Planning Europe

One month from today, Richard and I will be in Europe. If my calculations are correct, we will be on a train somewhere between Hamburg and København. (If my superior train-catching skills are put to use, we may be clacking through the Polish country side with Richard’s full-volume lecture on responsible schedule-reading drowning out the pastoral ambiance.)

Richard and I are different travelers. While he talks of the brilliance of Amsterdam, Hamburg and København, I relentlessly throw out ideas of Rønne, Ærøskøbing and IJmuiden. Ten years in Hood River haven’t changed the basic tenet that Richard is a big city boy. And my youthful years in big cities didn’t affect my small town outlook. So we compromise. As Richard is want to point out, “Who in their right mind would vacation in some dumpy little out-of-the-way village when Amsterdam and Paris and Dublin exist?” He does have a point. So, we’ll be spending the nights and most days in major cities, but we have some planned trips to more rural(ish) areas. Of course, once we get there, things may change. Last time we were in Amsterdam, a planned day trip to Den Haag (The Hague – not exactly small town) was scrapped when, quite frankly, I threw a temper tantrum and refused to leave Amsterdam.

So we will fly to Schiphol Airport (non-stop from Portland), catch the train to Amsterdam-Centraal and spend four nights in my favorite city in the world, Amsterdam. This time, a day trip to Den Haag is almost certain. We will then catch the train to Hamburg, spend two nights there, exploring Germany’s second largest city before heading off to København for the next four nights. From København we are planning a day trip to southern Sweden (Malmø and/or Helsingborg), before catching a train to return to Amsterdam (with a night’s stop-over in Bremen.) The last two nights in Europe will be spent at a pretty expensive hotel overlooking the Rembrandtplein. Actually, with the sound economic leadership of our current administration, every night in Europe will be spent in a pretty expensive hotel, but we are splurging on our last nights. Oddly, Richard isn’t into the “youth-hostel” experience.

It’s not that I am getting excited about the trip (although if I think about it too much, I risk wetting myself), it’s just that I want to go now and I don’t ever want to come back. I can picture myself, happily sipping genever while watching the boat traffic on the Kaisergracht for the rest of my natural life.

Two years ago, I think I embarrassed Richard when, standing at one of those automated ticketing kiosks at PDX, I burst into tears when a ticket came out with my name on it and “Amsterdam-Schiphol” printed right below my name. I’m not sure I’ll do any better this time.

They say we look alike

Personally, I think it is just the antlers that make us look alike, but Richard mentions the nose.

Missing Rigel

Rigel and Raquel on Rigel's final night

Our beloved Quiz-Master Extraordinaire, Rigel, left us almost a month ago. He went back east (Connecticut, I believe), to pursue a life that doesn’t include nerds downing beer and exercising their gray matter. Apparently he believes there is more to life than PubQuiz at the Horse and Hound. Such a shallow man.

Mark my words, Rigel, you will regret your decision to leave. One day, after you have achieved a couple of minor goals, such as eradicating hunger from every corner of the globe and bringing about world peace, (racking up a couple of Nobel’s along the way), you will be sitting in a hammock, sipping a Margarita or two or three and you will say to yourself, “I should have stayed at the Horse and Hound. Now there was a worthy cause: bringing joy to the geeky masses.”

Wayno

Wayne Edward Peterson was born on July 6, 1954. Today would have been his 54th birthday.

Wayno was 19 in 1974 when he moved to New York City. His experiences were very different then mine, but so much the same. He was in the middle of the gay rights forefront. I was somewhere in the backwash of America, getting my footing in Minneapolis, but then settling down in Coos Bay, Gleneden Beach, Eugene, Boise and Hood River (all the hot spots). But for a four-year stint in LA, a short time in my hometown of Seattle, and about 2 years (total, two stays) in Minneapolis, my adult life has been spent in small town USA. His was in New York City. He knew people who were at the Stonewall Riots. He was in New York for the bicentennial celebration. He knew people who died of “consumption” in 1978 and 1979, three years before the medical community recognized AIDS. I’ve read about the Stonewall Riots, seen pictures of the bicentennial celebration and was spared the first five or six years of “gay cancer’.

Even so, we had so many of the same experiences. We realized that we had achieved the same plateau, even though we came from such diverse directions.

Wayno was a very public figure. I am very private. His life was told in four front-page stories in the Yakima Herald. I was proud of him, but always a bit embarrassed I was mentioned. Thankfully, they always got my name wrong.

The picture is from a trip Wayno and I took to Maine. We flew into Boston, rented a car and drove the coast of Maine, up into New Brunswick, touching the edge of Nova Scotia and ferrying out to Prince Edward Island. (We both loved Charlottetown.) We then returned to Boston and flew home. It was a great vacation.

Bon Anniversaire

Ten years ago, on July 5, 1998, Richard and I tied the knot in an inauspicious event. My father officiated. As the only remaining parent, he represented a since-gone generation. My sister, Karla stood up for me, and Richard’s friend, Mark stood up for him. About 40 of our friends and family attended. Had we mentioned “free dinner” we might have gotten a few more to show up, but we never have been that needy.

It’s been a great ride. Some of the lows have been harsh and required some serious adjustments. And some of the highs have been truly unbelievable. But, the day-to-day stuff has been the cement that works.

Richard, give me 10 more and I promise to keep it interesting.

Meet the "Kids"

Below is Spike. At 11#, he is the smallest member of the family. However, he does have big hair, so you would never know how tiny he is. And he is the mighty mouser of the homestead.

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And this is Trixie. She is the only female in the household. Some may say that there is too much testosterone in the home for her to thrive, but thrive she does. At 150#, she is the fourth largest animal in the abode.

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And let's not forget Max. You've all heard the rumors, but there is no genealogical evidence to prove that he is the second cousin of the devil, no matter how many times you try to remove him. At 20#, he ain't no dainty critter. Oh, and the attitude is normal. He thinks he is da bomb.

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And the beloved lumox, Ralph. Tipping the scales at 200#, he is one mammoth puppy. But a sweeter animal you will never meet. A word of caution, when he stomps his paw, you want to move your foot quickly.

The Richard Update

6:20AM. St. Vincent's Hospital. The Heart Lobby.

First, I need to correct some misinformation that I spewed the last time I traveled to St. Vincent’s. It turns out that the hospital is not in Beaverton as I erroneously reported. You pass a sign that says, “Beaverton, Next 4 Exits”, then you turn off Highway 26 and head right for St. Vincent’s parking garage. So, I jumped to the conclusion that the hospital was in Beaverton. Wrong. It has a Portland mailing address. So, I need to take back all my tirades about Beaverton. Oops, sorry folks.

That being said, St. Vincent’s is still located west of Portland and we still live east of Portland. Getting Richard here by 6AM required leaving home at 4:15AM. Extrapolate the hour it took to get us both ready to leave and you’ll understand why, at 3:30AM, Max screeched out, “Are you two out of your friggin’ minds? Get your sagging, old asses back in bed this minute.” Max hates to sleep alone. But we didn’t. Richard is getting prepped for his procedure as we speak.

8AM - The Cafeteria at St. Vinnie's.

Richard has been whisked off to the mystery chamber where the doctor and crew will install his new stent. Breakfast sounded good to me, so here I sit, glaring at a plate of glop. “Special Eggs and Potatoes.” Yes, these eggs are special. They’re scrambled with cheese, some brown things and some green things. I had hoped the brown things were mushrooms, but upon closer inspection, they seem to be bits of sausage. I had trusted that the green things were spinach. But they will be merely remembered as the “unnamed green stuff.” The potatoes aren’t special. They’re nothing more than your traditional grease-soaked hashbrowns. Just looking at this plate is easing my hunger quite quickly.

8:50AM. St. Vincent's Hospital. The Heart Lobby.

One might think, given my vast experience, that I would be better at keeping myself occupied at hospitals. I pace and let my mind wander. I hum songs and recite poetry. I worry the people sharing the lobby. One minute and thirteen seconds down, only 118 minutes and 47 seconds to go. Yes, time truly does fly when you are having fun.

My mind goes off on a tangent. I am suddenly sitting on the Rembrandtplein, quaffing a beer. I spin and find myself in front of L’église de Ste. Catherine/Sint Katelinekerk. I turn again and I am suddenly walking the streets of Île-St.-Louis. Life is good. With no warning, there is a tap on my shoulder. I jolt to attention. It is one of the volunteers. Apparently, my snoring was disturbing the doctors in the operating theatre.

Noon. Home in the Upper Hood River Valley.

Richards procedure is done. Dr. Williamson gave him an A+. It only took about an hour and a half to place the stent in Richard's Iliac artery. The good doctor started to describe the procedure in way more detail than I cared to hear. I turned pale long before he stopped. Anything that starts with an incision or two in the groin is going nowhere I want to go. I was then allowed to visit Richard. He was still groggy, but good. He dozed. So I came home to deal with the dogs. Now I turn around and go pick Richard back up from the hospital. He should be ready to leave at about 4PM - just in time for rush hour.