The Quest for the Perfect Hill

This image is the road to Rocky Butte, an extinct cinder cone volcano that is a mile from my house. The road winds up the hill for over a mile. The bike ride down is incredible, but the climb up is a painstakingly arduous task. Since starting my bike-loving life in Portland, I have embarked on a quest to find the perfect hill. I have a few qualifications that this hill must meet:

1. There must not be too much traffic. There is this one hill that I get to ride every morning into downtown Portland. In order to get to the bottom, I must traverse 7 stop lights. When the stop lights are all synced up, it's green green green. Many times I hit the hill on a red light, and then have to fly down a block, only to hit another red light, and so on. At these times, I am usually traveling much faster than the cars that are in the lanes with me, which can be problematic. Also, a girl was hit by a semi turning right at one of these intersections. Not the ideal hill!

2. The road must be paved and smooth. There is another hill that I get to take to work everyday. The road is an old neighborhood road that is cracking and is filled with rocks. My bike bumps and bops the entire way down. I am always afraid that I am going to pop a tire or have my lights and pannier fly off my bike.

3. No stop signs to interrupt the glee. There are quite a few perfect hills that are ruined with a stop sign in the middle of them. Stop signs on hills cause me to have to wear out my brake pads way too much than I would like. Also, I am always tempted not to stop and continue on my merry way, except that I have encountered quite a few close calls.

4. The effort must not outweigh the payoff. The road to Rocky Butte (pictured above) is an intense uphill climb. Some hills in Portland are so taxing that I start to hear my heartbeat in my ears (anyone else know that feeling?) That is not how I want to start my descent! I enjoy putting in mild to medium effort to get up a hill, but if I haven't chosen "hill climbing" as my exercise for the day, then I don't want to feel like I am going to pass out before I get to fly down the hill.

5. While riding down the hill, I must have the impulse to say "WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" This one is self-explanatory.

I have experienced many hills that come very close to being the perfect hill. I even have one that currently has the top spot. It is a neighborhood road near Laurelhurst Park. The road is Ankeny. There is a moderate climb for about 7 blocks before the hill. The hill slopes down and curves gently as is descends. It is not as high as I would like it to be, but it certainly makes me say "wheeeeee!"

Debating on Whether or Not to Debate Columbus Day

I have never been good at debate. While the best Facebook debaters probably spent their educations in classrooms debating Philosophy, English prose, and rhetoric, I was in a classroom having a giant love-fest. Yes, my years of college were spent in Social Work classes, talking about attentive listening, reflecting of feelings, and empathy. While I might not be able to carry on a debate with the best of the best, I can certainly process with someone who has had their feelings hurt in a debate by said Facebook debater. It puts me in a tricky position when there are issues and ideas that I want to express and debate, yet struggle to make my voice heard. For these reasons, I typically avoid a Facebook debate. Until Columbus Day 2010.

I saw a short clip that was beautiful and utterly moving.


Nice, right? How can anyone disagree with that? They aren't asking to have Columbus supporters burned at the stake, just to "reconsider" your ideas about Columbus and what he stood for. It seems so blatantly obviously and I don't understand how anyone could find problems with that. Well, some people did, and it ended up in some nasty Facebook debates. At one point, a guy (who shall remain nameless, mostly because I don't even know who the hell he is) suggested that the people who are sharing that video should pack up their cars with all of their possessions and electronics (tv, cellphone, ipods, etc) and drive off a cliff. I guess he was trying to say that without Columbus, we would not have any of the wonderful shiny things that we have today? His point is lost on me and I certainly don't agree with his logic. I have a hard time crediting Columbus for all of the "luxuries" that we have today. Having said that, I am not opposed to one day allowing all of those luxuries to fall off a cliff (without me in the car, of course). These luxuries of the 21st century are here for us to enjoy at the direct and indirect expense of others. We live in a world that is full of inequalities. In order for us to have these shiny things, we have to have people who make these things. The conditions and environments under which these products are made are not healthy or happy.

There are American and Japanese-owned factories along the border in Tijuana that produce televisions, electronics, and other exciting things for the fat markets in the Western civilization. Most of the workers in these factories, or maquiladoras, are women. They live in horrible conditions, make shit for money, and raise their children alone (their husbands are usually trying to scrape by in the US). The sanitation and infrastructure is awful - dirty, undrinkable water, live power lines in the streets, and shacks built from reclaimed garage doors of rich Americans who don't need them anymore. These factories also don't offer any type of unions for their workers, instead creating a union for the OWNERS OF THE COMPANIES to keep the women from creating a union and being granted rights. (The documentary on these issues can be found here).

While I don't believe that this is a direct result of Columbus, he certainly paved the way for colonization, industrialization and annihilation in the coming centuries. It is a known fact that he murdered and stole from countless indigenous people. I understand that there are lots of groups or explorers that have done this in history, but he is the only one we have a national holiday named after.

All I am asking is that people "reconsider" Columbus Day. If that means having awkward debates that I am ill-equipped for, I will do it.

Another Year, Another Cheeseburger

Ramone turned two today! For his birthday, we got him a cheeseburger from Burgerville, our local sustainable, compost-friendly, wind-powered "fast food" restaurant. He LOVED it. He didn't devour it right a way, instead caressing it and licking it before taking it outside in the yard. We typically never give him people food, so this was a major treat.

It amazes me how much Ramone has grown in the year we have had him. A few days ago I took him to the vet to get his yearly rabies vaccination. The last time he had been to the vet had been nearly a year, and on that occasion, he was miserable. He was so uncomfortable, growled at other dogs, and whined and whimpered for the entire 90 minutes we were there. This time, he was like a dream! Friendly to other people, sitting when asked, cautious but kind to the vet, and not a whimper or peep out of him. Training him took hard work and diligence, but I am so happy that we stuck with it to help him become the healthy, happy, and energetic dog that he is today.

Happy Birthday Ramone!

A True Test

This gorgeous Labor Day weekend, I spent roughly 16 hours putting together a metal shed that arrived in a flat box. No amount of holes that didn't line up or missing pieces or drills that wouldn't stay charged could stop us. We did it! What amazed me the most about this project was not the fact that we now have an actual 8x6 shed adorning our backyard, but that I completed this project without bickering or fighting with my handyman partner. To me, it was a true test of our relationship. Not only did we complete it sans yelling, but we actually had fun doing it.

There were many opportunities for yelling, shit-talking, and sarcasm, but neither of us engaged in the behavior. We worked it out, took our time, took breaks, took deep breaths, and even talked about how we could be yelling at each other, but it would only make it worse, since I am trying desperately to get this damn nut on this bolt and by you yelling, I would only get more anxious, drop the nut, and have to start all over. As we approach our marriage to each other, weekends like this help to cement the fact that I truly am marrying someone who I want to grow old with. Someone who I want to be my friend forever.

We have many other projects planned for our new house. We want to paint the exterior. We would love to finish the basement. It would be wonderful to have a grander back deck. It will be interesting to see how we tackle them in the future. This house will be a labor of love, with our hearts poured into our projects, which will not only strengthen our surroundings, but also strengthen our relationship and our love for each other.

My heart warms when I think of Joe. There has never been anyone else that I have consistently wanted to be around. Things are just so easy with him. To think back on all I have been through before meeting him, and all that he has been through as well, it's incredible to see how far we have come. Although most of the time it feels as if we are already married, I still can't wait to make it official.

I am quite a lucky girl to be surrounded by so much good, love, and beauty. Joe starts back at school tomorrow as a 7th and 8th grade teacher, and I know he will be great. Our schedules will change and it will be back to our busy days and busy nights. We will certainly find time for our home projects and for each other. We start swing dancing classes in a few days, and although I am extremely worried and nervous about it, it's nice to know that I have such a solid partner, dancing next to my side.

Planning a Wedding? How Niiiice....

In the South, a woman uses the phrase "how nice" to describe something she doesn't particularly like. For fear of appearing unladylike and rude, she will use "how nice" instead of giving criticism or disgust directly. That's the first thing that pops into my head when I think of planning a wedding, except it is said with an extremely exaggerated Southern drawl.



I guess I am being slightly dramatic. It hasn't been that bad, and parts of it have actually been fun.
We have had a couple location changes, multiple date changes, and pointless dress drama. I received two sample wedding invitations in the mail today and I have to say they were the wimpiest excuse for an invitation that I have ever seen! If that is what an inexpensive, earth-friendly, recycled invitation looks like, then I don't want one.

There are still lots of gaping holes in our planning process. We need to work on our Save the Date video. We need to gather addresses and email addresses of friends and relatives. We need to start thinking of the most important part, which, coincidentally, is also the part I've spent the least amount of time on - The Ceremony. Funny how I've put about 30 minutes of thought into planning the ceremony but I've done about 12 hours of research on the honeymoon.

Overall, it's going to have to be a process of give and take. There are things I'm not flexible on (outdoor wedding, civil ceremony) and there are things that I will probably end up being flexible on (allowing a DJ to run the show although I am absolutely dreading it, food choice). To me, the most important items are the music and the food, so I think I will certainly welcome input and suggestions from others. I want people to eat well and dance well.

There have been two nights that I have woken up, heart pounding, due to nightmares about my wedding. Both times, my aunt is informed an hour before that she will be catering the wedding. My aunt is not a caterer. It is tortuous to watch. Also, we don't have a ceremony in my nightmare wedding. All of the people sit down in rows to watch Joe and I and all we can do is stare at each other, dumbfounded. We are at our wedding and we completely forgot to plan a ceremony. I believe these dreams are just showcasing things in my mind that I have not planned yet, and helping me to be aware that I will need to put effort and attention into these details. I was so relived when I realized the nightmares weren't real.

The most important part of this wedding is celebrating the love that Joe and I have for each other. All of this other stuff doesn't matter, because it wouldn't be happening if Joe and I weren't crazy about each other. As long as that comes across to our guests and family, then we have done our part. It will all work out, DJ or no DJ.

The Day He Left Me

After a 90 minute shopping trip, I arrived to an empty house. Before I left, I kissed Ramone and told him I would be back soon. He obviously couldn't wait.

Our new house has a doggie-door that leads into the back yard. I figured it was the perfect solution to the long days I sometimes work. Without Joe here, Ramone would be cooped up for 12 hours without a potty break. With the doggie-door, he could come and go as he pleased. The door was working fine for the first week that he used it, but something happened last Friday that changed everything. While I was gone for a mere 90 minutes, Ramone dug a hole under our fence and was gone.

There is nothing like that feeling of terror when you realize that something is not right. At first, I thought he was hiding from me. Then I saw the paw prints in the dirt and the hole under the fence. He ran away! He had never run away in his life! I instantly thought that he was mad at me and I had done something wrong. Why else would he dig a hole to escape his life? I called Joe, broke down into tears, and then grabbed my bike to frantically cruise around the neighborhood, yelling his name between sobs. After riding for 10 minutes, I got a call from a number I did not recognize.

"Excuse me, can I speak with Joseph Carr?"

"This is his fiancee, Ashley."

"This is Officer Vitelli from Portland Animal Control. Do you have a dog named Tanner?"

Tanner! His original Humane Society name. When Joe and I changed it, we thought we would never have to hear it again, but here it was, coming back to haunt me. He is in the microchip database as "Tanner".

"Yes, Tanner is mine."

"Well, Ashley, I found him dodging traffic on 92nd and Taylor. He looked really confused and scared. I lassoed him and I've got him in the back of the truck. I can bring him by your house. Where abouts do you live? Ivy St?"

I told him that we have moved from Ivy St to Hassalo St and that I hadn't changed his id tag yet. When I told the officer where we lived, he couldn't believe it. Ramone had run 2 miles south on a busy Friday afternoon. He crossed 4 major intersections. I shudder to think about it.

When he was dropped off, he was scared and submissive. I gave him a bath and told him how much I loved him. The officer was extremely nice and made the whole situation a lot easier for me.

The disappearance got me thinking of other things, "what ifs", if you will. What if he was hit by a car and was maimed? What if he died? What if a nice family picked him up and took him in? What if a prostitute hanging out on 82nd took him in? What if he ran away because he really was mad at me? What if he was only chasing a squirrel? These questions, I guess, will never be answered.

Joe returned last night from his 3-week vacation. As I get ready for work, the two boys are in bed, cuddling and slumbering. I realize that I love them more than anything. I am so glad that I have both back, safe, sound, warm, and snuggly.

Ramone, My Hero

It was only a matter of time before a Ramone-inspired post showed its face. Ramone is my Beagley-Terrier dog that has filled my heart with love and satisfaction. He'll be two in September (September 11th to be exact) and he has been in our lives for a little under a year. As he grows, his space in my heart grows and I continue to be amazed at how lucky I am.

Things weren't always so rosy. After two weeks, I was ready to drop his whiny, anxious, nervous, fear-filled hind back to the Humane Society where we got him. I remember Joe telling me that I wasn't being fair. In my mind, the dog wasn't being fair! Didn't he realize that a broom was only a cleaning implement and wasn't used for doggie torture? Did he not understand that us humans had to leave the house every once in a while to live our lives and he couldn't always whine at the door for hours? Did he have to follow me every time I went to the bathroom? Pssshaw!

We enrolled him in doggie obedience classes at a place called Happy-Go-Lucky. Although uncomfortable and tense at times, this was the best decision we ever made for him. We all learned so much! I would certainly recommend classes to anyone who is struggling with their dog.

Ramone amazes me more and more every day. Last weekend, we went to the Sandy River Delta and he learned how to swim (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2Qx88On8gI 3:00-5:20 is the best part!). This weekend, I am taking him on his first ever camping trip. There are some things that worry me, but I know that he is a good boy, listens well, does not bark, and will behave himself to the best of his abilities. Or so I hope.

What I love most about Ramone is his personality and how at any given moment, he reminds me of a wide variety of animals. While learning to swim, he was a seal. While riding in the car and smelling all the smells through the window, he is a bunny wiggling its nose. While being extra playful with his dad, he is a mongoose that is hunting snakes. When being curious and at many other times, he is a cat who likes to tilt his head and stretch his body.

To us, Ramone is like our child. We shower him with love, care, exercise, food, and toys. I truly think of him as my child, which can be a problem when conversing with people who actually have children. They might say "Oh Madison is at that age where she will get into anything, so we have to have the baby gate up at all times" and I respond "Oh that's how Ramone used to be but he grew out of it and now I don't even need the baby gate".

Although I do want another dog, I don't want to upset the wonderful balance that life with Ramone has created. I would never want him to feel unimportant or left out due to another dog. For the time being, I think things can stay how they are and Ramone can keep his spot in both our hearts and on the bed, directly between us.

The Ups and Downs of a Bike Commuter

The title to this entry is silly, because I still don't consider myself a "real" bike commuter. I certainly don't consider myself a phony, but the whole idea and image of ME as a cyclist kinda freaks me out. I moved to Portland, one of the most bike-friendliest cities in the world, a year ago and have embraced bikes and cycling-related things in general. It was out of necessity, since I share a car with Joe (fiance) and he works much further from our house than I do. It had been nearly a decade since I was in the habit of tooling around on two wheels, but I dedicated myself to learning the rules of the road. Although clumsy and awkward at times, I have grown to be quite fast and find myself racing other bikers and sometimes even cars. They don't know that I'm racing them, but I pretend that they do. I have had one serious spill (asshole construction workers tend to put their damn construction signs in the bike lanes), countless flat tires, and one stolen bike light. Overall, it's been a pretty smooth transition into a new world that's experienced from the hard, unsquishy seat of a bicycle.

It amazes me what one notices while on a bike. The smells, good and bad, are much stronger. Tell me the last time you felt overwhelmed with the aroma of roses while in the driver's seat of a car? Being that I work in Old Town, which is home to both infinite homeless people and VooDoo Donuts, my olfactory glands hone in on the delicate mixture of hot dough and urine while pulling up to work. Now why would you ever want to miss that?!

Bike commuters also get to experience the outdoors in full force. Rather than the cool AC blowing in my hair, I have REAL wind tossing my tassels. Also, being that I live in Portland, I get to enjoy the 9 months of rain from the perch of my seat. After living through 8 months of rain, I finally purchased rain paints. I have worn them 2 times. They will be put to good use next season.

We recently moved to a new house, which increased my one way ride from 2 miles to 6 miles. It has been a challenge, especially since I refuse to wear "cycling gear" and choose to ride the 6 miles in my work clothes. Although I look like a major fool, with my slacks tucked into my socks, and sometimes in heels, it cuts down on prep time in the morning. For now, I will continue this way, but might make some changes in the future. Already too-tight pants become unbearable while hunched over handlebars.

So am I a true bike commuter? I suppose. The elements don't stop me from saddling up. I take my bike 80% of the time. I have a relationship with a bike mechanic. There is still something unsettling about thinking of myself as a cyclist. Maybe it's how I look in a helmet.

Welcome to Web Log World

Due to the urging and slight prodding of loved ones, I decided to start a blog. Blog. B-L-O-G. My hesitation must be in response to the word "blog". It's not a word that I frequently put to use, and frankly, I don't like how it rolls off the tongue. Is it possible that my annoyance and reluctance to engage in an aspect of social media is based on the way a word sounds? If that is true, then how much else have I missed out on due to disliking and purposely avoiding words? I can think of another example. I work as an Employment Specialist for a non-profit that helps all types of people with barriers find work. We can provide lots of assistance and support and pretty much anything that will make them more employable. Enter: Padfolio. Padfolios are those professional looking folders that are usually black, have some sort of closure, and space for a note pad, papers (usually your resume) and a pen. I have to admit, these do look great in your hand when walking into a job interview. I also have to admit, I HATE the name. Where did it even come from? What about "notebook" or just "pad"? Why does there have to be an extra "folio" that comes in from nowhere and leaves a bad taste in my mouth? Guess how many of my clients have received said padfolios. Zero.

During my search for an appropriate and simple blogging site, I discovered that "blog" is a mashed up version of "web log". There are so many untapped mysteries to the blogging world. In my opinion, web log is a fine alternative for blog, except that now every time I look at the words web log, my brain can't help but slide that b over ever so close to log and all I see is BLOG.

This experience will be a growing process for me. I hope to learn more about the internets and feel proud that I am trying something new. Also, my fiance (another word I am not fond of) is out of town for 3 weeks, and this could be a way to keep him abreast of my ever-changing brain patterns.

So the next question is, what to write?