill up the tank and went into the bakery next door to claim a free fried apple pie (since the sign on the door said free pie to anyone who's driver's license ends in "8" and mine does). She took us to some excellent restaurants and we saw some of the most amazing scenery. She loaned Doc. B. her walking stick when we were on a hike with some very narrow trails. She read us meaningful poetry and still had the ability to laugh when Tequila followed it up with a quote from Dr. Seuss.

Thanks for the great time Westward Ho!