Two-Fer Tuesday

..Because what else are you gonna do on a Tuesday Night??

ITEM ONE!!

Let's call this one: "Celebrity Deposition"

I lay in bed Monday night, thinking, sorting, planning (but not sleeping) when all of a sudden, I recalled that I had depositons scheduled for the following day. Four of them in fact, Plaintiff, Defendant and two independant witnesses!

Holy Christ! As it was late, and as I wasn't sleeping particularly well, and as the missus had indicated a willingness to cart the tots to the daycare in the morning, I had thought, perhaps, I just might snooze a bit following sunrise.

Alas, I had places to be and things to do, so I stretched my hand out in the dark and reset my alarm clock.

I arrived at work on time. Ahead of time in fact. Bushy-tailed and ready to party. The facts, I knew, were against me. The Defense attorney was up to the task, I knew, becasue he was a former co-worker of mine, whose deposition outline I continue to use, even to this day.

Sensing strife, I chose to gird myself with black braces, dressing in the traditional uniform of the Black & Tan, I prepared for battle. I could have been more prepared if only I wore the Gordon Tartan and slung a great Claymore over my shoulder...

But I digress. (forgive me, I'm only a bottle and a half of wine to the wind at the moment...)

Anyway.

There I was, at the table, my ponytailed biker client by my side, defense counsel sitting across from me. And suddenly, it dawned on me, defense counsel resembled someone. Someone, other than his familiar self, yet very familiar to me...

The morning wore on. I sucked down copious cups of coffee.

Eventually, the witnesses arrived, a man and a woman, and I could not help but stare at the uniquely familiar face of the man. It was uncanny. It was surprising. I was a perfect replica, of...

Once inside the conference room, it all dawned on me. The familiar face of the defense attorney was none other than Gary Oldman as Commissioner Gordon in the latest set of Batman movies.



And the witness?? Right. He was Howard Stern.



In deed, it appeared that I was in the midst of a celebrity deposition...

Two-Fer Tuesady Item Two!!

HAPPINESS

It was a long-overdue Sunday adventure. Mama and the boy were ill and at home, so the girl and I drove out into the geat gray oregon yonder to see what we could see.

The girl, only three, is able to name most of the major water ways in the region, naming their confluences and there termination. She knows that the Tualatin and the Clackamas run in to the Willamette, which runs itself into the Columbia, which then runs to the ocean. The Pacific Ocean, to be precise, because she is nothing if not precise.

"But where, daddy," she asked, "does the Willamette run in to the Columbia?"

It was a good question, and from our vantage point along the river wall at River Front Park, we could not see the Delta.

"Why don't we go find it?" I suggested, which was met with a serious nod of approval.

And find it, we did, at Kelly Point Park, the western-most tip of the North Portland Delta, west of St. Johns, where the Willamette runs in a side-swipe into the the mighty Columbia.

It required a short hike through the urban rain forrest. And at once we were alone on a rain-swept beach. Rocks. Sand. Drift wood. All strewn about in light-natural fashion.

We walked along the beach, dodging tiny waves and watching the impossibly-humongous cargo ships cruise by through the river mist.

Then, we came to the point. The last inch of land between the two ancient water ways. Without moving out heads, we could see both rivers, and Oregon and Washington and ships bound for China and a flock of divng sea birds, all in one expanse.

It was raining, mostly misting, on us, and she stood back against my legs as she studied the lay of the land. She took in the run of the rivers and the speed of the passing vessels.

She stood quietly, learning, filling her massive mind with geography and physics and biology and cartography. She declined my early offer to go, and we stood some more and studied.

Sometimes, she can be loud. Sometimes, she argues. Some times she awakes at an inconvenient hour.

Sometimes she won't eat her dinner. Sometimes she is a greedy obligation, hell-bent on jelly beans and hot chocolate.

Sometimes she sits zombie-like before the fortieth showing of The Little Mermaid.

But that morning... At that moment, on the beach, at the tip of the delta, she was my daughter. A mighty woman in the making, and a wonder to behold.

We ignored the rain, and held hands, as she beat a path back to the car for us through the brush.

We were wet and tired, but we had shared an exploration, a true adventure. We shared the last two jelly beans and headed home in silence.

Well, not complete silence... She asked whether we could listen to the latest Radiohead CD. She likes the Jigsaw song.