Finally! I can stop typing and take a walk

This mornings observations:

Burnt raisin bread toast is far better than burnt regular toast.

14 year old boys should be quarantined until they mature to, at least, a tolerable level of "normal".

There are 5, yes five, different kinds of bar-b-cue sauce in my fridge, and ZERO salad dressing.

Children consume food with the semblance of raccoons plundering a garbage can. But for some reason they only want the things I covet. They never want the healthy things at dinner, why would they want them for a snack? Eat the friggin' left over pizza, leave my salad goodies alone!

Maternity panties are a non-essential item, and should be banned... except for high school girls who don't use condoms. For them, maternity panties should be mandatory. (thank you kaydee.) Actually, all teen-aged girls should be required by law to wear unflattering undergarments... and possibly chastity belts.
(can you tell the I have 2 nearly teen-aged step-daughters to be?)

Portland truly is a melting pot. A town full of character. Television is really not needed in this town. If you want entertainment, just pop down to any local coffee shop (not Starbucks. they can be avoided with little effort here.) with a book or laptop to pretend you're engrossed in, and just observe your surroundings... without bothering your neighbors, who are likely doing the same thing. Or they just want to be left the heck alone. Which is completely understandable.
I grew up in Portland. I utilized Tri-Met (public transportation) for the better part of 10 years, therefore have become aloof to the oddity of others outside of my immediate world. I have seen my share many crazy ass people, even from this town's standards.
There are some folks in this corner of the planet, who would assume that because you made direct eye contact with them, for a nanosecond, it means you want to immediately follow them home and try not to make babies. It's sometimes daring to simply offer a friendly smile and hello to strangers anymore, lest you invite a stalker into your life.
When I was 7 months pregnant I was on MAX heading downtown to meet my mom for lunch, and this group of guys, 17-20ish, asked me if I wanted to hop off and go get high. Seriously! I was WAAAY obviously pregnant. I mean, thanks for offering, but get a life. After they departed the train, an honest to goodness DEA agent flashed me his badge and started questioning me about if I knew those guys, and did they really just say what he thought they said. Honestly, things like that are not so uncommon. You'd be amased at the things you hear people talking about on Tri-Met. It's like they think no one can hear them. But I suppose when it seems common place to discuss your sex life, drug use, or to make drug orders in public, one might begin to assume that everyone does it so it becomes psuedo-acceptable.

(sigh.)

I love this town. I hate it too, in the way that many people hate where they grew up... ghosts and old drama and such. Still, hearing another person's tale of Tri-Met (that really does sum it up.) never ceases to make me giggle a little and say "yup." to myself. I can relate completely.

This post went in an entirely different directed than when I started. Though I can not bring myself to split it into separate posts because it is a fairly accurate trip through the spagetti.

~cheers