Chris Walsh (chris_walsh) wrote,
Chris Walsh
chris_walsh

Weekend whatevers, plus word coin-age

I covered lots of ground this weekend while it was dry. And then this afternoon I could simply stay put in my apartment, listening to a thunderstorm and the cloudburst that accompanied it. That warmed my thunderstorm-lovin’ heart. (I remember feeling a little deprived in Eugene, where I lived for four years and heard five thunderboomers total.)

Let’s see, yesterday I walked and bussed to Trendy-First and Trendy-Third in Northwest Portland, scoping out Willamette Week’s new offices then buying a DVD of Forbidden Zone at Music Millennium. I then walked about 30 blocks (not as insane as that sounds; these are short Portland blocks, you know) to First and Burnside, to do more shopping at that magnet place at Saturday Market.

Oh, and during that walk I thought of a word: servicians. That’s pronounced “sur-VISH-ins.” You receive customer service from servicians. How does that sound? It’ll probably be the next step in the work-renaming evolution that gave us Wal-Mart’s use of the term “associate.” (And what is it that associates do? Associate? Doesn’t sound very productive…but digressing, I am…)

I also made a point of walking across the Hawthorne Bridge to see the damage from a block-sized fire last week in inner Southeast. It happened to a building I’d never really noticed until now, but now is really bloody obvious. From there I bussed to near my neighborhood, and discovered on my walk home an abandoned Powerpuff Girl doll that probably had decorated a rearview mirror. Perhaps it shall decorate my place…

Then I got gas for a car and groceries for my own bad self, and then did my spur-of-the-moment Saturday night trip to Dundee. Reading and rest followed. I woke up early enough to watch the Trojan tower get demolished, then did laundry, read more, and got steak and eggs for breakfast at Calamity Jane’s before heading north. Then I plowed through my week’s-plus worth of unread newspapers so I could recycle them and grab any worthy clippings. (Warning to potential mates: I’m a news clipping pack rat. I’ve been one for twenty-two years. I feel I should admit that upfront.)

No slam-bang “wow”-inducing ending. Darn it.
Tags: language, peregrinations, portland
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