Another Sunset

It’s that time of year again, when the skies are cloudless, the blackberries are ripe but almost gone, and the apples are just beginning to turn red. I’ve been going on lots of rides to enjoy the last of the good weather, and my legs are whooped. I’ve picked gallons of blackberries up on Mount Tabor for making into jam then watched the sunset while people made out on the benches nearby.

 Sunset over downtown Portland from Mount Tabor

I recall writing about the very same things last September. Clear skies, blackberries, Mount Tabor, even the couples kissing. Now here it is again.

Growing up, I lived in a hot climate that required 24-hour air conditioning for eight months of the year. My memories of summer were of looking out the window at the glare and quietly reading books inside a sealed, climate-controlled house. It was always, always, 72 degrees, and there was always a quiet tssssss sound coming from the vents. It seemed like living in a space station or an isolated pioneer settlement on a far away planet with an inhositable atmosphere — like Moonbase Alpha, but without the sexy people.

Now in Portland, there are seasons, and my life changes and orders itself according to them. It’s cool. I plant in the spring, water in the summer, harvest in the fall, and hibernate in the winter, reading books and doing crafts. My activity level and my weight both fluctuate regularly and predictably. Without me really trying to make it happen, a natural rhythm has given structure to my entire year, year after year.

I like it. It’s good for the mind and the soul. I’m thankful to live this way, and routine helps settle the details and frees our mental energies to focus on the important stuff. But being me, I can’t help feeling uncomfortable with comfort. What experiences am I giving up to have a life so neat and predictable? What accomplishments will remain undone because they don’t fit into my orderly schedule? When I’m ninety-nine and on my death bed, will I look back and think, “Thank goodness I made jam that year intead of…?”

… instead of what?

Sue Me

I haven’t been writing for a long while. I keep trying to get started again, but I’ve been busy. Sue me.

This week, we finally had a beautiful day. The east coast was sweltering in a heat wave, and we were having highs in the 50s. On Thursday, with the first warm, dry weather, I was out taking bike rides, one after another. Even as the sun was going down, I rushed up to the top of Mount Tabor to watch a blazing orange sunset.

 Mt Tabor resevoir was empty when I last rode by

On Friday I put fresh “flowers” on the mantle in our woefully bare living room. A month ago, I put some lilacs from the yard up there, and my roommate Will loved them. He said, “It looks like… human beings live here.” So I’ve kept up the habit.

 Flowers on our mantle. Bare white walls.

I also decanted our second batch of Kombucha, which turned out nicely. I’m a convert. There was a tiny paper thin “mother” at the top. The first we’ve gotten.

Mentioning kombucha in Portland is like talking about your chickens or tomatos (or pickles, or saurkraut, or home brewed beer). Everybody chimes right in with their own story. We all bond over our urban neo-agrarianism.

Saturday was the World Naked Bike Ride. Fourth year in a row that I’ve ridden. This time, I got a group of friends to go together. There were reportedly 3,000 people. It was nuts… so to speak. Quote of the night from this straight dude to a total stranger: “Man, you’ve got a biiiig wiener!”

 The view. World Naked Bike Ride, Portland, 2008.

I stayed as late at the after-party as I could, but I have a weekend job now. Had to be up at 8:30. I’m a sales girl at Patagonia. When I rode my bike in to work this morning, I passed all of the marchers in the gay pride parade getting set up in the park blocks. So much going on around here these days. You suffer with nothing to do all through the damp, bone-chilling winter, and then suddenly, everything happens at once.

Kombucha Creature

One of my new housemates, Wilbur, is quite a character, and he has the kind of ethusiasm that only a 23 year-old could. Everything is turned up to eleven. For example, he loves wine; so not only did he learn everything he could about it, he also became a somellier. And he moved to Oregon with the hope of someday becoming a wine maker.

When he gets excited about something, he really gets excited. So when he decided that he wanted to make kombucha, a sour, slightly fermented, vinegary drink cultured in black tea, I knew it was going to happen. I’ve been wanting to brew some up for years, but it’s kind of gross; and that put me off. Wilbur, however, was determined that we should try. Like, now.

Not at all surprisingly for this Earthy fucking town, one of the first guys he met in Portland brews kombucha and offered to give him a “mother” — the “symbiotic colony of bacteria & yeast” –which looks and feels just like a spongy pile of discolored sandwich meat. It’s kind of gross. Even people who love the drink refer to the “mother” not-so-lovingly as the “slug,” “snot,” and the “kombucha creature.”

 Big jar of black tea with the kombucha creature growing inside

So this past Sunday, Will & I brewed and sweetened some tea, thawed the large disk of frozen “mother,” and put it all in a big jar with a cloth over the top. Now all we can do is wait. It’ll take a couple of weeks to get going, but Will still visits the jar in the pantry, looking hopefully for changes. It’s as though he expects one day to find it has given birth to a litter of puppies. His enthusiasm is infectious though; he’s gotten me doing the very same thing.

I’m not exactly sure why I’m excited. Kombucha is basically spoiled tea with a giant glob of snot floating around in it. Nothing about it sounds appealing, yet people really love the stuff. It’s “good for you,” but no one seems to know how or why. Still, like cycling and infrequent bathing, it’s just what you do in Portland. So here I am, giving it a shot.

---

Check out these basic kombucha making directions at Instructables.

And there are more elaborate instructions here.

---

Hibernation

Bad weather is great for my self discipline. Since the beginning of the year, I’ve been in a state of social hibernation — staying home, growing a big, fuzzy beard, typing alone all day long. January always seems to go that way. It’s like a decompression period after the eating, drinking, shopping, and parties over the holidays. Plus, it’s gross outside, and nobody wants to leave the house.

I’ve been getting a lot done lately, and on Sunday, I was even inspired (or bored) enough to sew together the fabric for some quilt squares that have been sitting around for months. I’m amazed at how much they look like the “sketch” I did on my computer.

 Denim quilt squares arranged on the floor

 My digital “sketch” of how I thought the quilt would look

My roommate Becca commented that it’s a very “manly quilt.” I questioned whether there actually was such a thing. (If you care to, you can read more about this project here.)

In a desperate attempt to get something vaguely like exercise, I went for a walk yesterday with my friend Mike, and I explained to him how I intended to officially end my hibernation on February 1st. I’d shave my beard and start socializing again. He couldn’t resist making fun of me.

“Oh, you’re so goodlooking that you have to grow a beard to get guys to stop hitting on you? ‘I must hide my beauty to get all these men to leave me alone! I’m so pretty I must cover my face.’”

I think he was just projecting. In any case, he can bite me.

So yeah, February 1st. It seems a little early to come out of my cave. Winter is far from over. But there are big fat flower buds on the Camelia in front of the house, and the tips of the Daffodils are poking out of the ground. Spring is right around the corner.

You Are Beautiful

You’ve seen the stickers. Now see the website.

 Portland

 Philadelphia

If you send them a self-addressed, stamped envelope, they’ll mail you stickers for free. Be the first on your block. Or the tenth. Whatever.

Filmed by Bike

You know how sometimes everything just falls into place? All the obstacles just disappear, and something you’ve long imagined finally happens. This was one of those times.

On Sunday I was “on location” again, making another movie, but this time it was for my film. I’m planning on submitting it to the Filmed by Bike festival here in Portland.

The film’s about the Eastbank Esplanade multi-use path, more or less, and I was riding around it with a Bolex — a type of movie camera that is so old that you have to wind it between shots — bouncing around in the basket of my bike. It’ll be on actual 16mm film, not video; so God only knows how it’ll turn out. At least the day was sunny and lovely –odd for January, perfect for a shoot.

My Director of Photography was Andy, which he eagerly agreed to do so he could get away from his own project for a while. About half of his job was to pose with the light meter and say, “I’d like to bracket this shot.” The other half was to wind the camera. From time to time he would eat a cookie.

Knowing that I would shoot from my bike, I had built two types of hand-held stablizers for the camera, but one was never used. The other one was screwed onto the camera, and then rather than being held aloft, it was strapped down to my bike’s basket, where it bounced and jiggled and slid around. Again, God only knows how this is going to turn out, and since film ain’t cheap, I’m a little worried.

Steadicam
This afternoon was another lovely day, and I took the opportunity to test out the untried steadicam thingy I’d made. I got on the filming bike and made a few test runs. (Here’s one of the videos at youtube.) Looks pretty good. I really should have used it for the real filming.

Because I don’t have enough projects already, I’m tentatively planning to make Instructables, complete with photos & video, for both of the stablizing rigs I made. I’ll probably also feature them on the blog I made for my film production subsidiary, which I launched before I’d done anything else.

And yes, that’s right. I already have website and a marketing strategy for something that doesn’t even exist yet. But you know; the point of a film is to be seen. Otherwise, why bother?