Friday, April 30, 2010
Now we are back in Portland. Things are happening. I'm moving the few entries from no.36 here since they're important but creating a new space for the amazing things we're about to do.
My cycles tend to be between 33 and 37 days which is on the longer side of normal. I'm curious to see if I'm actually ovulating when my body feels like I am. I can usually feel a twinge or slight cramping (usually on my right side) about 10 days before the sharks actually attack which I recently learned is called Mittelschmerz.
So for now... charting. Finding a known donor is trickier than one would think it would be. Perhaps the 9 page PDF I created that basically says 'You will not be the father. You will not be the father. YOU.WILL.NOT.BE.THE.FATHER. Legal babble. Legal babble. You must disclose to us if you have any risky sexual behavior while donating to us. Don't infect us. YOU ARE NOT THE FATHER.' is a little scary. But so is the idea of someone trying to fight us for custodial rights or passing along a nice STI. And that's more important.
I am totally in love with it. I love Craftsman houses and this is one of the cutest ones I have ever seen. I would paint it a darker grey with white trim and a red door. And it would look like this inside:
And there would be little pumpkins learning how to bake and change oil, make crafts and play video games, french braid and pull pranks, organize and destroy, do ballet and roll around with puppies. And lots and lots of love.
Or, as Tracey put it, "Tigard on the left, Portland on the right." Yes, Tigard pretty much is an archaic, 2 pound mp3 player from the early 2000's that lost it's charge months ago because the power cord can't be found.
There is a puppy who lives in 36 that does not belong to me or Tracey. He has yet to learn that carpet, linoleum, couches, beds, people, and concrete are not places to relieve himself. I'm pretty sure that thinks those are actually the places he is supposed to poop because he does it so often. Either that or he hates me and Tracey which is also entirely possible.
Awhile back, while we were enjoying breakfast, Caleb started barking in the little ones direction. Despite being deaf, little one heard the bark, started spinning in circles and as I looked up to see what was going on, I saw something fly across the room and hit the wall. I thought it was a wet leaf until Tracey asked if it was poop. Being the inquisitive young lady I am, I went to examine it.
I had to go to the Post Office a few days ago to mail out Christmas packages to my grandparents and Tracey's parents. It's on Main Street, which isn't that far from #36, but I somehow managed to drive past it three or four times. I may have thought it was on the north side of the street when it's really on the south and didn't bother looking on the south side the first three or four times. Anyway, here is some historical background on this little street from Wikipedia:
The period between 1907 and 1910 marked a rapid acceleration in growth as Main Street blossomed with the construction of several new commercial buildings, Germania Hall (a two-story building featuring a restaurant, grocery store, dance hall, and rooms to rent), a shop/post office, and a livery stable. Limited telephone service began in 1908.
In 1910, the arrival of the Oregon Electric Railway triggered the development of Main Street and pushed Tigardville from being merely a small farming community into a period of growth which would lead to its incorporation as a city in 1961. The town was renamed Tigard by the railroad to greater distinguish it from the nearby Wilsonville, and the focus of the town reoriented northeast towards the new rail stop as growth accelerated.
1911 marked the introduction of electricity, as the Tualatin Valley Electric company joined Tigard to a service grid with Sherwood and Tualatin. William Ariss built a blacksmith shop on Main Street in 1912 that eventually evolved into a modern service station. In the 1930s the streets and walks of Main Street were finally paved, and another school established to accommodate growth.
It's really not that long of a street. There's a bike shop, a post office, a stationary and stamp store, a few places to eat, a liquor store, and a dry cleaner.
Bicycle Shop on Main Street.
What's on the street is not really important. What is really important is the beautiful people of Tigard that were waiting for me inside the Post Office.
- Soft Butch: The city of Tigard is full of soft butches. They always seem to spot us and give Tracey some sort of weird bro nod. I don't like them. This one was beautiful. Black eyeliner, fully lining her eyes, a subtle faux-hawk. I think she was going for some sort of rock and roll look, only it wasn't really working since she was wearing tapered jeans and a dated blazer. I tried to capture this spotting with my cell phone camera but was balancing three boxes and couldn't do it without being obvious.
- Old Lady Who Reads in Line: This lady was nuts. She had her packages on the ground and kept kicking them to move so that she could continue reading her Danielle Steele hardcover novel. Maybe they were too heavy for her to hold. I don't know. The man in front of her (see below) looked over his shoulder, away from the line of people, to cough and she immediately snapped her book shut, tapped him on the shoulder and told him that he needs to cover his mouth when he coughs. She then turned to me with a look in her eye that said she wanted me to agree and I just kind of shrugged my shoulders. I wasn't about to get involved in some sort of weird stand-off between her and the...
- Gay Man in a Hunter Green Corduroy Jacket: Nothing really special about him except he looked like a taller, chunkier version of the Soft Butch and gave old woman devil eyes when she scolded him for potentially infecting us all with H1N1.
- I'm Too Important for This: As all of this is going around me, I hear a woman screeching about how she doesn't have time to wait in the line of people. When I turn towards her voice, I was delighted. A Tigard Goddess in 4" stacked heel sandals, tight blue jeans, and an even tighter turtleneck sweater, bleached out hair and way too much make-up. You know, someone who probably was an extra in a Motley Crue video at some point in their life. Loved her. She not only had the nerve to cut in front of 15 or so people but was allowed to by the postal office workers. Obviously I need to dress up more around here in order to get things done more efficiently.