Busy Saturday

Last night it was Nathan's cousin Matt's birthday. I don't know if anyone who reads this regularly remembers that he moved here about a year ago and was one of the four roommates that I added to my house all of a sudden. Incidentally, I haven't blogged much about the various changes we've been through since then, but we only still have one of those roommates. Anyway, back to the party, it was a blast. I made Nathan buy a ton of beers and chicken wings, and it sort of morphed into two parties. The first part of the evening was attended by Matt's and my co-workers (did I mention I recommended him for a job at my company)? Shortly after they left, the new attendees all arrived, coming from one of the other segments of our social circle: the band members and associated friends. They brought life into a dwindling party, banging on drums, singing songs, wrassling, yelling, and whatnot. It was a blast. I think Matt had a great birthday party. We didn't go to bed until 2:30 a.m.

But the title of this post isn't "Busy Friday Night," it's "Busy Saturday." I just needed to preface the day, because my plan had been to wake up at the normal Saturday waking hour, around 9:00. But because I went to bed so late, my plans for the day got thrown off. After waking up at nearly 11:00, I spent the morning cleaning up the backyard since we have a small break from the rain. Cleaned out the chicken coop, poop scooped the dogs' side of the yard, and played with the chickens for a while. Then, I went with my friend Danielle to this place called The Bins.

A trip to The Bins is the kind of thing you don't move away from Portland without having done, and I had never been yet. I told Danielle months ago to take me on her next venture there and I wasn't going to miss this. "The Bins" is a Goodwill warehouse in the suburbs, where all donations initially go each week. The name is a reference to the way these goods are brought out: on giant flats full of unsorted donations. In the same bin, you might find some pots and pans, a Cabbage Patch doll, some VHS tapes, and various other assorted trash. The point of a visit here is that you get first dibs on thrift store items and it is cheaper than normal because, well, nothing has been sorted. It's dirty, it's stinky, and people are aggressive. It's a great place to go to see human nature in action. When a new bin comes out, all the customers swarm all over it, all the while staff members are yelling at them to back up or there will be no more bins. For clothing, you pay by the pound. I bought some baskets and some stuffed animals to give to friends as gifts. If they are really lucky, the toys will have come with bonus scabies, and we'll have a great story to tell in a few weeks. haha! One of the neatest items I found at the bins was a child's diary, about a fourth of the way filled with her life's story. The dates were from around 1998, and reading it was bittersweet. One has to wonder how a child's personal thoughts wind up becoming a donation at Goodwill? I bought the diary and gave it to my friend, who collects found writing.

After that, I came home, washed any staphylococcus of my hands, and took a refreshing nap on the futon with Marla and Max. Then I met Nathan and more friends for dinner at a Lebanese restaurant called Nicolas' - another Portland fixture. This restaurant always has a line out the door, but this shouldn't give you the impression that it's a swanky, exclusive kind of place. It's just a down-to-earth restaurant with amazing food. I ate so much that I hurt now. I kind of hate myself a little bit, but what is the point of gorging on Middle Eastern food if you can't have the joy of hating your life later? That's what I thought, no point at all. John and I had a contest to see who could stuff him/herself the most. In this sort of contest, there are no winners.

Every time I go there, I notice the similarity of Lebanese and Greek, not just in cuisine (which I already knew) but in language. The food Spanagh in Lebanese is Spanaki in Greek (spinach). The food Dolma has the same name in both languages. "Mezza" in Lebanese is a platter with several dips and small items like falafel. The Greek word for appetizer is mezze. It reminds me of a special on PBS I watched last week about India and the origins of civilization and language. Turns out that every language between India and Western Europe was probably Aryan in origin. Which kind of blows holes in the concept most Greek people have that we started everything. It's mighty interesting to me to see how language morphs from place to place and normally retains some vestiges of its former self. Written language is the same way, if you look at the history of each letter in the alphabet.

Well, that was my big Saturday, plus some incidental reflection. Hope you enjoyed this blog post on a small piece of my mundane, but fun, life.