Random musings on a writer's life & times, with occasional input from acquaintances
Monday, January 19, 2004
Man, talk about a tough couple of days!
The local newspaper had a story this morning about this 37-year-old Medford dude, Stephen Albert McCallister, who got lost last Thursday while snowboarding on Mount Ashland in southern Oregon. He wandered through snowy forests for two days before turning up on the outskirts of the city of Ashland Saturday morning.
An ambulance took him to a hospital in Medford, eight miles away. He called friends, who contacted the Jackson County Sheriff’s Department to cancel a search for him.
McCallister was treated and released at the hospital, but after doctors let him go sheriff's deputies arrested him. It seems there was this matter of an outstanding drug-possession warrant.
The guy posted bail to get out of jail Saturday night, and went home. His house, it turns out, had been burglarized while he was gone. Whew!
A man might begin to think the fates were conspiring against him.
The Medford dude's misadventures made me think of a recent series of mishaps involving a Corvallis-area girl described to me by a relative.
The girl, who is in her early 20s and an acquaintance of my relative’s children, had agreed to pick up a friend who was flying into Portland International Airport. The girl's car was low on gas, but she had been moving household goods with a U-Haul truck that contained plenty of fuel, so she drove IT the ninety miles to Portland.
When she reached the airport, she herded the U-Haul into a curbside passenger pick-up area, parked it and walked inside the terminal looking for her friend. Now, this area at the Portland airport is plastered with No Parking signs, not to mention the fact that airport security workers these days tend to have nightmares about things like mad bombers who park U-Haul trucks full of explosives outside terminal doors and walk away.
When the girl saunters out of the terminal, her truck is surrounded by cops. She doesn't have any dynamite in the vehicle, so she beats the mad bomber rap, but she does have a marijuana stash spread out on the passenger's seat. So she gets arrested for drug possession.
Somehow, my relative said, the girl dodged the drug charge, too. She drove the U-Haul back to Benton County. I wonder what the friend who was just trying to catch a ride thought.
Sunday, January 18, 2004
It’s “Sunday Se7en,” starring Brad Pitt as Peoria Dave and Gwyneth Paltrow as Cookie Jean.
1) What are you wearing?
Black, white and red flannel pajama pants, black sweatshirt, white sox with a black Nike swoosh, fur-lined houseboots.
2) What are you reading?
“Cat’s Eye,” a novel by Margaret Atwood. (Are little girls really like that?)
3) What’s for dinner?
We’ve had take-out two nights in a row, so I’m hoping Cookie Jean will concoct something in our kitchen. Maybe I’ll lobby for spaghetti.
4) What’s the best thing that happened this week?
I had two poems accepted for publication by Lynx Eye, a little literary rag in the Los Angeles area.
5) What’s bugging you?
I can’t wear my watch on my left wrist because I sustained a nasty cut there when I fell down on our icy back steps during a snowstorm last week. I am a creature of habit, so having to look at my right wrist to check the time drives me nuts. I pluck at my sleeves like a magician trying to prove he holds no hidden cards.
6) Where in the world is Carmen San Diego?
7) What’s it all about, Dave?
Haven’t got a clue. Never did. Never will.