Out In The Country

May 31, 2017 at 11:17 am (Cosmic Encounters, On the road again..., Sweet sticky things)

After a fifty-hour work week, lots of work drama, and a phone that won’t stop ringing, I needed a respite.

After the Hotel Alder fire, most residents were relocated to hotels nearby. Some were in swanky places, but most were relegated to cots in basements. When it was obvious it was going to take months to renovate, these less-than-stable citizens were moved to more accommodating accommodations.

But not nearby.

Norbit and Chucky spent three weeks in the basement of the Estate Hotel. Festus was lucky; he had family to crash with, but because of that he missed out on the $300 gift cards given to displaced residents. The others were living the high life. They were moved to an extended-stay hotel out near Gresham. About the time I got bored enough to visit them, Chucky and Norbit had been relocated again. This time to a Motel 666 on 82nd Avenue.

Got no interest in going out there. But…

Sunshine has returned from California, and was given a room at the “hotel way out.” It was bus-accessible. but not convenient. And a three-hour adventure when you factor in the bus ride and walking. It’s a quarter to half-mile from the bus stop. While not the woods, there is big sky and fresh air.

I gazed lovingly at the sloughs and train tracks that broke up the fields and wetlands of Fairview. While I love nature, it is nice that the industrial complex has laid down sidewalks and cul-de-sacs. I watched hawks circling, but it was the giant steel birds that I watched most closely.

I’ve always loved watching planes come and go. During a weekday around noon? Great “bird”-watching. I watched Alaska, United, Delta, descending. I wondered, as I always do, if Mizelle is on one of those planes.

My visit with Sunshine was pleasant. After realizing that he was getting ripped off by Stuttering James, Kayo, and his own brother, he’s come to appreciate me again. Since he’s a man of limited mobility, I would deliver him dinners, cigarettes and any other whims he could afford.

We have pleasant chats. I still haven’t heard his prison story. (He’s done 20-30 years in California. Not sure why.) I figure it will be like my uncle’s war stories. When the faucet opens, be ready to listen, because it probably won’t happen again.

Not this time, though. He offered me a Fudgecicle, we shot the breeze for a few minutes, then he saw his nurse pulling into the parking lot. I made my exit, with a pocket full of Pop Tarts and granola bars. Sunshine insists on gifting me with whatever is laying around. I snacked on a granola bar as I rode the back way home.

Ding Dong or Ho Ho?

As I rode, I received birthday wishes. One in particular caught my eye, from my daughter. My birthday cake! I thanked her via text message: “Is that a Ding Dong or a Ho Ho?”

At my age, you’d think I’d know the difference by now.

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