Author Archives: Chrissie

Ahhh, Books

Ahhhh, books. I’m a total and complete book nut. Can’t help it and wouldn’t change it even if I could. You’ve just got to read.

I’m feeling generous today so I’ll give you a little sneak peek into my formative years. When I was younger, probably 10 or so, I decided to catalogue my books library style. I piled them all up and sorted them alphabetically. I then created index tabs with the first few letters of the title and a sequential number. These tabs were placed on the spine of each book. Next, I created a pocket and an in/out card for each book. Finally, I made a little card catalog of all the books in my collection. If I wanted to read one, I would flip through my catalog and select the book, then proceed to my shelve and locate it by its number. Finally, I would write my name and date on the card and check it out just in case, you know, I forgot who was reading it. Yup, all 12 books were properly shelved and accounted for at all times. I don’t ever remember fining myself for overdue books but hey, you never know.

(I just remembered that I did the same thing with all my clothes. I listed them on index cards and cross referenced them so if I decided to wear the blue Esprit shirt, my little card then listed all the matching skirts, pants and shorts that went with that particular piece of clothing. Once my clothes were selected, I proceeded to the closet where they were all hung by color and type. Scary.)

Unfortunately, my reading collecting has grown and my free time dwindled so I no longer catalogue my books. Instead, I have The Best Of Collection. I keep all my favorites on one shelf so I can grab them when needed. If someone is looking for a good read, I can direct them to The Best Of Collection confident that any book they choose will be a winner. To keep the numbers down, I limit the books in The Best Of Collection to the first in a series. So even though I love the entire Janet Evanovich series, only One for the Money gets the honor of being part of The Best of Collection. The rest are trundled away until needed. I find this creates a nice, manageable supply of good books that I can delve into as needed.

I still, however, index to-be-read books. I carry around this little, cheap flip notebook with one of those scary Anne Geddes babies on the cover. (It was 50% off.) In it, I jot down all the authors that I like, all the books that have been recommended to me and I want to try, and where I am in a series. I keep it with me, in my purse, so whenever I wander into a bookstore, I can whip it out and know exactly what I’m looking for. There is nothing I hate more than knowing you want a book but you find yourself unable to remember the author or where in the series you are. A little to-be-read notebook takes care of that nicely.

And lastly, you simply must have a buy back source. I read so many books that are good but not great. I’m not interested in reading them again but I don’t want to throw them out. Instead, they languish on my shelves, collecting dust and eating up valuable The Best Of Collection room. The answer is to sell ‘em. Most independent book stores will buy them from you and this allows you to feed you habit. Read it, sell it, buy something else. What a wonderful system.

All this talk of books, makes me want to head to Powell’s for a quick book fix. Sigh.

Back Again!

Didja miss me? I know Artie did. Poor fat sausage. He thought we had left him forever to be ruled by the Melo puppy. He’s still a little discombobulated. Either that or living with Kat & Josh was so good he’s sad to be back. He has, however, reclaimed the sofa as his own and was bossing the cats around last night so I think he’ll recover.

It was worth it though. Elmo flew into town Sat morning and we packed up and headed for Mt. Bachelor for a little Spring skiing. It was beautiful. Sunny, warm, with no new snow but a nice base and few people. Amazingly, the old man managed to keep up with Kevin and I without breaking something. We’ve been taking this trip for, man, over seven years or so and we have it down to an artform.

The best part is that Kevin and Elmo get to hang out together. Since we are stranded up here in Portland, my parents only come up few times each year. So the entire weekend, Kevin keep looking at my dad and exclaiming, “So that’s were she got that from!”

Kevin says that when he was contemplating the big M, he was told to look to the mother before marrying the daughter. So he scoped out JT and like what he saw. Smart, caring, sweet, loving….based on this, he popped the question. Little did he know that in my family, the saying goes look to the father before marrying the daughter. What can I say? I’m a chip of my dad’s shoulder. I’m a teaser and a card shark just like my old man.

Oh yes, Kevin has a new nickname. Marshmellow. However, like most of my nicknames, this one is best used when you have a very clear line of escape. (But the look on his face is worth it.)

We have decided that next year, our annual ski trip will be in Colorado. Look out Beanie! Here we come!!

Garden Love

The weather here has been gorgeous lately. Each year, Portland teases us mercilessly. For about a week or so, we are treated to this beautiful spring weather. Blue skies, puffy white clouds, bright clear sunshine that fades to magenta sunsets. And then, at the end of the week, the spring rains move in and don’t leave until July. (You think I’m kidding. I’m not. July. Honest.)

So during this short week of Spring, most Portlanders rush to the nurseries and buy masses of plants and flowers knowing we have a very short window to get them into the ground before the monsoon season hits. If you hustle and plant quickly enough, you can kick back and wait for a beautiful summer. All those rainy days between now and July (no kidding) mean your plants are nicely primed when the sun begins shining and they just burst with flowers. Of course, this doesn’t happen until, oh, August but better late than never.

My gardening plans, however, are limited by two factors. First, the trees. We have these massive elm trees on our property. They were planted when the house was built back in the 20’s and have just grown like crazy. The are, by far, the largest trees around. You can easily find our house by looking at the sky line. Just pick out the two elm trees that stand a good 10 feet over all others and head that way. Joining these elms are two Christmas trees gone bad. The previous owners got living trees for Christmas for a few years. After the holiday season, they stuck them in the ground in the back yard. They are now massive beyond belief. This means that out entire plot – front yard and back – is shade. No direct sunlight to save your life. Just shade, shade, shade and more shade. And, of course, everything I want to grow (roses, herbs, flowers, etc) requires direct sunlight. Not gonna happen. I tried it last year and it was depressing. I think my roses even molded.

My second stumbling block is Artie. His two favorite activities during the day while I’m away earning money for dog treats are digging up plants and peeing on flowers. He is a force of nature that dog. I have re-planted my rose bush four times so far. For some reason, he loves to dig it out since it’s been planted in sand for better drainage. Of course, lying on its side out of its hole with roots exposed is the ultimate drainage but somehow I don’t think that’s what my garden book had in mind. Any wonder that rose has never bloomed? He’s even managed to completely toast my rosemary bush (not that I was ever going to use it in food after watching him tinkle on it every day) and delights in digging up and chewing my bulbs. Sigh. I can’t imagine that bearded irises taste good but they must.

Even though I know it is hopeless, I still find myself longing to work on my garden. All I need to do is chop down the trees and get rid of the dog and my garden dreams will come true. But I know if I just hang in for another week all will be well. Once the rains come, I won’t be able to go outside until July. Seriously. July.

Jailhouse Bound

Kevin’s going to jail.

Last night, as we were driving home, we pulled up to a red light. Kevin stopped and we noticed this really weird looking guy who was waiting to cross the street. He had a bag of cans and looked like your typical slightly crazy street person. I don’t think he was totally sober because when Kevin pulled up to the light, the guy kind of jumped. Then he started yelling at Kevin.

“Hey, hey, you see that,” he slurred, pointing in the generally vicinity of the cross walk. “That says WALK,” he yelled. “You gotta let me walk!”

Kevin and I just sat there, dumbfounded as the guy stopped in the middle of the street right in front of our car and began digging around in his bag of cans. It was clear he was upset with us. He was wearing an old army fatigue jacket and was missing most of his teeth. With stringy hair and wild eyes, he was quite scary looking as he rummaged through his bag. Kevin confided in me, later, that he was afraid the guy was going to pull out a gun. I thought he was looking for a bottle to hurl at us. But it turns out we were both wrong because he pulled this old flashlight out from his bag of cans and began shining it at us. First in our face, then over to the WALK sign which was now flashing DON’T WALK. Back and forth, back and forth. I guess we didn’t look sufficiently chastised because he put the flashlight down and pulled out a pencil and scrap of paper.

“I’m gonna get your license plate!” he yelled at us. “You’re going to jail!”

Of course, by this time, the light had turned green for us and the car behind us tried to pull around. Then they saw this guy standing in the middle of the road, waving his flashlight and stopped short. This, of course, made the guy mad and with his attention turned to the new car, Kevin pulled around him and drove off. I think we were speechless for a while trying to assimilate the strangeness of it all. The funny thing is, Kevin had stopped a good three feet behind the cross walk when he saw the guy crossing the street.

I can’t decide yet if I should call the police and turn him in or not. Guess that depends on how big the reward is. Hee hee.

New Guy

So there is this new guy on our floor. I’m not to sure who he is or even who he works for as we haven’t been introduced. All I know is that he’s really tall and whenever he walks by my door, he looks into my office. This really bothers me. I hate it when people peer in at me. If you are coming to talk to me, fine, come in. But don’t be walking by and looking. I am not in a zoo or a manakin in a store window. At least have te decency to introduce yourself if you’re going to keep looking in on me. I have asked around and he is doing this to everyone – this walking and peering. How very rude.

I have decided I don’t like him at all. I know, you may think this is rash seeing as how I have never said one word to him but still. I’ve just decided it.

I’m tempted to figure out where his desk is and walk by staring at him just to see if he likes it but I’ve decided to take the silent & hostile approach. I’m good at the cold shoulder thing. Just ask Kevin, having been on the receiving side of many of my finest cold shoulders, he’ll vouch for my ability to freeze with the best of them.

And on top of that, I’m having a bad eyebrow day. I know, it’s strange but true. My dad has these crazy eyebrows. He’ll have individual eyebrow hairs that go malignant and just grow and grow and get all crazy. They freak my mom out and she is constantly trimming them to he doesn’t end up looking like some crazy scientist. I appear to have inherited some of these crazy eyebrow genes because the eyebrow over my left eye to truly unruly. It is just out of control with every hair pointing every which way and refusing to lie flat. I have tried hairspray, gel, and even clear mascara to no avail. Some days, my eyebrow just gets cranky and crazy and today is one of those days.

And unlike a bad hair day, I can’t cover up my eyebrow. No, instead I have to face the day knowing that I have a spaztic eyebrow. So don’t look at me. Or, don’t look at me in the face. It’s just all wrong. Maybe I should be one of those freaky people who pull out all their eyebrows and then draw them on. That would solve my errant eyebrow dilemma once and for all. Except then I’d spend all day afraid to wipe my eyes for fear of smearing off my eyebrow. How weird would that be? There are no easy answers to these questions I suppose….