gamine humming the songs from "footlight parade"

You see, I’m a terrible golfer. But I think the old-school miniature course is cute in a very “shabby chic” sort of way.

On InsiderPages (http://www.insiderpages.com/b/3722069205), someone named “Cindy N” wrote a real hatchet job about this place, claiming they had met the owner and that he had gotten upset when they had spent all their time writing prices down, without planning to buy anything.

Pretty clear that this person doesn’t buy out of print or antiquarian books, and is just looking for a cheap buy. This is really sad considering that this is one of the only good places to find rare, used books, other than something like Murder by the Book.

It sort of symbolizes what small businesses have to cope with, in terms of competition with the internet. Too bad – you get totally different experiences in both places. That’s why 43 places is cool – it’s online but encourages people to go places in person.

Newsflash (well, kinda) ... Raymond Carver was born here!

I saw my first drag queen here in the early 1990s. She was about six feet high and dressed fab, and waiting to cross the street with me in the middle of the day. I remember looking up at her and not being sure if she was… was she…? And she had fabulous clothes – very B-52esque, but I didn’t want to gape. I mean, I’d been to the Castro District twice but never seen anyone in full drag before. This was a couple of years before “Priscilla” and RuPaul put drag back on the map. And she kind of shimmied a little, and gave me a saucy look with half a smile. As if to say, “Yep, I am, and so what?”

And I thought, “Wow.” She had so much confidence and comfort with herself. She was more comfortable with her femininity and sexuality than I was, as a little 18 year old on her first trip overseas.

Long after I’d wrapped my head around the drag concept, I still remember her with some awe – she must have been one of the first people I ever saw who really exuded that kind of confidence and self-acceptance, “So what if I am?” A great lesson to learn.

So, wherever you are, in Paddington or not, THANKS!!

Part of me does not believe it is gone. Fifteen years ago, I remember my first trip to New York by myself, and arriving by subway into the WTC – how huge and amazing it was – the escalators alone were so big! It represented so much possibility to me; the Stock Exchange is interesting, but nothing in Wall Street, maybe not in Manhattan – not even the Empire State Building, compares to what the WTC was, in scope.
On 9-11, I had been called for an emergency the night before, got to bed late and was still asleep when the towers were hit, and then fell. I woke up and learned through the internet what had happened. I spent much of the day trying to get in touch with my friends in New York and my brother, who was often visiting the Pentagon for work, but was fortunately not there that day.
Visiting the WTC site is not just a way to acknowledge all the people who died that day – to make sure that the memory of who they were, and what existed there is never obliterated – but it’s also a way to acknowledge everyone who suffered that day, the people of New York, and in Arlington and Shanksville.
I have not been to NYC in years, but I would be horrified if someone built just another building there, just tried to capitalize on real estate without showing deference to what happened.

We had so much fun visiting the Showboat Theater, a new drive-in theater opened by a family whose grandfather had run anothe theater during the golden age of drive-ins. It is outside of Houston proper, in the Northwest town of Hockley. Takes a little doing to find it off of Farm Road 2920, but it is quite worth it! Clean screen, lots of places to park and watch, people out in lawn chairs in front of their cars or on the beds of their pickup trucks. Very affordable price (which is great considering the gas cost to get here!)- $5 per person for a double feature.

Since moving to the Bayou City (aka the Space City, that’s Houston), I have begun to drink buckets of cafe au lait (well, cafe au soy lait) daily. And I luuuuurve drinking Cafe du Monde’s distinctive coffee and chicory, which is sold all over town in grocery stores. It’s also very popular in Vietnamese restaurants, to make a distinctive version of the French press coffee, or Vietnamese coffee. Most of the places here in Houston selling beignets use Cafe du Monde’s proprietary mix. But I want to go and have the penultimate NOLA experience, sitting and watching in the cafe. whoooopeee!

This is a beautiful library.

But – no kidding – I had my purse snatched while I was doing some research on microfilms. There’s not much room in that area, so I put my purse on the ground between my feet. Apparently, there was an accomplice who made a loud distraction (I remember this guy making this huge noise to my left, getting my and the nearest librarian’s attention) and with those distractions, that’s when this thief would crawl down under tables and snatch bags. That’s how the police explained it to me, apparently they knew this guy would crawl under tables. Oh yes, there were police, but I’ll get to that.

All I know is that suddenly there’s a call for me over the loudspeaker (and I think to myself, “Oh, shit, I’ve been found out, someone must have leaked that I’m an American!”), and an library security officer meets me. Apparently this guy would work with his accomplice, then shove what he could get into a hiding space in one of the stacks. Thank God a nice woman happened to notice what the main robber was doing, then got the officers to separate him from his “bounty” and arrest him.

They found that he had targeted several other people that day – they found other purses and stolen items, including a passport from Japan. The cops came and I had to file a formal report, then cancel all my credit cards. They found my purse, but never found my ID or my credit cards. I was flying back to the US the next day (and did I mention it was Christmastime?), and although the officers were really nice, it was nightmarish.

On the other hand, it reminds me how kind and decent Canadian society is, and especially how friendly and helpful I found the people in Vancouver. The library officers searched through every book on that stack to look if my ID had been squirreled away; the cops gave me their business cards, told me to call if I had trouble boarding in customs, and that they’d let me know if the guy would be go to trial, but that he’d probably receive a very light sentence and be back on the street in 6 months.

So anyway, I hope that other book lovers will watch out. The library is about the LEAST likely place you expect to have your stuff ripped off, and that’s what they’re counting on!

Cap’n Yoby’s – kind of a tight drive around to get to it, even though it’s right by the freeway – best fish and chips I’ve ever had. Mmm.

The people we met were generally very surprised that anyone would move here, which is kind of funny. We were glad to be somewhere where we didn’t have to do 95% of our shopping at “Freddies” (Fred Meyers, for those of you outside Oregon), such as down the road in Astoria-Warrenton.
Longview, bottom line – has a public image problem, partly because of cutbacks at the major plant, and also – because of the major plant. It doesn’t look like a pretty town when you first enter from Oregon, but if you take a trip inside, you’ll find things to do. The town is not tourist oriented like Seaside, but it has a pretty center park and Japanese garden, its own fun quirks like the Squirrel Narrows bridge and giant squirrel sculpture; there are plenty of great restaurants, some nice neighborhoods like Mint Valley, and so on. We lived in Mint Valley and had a simply stunning view of evergreen trees, a neighboring farm, and the local stream.
Woodland, which is not a very far drive, is booming and doesn’t have enough room in its schools for all the new families. Perhaps Longview will, in time, become invigorated by families who want to work in Portland-Vancouver, but live in a town with more personality than a bedroom community.