1. I don’t really believe in karma, but apparently karma believes in me: Four 23 year old males and their dog just moved into the rental house on the kitchen side of the HQ. Previous tenants? Quiet. These guys? Not so much. They (and their guests) are partying hard on a Sunday night. And a Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, etc. What is this world coming to? The CEO would have never even considered such a thing at their age. For shame. Plus, the bastards haven’t even invited me over.
It’s official now I guess: the CEO is a grouchy old man. It feels good on some level to finally accept the inevitable. As such, I’ll be out in front of my house next Sunday bright and early with my gas powered weed-wacker, wacking away. Whether there are actually weeds needing wacking is immaterial. Chief Educator by the way, I could use my chainsaw back too. I’m sure I can find something on that side of the house that needs cutting on a Saturday morning . . .
2. Since Kjel.org now has an official Zoo Pass, (not like the one I put in the CFO’s stocking in 2002) it makes no sense for us not to head up there if we have even an hour or two. Jr. likes the animals, but sprinting up and down the paths with no regard for other zoo patrons is really the reason he likes it I think. Kjel.org is well loved among the serious zoo-goers, I’m sure.
The CEO noticed something on Sunday: there is a certain group of people (not zoo employees, I checked) who, when going to the zoo, dress like they are actually going out into the wilderness to stalk some animals. I saw more serious hiking boots, backpacks, cargo vests and bush hats at the zoo than I saw when I hiked from the rim of the Grand Canyon to the river below. (17 miles in 105 degree sun, if you must know — yeah, I was homicidal at the end of it. Due to some creative bribery and selective threats, those records are now sealed). Silly people. Next time I make it to the zoo I think I’ll try to sneak in my fly rod - those trout at the zoo should be an easy target. Yeah I’ll be wearing a fishing vest, but for a reason, dammit.
3. Someone is lucky that I can’t remember who borrowed a bunch of small hand tools from me. I needed them Sunday and was unhappy not to have ‘em. The CFO got a bug up made an absolutely reasonable decision that Kjel.org needed a new mailbox, and Sunday was the day she was going to do it. She went to the hardware store early and bought some nuts and bolts that she thought would work. No dice. Three hours and some tears later, the CEO went to A-Boy, bought some additional hardware, went home, tore out some previous attempts, re-drilled a few spots, and then whirled about in a purposeful tornado of hex-bolts, locking nuts, wrenches, and ratchets. I had the whole damn thing done in 10 minutes, even without some of my tools.
4. On Saturday I was fortunate enough to eat dinner with the CFO at Fenouil, a restaurant right on Jamison Park in the Pearl District. The place is beautiful, with two floors looking out over the park, and sliding doors that open to bring in the outside. Soft colors, high ceilings, beautiful tables, chairs, and decor — I’m not sure there is a better looking place in Portland. The service was impeccable. We arrived a bit early, but, despite how busy they were, they accommodated us very quickly.
Our table was upstairs and had a great view of the park, but even better, from the mezzanine we could directly look down into the kitchen area and watch the chefs work. It was fun, but also a bit distracting: I of course would rather talk to the CFO while at dinner, but I couldn’t help repeatedly trying to catch a glimpse of the guys in the white hats doing their thing.
The service was friendly and knowledgeable. We asked our waitress for a wine suggestion after making our dinner order, and she absolutely pointed us in the right direction: she suggested an excellent Pinot that matched the entrée very well; I doubt I would have known to order it otherwise.
The only drawback? The food itself. Nothing was bad, or cold, or cooked incorrectly, but in a restaurant town as good as Portland, the food at Fenouil was only average. I had steak tartare as a starter, and while pretty good, it was only pretty good (as a friend of mine recently said How hard can it be? You just make it — it’s not even cooked) The tartare did have a raw quail’s egg cracked over the top of it: that was a nice touch. The CFO’s starter salad was fine, but was a bit misrepresented on the menu: for some insane reason the CFO was craving beats, but the “beat salad” she thought she ordered actually had about 4 small slices of beat in it. Kjel.org loves duck and had heard good things about the duck at Fenouil, so we both ordered it. I always think it’s sorta lame for us to go to a new restaurant and both order the same thing, but well, I guess the CEO and CFO are maybe at least sorta of lame. The chef cooked it right (rare) which is nice, but even so, it was good but not special. I think that maybe there is better stuff on the menu (I saw an order of sea scallops go by that looked really good), but all in all, especially for what it costs, I’m not sure I’d go back.
5. My back is sore as hell, but I am happy to report that the Chief Educator no longer has a woodstove in his front room. First the chimney, now the stove — what next will the CEO remove from the Educator’s pad? My bet is on a wall (or two), or possibly a fence. Next time, I might not even ask the Educator’s permission. Studley D’s father and I will just show up with our sledge hammers and get to work.
6. Speaking of karma yet again: a few years ago everyone was invited to a certain party on Labor Day weekend, a party occurring at the same time as the famous OSU-LSU football game. At the time I laughed at the Beaver fans who were missing the game. This year, I am attending the same party, scheduled for early evening on Saturday, September 2nd. Flerking karma. I still don’t believe in the stuff, but dammit. Just dammit.
