Even your reality shows are so different from ours in America. They are just so civilized. I mean, just look at the “Great British Bake Off.” The competition is with THEMSELVES. “Oh this tart. It’s just not my day” and the like.
But then there is “Four in a Bed.” I saw a side of you people that shocked me to my core.
(Interruption for people who aren’t familiar with the show: Four innkeepers take turns staying at each other’s places then rate them on facilities, breakfast, host attitude, etc. They also pay what they think the stay was worth. There’s a winner at the end.)
In Season 14, Episode 1, Mandi didn’t like that Natalie, who wears the pants in her relationship with Mark (contestants noted this repeatedly), deducted some points for cleanliness because there was a dust layer on the nightstand.
Well. That meant WAR.
When it came time for the stay at Mark and Natalie’s, this lady stood on the nightstand to find cobwebs on top of the four-poster bed. She was on her hands and knees in the bathroom to look close enough to find wee stains in the toilet grout. She deducted points for two hairs on the carpet. A six for cleanliness was a low blow, considering she only gave a two to “Sleeperdorm” that actually had a wee-stained mattress and suspicious drips down the wall.
I’ve never seen a more vicious show in your country.
And I watch plenty of British TV.
Anyway, thanks for making me feel better about our miserable Housewives and whatnot.
I experienced my first snow in Oregon. It snowed all day yesterday. As the temperature is not going to get above freezing for a few days, I’ll get to enjoy it for a bit.
I’m a Southern girl. This is a big deal.
I decided to walk into town to explore — something I haven’t yet done, despite having lived here for nearly six months.
The key to being comfortable in any weather is the right gear.
I have a new Columbia Sportswear waterproof jacket with the baked-potato lining and Sorel boots (bougie, I know).
My sweatshirt has a pouch for a beer. As I’m doing Dry January, this pouch served as the perfect carrier for Stumptown cold brew instead.
I was almost too warm on my journey.
Here are some scenes from my walk:
No snow plows/gritters in this place.When I first moved here, the trains that use these tracks seemed SO LOUD to me. Now they are just part of the fabric of my life.It’s like “It’s a Wonderful Life” out here.I love signs and murals on the sides of buildings. Don’t worry: This pooch wasn’t out there for long. About half of the places were closed because of the weather or permanently because of sheer small-town economics. This is exactly what I would expect from a gift shop in Oregon: crystals and coffee accessories. … and Sasquatch-related things. Sometimes it’s nice to really notice what is around you.Home Sweet HomeCat Weird Cat
Looking forward to experiencing all the seasons here.
Many of you expressed concern about my social well-being when I saw you over the holidays.
Fair.
I do need to get out more. Try to meet more non-work people.
So this week, I did two things in two different places with two different sets of people:
Line dancing in Salem and a drag show in Portland.
How is that for running the gamut?
Those of you who have known me a while know that I haunted Stetsons in Savannah for line-dancing nights back in the day.
Salem, Oregon, is apparently a hotspot for line dancing. (Who knew?)
The colleague who told me about this event did provide some additional information.
It was great! I had fun and got some exercise. People were very welcoming.
That was Thursday night. I went to Darcelle XV in Portland on Friday night.
It was not like any other drag show I’ve seen. I’m used to acrobatic, can-pass-as performers working the crowd. This show was more like a cabaret stocked with Joan Crawford/Bette Davis clones in evening gowns. To tip, you threw your money in a bowl at center stage.
It was a good evening with friends, but I probably wouldn’t go back to the regular show. There’s an “open mic”-style drag show on Tuesdays that looks more interesting.
Still, I could have had a terrible time at either or both of these places and been happy to be out.
Oregon is an interesting place. The people are fascinating.
I’m used to eccentric people. I lived in Savannah for many years, after all.
But Oregon takes it to a new level. It seems like everyone I’ve met is some version of “different” — meaning not mainstream or like anyone I’ve ever met. (I know there is no “normal.”)
Like the lady who waxed my eyebrows while telling me about her life as an escort.
Or the collection of people I met on a recent Tuesday night.
I’m trying to build a friend network. My next-door neighbor invited me to a get-together billed as a game night.
It was not a game night — certainly not in the way I described my cards-and-wine night with neighbors in St. Louis.
Only one person — “James” — knew most of the people in the group. Most of the seven people were meeting for the first time at one woman’s house.
It was a disparate group.
The guests:
Amy: Neighbor. Identifies as gay and uses she/her pronouns.
“James,” formerly Jamie: Amy was certain the pronouns used are they/them, but James’ partner used she/her.
Charlie: James’ partner. No pronouns used. In transition, but it’s unclear which direction.
Francis: A midwife and psychic/medium who uses they/them. Also wears a turban to casual events. As one does.
Brielle: She/her. Was in a polyamorous relationship. Fell in love with a different partner. Now divorcing her husband to be monogamous with new man who lives in Chile.
K—-: I wish I could remember her actual name. It was so unusual with an unusual spelling that I couldn’t get a handle on it. I wish I could have written it down. (I’m old. I need to write things down.) Her house was the gathering point. Straight woman (she/her) with husband and kids.
Obviously, I like my neighbor. And Brielle and K—- seemed lovely. I couldn’t get a read on James.
Meanwhile, there was Charlie and Francis. I could happily live my whole life without seeing them again.
Charlie would ask someone a question, then start talking to James or Amy and not listen to the answer. Others were listening though. Then Charlie would jump back into the conversation and not know what was happening. Then ask more questions to which Charlie wouldn’t listen.
And here’s one of my exchanges with Francis:
Me: So when did you realize you were psychic?
Francis: A lot of people have asked me that question.
Extended pause.
Me: And?
Francis: My father was always very supportive.
Me: That’s great! So when did you know you had an ability others didn’t?
Francis: Well, I just had so much death in my life. I felt I could feel their energy.
Uh huh. So I call bullshit on Francis. I’m sorry, but if you had this gift, wouldn’t you be able to pinpoint the moment you knew you were differently abled? Am I wrong here?
Anyway, it was a weird night. Another adjective to use is exhausting.
Amy asked me if I had a good time. I can be diplomatic sometimes. I talked about how fun I thought Brielle and K—- were.
Amy: And the others?
Me: James seemed very quiet.
Amy: James is always quiet when Charlie is around.
Yeah, I bet.
Later, Amy told me Charlie asked if Charlie could be Amy’s roommate. That would make Charlie my neighbor too. It took every ounce of restraint not to scream “NOOOO!”
Luckily, Amy reported this week that the two of them met, and Amy’s place is not really the best option for Charlie at this time.
[Audible sigh of relief]
I’m sure Charlie and Francis are beloved by others. They don’t need me.
I’m working on other friendships.
Winery Wendy and I went to my town’s new beer fest last weekend. It replaced the annual Turkeyrama. (You know I would have loved to go to that.)
The beer fest was … underattended. I don’t think they advertised at all. Wendy and I were two of maybe 15 people hanging out in a hot-assed insurance company parking lot.
Unlike most beer fests where breweries set up their own stations, this one had two trucks with a bunch of options. Strange, but the outcome was the same: I got to try a bunch of local beer.
The music was good too. Maybe next year the organizers will actually promote the event.
Anyway, as you can tell, I’m fine: I’m meeting all sorts of people. And liking most of them.
MCMINNVILLE, Ore. — An Oregon woman who calls herself “Auntie Beth” emerged from her work/home loop Saturday to visit a Willamette winery, according to a source close to the woman.
“She’s lived here for more than a month already,” said the source. “We were about to do a welfare check.”
Lured by an advertisement touting “live music,” Auntie Beth arranged to meet up with a new Facebook friend. This friend, Wendy, and Auntie Beth were surprised and dismayed to discover that the music genre was jazz.
Still, they stayed until the event was over, then continued the evening at Lumpy’s Tavern a short distance away.
This dive bar featured many local craft brews on tap, a variety of interesting people, three pool tables and karaoke.
Auntie Beth arrived home safe at 1:30 a.m. — four hours past her normal bedtime. She and Wendy are expected to repeat the evening in two weeks.
Observe and report 