Looking back at my birthday fun--a ride on the Holiday Express.

The SP 4449, as seen right after our 40-minute round trip train ride. Leland took this photo for me. I found this neat article about the engine and the hope for its future housing in Portland, along with more retired engines.

Mama and I had tickets for the 4 p.m., Dec. 12, 2008, train ride. Rain for days, as well as cold temperatures, convinced her to decide not to go, so we offered her ticket to Leland. He graciously agreed to go with me, and he decided to cook dinner for me afterwards! We found a parking space in a lot at Oaks Park, close to where the train waited on the track which was on a raised levy-type bed. We walked across the street in a light rain. Once we boarded, we made our way north towards what turned out to be a dining car. We took our seats at a table on the west side of the car, knowing we'd eventually be looking out over the Willamette River.
While we waited for the train to start moving, I took this photo. It's east of the track. Can you see the bird murals? I was so glad that it had quit raining. It didn't last for very long, though.

Leland, seated in the darkened rail car, across the table from me. The man in the darkness on the right of the photo told us interesting facts about the train car, for example, that we heat we felt came from the water heated in the engine, cycled throughout the train to provide warmth.

Looking from the area between two rail cars, south towards the train's engine, as we back northward along the Willamette River.

Santa entered our car, ho-ho-ho-ing and wringing his jingle bells. See the jingle bells tucked underneath his arm? He handed out candy canes to everyone and posed for photos with children.


On the way north, we went underneath the Ross Island Bridge.

When we neared that curve again on our return to Oaks Park, I stepped back to the area between the cars so that I could try again to get a good photo. I noticed a man and his two small children on the path and tried to get a shot of their joy. This is how that turned out. I think it's because the train was moving to the left and I was looking to the right, trying to get them in the photo before we moved too far. I like the result.

It was even harder to get a clear photo as we headed back to Oaks Park. Too much movement from the train. This one is the clearest of the lot.

My darling second-born son, Leland. They had turned on the lights as we pulled to a stop.

Here's a look at the dining car.

And here's another car, one with padded seats. Some of them faced each other, some lined up behind each other.

As we neared the exit, I noticed this plaque that contains information about our engine.

A close up of the engine

These two men in the engine said that I could take their picture for the blog. It's not tilting one bit; it's just so tall that when I had to look up to take their photo, the tilt-thing happened, like it does with buildings.

Leland beside the fence and the engine. It is 110'2.25" long, 10'0" wide, 16'4" tall. The wheels are 36" in diameter. It weights 475,000 pounds.

The front of the engine, just a part of it. Taken with the flash.

We quickly walked to the front of the train so that I could get some photos of the engine. It had started raining harder, so we had to be quick.

Leland took these next one for me, too. He's much taller and could get a much better perspective. I really like this one with the steam coming out both sides of the engine.

Leland drove us to his place where he cooked some mighty fine risotto with chicken, Brussels sprouts, onion, butternut squash, and Parmigiano-Reggiano.




Dinner is served! Don't they look cute? Leland and Kailey. The risotto was so doggone good, very memorable. Thanks, Leland, honey!

Look what they gave me for my birthday! I love it!

Mama and I played the new game on Saturday, Dec. 13. I stood on the kitchen step-stool to get this photo of it when we stopped to go to bed. The next day it started to snow.


A statement about this year's Holiday Express that I found at the Oregon Rail Heritage Foundation Web site:

Holiday Express 2008
We thank everybody who came out to ride!

Event Canceled

On Sunday December 14th, the Holiday Express will NOT operate as scheduled.

While the train is still able to operate, we recognize that most of our riders are traveling from areas severely impacted by winter weather and don't want to encourage a risky drive to our event. The roads in SE Portland, especially the downhill one leading to Oaks Park have become icy and starting to see a fair share of cars out of control.

Tickets marked for Sunday the 14th are eligible for a full refund. Return your ticket to where you purchased them from, and request a full refund. Any tickets that are not returned for refunds will be considered as a donation to the Oregon Rail Heritage Foundation. Thank you for supporting ORHF, and we hope you'll ride on our trains in the future!

My Wendy Brandes Boleyn Necklace is an H

Here I am, all dressed up and already gone somewhere. Don't you just love my silver H necklace? I do! Mama and I got it for my Christmas present. It's a Wendy Brandes' Boleyn Necklace. At her Web page, Wendy describes it as “Inspired by the initial pendant worn by Anne Boleyn.” I forgot to take a photo before I left to catch the bus, but thank goodness I didn't forget once I was back in the apartment a few hours later. I just had to show you how lovely it is.

I couldn't get a better photo of the necklace, what with breathing, low light, movement when I pushed the button as the camera rested on my shoulder. I wanted to show you this closer view, though, so you could appreciate the exquisite simplicity of the statement the design makes. And I want to tell you that I am very happy to have an H for my maiden name and my married name, uniting both of my families. When I'm not wearing it, I'm keeping it beside my computer on the table where I can see it. It makes me happy, thinking about my families.


Photos inside the Schnitzer Concert Hall aren't allowed, drat it, but here's the marquee above the SW Park Avenue entrance. I first saw "Mark Twain Tonight," Hal Holbrook's glorious one-man stage show as Mark Twain, in Jackson, Mississippi. It was April, 1969. He was there as part of the Mississippi Arts Festival, held at the Mississippi Coliseum and its surrounding fairgrounds. Thanks to Petula Clark's Web site for confirming the year for me because I vacillated between 1968 and 1969! She was there, too, mesmerizing all us Southerners in the audience. In addition to two of them, I also saw an opera (I cannot remember which one) performed by Mississippi Opera, a performance by Mississippi Symphony, and art exhibitions.

Saturday evening was perfect. My seat was on the third row! Holbrook as Twain had us in his hand within moments after he started speaking.

Car Parts: The Grill, as in I've grilled myself and will now tell the truth.

First, I know I said come back today and see the entire car. But, look what I've discovered! A different photo of the grill that shows beyond all doubt that my memory resembles a sieve, a strainer. Holes through and through. That's because when I posted on Saturday, I told a big one! When I looked at the photo and saw the red circle with the Indian chief in it, and a piece of chrome crossing in front of it, I thought, "Oh, I remember. The Pontiac was parked close up behind another car, and that chrome is part of that other car." Not true. See below for the truth. As for the why, I don't know why that piece of chrome bisects the red circle like it does. To me it detracts from the grill, but to others I'm sure it means design integrity and strength.





Sorry, I can't stop thinking about Saturday's post. When you think about it, just how could I have taken that straight-on full-frontal photo of the red circle with the Indian chief in it? With two cars parked bumper to bumper, where did I stand? I mean, you can see me reflected there, and, upon a closer look, it's evident that I'm not standing on the bumper of the not-really-there-car.

As promised, here's the whole car, the sum of its parts.


If I owned some sort of photo-manipulation-software, could I have erased the road warning sign, the white posts, and the curb, and then cloned the missing sections of the car? I wonder.

Car Parts: The Trunk, the Insignia, and the Chrome

Please come back on Monday for the entire Pontiac.

Car Parts: The Grill and an Indian Chief Emblem

The grill, close

The grill, a bit less close


The Pontiac Silver Streak parked extremely close behind another car. I saw them at a lot near Bright's Auto Upholstery back on July 7, 2008. I couldn't get between the cars to take a better photo than these.

You can see me, reflected in the chrome, just like you could see me in Wednesday's post, reflected in the side of the car.

Car Parts: The Steering Wheel and the Dashboard

Hydra-matic. Sounds so fluid. The definition at Wikipedia: the first fully automatic mass-produced transmission developed for passenger automobile use.

Do you really-young-blog-buddies know what N, D, L, and R stand for? I know you near-my-age-blog-buddies do.

Car Parts: The Hood Ornament and Chrome

Three views of an American automotive icon and ...
... a headlight.

... the rounded hood.

...an up close look.


Mama says she doesn't remember us having a Pontiac. Did you or your friends? Maybe you're a car collector, and you have one now. I'd love to read your memories or see your photos.

Car Parts: The Model Insignia

You know the model. Do you know the make?

Car Parts: The Hubcap and The Tire

More car parts to follow.

Mt. Hood, in the distant sunrise, peeks between two nearby buildings

7:49 a.m., Jan. 4, 2009


I took six photos, deleted a fuzzy one. I put the fourth one first, out of sequence. Here they are in sequence, in a smaller size. This sunshine won't last all day, but while it's here, it's glorious!
7:44 a.m., Jan. 4, 2009

7:45 a.m., Jan. 4, 2009

7:49 a.m., Jan. 4, 2009

7:50.36, Jan. 4, 2009

7:50.53 a.m., Jan. 4, 2009


Which time do you like the best? I'm curious.

In case you want to read it, here's a sunrise poem I found online.

Sunrise

O rising Sun, so fair and gay,
What are you bringing me, I pray,
Of sorrow or of joy to-day?

You look as if you meant to please,
Reclining in your gorgeous ease
Behind the bare-branched apple-trees.

The world is rich and bright, as though
The pillows where your head is low
Had lit the fields of driven snow.

The hoar-frost on the window turns
Into a wood of giant ferns
Where some great conflagration burns.

And all my children comes again
As lightsome and as free from stain
As those frost-pictures on the pane.

I would that I could mount on high
And meet you, Sun--that you and I
Had to ourselves the whole wide sky.

But here my poor soul has to stay,
So tell me, rising Sun, I pray,
What are you bringing me to-day?

What shall this busy brain have thought,
What shall these hands and feet have wrought,
What sorrows shall the hours have brought,

Before thy brilliant course is run,
Before this new-born day is done,
Before you set, O rising Sun?

Frederick George Scott
(1861 - 1944)

I found this about Mr. Scott online, at various sites:

Notes on Life and Works

Frederick George Scott, known as "the poet of the Laurentians," was born in Montreal in 1861 and educated at Bishop's College, Lennoxville (B.A., 1881), and King's College, London (M.A., 1884). Made an Anglican priest in 1886, he become rector of St. Matthew's Church in Quebec city. He published 13 books of poetry in his lifetime. During the first world war Scott served as chaplain to the Canadian First Division and published his experiences in The Great War as I Saw It (1922). He died in 1944, leaving a daughter and four sons, one of whom, F. R. Scott, was a poet like his father.

And...
Canon Frederick George Scott was the padre of the 1st Division of the Canadian Corps and the confidant, friend and spiritual guide to many generals, officers and enlisted men during the war. When he returned from the war he continued to be revered by thousands. In 1934 he published The Great War as I Saw It, a memoir of his experiences. He is also known as a poet of religious, inspirational and patriotic poetry. During the Quebec Conference, held in the summer of 1943, Canon Scott was invited by Churchill and Roosevelt to a private meeting where he read some of this poetry.

The snow just won't go away ...

... no matter how much Duncan would like for it to disappear! I took this photo on his morning walk on New Year's Eve.

Not that he walked up onto this pile of snow in a parking lot across the street. I wanted a photo of him in/with/on the snow, so I set him on a small shelf made from some of that ice from the week before, imbedded in the pile when it had been shoved up into what the weatherpeople and/or reporters kept calling a snow berm. Not to worry, Duncan stood still for a few seconds, I snapped the photo, and picked up the little guy, giving him a great big hug of thanks!

I really thought I'd taken my last snow photo--ha!

Mama and I had never even thought about going out on New Year's Eve. I mean I'd made it through all of that snow and ice without any health disasters, and she hadn't been outside at all. Why would we take a chance? Why would we want the car over here in the land of scarce parking? We happily saw in the New Year with Dick Clark, wished each other "Happy New Year!" and went to bed.

At some point on New Year's Eve, it started to rain, I can't remember exactly when. When I woke up on New Year's Day, it continued to rain.

Then on New Year's night, we sat up playing cards first, Hand and Foot, then Scrabble. About 11 p.m. I got up from the game to take Duncan out which certainly didn't interest him. The rain continued to pour down, striking the sidewalk and splattering higher than he is tall. (Somewhere in there, a new 24-hour rainfall record for Portland had been set, 3.04 inches of rain in 24 hours; the monthly January average is 5.07 inches! It was announced on the 5 p.m. news on Jan. 2. I remember saying, "If it had been colder, we'd sure have a lot of snow!") Anyway, I had to walk out into the rain with him and set him beneath the hedge where he managed part of his business, then turned around and low-tailed it for the front door. Or should I say, tail-tucked it? You get the picture--he wasn't happy. Neither was I, dripping from the top of my hood to the tips of my sleeves. We dried him off and put him in his covers in Mama's recliner and went back to Scrabble, after I announced to Mama that it felt much colder than it earlier in the day.


We play on the kitchen table, and I sit beside the window. I can't help myself, I'm constantly looking out, especially when it's been raining, just to check the streetlight to see if it continues to come down. Some time in the next hour or so, I noticed something startling. I could barely make it out, through the sweating window, but I swear I thought I saw snow on the cars, sidewalks and street. Now, the weather report had mentioned the possiblity of snow showers, not sticking on the valley floor. We are a couple hundred feet above sea level here, so we're not smack dab on the valley floor. But. I pulled my "throw up the sash to see what was the matter" routine again, shocked out the wahzoo when I saw the snow in the streetlight and all over the place! Out came the camera, as well as my utter disbelief at what I was seeing. It was almost 1 a.m., and I kept thinking, "Well, I'm glad we didn't go to bed early or we'd have missed this!"

This is not rain, it's snow. I took the photo without the flash.

This is one with the flash. See the numerous flakes, some quite large?


I kept looking out the window, without opening it every time. Mama kept saying, "Look out the window when it's not your turn!"


We got to the end of that game--I can't remember who won--and I announced I was going to try taking Duncan out again. I thought maybe the snow would not bother him as much as the rain had. He made it just fine, thank goodness. I took him back in and went out again to take some more photos. I didn't see anyone else--it was so quiet that I could hear the ice mixed in the snow hitting my hood.

In the foreground, left, that's the snow berm I posed Duncan on for the first photo in today's post.


Gee, this looks lonely, doesn't it?


And a few minutes later, here's a better shot of Duncan's snow berm.


I was getting cold, so I took one more photo in the parking lot, of this pole with a shelf welded to it. You get a good feel for just how much snow had fallen in about an hour.


This street dead ends into our street, straight across from the parking lot--by the way, it's not a parking lot where you can rent a spot all day and night--it's for a business building, but you can rent a spot for the night which is of absolutely no help to us. That's Burnside at the top of the hill, where the service station lights shine in the darkness.


Here's our street. The streetlight on the right in the distance is the one I photograph from our kitchen window.


I like this shot of the intersection from a living room window.


By 2:45 a.m., it had started to rain again, and I soon went to bed, wondering what it would look like in the morning and saying to myself, "Thank goodness I'm not working on Friday!"

Balance, a pertinent concept for 2009

New Year's Resolutions? Why weight yourself down with that word, resolution?

I prefer the word concept, as in, according to Merriam-Webster Online, something conceived in the mind, a thought, a notion; or an abstract or generic idea generalized from particular instances.

So, I'm here to say that in my mind, balance is the watchword in 2009. For me it's not abstract, it's particular. As in balance between eating and exercise, being creative and being lazy, being curious and being dull. I guess you could say, though, that I'm really leaning one way on those last two, towards being creative and being curious. Maybe it's abstract, after all. Lots about life can be, can't it?

I took this photo on Dec. 31, walking along NW 23rd, after having walked to the pharmacy to get a refill of one of Mama's prescriptions. I took a circuitous route back, looking for two things, exercise and photo ops. It's a good thing I did that yesterday, because in the last 24 hours, we've had 1.33 inches of rain in Portland, with the certainty of much more in the next 24.

Do you go out on purpose, looking for things to photograph?