I thought I would feel better after Sam's memorial service but I didn't feel better. I was just sad.

Patrick and I flew north Friday night and got into the rental car and drove to Mark and Rodger's house. We spent a couple of hours drinking and talking and I was pleased that they liked Patrick so much, of course I want my friends to be friends. The next morning we got up and had breakfast and then drove around Portland and ended up at this bizarre place, the Portland Memorial Mausoleum. An eight story maze-like building with thousands of crypts. Scattered about were 1960s chairs and the bottom floor had a very distinct smell of chemicals- we guessed embalming fluid. It was so strange (we were not allowed to take our cameras in).

We went back and collected Mac and went out to Sauvie Island and finally found a parking spot and walked on the beach.
























Rodger.

Mac loves to play fetch in the water.

























Mark tosses a fetching toy into the Columbia River.




















Mac.

It was nice to sit in the sand and look at the mollusk shells.

























Patrick.

The nearby bushes were loaded with blackberries. I ate four handfuls.
























Blackberries.

We went to our hotel after an early supper and got ready to go to Sam's memorial. We made the mistake of wearing long-sleeved shirts and jeans- everyone else was in tee-shirts and shorts because it was so hot in Portland.
























Allergy eyes.

Sam would have loved all the attention he got. It was sad to hear Greg and his closest friends speech. It was sad and funny to listen to an NPR radio show with Sam talking about his love of Legos. I drank gin and tonics and was maudlin and left a bit before midnight and sat on my hotel bed and bawled.

At breakfast, by chance, the waitress sat Patrick and I in the same booth at Doug Fir that Sam, Greg, and I had had supper on May 25, a lifetime ago.

Afterward, we went to Washington Park and wandered among the roses.
























I like Primroses best.

























Patrick told me the secrets of his moustache.

We got lost returning to Mark and Rodgers and then had a hard time finding a gas station near the airport. On the plane an elderly man near us started having problems and the flight attendant had to ask for doctors and nurses- luckily there were plenty of them on board. On the drive back I drove through first a dust storm and then a thunder storm. I called Chas to have someone to talk to, and it was nice to talk about stuff with him.

I'm heading to Portland with Patrick tonight. We get in around 9:30 or so and then drive to Mark and Rodger's house, where we will sit around and have some drinks and snacks and enjoy the scenery. Saturday morning we will run around so Patrick can see what a nice place Portland is.

Tomorrow night is Sam's memorial service. It still seems so strange to think that someone who was so alive is gone. I miss reading his pithy and sarcastic comments.

Panchesco gave me a couple of copies of this photo to give to Greg and Danielle. It was taken back in 2002, a few months before I met that rascal.
























Sam, Rhino, Panchesco, and Kurt.

Alex came down from Phoenix and we went out to the Sweetwater Wetlands. The water was specially nasty.



















Green slime.

Not many birds were visible, and the only turtle was sticking his head up through the green slime.




















FROG!

I heard a frog calling before I saw one. They were huge!
























Alex.

Afterward we went to India Oven and had delicious Indian food. I also helped Alex with his family tree and the story that his great grandfather had invented something to do with typewriters turned out to be true.

The basil-watermelon pickles came out nice- a bit tart with a mild basil taste. I wonder how people will react to them?



















Basil-watermelon pickles.

I am going to buy a big canning pot with a liftable insert, my double boiler leaks water everywhere on the stove.

Afterward, I took Paul down to Cobban and Ray's house to play in the pool.




















Ray, Paul, and Cobban.

The monsoon is in full force and it is raining a lot in southeastern Arizona. Everything was so lush and green and the wild sunflowers are blooming.

For supper I had made pimento cheese wraps and Ray made a nice pasta salad. I ate too much and got a little acid reflux.
























Rainbow!

It was a nice way to spend the day, domesticity and friends.

Double Rainbow in Tucson.



















It was so intense.

So fucking hot out at the dig site and of course it is near one of the sewage plants so I got to try out some new, disgusting smells.

I was off working by myself so there was plenty of time to think things over. I thought a lot about Sam, remembering the good things about him. His charm, the sly smile, his enthusiasm for certain things (once, obsessing over McNuggets). My heart aches for his partner Greg.

And then I thought about that nasty Maggie Gallagher, trying to understand why she hates us homos so fucking much. I hypothesized about various scenarios, as a scientist is apt to do. My guess, the man who knocked her up and wouldn't marry her was gay. Maybe she was his fag-hag? I wish a reporter would ask her these exact questions (maybe throwing in, "So when your bastard child was born, did your parents hate you?" Note, my father was a bastard child, so I know that can fuck you up pretty bad).

At lunch time someone said something they shouldn't have said and I blew up. I never, ever lose my cool. But today I did and in front of various assorted permanent and temp workers I got downright nasty over something that has been going on at work for a year. Said things like, "I'm tired of this bullshit and I am not going to take it anymore." Very loudly. Stunned faces ensued. And I'm not going to take it. Certain people need to act their fucking age and stop with the cliques and deciding not to hire perfectly competent people because they are friends with so-and-so. The boss is on my side, so they better mind their fucking manners.
























Post rant.

At pool volleyball I forgot about things I wanted to forget, bit the inside of my lip, and got saltwater stains on my glasses lenses, which I haven't figured out how to get off.



















The guys.

I was mostly on the winning team and played alright. My long monkey arms come in handy at batting the ball across the net.




















The coconut cake was delicious, and it was nice to spend time with my friends.