People

I've been in Portland nearly a week now. I am surrounded by inspiringly lovely and wonderful people all the time. I don't know any of them very well but I am getting to know them. It is surreal to be here where I know no one, and they have such established relationships. They all seem to like me though. I hope to get to know them all very well. There are also babies everywhere (a baby explosion happened within the last year, among many of the appropriately aged couples I know. Most of them are poly. I find this to be fabulous.)

Here are three of the wonderful men at this welcoming and strangely named house:

They are hugging. One of them is of another one's back. The one with the yellow pants is getting picked up in the process.

Right now I am sitting placidly on the couch while a couple different wonderful people discuss a coding project, some other people cook dinner, and somewhere the babies are probably sleeping. Earlier today, because I was jealous that a baby was riding someones shoulders, I got a ride on some wonderful person's should while I squealed and giggled with glee. And this morning, at 6:30 am, I made blueberry pancakes with a wonderful person and his baby-year-old son, and then accidentally went back to sleep. I didn't mean for this to be so much of a vacation; I meant to draw, and post more reliably, and get other important things done on the computer. But I didn't bring my own computer, so I can't follow my usual posting work flow, and have instead been very vaguely learning GIMP and the other ways of ubuntu.

Folk life

Last year I had an adventure. It involved traveling partway to Seattle in a blue hippy school bus.

I took pictures. I don't know where they are right now, so I wont tell you the story. Sorry. (this picture of the bus was taken by my Aunt Deb, one of the people who falls under my loving label "fake family." I've been told I should find a better name for this portion of my family of choice, but I feel the fewer syllables the better.

This year I've gone back up to Seattle, and it is a different adventure.

Bikes! And the fact that I can't help but befriend everyone?

Hello again, fellow few who read my blog!

First of all, I found housing. Not sure when I am moving in- it is complicated. I'll find out more tomorrow. Eventually I'll let you know about it.

Second, I am an Aunt again/ still. I love the idea of being an Aunt. Heather is now a mother of two: Sebastian, a 2 year old boy, and Liliana, a newborn! I wonder when I will meet her.

Now, on to my blog post. This past Saturday, after poking at every housing lead available, I took a little pink bike, newly adopted, to a bike shop I'd never been to before. The shop is in Mt. Vernon.

As I was getting oriented, getting off of Mt vernon (Bart ... um station? It isn't Bart. It is New York- Metro North.... but I want to say Bart!), I started talking to some firefighters and other men outside of a bar. A bunch of older white guys (actually I can't remember if it was only white guys but that was my impression), who were concerned with the safety of a sweet lady such as myself in that neighborhood.

I told them I would be fine, that I've been in worse neighborhoods. I think they are mistaken in thinking that that neighborhood was as bad as the worst parts of oakland. I felt safe, in spite of getting catcalled more than usual.

When I finally got there, there were a whole bunch of steps. Kind of silly for a bike shop.

The place was a bit disorganized.



It used to be a tattoo parlor. There were remnants of this, like windows that had the tattoo buisiness' name on it. I didn't take too many photos, because that would feel awkward. I'm sure I will visit again. bikes and tools everywhere, and a kitchen area, bike routes of new york in the bathroom, and a mural. And a very friendly cat.



The man who owns it is very friendly, and likes to talk my ear off. I spent hours there, because he let me work on fixing my own bike (which you can see above, bottom left), and I'm not a great bike mechanic. It is good to learn. He fed me chinese food and orange juice and charged me less than the cost of the supplies I used, I think. I told him I had been spending all week looking for a place to live, and he half serious offered me to stay in the bike shop, but we agreed that that wasn't a great idea. There are a lot of reasons, perhaps the least of which that it is a bike shop: It is in a pretty bad neighborhood, it would be crowded with Wilson living there also, and also wouldn't seem like a permanent idea.

The guy reminds me of Bob. The beard is the same, and he loves to talk. They talk somewhat similarly.

Oh also I found an Irish diner on the way home that I can't wait to try!

(the bicycle shop is http://bronxriverbicycleworks.wordpress.com/)

Greenwich Village

Lucas my contra dancing friend, at his beautiful theological graduate school, that happened to be two blocks from where I happened to be in Manhattan on Saturday. I know him from contra dancing in Berkeley. It was so nice to see a familiar face!



After going to a viola da gamba meetup, and seeing Lucas, I boldly got on the number 1 train downtown. I was headed to go see my friend from Massachusetts (in the band Goli) play a gig in the village. I didn't bother to check my directions which told me to take a different train (probably the A). I also didn't check what stop I was supposed to get off at. S

I wandered around for a while, and eventually found not only cafe Vivaldi, but the band, who I then took a walk with.

These two pictures were from before I found them.





As we were taking a walk together, we came across some Morris dancers. I think they looked pretty cool. (we also came across some delicious gelato.)



my luck ran out for the evening after I got out of the concert. It could have been a lot worse, still. I mean, I did get home all right, eventually.