Waddling to the Grocery: Spring in Northeast Portland

Spring in Portland is truly a beautiful time of the year and yesterday was a nice spring day. The sun was out, then some clouds blew in, then the sun, then some more clouds and an April shower, then it warmed up and I decided to waddle on over to the grocery to pick up supplies for dinner. The pink dogwoods on our street are at their prime.





And speaking of pink, check out this stretch Hummer that disgorged a gaggle of people at Peninsula Park just as I waddled by. Go here and scroll down half a page to get the details! A wedding party was arriving to have pictures taken. If they'd waited a couple weeks the roses would have been blooming, but I'm sure the photographers these days can throw a few thousand blooms into the background with Photoshop...




It seems to me that the economy around Portland may be picking up a bit. I waddled by a bunch of construction, remodels, landscaping, and various other projects that seem to indicate that money is flowing again. I know we're helping out. New roof starts this coming week.
I waddled past this building that had recently been painted. Now, I've been known to paint around things, but this painter sprayed right over the ivy on the side of the garage. I suspect it will leave a nice pattern after the ivy dies...




To make a decent 4 mile + waddle, I headed to the Arbor Lodge New Seasons instead of our local one. I suppose I could have stretched out the route ahead of the store visit which would have saved carrying food on half the waddle, but I didn't. Next time I will. Waddling to Arbor Lodge requires crossing I-5, and bridges creep me out these days, particularly if they don't have any structure above my head. Vertigo! I don't like to be at the top of cliffs or mountains, but it's only in the past few years that bridges have bothered me. Molly must share that as I remember when she was a little girl she was scared out of her wits on the top of Whiteface Mountain.


Over by New Seasons, I spied this sign. In my opinion, this sign should be posted all over Portland. We have a very active biking community in Portland. For the most part, bikers consider themselves saviors of the earth. They have a great deal of disdain for car-drivers, and little regard for walkers. Bikers become incensed if, for some reason, you don't see them while driving and cut them off. However, do they stop for pedestrians as they are supposed to? 99.9% DO NOT. Sanctimonious cyclers...blergh! They are perfectly happy to run over walkers or zoom around you. Or ride on the sidewalk and fly past without so much as an "On your left..." My prediction? Pedestrian Rage directed at bikers!



Stumptown, like many other cities, is now taking storm water runoff seriously, particularly since the EPA started doing their job, fining the bejesus out of recalcitrant municipalities. These days, when impervious surfaces like parking lots are constructed, so are bioswales. Parking lots slope to these small areas that are filled with native plants. Rather than directing the water (and the stuff from the parking lot that's in it, like oil, coolant, spit, and so on) to storm sewers, and then into rivers, the water percolates into the soil and is used by plants. Yay bioswales!


Children were out all over Rip City (that's another moniker for Stumptown) playing in the outdoors! Yes, playing outside. Unplugged. I saw swinging on swings, hopscotching, rope jumping, tag playing, and bike riding. I saw one young girl steer her bike into an alley and stop as her older brother, making an old-time siren noise pulled up behind her, got off his bike, walked up to her and said, "License, please." She dug into her pocket and produced an imaginary card as he wrote an equally imaginary ticket.


Lots of other things were in bloom. I waddled past tulips, daffodils, azaleas, early rhododendrons, dogwoods, cherry trees, and all manner of other flowers. Grass is stunningly green and will stay so until irrigation season starts and some of us accept the brown that comes with living in the land of seasonal drought. But speaking of season(ing), the rosemary is in bloom all over town.








So, I waddled on home. I did my good deeds for the day. I picked up a nail off the pavement in the middle of 21st Street, saving someone from a flat tire. I helped out neighbor jump-start his 1972 Lincoln. That required pushing that hunk of Detroit Iron, no small feat! Then I pushed my Cleveland Flab around 4.1 miles.

Morning in the Seattle Airport: Waddling Towards Fatness…er Fitness

I’m headed to Alaska. Thanks to arguably the worst travel arranging program ever created--GovTrip--I have 3 hours to kill before my flight to Fairbanks. Three hours. There’s a flight at least every hour from Portland to Seattle, so there really isn’t any reason to have more than a 1 hour layover, unless you happen to have to use GovTrip to book your travel. Guaranteed to find you the least convenient connection at a premium price. Brought to you by a defense contractor. Who buys anything from a defense contractor if you have a choice? Expedia? Sidestep? No way.


Three hours to kill. Years ago, a boss of mine, Ralph, taught me that you can get some pretty good exercise in an airport. Ralph had had a heart valve replacement—they stuck a pig valve in there (Ralph always called it porcine instead of pig, but we always thought he looked a little pink around the snout after the operation…) Anyway, he used to park his bag at the gate in Pittsburgh and hoof it around the airport at a good pace. It was before the days of BlackBerrys and cell phones, so he used the layovers to get his daily waddle in. It was also before the days of nutso security so you could just leave your bag at the gate.


I have always remembered that, and I try to do it myself when I have time. Like when GovTrip--have I mentioned GovTrip--gives me 3 hours in Seattle. So today I took off on what I call the Program Manager’s Pack Test. The “Pack Test” is given to wildland firefighters to make sure they are in reasonable shape at the beginning of the fire season. You have to walk 3 miles carrying a 45 pound pack in 45 minutes. The Program Manager’s Pack Test is to waddle to every gate in concourses A, B, C, and D at Seatac in 30 minutes or less, carrying my 15 pound briefcase, and do it without experiencing chest pains.


Airports are set up to encourage waddling towards fatness, not fitness. There’s someplace to eat at every turn. If you are more than 50 feet from someplace to eat, there’s a sign telling you which way to go to get something to eat, drink, or buy. Often there are concentrations of places to gain weight called “Food Courts”. These contribute to making every airport in the nation smell the same. Oh sure, every once in a while a place like the BBQ joint in the Memphis airport contributes a little something different, but not often. Pretty much they smell like fast-food-burger-pizza-Chinese-sushi-friedfish-coffee-icecream-pretzel-bagel-booze-beer. The all look the same too except for the city name on the t-shirts.







I waddled from C2L where my flight from Portland arrived, 2 hours before I needed to arrive, thanks to GovTrip--have I mentioned GovTrip?--down to the main thoroughfare and turned left, which I believe is north, and headed for the end of the D concourse, passing on an optional trip to N gates, but that takes a train ride. I watched a lot of people watching TV and eating. You can’t escape the cacophony of “TV News” in airports now. Of course, it’s not a real news program, like the Daily Show, but Fox News with their Fair and Balanced coverage of how ObamaCare is the height of Socialism-with-a-capital-S and how it will destroy not only the country, but the rest of the FREE WORLD, defined as countries that don’t have universal health care…wait, I think that rules out any other members of the FREE WORLD…and it will cause EVERY SINGLE DEMOCRAT to lose in the fall, most likely to some illiterate wearing a string mop on his or her head who belongs to the Tea Party and had absolutely no idea what’s in the new healthcare plan. "Keep your damned government hands off my Medicare!" I'm pretty sure the Alaska flag was at half-staff over this.




I waddle back to Fat City—the food court—and then head for the B and A gates. I do pass some nice artwork along the way, like this mosaic of a western red-cedar on a pillar. Seatac has the requisite art installations which almost no one looks at while they are headed for food. There are no signs to point travelers to the art.









I waddle past VirginAmerica, a version of the famous Virgin Atlantic. Interesting concept for an airline--focus on new customers and forget about repeat business. At least I’m assuming you can only be a Virgin flyer once…








I continue to waddle, past the Africa Lounge which features ceiling fans and some tiger-striped decorative accents. I check out the menu--yep, it screams “Africa” to me…Click on it to make it large enough to read.













Finally, I make it back to the C gates, passing ice cream, cocktails, more bagels and baked goods, three or four coffee joints, and some pizza. I look at my watch. Thirty-one minutes. Technically, I’ve failed the Program Manager’s Pack Test. Damn, it was stopping for all the pictures. I guess I’ll just have to try again. I’m pretty sure GovTrip--have I mentioned GovTrip?--has built that into my trip home.

Waddling 'Round Memphis

This week finds me in Memphis, Tennessee. After several hours in a couple different Greyhound-Bus-like flights, I needed to stretch my legs and Waddle Towards Fitness. Turns out I'm not the only one waddling around here. I'm staying at the Peabody Hotel, home of the marching ducks.




I headed out on my walk and discovered three things about Memphis. People like music, people like food, and people like booze.
I walked along the street checking out the sights. Everywhere I looked I was tempted.











Steaks, catfish, even a place that advertised that they were "Lent Central" specializing in fish!












I could hear Dr. Rachel Graves, MD, in my ear as I walked by Pig and Miss Polly's. Love, Peace, and Chicken Grease, the sign proclaimed! And, everything is open late! What's a fella to do?











I just patted my emergency Lipator supply and kept right on walking. Wolfpack West reports 2+ tempting miles. Oh, by the way, don't believe that story on poutine over at the other blog...

Waddling Through Peninsula Park--March 7, 2010

Sunday, March 7, 2010. "FAT MAN WALKING!" I yell to Nancy as I leave the house, only to see Mark and David's beautiful cherry trees across the street
I head out with the Arbor Lodge New Seasons Market in my sights. I could head to our usual New Seasons, but that's only 2 miles there and back and it just doesn't clear the bar for Wolfpackin'.






Down Ainsworth I go. Past our Alberta Park where the softball teams are out for the first practice of the year--or the first one I've seen and heard. DOINK! Nothing like the sound of an aluminum bat to get the juices flowing. NOT! Photinia is leafing out. I don't like it, but it's prolific!




Down past Peninsula Park, one of the most beautiful in the city in my book. The roses are starting to leaf out and the plaque to the left lists all the rose varieties in the garden. The garden maintenance is all done by volunteer rose nuts.





I arrive at Ainsworth and Interstate where the light rail runs. A lot of art was installed as part of Oregon's wonderful program that requires 1% of a public project cost be devoted to art. There's a small greenspace here with three metal tree totems. On the inside of the totems are poems about the totems written by neighborhood middle school students.






On I waddle, passing the Interstate Bowling lanes, scene of a recent roll-a-thon covered in that other blog. I'm not sure Jack and Dolly-girl, Slim and Tootsie, and Nunzio and Nita would have gone there if they'd seen it in the light!

Shopping done at New Seasons, I headed back across Rosa Parks Boulevard, across Interstate--"The Five" as Nancy calls it.








Rosa Parks was too hectic so I cut through the park again and saw these beautiful camellias. Headed for home, retracing my footsteps, groceries in my back pack, and Oscars on the TV tonight. As Donny would say, "Mark it 4.4 miles, Dude!"

Waddling in the Neighborhood: The afternoon of March 6, 2010

Not much to report on this one other than that I did it. Late in the day, I pried my lard ass out of a chair and headed out into a beautiful spring day. 70 degrees, parks full of people, gardens being worked, and Wolfpack West adds another 4.3 miles to the tally.

Waddling Around Portland: March 5, 2010

After a number of days on the road, including a working weekend in Fairbanks, I decided to take the day off Friday. It wasn't a hard decision. I had an appointment with Dr.Rachel Graves, MD at 9:40 AM so I wouldn't have headed into work until after then anyway. Add to the sawbones appointment a chance to meet up with Beluga Slim and Marc, another retired buddy from the FS for the Lucky Lab barleywine festival and it moved into no brainer territory. Well, I guess you would have to stretch your mind a bit to figure out how to make drinking beer for the afternoon fit with Waddling Towards Fitness.





Here's how. The day dawned bright and beautiful. A great spring day--hard to make it into late winter. See Ronna's blog for pictures of plants coming up through snow. It was in the 60s in Stumptown. So, I decided to waddle down to Dr. Rachel Graves, MD's office where I fully expected her to tell me to eat less, exercise more, drink less, and exercise more, and eat less...you get the picture. I wasn't disappointed, although Dr. Rachel Graves, MD has a very nice patient-side manner and you don't feel beat up after she tells you to eat less, exercise more, drink less, etc. I just look at her and say to myself, "Jeeze Louise, I need to lose one whole Dr. Rachel Graves, MD equivalent to be back where I was when I was 18.



That did it. I had every intention of taking the bus to meet Beluga Slim, but with the words of Dr. Rachel Graves, MD ringing in my ear, not to mention the fact that, in an attempt to impress her with my dedication to WTF, I promised that I would walk to the Lucky Lab up at 19th NW and Quimby, not exactly a short stroll.

So, I set off on shank's mare and along the way I saw the Broadway bridge, a real beauty and the longest rail-type bascule bridge in the world; Union Station, another; the back side of the main Post Office; Jack and Dolly-Girl's favorite cab company, Radio Cab; and some of Portland Fire Bureau's finest, including one who waved to me. I think it was Engine 3
























At my destination, I was rewarded with a great table, a cold IPA, and a front-row seat for the 25 barleywines that Beluga Slim and Marc would soon be quaffing. I stuck with IPA and only a couple at that with Dr. Rachel Graves, MD tsking in my head.












We left there, still a foot, and headed for Bailey's for a finale. Then on to the bus and home. Throw in about a mile and a half from the bus to get Nancy some wine to home, and Wolfpack West can report a staggering 8.9 miles! And Wolfpack West was staggering...