This may be the last Conversations With Teenagers post, as #1 Son will not longer be one come July. Dare I hope we will then move to something like Conversations With Adults?

sound of ringing phone…

Mom: Hello?

#1 Son: Hi, Mom. Say… I’ve got almost enough for that ticket to Europe and I really, really need to buy it and can you just front me a little bit so I can get that taken care of? Please? Please?

Mom [sigh]: OK.

#1 Son: Great! I need a round-trip from here to Frankfurt. I need to be there by this date, and come back after that date. I’ve looked online, and SiteX was the cheapest.

Mom: Let me look. OK. No. It looks like SiteY is cheaper today. Are you sure you are flying in and out of Frankfurt?

#1 Son: Yes. Frankfurt.

Mom: Your first show is in Stuttgart and the last is in Denmark. Are you sure Frankfurt?

#1 Son: YES. Frankfurt.

Mom: OK. [finger poised above mouse, cursor hovering over book button] How are you getting to Stuttgart?

#1 Son [after long pause]: I’ll call you right back.

Mom: OK. [cancels ticket purchase]

sound of ringing phone…

Mom: Hello?

#1 Son: Hey, it’s Munich. That’s where I need to go. The guy that’s releasing the record in Europe lives in Munich and he’s picking us up at the airport.

Mom: Ah. Munich is different than Frankfurt. Will he get you back to Munich after the last show?

#1 Son: We’ll figure it out. I’m sure he will.

Mom: OK. Well, I’m looking online and it looks like there are several choices. You can fly though Chicago or Philadelphia or Charlotte. Any idea what flights the other guys are on?

#1 Son [after long pause]: I’ll call you right back.

Mom: OK. [cancels ticket purchase]

sound of ringing phone…

Mom: Hello?

#1 Son: Hey. Go out to our band email account and log in. Drummer Boy’s itinerary is in an email. Can you get me on the same flights going over? The others are staying longer after the tour, so I’ll probably have to fly back by myself.

I could, and I did. #1 Son is sitting next to Drummer Boy on the first leg, and behind him on the second. See what you can do with a little information? And what, I ask you gentle reader, would punk rockers ever do without their moms?

Happy Mother’s Day to all of you.

almost blossoms

It’s been that kind of day.

It started when I realized that the blog feed was not working, so my April fools post - which was actually created on April 1st - was delivered on April 2nd, if at all. Well… that sort of killed the joke, eh?

Having chewed on that problem for a bit, I headed out to the kitchen. There I popped a cup of coffee in my old, trusty microwave to reheat, while I gazed out the back door on my yard - sunny and, dare I say, springlike? The picture shows what my yard really looks like today. See the blue, blue sky and the cherry blossoms about to pop? Ah… finally. The snow picture was from January, 2007, and I do not want to see that return.

As I stood contemplating the return of spring, I heard what can only be described as a groan behind me. A groan, and then a thud, and then silence. I turned in horror. The microwave had died. It completed its mission to heat my cup of coffee. And it was dead. As dead as Marley’s ghost. Deader, actually, as Marley’s ghost could speak and rattle his chains. But Micro (as it was known to friends and family), could do neither. It was as dead as a doornail.

And why, gentle reader, do we use that phrase? Are doornails any more dead than, say, door knobs or window sashes or venetian blind slats? It seems they must, somehow, be. But I digress.

Since the demise of the old refrigerator, Micro has been the oldest of my major appliances. It has been my good and trusty servant for 20 years (it was actually older than #1 Son). In its youth, it was quite something - a combination microwave/convection oven that was rather expensive when purchased. I felt very proud when it came home to my kitchen. It had been repaired once, under warranty, but since then it had never missed a beat. Many a healthy and tasty meal were cooked in it, and certainly I got my money’s worth out of it. But in latter days, in deference to its extreme old age, it was more likely to warm a cup of coffee or pop the occasional bag of popcorn.

The last year or two it has made some sort of strange noises now and again. But it kept right heating up whatever I tossed its way with few complaints. Although I knew that in microwave years it was an ancient beast, it seemed to be one of those eternal things that are always there. I assumed that someday #1 Son would come to take care of my worldly possessions when I no longer needed them, and would find a good home for Micro. I just never expected to have to replace it. Poor Micro. The groan it gave as its last gasp was truly pitiable.

Thus I contemplated its life and mourned its death as I sipped my piping hot cup of coffee. Thank you, Micro, for warming my morning.

fruit bouquet

Tomorrow is one of my colleague’s birthday, and this fruit bouquet was sent to mark the occasion. Isn’t this just yummy? What a good idea instead of flowers!

The card said that it should be eaten within 4 hours, and so my colleague asked us all to help out. Who am I to turn down such a heartfelt plea?

Those roundish white things that you see - bananas dipped in white and dark chocolate. Yeah. To die for. And chocolate-covered strawberries. And I can report that the melons, oranges and grapes were quite tasty as well. I had to help out, right?

The fruit fueled my after-work excursion to the local big-box store in search of a new microwave. Not a replacement, mind you, because nothing could replace Micro. But a new one that could do the job.

I found that the state of the art has progressed somewhat over the last 20 years. Microwaves are smaller, lighter and have tons of features for a rather small price. I was pleasantly surprised. I opted not to get one that has a convection over in it. I really haven’t used that feature much and I didn’t want to pay extra for it. But I found a nice, medium-sized microwave and brought it home.

The new microwave and I will need to get used to each other. In Micro’s honor, I decided to start with a bag of popcorn. The first bag was… burned to a crisp darned near burned the kitchen down set off the fire alarm a bit over-popped. The second bag was much better. I believe that, over time, we will grow used to each other’s ways. If I am lucky, this microwave will last even 1/2 as long as Micro did.

I do feel badly about missing Wednesday night knitting. Next week, for sure.

snow?

What a day today!

It snowed 6″ at my house and I was completely trapped in. See the picture?

Mt. St. Helens is erupting and Mt. Hood is rumbling. A scientist has predicted that all of the Cascade volcanoes are likely to explode any day now.

President Bush announced new surcharges on wool. We know those knitters won’t mind paying a little extra. They probably won’t even notice, he said as he sign the new Take Their Wool and Run bill into law.

All three of my cats existed peacefully together today with no squabbles or spats.

The major oil companies decided that they didn’t really need such large profits and the price of gas dropped instantly to $0.50 per gallon.

#1 Son has decided to give up his rock ‘n roll lifestyle and study accounting.

And I finished the clown barf stripy socks.

Yeah…

April fools.

it must be spring

Something happened when I wasn’t looking. I must have been distracted. I was looking down and not up. And I missed it.

It’s spring.

The cherry blossoms are insisting that it’s spring.

Then why, pray tell, was it bad-assed cold a mere 32 degrees Fahrenheit when I woke up this morning? That’s a January sort of temperature. There might be, the weatherman tells me, snow down to 500′ tomorrow. That’s my house.

We are not amused.

Look at the poor trees in the picture. Look cold, don’t they? I swear to you that those blossoms are pink. It’s impossible to tell in this photo because the angry white sky and the chill have bleached the color right out..

or maybe not

Here. I’ll show you some petals that had fallen off and drifted against the curb on the sidewalk along with some of last year’s seeds. See? They are pink.

Not 20 minutes after I took these pictures, as I sat in a local coffee shop drinking a cuppa Earl Gray, the heavens opened up and the rain poured down in sheets. I’m glad I stopped to take a couple of snaps because I’m betting that most of the petals are on the ground now — and not in lovely, albeit chilly, pink drifts but in soggy, sodden, brownish masses.

Of course, all of this is to distract you, gentle reader, from the fact that there’s no knitting content. I have been knitting. Or at least I’ve been meaning to knit. I’ve made it about 2″ up the ankles of the clown barf stripy socks. Most of the progress has been made here and there while waiting in a line and such.

At night, instead of knitting, I’ve been catching up on my long-neglected blog reading. It’s been wonderful to visit old friends that I haven’t seen for way too long. And tonight I read two bloggers who mentioned doing laundry. And that totally reminded me that I really needed to throw a load in right away. Because otherwise tomorrow I would have to go naked to work. And, it being a rather conservative establishment, that would probably be frowned on. Not to mention cold — especially if it does snow.

Of course, if the snow sticks I could justify working from home tomorrow. But unless it melted pretty darn quick I would miss Wednesday knitting. And I really don’t want to do that since I have promised a little semi-impromptu lesson in Judy’s Magic Cast-on — I swear I’ve been asked, although lack thereof never stops me, and it’s so fun to watch coffee house denizens trying to figure out why a whole group of people are intently watching me wind yarn around needles.

And worst of all, I would miss Sharon of Stitchjones fame and the yummy new colorway in her sock yarn that she is bringing called Andes Mint. Go over to her blog or her Etsy shop and check it out. But if you think you’re going to buy it all up, you’ll have to go through me first!

Last year #1 Son was the proud recipient of a speeding ticket. You should take care of that right away, I suggested. Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll take care of it.

Later, #1 Son received a letter from the Oregon DMV explaining that the state frowns on people who fail to take care of their tickets and tends to suspend or revoke their driving privileges until it’s all cleared up. You really should take care of that, I reminded. Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll take care of it.

Then #1 Son traveled to Brazil for over a month and life went on and I forgot all about it because… it had been taken care of.

Tax time came, and taxes were calculated, and returns were electronically filed. #1 Son received a nice letter from the State Of Oregon (Revenue Division) thanking him for the tax return amount that had been applied to his outstanding account from Multnomah County. Would he please remit the remainder post haste? What’s this about? I asked. I don’t know, Mom. But don’t worry, I’ll get it taken care of.

Fast forward to last Wednesday. It’s 10:30 PM, and I am drowsing knitting in front of the TV, watching a DVR’d episode of Men In Trees. The phone rings.

#1 Son: Mom! My car just got towed! What am I going to do!

I’ve been through this once before. Last year when I was in Miami on business, a call came from #1 Son in Canada asking me to move his car in Portland. It was difficult, since I was diagonally almost as far away across the US from the car as I could possibly get, thus my familiarity with the whole car towing thing. It also pointed out what a small place the world is becoming. But I digress.

Mom (only 1/2 awake and trying to understand what might have happened): Why was your car towed? You have the area parking permit now.

#1 Son: Well… OK… here’s what happened. You know how when you get off the freeway by my house you can only go north and I live south and everyone just does that illegal U-turn? Well… my roommate called to tell me that there were a lot of cops out pulling people over for illegal U-turns. So instead of making a U-turn I crossed two lanes over a solid white line and turned left. [ed.: because apparently an illegal left turn is so much better than an illegal U-turn.] And the cop pulled me over and towed my car.

Mom (still trying to understand): Why did he tow your car?

#1 Son (after long pause): Apparently I’ve been driving on a suspended license. But I really didn’t know that! And he threw me in the back of his car and frisked me and everything! He wouldn’t even let me push my car home even though I could see my house from where I was. What am I going to do?

Mom (trying to remain calm): You will be glad you are not the kind of person to have illegal substances in your car (right?!?!?). You will be happy that you did take care of the lost registration so that this is not being complicated by a charge of driving a stolen vehicle (yes I know it’s not but you are a punk kid and therefore everything you say is suspect). In the morning you will call the state and find out what that outstanding debt is for and this time you will actually get it taken care of. You will then call the City Of Portland and find out how to get your car back. You will then call the court and find out how to take care of your ticket. You will then report back to me. Love you!

Thursday morning… in between meetings, my phone rings…

#1 Son: Hi! I called the state and paid them. They will let Multnomah County know by tomorrow that I’ve paid and Multnomah County will tell DMV so that is taken care of. I called about my car… uh… apparently I have to get a release from the police first before I can get the car back. But I can’t get the release because I’m not the registered owner and I don’t have a valid driver’s license. uh… what do I do now?

Mom: Apparently I will have to go get the release. Can one of your friends drive your car when I go to pick it up? By the way, your car is coming to my house. I will take your friend back to wherever they need to go afterwards.

#1 Son: I talked to Guitar Hero and he can go. Here’s the number of the place where the car is. And here’s Guitar Hero’s number. And here’s the number and address of the place where you get the release. Thanks. I really love you!

So I called Guitar Hero and asked him to be at my work front door at 4:00, and he agreed. I called the Portland Police and learned that people trying to get back cars towed because of a crime have to go to the Asset Forfeiture Unit first. But I could go directly to the Records Division to obtain the release because this was for a violation not a crime.

On my lunch hour (an extended hour, as it turns out), I walked down to the Portland Police Bureau Central Precinct. Once there, I was required to prove who I was and why I was there before I was allowed to ride the elevator up to the Records Division. The waiting room of the RD was tiny and lined on three sides with backless wooden benches. The east side included windows of bullet-proof (I assume) glass with little slits for papers and such to be passed back and forth. I stood briefly trying to get the lay of the land. Take a number, I was told. I did so and sat down against the north wall.

There were three parties ahead of me in line, and they were all friendly and chatty. The woman currently being served was there to get a release for her daughter’s car. It had been towed because her daughter was driving without a license. It seems that her daughter wasn’t old enough to actually get a permit, but she’d only driven a mile or two. (I hesitated to ask why her daughter had a car.)

The couple on the west bench were there to get a car that had been towed. (Do you see a pattern here?) They had been upstairs first to the Asset Forfeiture Unit. They didn’t really want to discuss why. I didn’t really want to know.

The woman on the south bench across from me broke the pattern as she was just there to get a background check so she could rent an apartment. I really hope my drug convictions don’t show up, she said quite seriously. I had no idea how to respond to that except good luck.

It occurred to me that I had left my knitting at work.

I was vastly relieved to have the release in hand and head back to work. At 3:45 PM my phone rang…

Guitar Hero: uh… hi… you know when I talked to you earlier… there was something I sort of forgot… I think my license is unsuspended. I just need to go over to DMV to get it reinstated. But I sort of haven’t done that yet so it’s not really valid… I talked to Drummer Boy and he said he’ll go with you to get #1 Son’s car so I’m going to bring him down and we should be there pretty soon.

Was I being punked? Twilight Zone? Candid Camera? (OK. That shows my age.) I was beginning to think that I was the last person in Oregon with a valid driver’s license.

Drummer Boy went with me the last time I had to get #1 Son’s car out of hock. This, I told him is deja vu all over again. He assured me that he did, indeed, have a valid license. The tow company fortunately had a key, because I do not (which I remembered on the way over there). And #1 Son’s car is back outside my house, taking the place of the car that had taken the place of the truck.

Last night my phone rang…

#1 Son: I think I forgot to tell you that L [ed. his girlfriend] is coming down from Canada and Autistic Youth is playing a couple of shows down in the Bay Area. We should be back I think on Sunday. Or maybe Monday.

Mom: How are you getting down there?

#1 Son: We’re taking Guitar Hero’s van

Mom: Drummer Boy better be doing all the driving

#1 Son (after long, long pause): Yeah. We’ll figure it out. Did you know that I could get my license back as soon as next Wednesday now that everything is taken care of but the new ticket? Isn’t that good news? Love you!