First day of sales

Pooped, that's what I am. I'm absolutely pooped from yesterday's day of sales here in Portland. But I'm also grinning like an idiot, because sales were staggering.

For purposes of comparison, last year on Thursday we sold 25 pieces (which was wonderful). This year we sold...44!!!

I mean honestly, that's almost a quarter of the stock I brought! We've already removed the lowest shelf from one of the shelving units in order to keep the other shelves full. Nice problem to have!

Here's a quick shot as I cross the Morrison Street bridge in Portland toward the event site. Cityscapes are, to me, beautiful. Unfortunately while driving it's hard to appreciate the drama as the bridge flings me across the river.

This is my booth, before the crowds got thick.

This is my booth at nearly any other time of the day -- constantly thronged with people (bless them all!).

I always like to take pix of funny T-shirts, so here are a few samples:

This one looked so innocuous... until I read it. Then I cracked up.

I always like the adaptations of the Periodic table, this one on fishing lures.

And of course I highly approved of this sentiment.

These young ladies were dressed like pseudo-fraulines (well, why not?), so I asked if they'd pose with my steins.

A couple of gentlemen dressed as (cough) "monks"...

...complete with fake tonsures. Portland's unofficial city motto is "Keep Portland Weird" and I was pleased to see so many people contributing toward this effort.

Shortly after posting this, I'm off for my second day of sales. Wish me luck!

Hello from Portland

I am writing this from the home of my dear friends Wendy and Tim, in the middle of the great city of Portland.

But boy it wasn't easy getting here. Not because the drive was difficult or anything, but because we spent so much time and effort getting ready for this event.

About two hundred pieces, organized according to style.

Poor Lydia knew something was up. She hates it when any one of us leaves.

I hit the road about 5 am this morning, even before the sun rose.

Highlights from the trip. Pretty farm scenes, photos taken by literally holding up the camera and hoping for the best. (I didn't post the numerous ones that didn't turn out.)

A massive stack of hay, already baled and tarped.

The Palouse is very green and verdant this time of year.

There are signs several miles in advance, warning about the steep grade descending into the Washington town of Colfax.

Broad vistas of wheat, ready to harvest.

Coming into Colfax.

See? Ten percent grade.

Colfax is a very nice old-fashioned farming town.

Beyond Colfax, things got much drier.

It's amazing what lucky shots you can capture by holding up the camera and snapping randomly. This was a flock of Canada geese flying by.

The land got flatter and flatter.

Soon sagebrush started getting interspersed with the wheat.

I liked the windmill, but the color adjustment on the camera made the wheat look almost fluorescent.

Harvesting wheat.

Finally connecting with Hwy 395 south.

Crossing the mighty Columbia River once...

...and crossing it twice (it loops around) before dumping me into Oregon.

Finally, after many hours, hanging a right toward Portland. In a mere few hours...

Along the windy Columbia River Gorge, lots of giant windmills dot the landscape.

For the rest of the trip, I followed the Columbia River. It's impossible to underestimate just how huge this river is.

It always amazes me how such a huge river runs through such a dry land.

Mt. Hood, looming in the distance.

Things gradually became more verdant as I approached Portland.

Magnificent Multnomah Falls, taken in passing.

Ah, back in the city, with city traffic.

That's all the photos I took today. I spent the afternoon setting up the booth, catching up with my friends Wendy and Tim, and having dinner with an old and dear friend from college, Bruce, and his wife Linda. All in all a tiring but very satisfying day. And I'm glad to be here safe and sound.

Evacuated: Fire preparedness

As far too many people are discovering this summer, you can no longer conclude that a wildfire could "never happen to me."

A reader wrote in about her experiences evacuating her ranch in the southern Black Hills of South Dakota in advance of a wildfire. She wrote an extremely thoughtful and useful analysis of the realities of facing a long (and possibly permanent) absence from one's home, called Evacuated: Fire Preparedness.

Fear aside, this is a neat blog to check out, documenting how a family is striving toward self-sufficiency.