Archive for the ‘Home Town’ Category

Island Living

Friday, October 22nd, 2010

GPL_complex

In mid-September we moved to a new-to-us apartment, in a new-to-us part of town. It’s in the Goodpasture Island area, which is not really an island but is mostly surrounded by water in the form of ponds, creeks, and the Willamette River.

From our corner of the complex, if you headed to the right of our neighbor’s black car and toward the red-leaved trees, you would come to the river trail. I’ll show you some scenes of that later. For now, come on in – I’ll give you a tour.

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It’s nice to be on the ground floor for a change. Though we do hear our upstairs neighbors bouncin’ around (one of them is a young girl).

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In our entryway, there are doors to our garage, our hall closet, and our laundry room. They are all messy and/or boring, so I won’t show you those, just know that they are there… and boy do I love them. Especially the laundry room! No more lugging baskets downstairs to coin-operated washers.

To the right is the kitchen. Notice the dishwasher, very convenient. Not so convenient is the fact that there are only 5 drawers in the entire kitchen, one of them is 4 inches wide, and the other 4 are narrower than 10 inches. Our nice roomy silverware tray wouldn’t fit, but no matter – BN crafted a custom one with wooden pegs. Other than that the kitchen is very nice, and has a bit more counter space and a few more cupboards than I’ve ever had before.

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Here we are in the dining area looking back into the kitchen.

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The dining table, which also functions as BN’s workstation since he recently got a laptop.

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On the left is a collection of interesting knick-knacks and a painting that BN got in Haiti in 2000. On the right is the view out of our back door, where there is a covered patio that looks out on the communal backyard. A much more soothing scene than a track and a football field, don’t you think?

Now we move into the living room area.

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I want you to take special note of my Christmas cactus, which has survived since my birthday last year – by far the longest I’ve been able to keep a houseplant. Here’s the view out of the window:

GPL_view

GPL_desk

And the workstation / entertainment center. Note BN’s newest art piece – it’s angular wooden pieces that have been brightly painted and mounted on a fabric backing. He also built the frame, staining it to look like ebony.

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BN created this batik-dyed panel last year. It’s nice to finally have a wall big enough to hang it on. Just past this is the bathroom (on the left) and the bedroom (on the right.)

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Another batik project by BN. It wraps around onto the wall to the right as well.

GPL_bathroom GPL_closets

The bedroom is connected to the bathroom via a closet/hall/vanity area. I love having a closet for each of us, but it’s kind of overkill for us to have 2 sinks, complete with storage. (Neither of us is the type to do a lot of mirror-facing prep in the morning.)

That’s it – if you went left into the bathroom, and then left again, you’d be back out in the living room.

Now let’s take a walk along the river.

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This path is great for bicycling – it’s a lovely ride along the river and through Skinner Butte park to downtown.

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I’ve enjoyed running the first few miles along this path, too. I’ll be sad when this lovely weather comes to an end – then I will be heading to the treadmill and weight machines in the apartment complex community center.

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Stash Enhancement

Sunday, June 20th, 2010

This weekend was Black Sheep Gathering at the Lane County Fairgrounds. I went two days – Friday and Saturday. One of the highlights was seeing our local fiber aficionados take first place in the Sheep to Shawl competition – 4 spinners and a weaver have 5 hours to create a shawl of a certain square-inch area, from a pile of washed fleece and a pre-warped loom.

On Friday I shopped the Trade Show. I bought some Blue Moon “Socks that Rock” Rare Gems:

STR_RareGem_Purple STR_RareGem_Multi2

I got some hand-dyed organic merino from Textile a Mano, a recently-opened shop in Eugene:

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And these irresistible little skeins from Capistrano Fiber Arts Studio:

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On Saturday I went to the Ravelry Meetup and watched my friend LK win a prize in the random drawing – the person presenting prizes held up the precious little handmade silk project bag – L said, “oh, that’s mine!” and the announcer called her name. Lucky!

I wasn’t part of the random drawing but I did get a goodie bag of prizes from Knitmore Girls. I haven’t joined the podcast-listening bandwagon but I will have to check theirs out! I was most excited that the bag contained a little retractable tape measure since I recently misplaced mine.

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Little Red Farm

Monday, May 3rd, 2010

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Here are some scenes from the recent Open House at Little Red Farm Nursery in Springfield, OR. You can pretty much expect the same, any day during springtime – stop by soon, it’s even better in person.

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You’ll find plants for sun, plants for shade.

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Add a touch of magic to your garden.

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The flowers are luminous in the greenhouse.

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A peaceful, beautiful afternoon.

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What to Eat on Market Day

Saturday, April 3rd, 2010

ChickenSpringMix

Today was the first day of the Saturday Market. Although I like to take my bike, I drove today because we are experiencing winter-like weather here – in the 40’s and very temperamental in the rain and wind department. (At least we didn’t have pea-sized hail like we did yesterday.) But the sun was out for my stroll through the produce stands. I got beets, carrots, radishes, a leek, green onions, rhubarb, and mesclun mixed greens. That is the majority of items available – the staples at this time of year. For tonight’s dinner I roasted the beets and carrots, by just tossing them with a bit of olive oil and salt, and about 20 minutes in a 400° oven. I made my standby chicken with garlic and lemon, placing the chicken and roasted veggies (plus some cherry tomatoes I got from Trader Joe’s earlier this week) on a bed of mesclun and then I drizzled the whole thing with the wine sauce from the chicken. If your market has artisan bread from local bakeries like ours does, that makes a nice appetizer with olive oil and vinegar. A glass of white wine won’t go amiss here, either. Here’s to Spring!

Ordeal By Jury

Wednesday, October 28th, 2009

I’ve had a drama-filled week so far (for me, anyway, I guess it’s all relative.) I gradually came down with a really bad cold during the course of last week. Tuesday night I had a sore throat, very sore Wednesday, Thursday a persistent headache, and stuffy/runny nose on Friday. By Saturday I was pretty sure I would be “fully” sick and Sunday I was miserable. The worst of it was I had social plans with several friends that I had to cancel.

My plans for Monday were sit on the couch and knit, and my friend CO was going to come over and bring lunch. My work was in a holding pattern, waiting for client response. I was picking up a few items of clutter around the house before CO arrived and found a slip of paper with something I’d wanted to enter into my computer calendar so I went to do that and remembered that I was scheduled for jury duty that day! My heart sank but I realized that I still had an hour and a half before the time to report, 1:30pm, so I called the phone number to see if I could find out if my juror number had been called. On the second try the jury clerk said they’d called everybody in. So called CO to cancel for a second time and pulled together myself and my stuff to drive to the courthouse. I just had enough time to fill out my juror questionnaire while I scarfed down the last dish of leftovers we had in the fridge. Thank goodness for those leftovers, I can’t function without lunch!

I stood in line with about 100+ people to check in at the jury assembly room. They were telling us that the trial might go for two weeks, but the only thing they could dismiss us for was if we had plane tickets purchased for travel during those weeks or a medical procedure we couldn’t reschedule. I should have said “I think I might have swine flu” and taken a deferral but my head was kind of foggy and I assumed I’d be out of there by the end of the day.

But no. We sat in the big room and the cheerful, friendly jury clerk (I do not envy her job one bit) talked to us, showed us an orientation video, and kept us posted on when the judge and possibly the lawyers might come talk to us. But by 4 they’d decided not to come so we got to go home but we had to come back the following day at 9am.

That night I wondered what was going to happen. My jury number was 22, and I wasn’t sure if that meant anything for the order in which they would process us, but I figured if they did it meant either I could be dismissed relatively early, or that I had a higher chance of being selected for the jury. No way to tell for sure. Meanwhile a new last-minute project came in at work and added something else for me to stew about. Would I be able to work on it, for delivery at the end of the week, or not? Again, no way to tell for sure.

Tuesday was the most grueling day I’ve had for quite awhile, even if I hadn’t been sick. They called my name in the roll just as I was coming down the stairs a bit before 9. Once we were all accounted for (91 people remained after those who took deferrals left the day before) they read off the names of 31 people who would stay in the jury room. The other 60 of us would go up to the courtroom. We had to go in small, elevator-sized groups because taking the stairs is a liability. One floor up, to the security gate. This was less time-consuming than the airport, because everybody had a lot less stuff, but it still took a while our first time through. Then onto the elevators again to go up to the courtroom.

Once we were up there they read off the randomly-generated list and we lined up in our official order. So my #22 didn’t matter after all. I was well into the second half of the group, but in the courtroom my seat was on the aisle of the first row behind the one reserved for observers (family, media…). The first twelve people were seated in the jury box, the rest of us were on hard wooden pews. We took a vow to answer questions truthfully and honestly.

This was a criminal trial. The judge read the charges. They seemed numerous, but it was my first time inside a courtroom and I don’t watch any of those TV shows that would give me preconceptions about court proceedings. (Not that the TV shows are always realistic, probably not in most cases.) In the orientation video that we were shown the day before, only 12 people were questioned in the scene, not 60. The other people present besides the judge were the prosecuting and defense attorneys, the defendant, the stenographer, and several law-clerk types who had shepherded us through the courthouse. There were a few folks in the observer pew and I’m not certain who they were. I overheard later that a few of them may have been relatives of a victim in the case. And I thought I was having a grueling day.

To start, we were read a list of people involved in the case and were asked if we were acquainted with any of them or with the major parties in the case. A few people said they were, and were questioned about that, and then the defense attorney began questioning each of us in turn. The first few people took so long that I wondered if we would be finished within the week, let alone within the day. The questions, besides asking if we had any connections in law enforcement, or had been, or had a loved one be, a victim of a crime, were mostly pertaining to the concept of “innocent until proven guilty.” Many people agonized over feelings, opinions, and experiences that made it hard for them to give the defendant the benefit of the doubt, especially since the attorney told us that the defendant has a criminal history including theft and drug use. The attorney emphasized again and again that jurors must be able to set aside those personal feelings and evaluate the evidence, apply the relevant laws as instructed by the judge, and if not convinced beyond a reasonable doubt, give a verdict of not guilty. She also put a lot of emphasis on the fact that the state (the prosecuting party) has the burden of proof of guilt.

My stomach was growling so loud that I was sure the judge could hear it at the top of the courtroom. At noon we recessed for lunch. They have a cafeteria at the courthouse but there was a long line and I had no reference on the food, so I walked out to a pizza place a block away or so. It was so cold outside that I stopped to grab a tall Chai but then I was really hot in the jury room waiting to be taken back up to the courtroom once everybody was back for lunch. I was also feeling anxious and tense up there all afternoon and I think the caffeine was a bad idea. I don’t think there was any danger of me getting sleepy. To me, the room was so tension-filled (and the bench so uncomfortable) that I couldn’t help but pay attention.

In the afternoon the defense finished questioning each person (some took a very long time and others were shorter, including me, because I don’t have close connection to anyone in law enforcement and I have not been a crime victim.) Then the prosecuting attorney took over. He had been allowed to question certain people before, when the defense attorney requested the judge to dismiss someone. When a person was dismissed from the jury box (such as a woman who was recently bereaved by a violent crime…) then the next person in line would replace them from the benches. A few people were dismissed from the benches (someone who felt she was unable to be impartial if drug use was involved in the case in any way) One person tried very hard to obtain dismissal for herself – I had overheard her while we were waiting in line saying that she was going to say what she could to make them dismiss her. She was successful and left the courtroom with a smile.

The prosecutor spent most of his short remaining time questioning those in the jury box regarding the concept of “aiding and abetting” in a crime. Apparently in Oregon the law holds accomplices as equally culpable. This was another thorny issue. 5 o’clock came and we had to disperse – with instructions to return at 9am on Wednesday. I was pretty well spent – I checked a few simple to-do’s off my work list when I got home but wasn’t able to produce a single drop of creative juice to help my project manager.

Wednesday morning was very similar to Tuesday – up in the elevators, through the security area, up to the courtroom. We had all memorized our seats by that time and things ran much more efficiently. The prosecuting attorney picked up where he had left off, and those of us in the overflow seats were given the opportunity to answer questions addressed to the group. There was more discussion of “aiding and abetting,” a difficult concept to wrestle with knowing so little about the specifics of the case, but we threw around some very hypothetical examples. Some people insisted, and I tended to agree with them, that providing the gun and pulling the trigger are different levels of guilt. It would have been nice to see the text of the law, because if it’s too vague I would probably say I don’t agree with that law. But for the present, we just had to decide if we were prepared to set emotion aside and apply the law to reach a verdict. The prosecutor was also very intent on finding out if anyone, if presented with enough evidence (beyond a reasonable doubt) to convict, would be unable to cast that guilty vote.

Even though the next phase was conducted with a very arcane (I suspect tradition-bound) procedure, it seemed to go by very quickly. The judge said that she would accept the first challenge. The law clerk walked to the attorneys’ desks, took a slip of paper from each, walked to the judge’s stand, and handed her the pieces of paper, then returned to her place, standing to the side. The judge looked at the papers, and one of 3 things would happen: the judge would dismiss someone from the jury box, and would call the next person in line from the benches to come replace them; or, she would simply request the next challenge; or once, she called both lawyers to confer with her up on the judge’s stand. In whispers of course. Now, I’m sure they were going in an orderly system through the jury seats, but once the replacements started getting dismissed and replaced again, I lost track of who was under consideration next. I’d love to know what they wrote on those little scraps of paper!

It was so nerve-wracking. My seat happened to be the first one of the second half of “extras” and I watched the other side get whittled down alarmingly quickly, but through a slow, suspenseful process. The last bench on the other side of the aisle started to empty and soon there were two men left ahead me. At that point, the judge said the 12 seated in the jury box would be the final jury. (I noticed that 6 of them were from the original group – I wonder if this is required, or happened by chance.) She called the last two men to sit in the alternate jurors’ seats – alternates are needed for a case that is expected to go for several weeks in case someone gets sick or otherwise needs to be replaced. One of these two had been in jail at the same time as the defendant, so no one was surprised when he was dismissed. I was called to sit in the alternate seat. It was definitely a change in perspective on the room – I could see the defendant’s face where before I was seated directly behind him. But it was not to last. The next slips of paper went by with no change but the following turn had me dismissed. The clock said 11:15 – we’d been in the courtroom less than 2 hours that day.

Out in the parking garage, I saw two women who had been seated behind me in the benches. They told me that one person had been dismissed after me, and then they kept the man who had been my second-to-the-left benchmate. So close! I’m very curious to know which of the attorneys wanted to dismiss me and what was written on those slips.

I was feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment. I was relieved that I would be able to continue my projects for work – to not let anyone down or have to burn any midnight oil. But, I had begun to feel prepared to perform my duties as a juror, and I know it would have been a challenging, even harrowing, experience to engage with a trial for crimes of this magnitude. It would have been a growing, learning experience to set aside my intuition – something I’m used to being my constant companion – and to be intentionally as objective, impartial, and reserving of judgment as possible. Also working with 11 others, some very different from myself, to make such an important decision would have been a valuable experience as well. Something I need to grow in, definitely.

I wonder if I will have another opportunity like this? I’ve been summoned for jury duty perhaps 4 times before, several times while I was a full-time student and begged off, other times when I my number was not called in. I learned so much, and it was quite fascinating to see how it all works (not very efficiently in some aspects!). I realize this particular situation was probably more intense than normal because it was a criminal trial, with a few extra plot twists. A civil trial would probably not have taken 3 days to seat a jury… at least I would hope not.

Another interesting thing was that I saw two people I know. GP was called in on Tuesday and I saw her in the hall while my group was waiting to be addressed by the law clerks. One of the sons of the B family, who I’m acquainted with at church, was in the group of 60. I didn’t recognize him immediately but when I heard his last name called I realized who he was. Eugene can sometimes seem a very small town!

Each Peach Pear Plum

Sunday, September 13th, 2009

I did such a good job of going to the farmers’ market early in the summer. Then, the last weekend in June, I opted to take one last long run before the Butte to Butte. The next weekend was the B2B, 4th of July, and summer took off and I literally had 1 chance to go to the weekend market between then and now and it was raining so I chickened out. But last Saturday I finally went, and I was totally blown away. There were twice as many booths as in early summer and each booth had 3 times more varieties of products. I wanted to take home one of everything, but I had just been to the grocery store and already had peaches and corn… But I stocked up on lettuce, carrots, basil, green onions, supplies to make Ratatouille again, and a little pint of plums with a plan to make Clafouti.

There is something magical about baked plums. I would much rather eat them cooked than fresh, honestly. When I went to Germany as a 17-year-old I ate, among many other wonderful delights, a plum cake/tart thing that I still remember how yummy it was. And plum jam? Oh, sorry, I just drooled on the keyboard.

My little box of plums didn’t quite fill the pie plate so I sliced a couple of peaches to bulk it up. They are hiding on the bottom layer. They were nothing to write home about – just grocery store peaches. But the plums were totally awesome. Clearly.

So pretty...

So pretty...

Thats what Im talkin about!

That's what I'm talkin' about!

Me Out to the Ballgame, Take

Saturday, August 22nd, 2009

Now that we live just across the road from the minor-league baseball stadium, you’d think we would go to the Ems’ games a lot – but Thursday was the first time we’ve been this summer.

We walked across the high school campus, up over the pedestrian bridge across Amazon Parkway, and into the stadium.

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Hey, I can see my house from here!

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They were playing “the Canadians” – from Vancouver, specifically, so the Knights of Columbus (you learn something new every day!) carried out the Canadian flag in addition to the Star Spangled Banner.

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There was a men’s choir doing the honors. They sang both national anthems.

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It was fun watching the game. The Eugene Emeralds have all kinds of sponsors and little leaguers and what-not… seems like there’s a song or a dance of some kind between every inning. That’s what we hear, each night, from our open windows… “Take me out to the ballgame…” “Everybody clap your hands!” (clap-clap-clap-clap-clap) “Y-M-C-A!” I think they play the same little cheer-evoking jingles with the same frequency every game. (I applaud the sense of community spirit, but the jingles do get on my nerves a bit.)

Too Hot for Words

Wednesday, July 29th, 2009

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Rush the Butte

Saturday, July 4th, 2009

Spring of this year was difficult for me, running-wise. I was running strong, up until our trip to Utah – I was up to 4 miles 3 times a week. I felt great while we were in Utah, though some of the backpacking hikes felt very overloaded due to our need to pack in water. I was sore, but no more than usual for me on these trips. During the week after our return, I started running again – I figured I’d be even stronger after the trip and pick up where I’d left off in March. But, suddenly I would feel a tightness in my calves as soon as I so much as jogged onto the track. I don’t really know for sure what shin splints feel like but I wondered if it was a similar problem, but on the inner side of my legs, within or under the muscle. Kinda scary. I didn’t feel anything when walking, riding my bike, or stretching so I kept doing those things, but stopped running all together after “taking it easy” with short runs didn’t seem to make a difference.

May rolled around and I wanted to try running again, though I didn’t see how I’d work my way back up in time to run the Butte to Butte 10K. That was a sad thought, that I’d miss it this year… But, I just tried to focus on getting “back on track” without injury. I would run a few laps, walk a lap, repeat. I would run 3/4 of the Adidas mile trail, and walk the last 1/4 of it – once I got to the point where I was going around 4 or 5 times, I started running the Rexius portion as well – the whole trail is 5.5 miles round trip. By the week before the race, I was running the whole thing with only 3 short stops at the stoplight intersection and the halfway point where there is a drinking fountain.

On race day, it was fixing to be a hot one. I ran the whole way, except made sure to drink a whole cup of water at the 3 water stations. My time was 1 hour and 8 minutes – not my best, but not my worst, either! I was so happy to have worked past my mysterious “injury” and participate in the fun community event once again.

In the afternoon we took a drive to Wildwood Falls, a swimming hole that we had been to last summer. It’s a really neat place to swim but the atmosphere is not great – it’s a favorite place for partying teens to spill beer and scatter cigarette butts. On the 4th it was crowded but at least we knew what to expect. I was pretty tired from my race so after a “thrilling” jump (I hate jumping!) and a cooling swim (I love swimming in natural water) I sat up on the creek bank and read a book.

WildwoodFalls

In the evening we rode our bikes to watch the fireworks in Alton Baker park. This year we tried something different and joined a crowd that gathered in an office courtyard with a fountain, on the other side of the river. That was exciting – people were setting off small (and some very big) fireworks on the concrete. Some were a little too close for comfort! It was one of those fountains that come up out of a paved space and kids can run through the columns of water. One little guy was taking his duties as fire-fighter very seriously – he had a fireman’s hat and a bucket and would come running to make sure the fireworks were not getting out of hand.

I wonder who designs fireworks displays? Both of the ones we saw this year (the other one was in our “backyard” on the 3rd after the Ems game) were not very well choreographed. Each burst was pretty, but they were a bit off on timing and sequence.

Sweet Creek Falls

Friday, July 3rd, 2009

It started out as a swimming expedition, but as it turned out we just ended up hiking. Sweet creek falls is a bit inland from the Oregon coast, and it is such a neat, sweet, little place to hike! The trail is very bushy… no poison oak but lots of nettles that I took care to avoid brushing up against.

The whole hike is a sequence of little cascades and pools. I find them very hard to capture on film. (or is that pixels?)

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Among the many wonderful plants we saw were some mysterious orange berries, and bright purple foxgloves. I didn’t realize they grew wild like this!

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At the end of the trail is the waterfall. It’s very pretty and misty. We were astonished at how many inchworms were crawling around on the moss near it.

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It was such a pleasant day, though not hot enough to swim in the icy creek, that we decided to drive the rest of the way to the beach. But it was not our lucky day. Odd, that our best times at the beach in the past year have been in December in California and on MLK jr. day in Oregon. It was cold, and with a harsh wind that blew sand into our ears and sticky mist into our hair.

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