Let's get up to speed.

The last I wrote, my live-in boyfriend was looking for a job and I was still at that cafe.  As we stand now my amazing boyfriend found a job (thanks to my more amazing Nana). He's working as a clerk to a judge and he's learning a lot.  

     We are still living in the beautiful city of Portland and spring has sprung. My poor sinuses are surely suffering, but it's worth it!  I can't get enough of the sunshine, mountain views, the farmers market, the lovely flowers, and did I mention the sun! Portlanders, or should I say Pacific Northwesterners, are funny creatures.  We absolutely love the sun and anything above 60 degrees counts as a summer's day. My neighbors are bikini-clad and trying to work on a base tan.  I don't blame them.  I've been slathering on the SPF 50 for weeks!  

The Hoff's zinc nose

     Speaking of sunscreen, I just wanted to post a little PSA.  I recently found out that sunblocks with titanium or zinc work much better at preventing burns than those without.  It's for the simple explanation that they are physical blockers rather than chemical ones.  Chemical ones are fine (if you don't mind potentially poisoning yourself, I've personally been doing it for years and will continue when necessary), but they tend to wear, sweat, and wash off much more readily.  Physical blockers have minerals that create a barrier from the sun, this is why mineral makeup works so well as a sunscreen.  The downside is that they don't rub into your skin as readily.  If you shop around you'll find one you'll like.  I've been using Solar Sense Clear Zinc, which I really like.  Please note I'm not getting paid to plug them.

     Hm, what other changes are going on in my life?  My mother and I have convinced ourselves that we need to go into business together.  The only problem is that we have no product or idea to sell yet (any reasonable suggestions will be considered).

     I have started to wear mascara on a regular basis.  I feel like it really draws attention to my eyes that my fair blonde lashes were not doing.  I've really been enjoying spending time with my siblings.  I've convinced my little sister that coming downtown doesn't have to be scary.  In fact, she's well-versed on public transit in the city's center.  My big brother moved into an amazing apartment (that we were instantly jealous of, but they don't allow dogs) in an equally amazing part of town.  

Hotlips pizza and a pint of Prohibition Ale

All in all, I'm very excited for the lovely weather to enjoy as many happy hours on as many patios as possible.  

I've got drafts for drafts for drafts...

So making a public cry to commit myself (not to some asylum but to a creative endeavor) has apparently failed. As I look at my list of posts they are littered with little orange words, "draft." Over and over again.  I have sufficiently stock-piled posts on six months' worth of holidays and other time-sensitive topics.  I can't very well edit and post my Thanksgiving one now, that would make no sense.  So in my draft pile it stays... until November!

So here goes again.  My second reboot, memoirs of a ginger 3.0.

Why I love Portland

Keep Portland weird, indeed. 

Here's the gist.  My boyfriend finished law school (hooray), we moved back to Portland (hooray), I'm still working for that coffee joint, and he's looking for work.  That just about sums it up.  It feels really great to be back in the Pacific Northwest.  Sure Portlandia is funny, but it gets a bit old being called a hipster and putting birds on everything.  There are a lot of bitchin' reasons to explain my being happier in Portland, some are little, some are big, I selected a few to highlight.

Almost all of my family lives in town or at least in the same time-zone (excepting for my Kauai-dwelling mother).  It is so great to be able to call up a sibling and shout, "Hey, sucker!  Let's go see a movie!'  Or to be able to watch sporting events with Nana.  Some could make an argument that her favorite grandchild is my boyfriend... he is the only person we know that enjoys sports as much as she. 

I also love the weather.  Portland is infamous for gray and rainy days.  Do I need to explain myself?  Maybe.  Unlike the midwest (known for tornadoes and harsh summers and winters), Portland doesn't get too hot or too cold.  It's comfortable and predictable.  Plus I get to enjoy my favorite season, autumn.  I can wear scarves and jeans and sweaters for months.  

Portland is also known as Beervana.  There are so many breweries with so much variety I don't have to spend more than a moment's thought on finding something new or different.  In addition to the fantastic array of brewpubs the happy hours are phenomenal.  You can go almost anywhere in town and get a frosty pint of a microbrew for only three or four bucks!  Now don't go calling me a lush, I just appreciate a good deal and an early bedtime.  More on happy hours another time.  

Portlandia is right about one thing: local.  Local beers, cheeses, distilleries, bakeries, doughnut joints.  You name it, there is someone making an artisan or craft version of that.  It can get pretentious but it's also pretty cool.  When my gluten-intolerant cousin visits, she has her choice of gluten free bakeries.  My vegetarian boyfriend pretty much has his pick of the city for delicious meat-free cuisine.  It's an eclectic town, but it's my eclectic town.

I've Got to Commit Myself

I have recently been struggling to find a creative outlet.  I keep misplacing my drawing utensils, I don't have the necessary ingredients to bake something, I temporarily forget that I'm awful with a needle and thread, or I decide to catch up on Downton Abby or something.  The gist of the story is that the most creative I've gotten lately is making up excuses to not create a gosh-darned-thing.  

That's not entirely true but I haven't got much evidence to the contrary.  I've doodled in my drawing pad, I baked one pumpkin pie (with a store-bought crust), and I have managed to temporarily patch a hole in a pair of jeans (which really doesn't look like it will hold).  I've got to commit myself to something.

Voila!  That's where the dusty old blog comes in.  I'm going to try to write more often.  I even have a really great pen... which doesn't do much to help my in this digital format but still, it's really great.  I will use it for outlining, taking notes, or maybe making observations in the field. 

I would also love to welcome any topic requests.  A lot has happened since I last posted which hopefully gives me enough fodder for a few weeks.  I decided to post this to have YOU (the internet) hold me responsible.  I figured I would be more committed if something or someone was holding me accountable.  

Cheers!

     Right now I would like nothing more than to walk down to the nearby trendy street and have a latte.  And when I say latte, I mean beer.  The reasons for wanting to do this are plentiful: the weather is finally gorgeous a comfortable 75 degrees, I can still make happy hour, it is only about a half mile walk which is extremely reasonable (plus I'll burn some of those beer calories), people watching is always fun, beer just tastes better by the pint, among other reasons.  However, I don't feel up to doing this adventure solo.  It is a problem that I encounter frequently.  It's not just the independence thing, which I'm pretty good with.  It's not the drinking alone thing (it is a reasonable hour and I'm not going to any extremes here, people).  It is that I don't like strangers to talk to me.  I know, I've mentioned it before and it is weird.  I'm not trying to toot my own horn, but I tend to get attention from the opposite sex. 
     I think it is mostly the redhead thing.  I mean I have got a LOT of curly red hair.  I sort of stick out in a crowd.  At Trader Joe's one employee asked me twice if I was finding everything alright, I was fine.  Then he said that I have an older-era look, um, okay.  THEN he asked if I needed help to my car.  NO!  I am absolutely not sending any signals (do my capital letters convey this?).  If this happens when I go grocery shopping what would happen in a social setting such as a bar or restaurant? 
     One of the reasons my independent adventures come up so often is because my boyfriend is attending law school.  Law school is a time-suck.  One homework assignment can last hours.  Getting ahead on homework and reading assignments lasts only one day at most.  To make matters worse, he is an incredibly hard worker and continues to challenge himself.  I am super proud of him and extremely pleased that he will be graduating in just a few months!  It will all be over soon.  In the meantime we will continue to make the occasional happy hour out on the town, while settling for the occasional happy hour at home. 
     So I settle in for a nice beer at home.  I guess it it is better this way.  I save money, for one thing.  But mostly, I can still spend time with my boyfriend.  And when I say spend time with, I mean he's busy studying while I watch hours of TV, blog, nap, and occasionally cook.  Today I made a smoothie!  Cheers to you, dear reader.
Ginger out.

Cafe Relationships

     I feel compelled to write about work a lot.  Probably because I spend most of my waking hours there, well I'm mostly awake.  Also because I get to observe people.  People are strange.

     I have said before that complete strangers feel very comfortable talking to me.  This is unfortunate because, in general, I don't like strangers.  They like to talk to me about my red hair, their personal problems, doctor appointments, Saks Fifth Avenue among things.

     On the one hand I can understand why some customers feel like we have a genuine friendly relationship.  I see some of them five or more times a week.  On the other hand, let's just define this relationship: cafe employee and coffee enthusiast.  This does not make me eligible for nicknames; the strangest one I've heard so far is, "Thanks, love muffin!"  I didn't even know Quad Grande Americano's name at this point.  Customers have also divulged impending divorces, upcoming surgeries, and the fact that they drink their beverage everyday in the shower.  This could be perceived as too much information.  Behind the counter we all laugh and swap stories and biographies about our customers.

     One of my coworkers recently informed me that I look friendlier than I am.  Gee, thanks.  My boyfriend calls me "Grandma catnip," stating that they just can't get enough of me.  I do realize that I look friendly, but I also am friendly.  In customer service this is an asset.  Working at this store I have gotten very good at knowing a lot of different customers' names and even more of their drinks.  Usually knowing the beverage comes first.  I am very good at remembering faces. 

     I recently had a secret admirer (yeah, I guess they really exist) call my store.  After answering the phone with my usual salutation (which includes my name), all he said was "Hi Rachel."  This is a normal response to hear from one of my coworkers, so I was trying to figure out who I was talking to so I rebutted with a classy, "Sorry, who is this?"  He said it was a customer that I was nice to, which really narrows it down.  Everyone knows that when I'm having a friendly episode often my niceness will show.  I calmly asked what I could do for him, expecting a large order for coffee or a question about our store hours.  Instead, he asked me out.  Anonymously.  Who does that?  I politely declined and got back to work.  

     When I told my boyfriend about this odd encounter he told me that I may have just missed my opportunity to have a sugar daddy.  Great.  My other friends laughed and thought it was odd, but a, "low-risk endeavor."  Yes low-risk, but also low-reward.  It is just weird.  I have never heard of someone phoning in a date request without even identifying themselves.  Just another day at the office. 

Books

 I am a nerd and I am proud of it.  One of my coworkers was recently making small talk and asked what books I had read recently.  As I enumerated my books about science his eyes widened with disbelief.  He was all, “To relax, you read books on the elements!?”  I explain that it is enjoyable to me, and if the material ever gets dry it just helps me to sleep!  Nerd books of late include the history of the periodic table, a seventeenth century cholera outbreak, and a neurologist’s antics studying baboons in the bush. 

Another coworker asked for recommendations on reading materials.  Here was someone I could relate to.  She also had a Bachelor of Science degree; she’ll appreciate my taste.  However, as I recited various titles and authors to her, she just stared.  I almost offered to write them down for her, then I realized, her mind and her eyes were screaming: Geek!

I enjoy the feel of a book, the feel and smell of paper in your hands.  I like unwrapping books on my birthday and Christmas.   I remember reading a bookstore advertisement explaining the wonder at receiving a book as a gift.  They explained that you know what it is going to be, but you tear at the wrappings anyway.  At this, one of my schoolmates exclaimed in wonder, "But HOW can you tell that it's a book?"  I remember staring at her in wonder.  Thoughts whizzed through my head.  Has she never received a book as a gift?  And Is she an absolute idiot?  Shortly thereafter I conferred with my mother, we were agreed her mind is a foreign land to us. I have also received journals as gifts.  Those are great for their own reasons, but I can't help but feel a small twinge of disappointment when those blank pages reveal themselves to me.  I also like shopping for books.  Whether it's a gift for a friend or a gift for myself I shop by picking them up, reading a few lines from a random selection, and most importantly judging their covers. 

They say you shouldn’t do that, but how can you not?  If people didn’t do that they would all have titles in black text on a white cover.  There wouldn’t be advertisers and graphic designers working for a living by producing book covers.  Authors probably wouldn’t take the time discovering the titles of their works.  Awards wouldn’t be listed on the front, medallions shining.  Reviews wouldn’t be printed on the front and no one would know which had been recently turned into a major motion picture.  But people do judge books by their covers.