Sweeter

My favorite things - that you can buy

Lucky magazine used to have a monthly feature where celebrities would list out some of their favorite things.  Since Lucky is a "shopping" magazine all of the things in the list were things the average person (if they had enough money) could buy.  My niece (and excellent blogger) Michelle did a similar list on her blog, but she included a few "unpurchasables" .  So I thought I'd take a crack at, but my list only includes things you can buy....and you don't have to be rich to afford 'em.  Here we go!

1. Mezzetta's Napa Valley Bistro Italian Olive Antipasto

Filled with olives, peppers and garlic marinated in herbs, spices and chardonnay, it holds the best olives in the world.  Spicy, yummy....I'm sooooo glad Costco has been selling jumbo size jars of these!  About $5

2. Ammonium Lactate 12% lotion 

My dermatologist recommeded this for my winter dry legs.  It stings a little when you first put it on, but it works, boy does it work.  Buy it over the counter (I got mine at the Kaiser pharmacy).  A big bottle will only set you back about 10 bucks.  

3. Bluewick Hinoki Soy Candles

These are a little pricy ($24 - $40), but they last forever, scent a large room and smell heavenly.  My favorite fragrance is Passionfruit White Currant.  Not sure?  Buy one of their travel candle tins for only $8.00 to try out a fragrance or two. 

4. Dave's Killer Bread 

Local convict makes good with his line of whole grain hearty breads. This is a healthy bread that actually tastes good with a pleasing texture.  My favorite is the 21-grain...nutty, yummy.  Love it toasted with a schmear of blackberry jam.  More than Wonderbread, it's $5 at most grocery stores, but Costco sells two packs for the same price.

5. Bon Ami

Around forever, this is one of the best cleaners I've used...and it's recommended by environmentalists as a safe cleaner.  Toilets, tubs and sinks all sparkle.  And here's a secret a local antique dealer shared with me...it's gentle enough to clean your silver...and so easy!  Only costs about 99 cents.

6. Aussie 3-minute miracle conditioner

For only around $3 you get salon quality deep conditioning.  My hair tends to be dry so I use it just about every other day.  It makes my parched locks silky smooth and frizz free.

7. Merrell sneakers

A woman at work was wearing a pair that looked so chic I went and got my own and discovered the most comfortable shoe I have ever worn.  Now, I'm not usually one for comfort over fashion, but with these sneakers, I get both!  Don't pay full price for these babies...Nordstrom's Rack, DSW or the outlet mall in Woodburn has them at reasonable prices.

8. Postage stamp

It amazes me that I can't put something in an envelope, address it to my girlfriend in New York, and someone else will take it to her in just a few days...all for only 44 cents (unless the price has gone up).  It's a bargain...they should charge more...I'd pay a buck for this kind of service.

9. Mai Tais at the Original Mai Tai Bar at the Royal Hawaiian at Wakiki

Eric introduced me to these on our honeymoon.  Sit at the bar, (outside right next to the famous beach) order the drink and what the bartender machete open a fresh pineapple to squeeze in your glass, topped with some other stuff and a generous helping of top shelf rum.  OMG...that is paradise.  It'll set you back about $10, but every sweet, intoxicating drop is so, so worth it.

10.  Bissel Pet Hair Remover Vaccuum 

We bought one of these about a year ago and I immediately gave it a test spin.  You would not believe the dog hair this thing picked up.  There was so much hair in the bin, you'd think I'd never vaccummed my house before (trust me I had).  If you have a dog, cat, or hairy spouse...get this vaccuum.  About $150.

His socks were covered in green mold

Saturday I went into downtown Portland for a hair appointment.  I parked in my usual spot on Broadway, across from the Oregonian, pulled an umbrella out of my car, turned up the collar on my coat, and began walking briskly the 3 blocks to the salon.  The rain was coming down in sheets, and the wind made it icy cold.  I kept my head down trying to keep the rain from hitting my face, and walked as fast as I could.

I passed an old church, and from the corner of my eye, I saw someone lying in one of the doorways.  With my head down, all I could really see were his feet.  He was wearing those plasticy slipper kind of shoes and I could see his socks.  They looked like they were covered in green mold.  This made me stop.

I lifted my umbrella and the rain pelted me as I peered a little closer to see this man's feet.  He was laying down, hunched in a semi-fetal position, his back to me.  He wore some brown cotton pants and a gray sweatshirt which covered his face.  His shoes had kind of come off a little, and as I looked, I confirmed, yes, the heel of his sock was covered in green mold.  I just stood there staring for a moment...wondering, how long must this poor man have been walking around in wet socks for them to actually mold like that....months?  years?

He lay there twitching, a Big Gulp cup at his head.  I wondered if he was ill, drunk, or just sleeping.  The doorway provided cover from the rain, but the wind was whipping around and I thought how cold and uncomfortable that must be on the hard cement he was laying on.  I wondered what to do.  Should I call the police to pick him up, take him someplace warm to dry out?  Should I awaken him and ask if he needed help?  I wasn't sure. 

I was late for my appointment, so I raced ahead to the salon.  As I pulled open the door, the wind grabbed it and I had to pull it shut, dragging my soaking wet umbrella behind me.  The salon was warm. Holiday music was playing. Scented candles were burning.  I was greeted by a beautiful young woman who asked me if I would like some water or hot tea or perhaps a hand massage while I waited for my appointment.  I stood there, umbrella dripping in my hand, and just stared at her.  "I'll be back in just a few minutes." I told her.

I raced out the door and ran down the street.  I ran past the homeless man in the doorway.  I ran to my car.  I opened the door and pulled out a blanket I keep in the backseat.  I quickly shook it out and tucked it under my coat to keep it dry and warm. 

I went back to the man in the church doorway, unfolded the blanket and reached over to put it on him.  I was a little apprenhensive...what if he awoke and was disoriented and maybe thought I was trying to hurt him.  I entered the doorway and knelt down beside him.  I was immediately hit with his odor...a strong scent of human waste and body odor.  I gagged a little from the smell, but didn't want to cover my nose and mouth in case I woke him...I didn't want to embarrass him.  I placed the blanket over his moldy sock covered feet and pulled it up all the way to the top of his shoulders.  I made sure the blanket reached down around his back to the ground to keep the cold wind out.  He moaned a little as I placed the blanket on him, but other than that he didn't move.

I walked back to my salon, asked to use the restroom and washed my hands and splashed warm water on my face.  I was shaken.  I was struck with the disparity between me and the man in the doorway.  Here I was in a warm, luxurious salon, with people waiting to pamper and comfort me.  He...he was unbathed, unkempt, and cold.  It shouldn't be so...shouldn't everyone have at least some food, a warm place to wait out a storm, and the basic human dignity of a place to get clean and go the bathroom.

I sat in the waiting area, thinking...holding back tears.  Thankfully my hairstylist was running late, so I had a few moments to collect myself together.  Whether or not the man had made poor choices that helped to land him in his situation...I was sad for him.

Two hours later, I left the salon.  I wondered if the man would still be in the doorway sleeping.  I turned the corner and approached the church.  I came upon the doorway, and saw he was no longer there.  The Big Gulp cup was gone.  A dirty stain remained on the cement where he had lain.  And the blanket...the blanket was neatly folded and placed in a corner.  He was gone, and I never did see his face. 

Eat chocolate chip cookies and other lessons I've learned from two amazing women

The older I get, the more I know I have so, so much to learn.  I've been blessed with many wonderful role models and mentors in my life, and I constantly seek to learn from others.  There are two women who have been in my life, whose lessons I particularly value.  One, my former mother-in-law, the beautiful Margaret (Peggy) Stickel.  Always the belle of the ball, Peggy taught me about the fine art of being a lady.  Not just in looks and manners, but much deeper.... by the way you treat others.  The other is my mother.  My mother, Johanna Ellis, was a true angel on earth.  She was the kindest, most loving soul ever placed on this planet, and I was lucky enough to have her as my mother.  She taught me about spirituality, about joy, and about love.  Their lessons are worth sharing.

 
Me with Mom on my wedding day. Look at her smile...you can tell this woman squeezed every joyful moment from life as she possibly could.

Lessons from my Mother:

1.  Don't say mean things about people.

2.  Enjoy life!  Eat that chocolate chip cookie, plant flowers, sit and watch a sunset, feed birds.

3.  A woman can never have too many scarves or too much jewelry.

4.  Tell your children you love them..every time you see them or talk to them.  (Hope I've done this...If I've missed a few times...Girls, I LOVE YOU!)

5.  Take comfort in your religion, but have your own relationship with God.

6.  Believe in angels.

7.  When it comes to Christmas decorations, leave no surface unadorned.

8.  Forgive.

9.  Don't use foul language.  It makes you look ugly and sound unintelligent.

10.  Love eternally.

 

 

Margaret (Peggy) Stickel.  Elegant and beautiful.

 

Lessons I learned from my former Mother-in-law:

1.  Dressing monochromatically makes you looks taller and leaner.

2.  Put on hand cream every time you wash your hands.  (Peggy's hands were like bunny fur...as soft as soft can be)

3.  Take vitamins.

4.  Get plenty of sleep.

5.  Be kind to the people who provide service to you.

6.  Stay out of the sun.  (I don't do this as much as I should.)

7.  Be humble.

8.  The legs are the last thing to go.  Show them off as long as you can.

9.  Be your spouse's best friend and biggest fan.

10.  Love eternally.

Wow! I haven't seen you like, in 30 years

I finally did it.  After missing my 10 year high school reunion, and my 20 year high school reunion, I finally went to my 30 year high school reunion.   Yes, Milwaukie High School, Class of 1980. 

I never really felt much of a pull to go to a reunion before.  I had been a transfer student at Mil High, arriving my junior year when my parents uprooted me from my funky Hawthorne Blvd. life in Portland to suburbia.  At the time I thought my life was over.  How would I possibly make new friends...what about my old friends...and what the hell did people in Milwaukie do for fun when they lived so faaar away from Portland?  To a 15-year old girl, it seemed like the worst thing that could possibly happen to me.  I was wrong.

I actually found Milwaukie High School to be more my speed.  There were fewer students and less tension (there were lots of racial issues at my former high school which escalated into knivings in the cafeteria and beatings in the bathrooms...no wonder my parents were eager to move). The students were less cliquish, the teachers less traumatized...it was a bit of Norman Rockwell, it seemed.

I made a few friends...not the easiest task when everyone else has been friends since kindergarten.  As my life is today, my life was back then...I was friendly with everyone, but preferred to have just a few close friends, and I made friends with boys easier than I did with girls. 

Right after high school, I got pregnant, got married and moved to California (in that order).  My life was...well...challenging.  After 10 years in California I divorced, got remarried and moved to New York.  My life had changed so drastically over the years, I really hadn't kept in touch too much with anyone, and I just didn't see the point in going to my reunions.

But this time, I was back in Portland.  I was feeling nostalgic...I was curious...and so I decided, this time I would go to my reunion, but it was not without a bit of trepidation.  Would I remember anyone?  Would they remember me?  Would anyone I knew be there, or would I be surrounded by relative strangers?  My husband, Eric, was kind enough to come with me....our plan was to make an appearance, eat dinner, and unless we were having a really good time, leave early.

 

High school crush, Brent and I.  He's an accomplished writer and incredibly sweet guy now.

We arrived at the reunion and walked to the registration table.  Everyone was hugging and laughing...I was holding Eric's hand and whispering in his ear..."Yup...I don't know any of these people".  We got in line, I got my name tag, turned around, and there to greet me was, Brent, a boy (obviously now a grown man) I had dated in high school.  He looked at Eric, asked if it was ok to hug me, and gave me a warm hug and told me he was glad I was there.  I immediately felt relieved...and welcome.

Inside I ran into Denise, and Tina...two of my favorite girlfriends in high school. I was so glad to see them...after all the years, I still felt a connection to them.  I met others I knew...like Mike who was such a sweetheart, and Diane (she was pretty, smart, popular and nice back then...still is today), and Paul, another boy I dated, who always was, and still is, the life of the party.  I loved seeing them all..seeing how they'd changed, or stayed the same..and laughing about old times and sharing our current lives with each other.

 
Girlfriends Denise and Valentina...both looking gorgeous!

There were the popular kids, there were the unknown kids...some reverting to their old roles and place in the hierarchy of high school...others finding their new niche and place in the group.  But overall...an air of friendliness and the camaraderie that comes with being in a group of people you've shared an intense part of your life with was present.  I now understood why people go to these things.  It's not to relive your past glories or revenge your past hurts...it's more about being with a group of people who have a shared history....and about feeling a bit of the resurgence of the youthful spark that comes with recalling a moment in time, so long ago.

 

Who's to blame for Steven Slater?

Unless you've been in the wilderness the last few days, you've heard the tale of Steven Slater, JetBlue flight attendant who snapped after an encounter with an airline passenger.  Apparently, the passenger had been fighting with another passenger for the overhead compartment space and when Steven came to assist, she swore at him and clunked him on the head.  To this, Steven grabs the intercom, swears out the rude passenger, thanks the polite passengers, says"I quit", grabs a beer, deploys the emergency slide and slid his way to freedom (and unemployment).

Steven, of course was arrested.  So now his attorney, Howard Truman, is trying to figure out his defense.  I heard him on the radio this morning blaming the incident on the "loss of civility among airline passengers", that poor Steven had all he could take.  True, airline passengers have become increasingly less and less civil...but who's to blame for that?

I've been flying at least several times a year for about 25 years now.  Last year, I flew Air France to Rome.  It was my most pleasant flight experience ever.  The plane was roomy (comparitively), the seats were comfortable, the flight attendants spoke softly and politely, there was plenty of overhead compartment room.  On the overnight flight, I was given champagne before take off, a hot dinner with wine (served with real silverware and plates), a "faux" cashmere blanket, pillow, earplugs and eye mask after dinner, and in the morning, a hot breakfast and warm towels to wipe the evenings grime from our faces and hands. And, no, I didn't fly first class...this was coach!  I arrived in Rome relaxed, calm and refreshed.

Compare that lovely experience to my flight in June on US Air to Boston.  We had to pay $25 for each bag we checked (we checked one, and carried on two..usually I prefer not to carry on luggage...too much hassle).  The seats were so cramped, I had to actually contort my body to climb into it, there was zero leg room.  This too was an overnight flight.  There was no food being served but we could buy "snack packs" filled with junk food for a mere $7.  When I asked for a pillow and blanket I was told that would cost $12, (but hey they offered free used headphones for the movie).  Since none of the passengers wanted to pay to check a bag, everyone was trying to cram their overstuffed rollies, backpacks and duffel bags in the overhead compartment.  And...through it all the flight attendants tried to help, and apologized for the cramped conditions and penny-pinching policies.  It was a miserable flight and when I landed in Boston I was tired, sore, sweaty, hungry and cranky.

So, who's to blame for the lack of "airline passenger civility" and therefore to blame for poor Mr. Slater....the airlines themselves.  They've turned what used to be a glamourous and exciting event into nothing more than dignified than being crammed like cattle into a rail car.

To Steven's lawyer, Mr. Truman, I would say your best defense tactic for Steven would be to attack the airlines for turning the passengers into snarling, exhausted beasts which Steven had to deal with for 20 years therefore causing him to have a little breakdown.  And, heck, while you're at it, I'd launch a lawsuit against JetBlue for the pain and suffering Steven had to endure because of their inane, cheap a** policies.  In fact, why don't you add my name, and the name of anyone who's flown any US airlines in the last five years to that lawsuit as well.

It was love at first sight - meeting Chendra the elephant

Last Sunday my photography club met at the Oregon Zoo at 8:00 am (who knew they opened that early) to take photos of the animals.  Unfortunately, many of the animals weren't on display since their enclosures were being cleaned.  Bob, one of the elephant keepers at the zoo saw our group and asked if we'd be interested in a backstage tour of the elephant area so we could meet one of the elephants up close and personal...ummm...heck yeah!

Bob led our group behind the elephant barn and lined us all up against a fence.  He asked us to stay there while he went to get Chendra.  Chendra was found orphaned at a palm oil plant in Malaysia.  She had a gunshot wound to her left eye, which left her blind in that eye, and a badly infected foot.  Unable to return her to the wild, the Malyasian government allowed the Oregon Zoo to transport her here where she would be safe.

 
Chendra comes out of the elephant barn to meet us.  Bob prepares the hose to give her a little wash.

First she lifted each one of her feet to get the bottom washed.  I was amazed at how well she understood Bob's commands.  "Left up", "Right up"...and up went her feet one at a time.  He proceeded to wash her all over while she turned and then laid down.

 
Next she got an undercarriage wash.  Bob then had her do a few more tricks like turning in a circle and lifting two feet at a time.

This was her "trunk up" trick.  Bob didn't even have to say a word, just give her the signal.

Then she took a bow to her audience for her performance of excellent tricks.

Then she opened her mouth wide for her reward....a marshmellow.

Bob then told us we could get closer to her if we wanted.  Everyone in my group stayed back.  But I couldn't resist...she was so sweet.  So I stepped forward.  I was a little nervous...she's a very large animal.  But she just stood there and let me approach her.  And then I looked in her eye (the one that wasn't blind).  I was amazed at what I saw.  She looked back at me with as sweet a look as my dog gives me.  I was hooked...yes, I fell in love with Chendra.

I asked Bob if I could touch her, and to my surprise he said yes.  I reached out and rested my hand on her trunk.  It was rough, and thick with coarse wirey hairs.  I talked to her and she reached her trunk up to me and after blowing warm air in my face, gently touched the end of her trunk to my cheek.

At this point, a few of the others in my group approached her to pet her as well.  I crouched down on the ground to take more pictures and to my surprise she again approached me with her trunk extended, blowing warm air in my face and touching her trunk to me.

Bob then let us all feed her carrots and apples.  She took them gently from our outstretched hands and after each treat, she waited to be patted on her trunk before moving on to get the next treat.

Bob then told her to "go play" and she moved to a corner with some sticks and branches and began tossing them around and pulling the leaves off the branches to eat them.

Bob told us she was one of the smaller elephants in the herd, and probably the most well behaved.  Because of this, sometimes after hours they let her walk around the zoo (with a human escort of course).  I asked what she liked to look at....."the sealions, they're her favorite to watch".  Chendra and I have something in common....I could watch sealions for hours too.

I always knew elephants were intelligent.  But I wasn't prepared to be able to feel a connection to this large creature.  It was as if I could feel her emotions...I could sense her soul.  I know, I know...that sounds a little far-fetched, and if someone else had told me this I would be skeptical too...it took me by surprise.  It was an experience I'll never forget.  And next time I'm at the zoo...the first place I'm going is to the elephant barn to see if my friend Chendra is around...maybe she'll remember me and extend a trunk in greeting.

The Other Side of the Story - I hear from the artists

A few weeks ago I blogged about an art exhibit at PDX Contemporary Art.  It was an exhibit that baffled me.  I knew what the artists were trying to communicate, but the exhibit looked like ordinary objects at high-end art prices.  Well, to my surprise the artists read my blog, and despite my critique, took the time to write me and shed further light on their exhibit.

I'm still a bit baffled by the whole exhibit, but at least now I am aware of the precision and time it took to create the pieces.  The lesson I've learned, is next time I'm confused about an exhibit I think I'll ask questions of the artist.  There may be more than meets the eye.    Below is  what the artists sent....

We appreciate that you took the time to go see our exhibition at PDX Contemporary Art, and we appreciate all the thought that you put into writing about it, but we wish that you would have taken a bit more time looking at the work itself. If you had, you would have noticed a few things about some of the works you mentioned, like that the #2 pencils each have hand-carved text on them, or that the textual works (like the one reading 'READ WRITE EAT SLEEP') is a painting not a print, or that the notebook paper you wrote of is all hand-drawn with ball-point pen. But, the main thing that we want to clarify is that we are not in any way attempting to pull the wool over the eyes of would-be collectors. We put a great deal of time, effort and thought into the things we make. And, we definitely aren't 'laughing all the way to the bank,' because the sales of our art (which is pretty reasonable priced as these things go) barely cover our costs. We consider collectors to be the ones making it possible for us to continue doing what we do, and for that matter, they also are the ones who make it possible for you to go out and have something to write about.

And that my friends, is the other side of the story.

We're pregnant!

 

Now, don't get excited...no, Eric and I aren't having a mid-life addition to our family...it's just that I hear this phrase a lot in the last 5 years or so.  I hear couple after couple announce "We're pregnant", or just recently a man told me he was going to be out of the office for a week because "He's having a baby".  Really?

Now, I appreciate the enthusiasm of a couple who achieves conception, and I find it sweet that the couple is trying to be in the whole thing together....but having been a woman, who's been pregnant (and given birth) three times, it just sort of baffles me...and it irks me a little that the man is taking some credit for all the hard work a woman's body does to bring life into this world.

So if "we're" pregnant, exactly what part of the pregnancy is the man taking?  The morning sickness?  How about the stretchmarks or the heartburn?  Maybe he's taking the sore breasts?  Is he taking the labor or the epsiotomy?  No?  Oh, wait a minute, maybe he gets all the good parts of pregnancy...the "eating for two", people holding open doors for you, the "glow" to his complexion.

Maybe I should just go with the trend.  Yes, then maybe my husband can do more fun woman things as a "we" with me.  Can't wait for Eric to take my next mammogram or gyn appointment.  Whew!  It will be such a relief to not have to do those things anymore.

C'mon...Are you serious? A head-shaking night at the gallery.

Eric and I went to First Thursday in the Pearl last week.  Eric was having dinner with his daughter first, so I started the evening by myself, stopping at some of my favorite galleries, such as Black Fish, which never disappoints. This week I particularly loved Tony Kordosky's work.  A student from Linfield College, he had taken large cross sections of logs, leaving the bark and moss on the outside, but carving and painting the inside in abstract patterns.  I loved the juxtiposition of the natural and the contemporary.

Next I visited the Augen Gallery and the Froelick Gallery...both had beautiful and inspiring pieces of art, most of it for sale...and I guess reasonably priced for the unique and intricate works presented.

After Eric joined up with me we stopped for a glass of wine and then headed over to PDX Contemporary Art where they were featuring an exhibit called "The Classroom."  The exhibit featured various "tools of learning" in which the artists were making a statement about the educational system.  Their website, in part, says about the exhibit,

 "With the current inflation of people pursuing higher education, despite its mounting cost, increased privatization and decreased rigor, it seems particularly appropriate to portray the classroom transparently as a place of commerce. "

Hmmm?  Interesting, no?  Come with me while we explore this exhibit a bit more closely.

First is this desk with a pillow attached to the writing area.  It made me smile...yes, there were many times in high school and college that I wished there were a pillow on my desk.  So what is the artist trying to communicate?  Education has become boring.  The passion of learning no longer exists for these students.  Ok...I guess I can make the leap from the "sculpture" to that statment.

 

 

Next was this very simple print.  Again, the artists make the statement....students blindly following the perscribed program of classes designed to make the university money, but not neccessarily inspiring the student..and this print says so in black and white.

 

 

We circled the room and then came across this "sculpture" on a pedestal.

 

It's two packs of lined notebook paper stacked, just so.  I did a double take.  Did someone just leave some paper accidentally on this pedestal?  No, there was an exhibit sign, "Paper" with a price tag on it.  Hmmm....I looked more closely.  Was it perhaps a clay or ceramic sculpture so well done that it looked incredibly realistic?  No....it was just as it appeared to be.  Two packs of ruled notebook paper.  And what was the price for this statement piece?  Only $600!   So, I'm wondering, if you buy this, how would you display it?  Would you constantly worry that your 7th grader was going to grab it and use it for their homework assignment or that the wife would remove it from it's pedestal and put it in a drawer "where it belongs"?

Shaking our heads we went to view another "sculpture".  This one a pack of the ubiquitous #10 yellow pencils.  I always loved cracking open a new pack of pencils at the start of each school year.  I loved the smooth feel of the yellow paint, the pristine unused pink eraser top, and the smell of the cedar wood surrounding the lead.  Yes, this sculpture stirred up some happy school time memories for me.  The pencils were neatly arranged in a pencil box.  How much would this bit of elementary school nostalgia set me back if I wanted to buy it?  Only $850...what a bargain!  (I'm being sarcastic, can you tell).

 

I can appreciate using ordinary objects, arranged artistically, as a way to make a statement....I get that.  And when I first walked into this exhibit, I was going with that...going with what statement the artists were trying to make.  But then, when I saw the prices for these ordinary objects (arranged in ordinary ways)....it seemed like a joke.  Perhaps it was.  Perhaps the artists were trying to make the statement that they felt their own educations were as ridiculously overpriced as the art they were presenting for sale.  Hmmm....maybe that's it.  Maybe even the prices were a statement that the artist was trying to make.  They weren't really for sale.  Yes, that's it, I told myself.  Then I looked to my left.  I saw four blocks, about 5" wide, covered in blackboard paint.  Each block had a letter written on it in chalk.  The letters were, R - E - A - D.  The price?  $500 per block.  Another sly statement by the artists, I think.  But, no, on the price label was a small red dot, indicating that someone had purchased the exhibit, for the whopping price of $2000.  I'll bet the artists are laughing all the way to the bank to pay off their student loans.

Disclaimer:  The views of the artist are not necessarily the views of the writer. 

 

Making a stand against offshore oil drilling

 This morning I stood with 40 other people as we took a stand against offshore oil drilling.  We met at the 51st St. beach in Lincoln City, Oregon and we clasped hands, literally drawing a line in the sand for what we believe in.  None of us knew each other.  We met on the beach this morning.  We came from as far away as Alaska, Arizona, Wyoming and Tennesee and we came as close as a walk across the street.  We gathered together, formed a line and held hands from noon to 12:15 pm.  While we stood there holding hands, some of us sang, some of us chatted with the people next to us, some of us silently looked out at the white sands and blue ocean in front of us.

And, why?  Why did we do this?  Because we, like millions of others have watched the BP oil spill disaster in horror.  Watching an entire ocean be soiled, possibly beyond repair....thousands of sea creatures die....commercial fisherman losing their livelihood....all for oil.  Oil to make one company billions of dollars at the expense of an ocean that belongs to us all and to the generations that come after us. We watched and we felt helpless...but we knew we had to take a stand and send a message that we can not tolerate this destruction of our planet any longer.  That something must change.

These 40 strangers who met on the beach this morning were part of the global Hands Across the Sand event.  700 events in the US alone, as well as dozens of others around the globe...it was the world's largest protest against offshore oil drilling and support of development of clean energy.  Our hope is our leaders will see that we are a global community of people with a powerful message to send...I hope, and I pray, they saw, they listened, and they will act. 

Signs for the event at the beach.

Leading everyone in the wave!

Event coordinators....Eric, Nancy and Diane.

Hands Across the Sand, Lincoln City, Oregon