July 22, 2005

• FRIDAY FIVE

  Appetizer
  What kind of car do you drive? If you could make an even trade for any other car, what would you want to drive?
  A 1998 Chevy Prizm – here’s an exact photo. I thought it was a pretty darn good buy and trusted the seller because he’s a local TV sportscaster. I’m learning it’s a little more fragile than I thought – some of the interior is already kind of shredding up, for example, and there’s a strange knock at high speeds with weight in the car. But it could be worse. Here’s what I’d drive if I could, though my car would never trade for it – a 1998 Lamborghini Diablo Roadster with that guy in it and wearing a long neck scarf that would blow out the side.
  Soup
  Take your phone number and add each number together separately (example: 8+6+7+5+3+0+9=38) – what’s the total?
  31 (how esoteric is that)
  Salad
  When were you last outside, and what were you doing?
  We’re having a lovely low-grumbling thunderstorm in the murky Portland Oregon morning so I went outside to push the back porch furniture in from the edge and the lawn mower under shelter and also bring the lounge chair I sun in under the porch roof. It was still just dawn.
  Main Course
  What is your favorite restaurant, and what do you usually order there?
  Oh My God – I just discovered a restaurant to die for in John’s Landing. It’s the Cafe Duberry, 6439 SW Macadam, 503-244-5551. It’s been there for years but I only went for the first time recently with a gaggle of van-riding art show visiting seniors for brunch and had a $14 scallop and shiitake mushroom omelet thing that was worth every penny. Everything is made fresh there and it’s a little, divy, European bistro with an upstairs and downstairs and some tables outdoors. I’m so hoping to go back there soon. Of course, a close second is right in my neighborhood – Fat Albert’s is only breakfast/brunch – tiny, rumpled, great service, scrumptious food, not expensive.
  Dessert
  Name 3 things in which you occasionally indulge.
  Haagan-dazs ice cream bars lately. Blueberries in season. Oh, it doesn’t say food – rings, silver, turquoise.
  

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  Deep Thought: I remember I was hammering on a fence in the backyard when Dad approached. He was carrying a letter or something in his hand, and he looked worried. I continued to hammer as he came toward me. “Son,” he said, “why are you hammering on that fence? It already has plenty of nails in it.” “Oh, I’m not using nails,” I replied. “I’m just hammering.” With that, I returned to my hammering. Dad asked me to stop hammering, as he had some news. I did stop hammering, but first I got a couple more hammers in, and this seemed to make Dad mad. “I said, stop hammering!” he yelled. I think he felt bad for yelling at me, especially since it looked like he had bad news. “Look,” he said, “you can hammer later, but first-” Well, I didn’t even wait to hear the rest. As soon as I heard “You can hammer,” that’s what I started doing. Hammering away, happy as an old hammer dog. Dad tried to physically stop me from hammering by inserting a small log of some sort between my hammer and the fence. But I just kept on hammering, ’cause that’s the way I am when I get that hammer going. Then, he just grabbed my arm and made me stop. “I’m afraid I have some news for you,” he said. I swear, what I did next was not hammering. I was just letting the hammer swing lazily at arm’s length, and maybe it tapped the fence once or twice, but that’s all. That apparently didn’t make any difference whatsoever to Dad, because he just grabbed my hammer out of my hand and flung it across the field. And when I saw my hammer flying helplessly through the air like that, I just couldn’t take it. I burst out crying, I admit it. And I ran to the house, as fast as my legs could take me. “Son, come back!” yelled Dad. “What about your hammer?!” But I could not have cared less about hammering at that point. I ran into the house and flung myself onto my bed, pounding the bed with my fists. I pounded and pounded, until finally, behind me, I heard a voice. “As long as you’re pounding, why not use this?” I turned, and it was Dad, holding a brand-new solid-gold hammer. I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes and ran to Dad’s outstretched arms. But suddenly, he jumped out of the way, and I went sailing through the second-story window behind him. Whenever I hear about a kid getting in trouble with drugs, I like to tell him this story.
  Today I am grateful for: The ability to slow down
  Guess the Movie: “Listen. I work for the CIA. I am not a spy. I just read books! We read everything that’s published in the world. And we… we feed the plots – dirty tricks, codes – into a computer, and the computer checks against actual CIA plans and operations. I look for leaks, I look for new ideas… We read adventures and novels and journals. I… I… Who’d invent a job like that?” Answer: Three Days of the Condor, 1975.
  Wife of Nominee Holds Strong Antiabortion Views
  by Richard Serrano
  WASHINGTON — While Supreme Court nominee John G. Roberts Jr.’s views on abortion triggered intense debate on Capitol Hill on Wednesday, there is no mistaking where his wife stands: Jane Sullivan Roberts, a lawyer, is ardently against abortion. (Rest of article here.)
  End of Day: 9:15 pm
  + = If all goes well and I don’t die in my sleep, I’ll be a year older tomorrow.
  - = I’ll be a year older tomorrow.

  • 10:04 am
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