The aftermath of party weekend

My actual birthday - on Friday - was nice and low-key. Stephanie took me to lunch, and Bobby got me a completely awesome necklace featuring an anatomical heart made of colored concrete. He and I had dinner at Bamboo Sushi with Jonathan and Tara. Conor had to work late and couldn't make it. We went to the Goodfoot after dinner, and then Bobby and Jonathan and I went off to Devil's Point for the remainder of the evening. Came home and played Rock Band with the boys until pretty late, and crashed. Woke up early the next morning to have breakfast with Tara at Broder, but when we arrived, the sign said they weren't opening until 9. Went over to Genie's instead, which ended up being a good thing because there was nothing I needed more than a giant breakfast with scrambled eggs. Bobby inhaled his food unusually fast, and I was a bit confused. Then he didn't want to go to Safeway on our way home. I didn't think much of it, though, and we went home to move some furniture and prepare the house for party guests.

The doorbell rang around 11:30, and Bobby said, "That's for you." I grumbled over to the door, expecting to encounter bible peddlers and tell them to get the hell off my porch. Instead, there was a gentleman holding a small box. "I have a delivery for Caitlin," he said. I took the mystery box inside, and what did I discover?



Who sent me this mysterious half-dozen red velvet cupcakes, you might ask?



None other than my very favorite New Jersey residents. Huge thanks, W and B. You are sneaky. Cupcake Jones cupcakes are hella delicious, and I haven't had one in quite a long time.

The party was scheduled to begin at 8, but Tara came over a bit early to help set up. I had just changed into my party clothes and was still squashing avocados for the guacamole when the doorbell rang, right at 8:00 on the dot. Lorien and Eric strolled in the door, followed by our neighbors Dennis and Jen. Several other folks followed, and the party quickly took off. We had many snacks available:



Including an awesome German chocolate cake made by Marissa:



A caramel cheesecake made by Michelle:



And devil's food cupcakes made by the folks nextdoor:



Bobby rigged a mirrorball to the ceiling:



And people danced:



I stuck some candles in my red velvet cake:



And tried (and failed) to stealthily blow them out before people sang:



Folks chatted:



My friend Kizzy, from high school, was in town visiting her husband (they're in different cities due to job stuff), and she was kind enough to drop by:



There was a piñata in the garage due to pouring rain outside:





And soon the living room was sparsely populated by a few remaining guests:



Chris, the last partygoer, got on his bike to go home around 2:15, and we left most of the mess to be dealt with this morning. However, since we were partying with grownups, there wasn't much mess to complain about:



The folks who dig through our recycling bins each week will be pleased at the bounty:



I began my twenty-eighth year with a giant smile, surrounded by the world's most wonderful friends. Who could ask for anything more?

The rest of the evening's photos can be found Here.

I'm never going to be Kurt Cobain

With a matter of hours left in my twenty-seventh year, that teenage delusion expires at midnight. Guess it's time to grow up and hitch my wagon to a different star.

I'm certainly not going to pretend I haven't done anything with my life thus far. It's just the constant clamoring for something bigger that's causing me trouble as this completely unremarkable milestone approaches.

With the disastrous events of my previous birthday in mind, I am warning the universe not to mess with me tomorrow. It's already thrown me a missed bus, as well as a bunch of beef ending up in my stir fry, resulting in my having to turn around and drive all the way back to the grocery store to rectify the situation. At least our dinners ended up being free. This threw off my plans to make my birthday cake tonight (which were a hasty replacement for my original plan of going to Baby Ketten Karaoke tonight), and meant I didn't get any dinner until 8:30. Now, defeated, I am watching Veronica Mars and waiting for the clock to tick down.

I'll be spending tomorrow evening with a few of my favorite people, and Saturday evening with many more of them. Rock star or not, it's a pretty good life. Here is a photo taken at the exact moment my birthday started. I am making a ridiculous face, as usual, so I followed it with a slightly less silly one. Happy stupid birthday to me.

Days and days

This past week, I was scheduled to cover three shows in as many days. Devo, Girl Talk, and Warpaint. I was originally just signed up for Girl Talk, but got arm-twisted into taking the other two as well. Devo ended up being a no-go due to complications with the label, but I had a pass and got to see the show anyway. Reviews for the other two are linked in my handy-dandy concert reviews feature at the right.

If you think the aforementioned schedule is insane, check out what I wound up with for April: 4/8 Ice Cube, 4/9 Bright Eyes, 4/10 nothing (but there's a Those Darlins show I want to attend as a civilian), 4/11 Joy Formidable, 4/12 Francis and the Lights, 4/13 Ani DiFranco. That which does not kill us makes us awesome.

Bobby and I tried, unsuccessfully, to get in for Destroyer last night. The line outside Doug Fir snaked through the parking lot and over to the hotel area, and we were a few people shy of getting tickets. Grabbed a couple drinks with Jarrod, who was scheduled to cover the show, and ran off to Samantha's birthday party across town. By the time we arrived, though, the restaurant was closing (at 10:30 on a Saturday????) and the party was nowhere to be found. Closed out the night at the Ringers' Warriors-themed party in Milwaukie instead. Busy, busy, busy as always.

In other news, Georgia has developed kleptomania. It started with my socks, which I have a tendency to leave on the floor. Miss Kitty began carrying them down the stairs and depositing them at the front door area, yowling all the way. Tired of taking them back up to my bedroom, I started leaving them in my laundry basket instead. Georgia quickly discovered that she could fish them out of the holes in the basket, and back downstairs they went. Then one day I came home to find a pair of my underpants in the entryway. They weren't clean ones, either. Now my small laundry items go in the hamper in the bathroom, where she can't get them. Frustrated by this development, Georgia has begun dragging pajama bottoms around. Sometimes they make it halfway down the hall, sometimes midway down the stairs, and now they're ending up next to my shoes at the front door. I'm not sure what the cat psychology community would say about this, but I'm certainly being more careful with my laundry these days. Bet she'd love to get her paws on my awesome Godzilla socks:



She only looks innocent.

Birthday approaches

With my birthday drawing ever closer, I start thinking about a short story written by Sandra Cisneros. I can't remember if it was assigned in high school or college, but it captures the way I feel about birthdays pretty accurately. The gist of it is that when you turn eleven, you're not just eleven; you're ten, and nine, and eight, and so on, like a Russian nesting doll. Add a few more years and that's where I am: dreading the date like every time, while simultaneously hoping it will be spectacular rather than just Friday. Still, Ms. Cisneros has a point. It never feels any different than the day before, except there are people eating cake and singing happy birthday in your honor. Even with twenty-eight lurking around the corner, like some uninvited guest, I'm still all those other ages too.

Twenty-three, playing in my first roller derby bout



Twenty-one, out on a bar crawl with friends in Santa Cruz



Twenty, visiting Sweden for the first time



Eighteen, clawing at the walls to leave for college



And thirteen



And five



They're all in here somewhere. It's all just another year, another party, another candle on the cake.

On the importance of family

My extended family is big. Very big. Though I only have four first cousins, and they're all on my dad's side, I've got more second and third cousins on my mom's side than I could possibly count. This past December, I received a Christmas card from my mom's cousin Frank Jr., who has lived all over the country but in recent years has settled just south of Portland. I've heard stories about Frank Jr. my whole life. He owned a flower shop for years, and continues to create new strains of irises and day lilies. He performed onstage, and was an extra in classic films including Showboat and Raintree County. At present, he's gearing up for a community theater production of Rent, which is my favorite musical of all time. He's a boisterous guy, full of personality, and has never lost his southern accent despite decades of living outside Mississippi. He sent a card asking me and Bobby to drive south and meet him, and yesterday, we made the trip.

We drove into the parking lot of his apartment building, and he was standing outside to greet us. He greeted me by calling me "Little Jackie," and we began to get acquainted. Bobby sat through stories about relatives he's never met; relatives I've heard about my whole life. Frank Jr. took us to lunch at a nearby cafe, and spun us tales for hours. When it was finally time for us to return to Portland, he didn't want to let us go. More stories came and went, and he consented to record a brief hello for my mom, who hasn't seen him since before I was born. We posed for a quick photo before giving many hugs goodbye. He and I had quite a connection in those short hours, and I found myself wishing we'd met decades ago. I love a southern accent and a riotous tale, and Frank Jr. is full of both. I'm thrilled to have finally met him, and look forward to our next visit.

A long delay without much substance

The following amount of snow shut down Portland last Thursday. Well, really, it made my bus 20 minutes late and made me the queen of the grouches.



Fortunately, I had plans with Marissa, Conor, and Jonathan after work that day, and the snow had dissipated enough to allow those to stand. I had a beyond marvelous time with them, and we were briefly joined by Vince, who had seen my Yelp check-in on Facebook (technology, right??) and decided to pop in and say hi to me. We were at the new cider bar, again, where I sampled Woodchuck's seasonal "Spring" flavor, which tastes nothing like Spring and everything like breakfast. It's maple and brown sugar flavored, and it's heavenly. Plus, I chatted with the proprietor and he said he was close to securing imports from Sweden. OMG.

The following morning, I was feeling sappy and reflective. I'd had such fun the previous evening, with such delightfully wonderful people, that I got to thinking about how fortunate I am to be surrounded by such friends. I don't know what I'd do without my urban family. It would be a sad life indeed.

Went out to the Mash Tun with Bobby and a fellow Melophober Friday night, and chattered about Sweden and True Blood and such. Were joined by Matt and Ori for a little while, which confused the waitress when we closed our tab and reopened it a few minutes later at a bigger table. Such is life here. Met Jonathan and Conor for breakfast at Genie's bright and early on Saturday, and was supposed to go see the Concretes and go out dancing at Blow Pony with them later, but failed to leave the couch. Sometimes my body will not cooperate with me.

Bobby and I decided to try a new-ish sushi place last night. It's called Bamboo and it's next to Ken's Pizza on 28th. Super mega good, plus edamame. I am particular about my sushi, because a place can have the best sushi in the world, but if all they have for me is kappa maki (cucumber rolls), then I say to hell with them. Bamboo had many exciting veggie rolls for my enjoyment, though, and I was very happy.

This brings us to today. C and J joined me for post-work hanging out, and then I came home to eat music. Tons of good stuff in my inbox tonight, so I am sitting at my desk and enjoying it. Here is one of the songs I got my hands on. Give a listen if you're looking for something new, which you should always be doing.