Last night we picked up our daughter and went to a downtown movie. Last show, we were the only ones at Lloyd Center Mall to see "The Informant." Curious film--glad for lack of violence or gratuitous sex--maybe I missed the point? Afterwards, realized I'd dropped my Ron-knit-hat and new gloves.
Called the Mall this morning, got number for movie office. "Wait a minute," the woman said, "let me look." She returned, described my lost articles. Later today I'll pick them up at the box office. Meanwhile we had a brief and pleasant exchange about the oddness of being alone at the movies.
Oh, I am liking so much the scale of life here. Take Sunday morning just passed. Along with 17 others,
[Aside: Every now and then some of that much-advertised rain appears]
I scribbled away for two hours at a Community Writing Workshop at HOT LIPS Pizza on Hawthorne. Write Around Portland puts these on to give new and not-so writers the "experience of the transformative power of writing in community." Very intergenerational--17 on up, one other grandmother, other recent transplants.
[Aside: Hot Lips' pizza has been a favorite since our family settled nearby...delicious Pear Soda, a new addition...and the jams. Website text on how they came to add these by accident rather than corporate plan is my notion of modern Portland-style, as contrasted with old-fashioned. Again, more later.]
Why the workshop, I hope you ask. Need a jump start on writing in general plus a push to working more on my plays about life among the not-so-old as we get more so. Preferring "old" lately as adjective and noun.
[Aside: The WAP session was a push. More came from unpacking another book box (endless), finding books of ten-minute plays. More later.]
In synch with E.F. Schumacher and the beauty of "small," decided to get rid of many more books. Reading Fran Johns' postings on the True/Slant blog, listening to children of the old talking about the burden of parents' wish for them to receive their "stuff," resonated. Okay, they really, really live in the here-and-now--a thing or two from Mom and Dad's pile and that's it.
[Aside: Our son-in-law cherishes his grandfather's college football helmet, our daughter dresses her children in sweaters I knit for her--and saved. My daughter-in-law in New York took on this blue baby dress of mine.]
Keeping the flame of Schumacher alive is a society with a number of programs, and a blog. Good ideas do not go out of style.