Push Me, Pullman

No entertainment center this week. They’re still waiting on one section of the 6 piece unit before shipping. If I knew it was going to take this long I would have ordered it before we moved. I’m getting anxious to bust into some boxes and see what of my stuff made it and what’s in Oregon. I’m also getting tired of explaining to people why we’re still not unpacked over a month after moving. At least we got out of our depressing box filled apartment a lot over the weekend. Friday we went to an eatery called Swilley’s for Sarah’s birthday. It’s not only a nice restaurant for Pullman, but a nice restaurant period. I had a scrumptious bowl of shrimp bisque that was simply amazing and I know my bisques. After dinner we went to the wine bar to meet up with others who work at the teaching hospital. The wine bar is inside the old town post office and is appropriately named The Post Office. By then though I was all wined out and settled in with my favorite, a cold green bottle of Heineken.

Saturday, we picked up our Canadian chum Sarah and headed to Moscow for the farmer’s market. We used to go to the one in Columbia from time to time but that’s nothing compared to this. The place was filled with venders, entertainers, and protestors all swarming with families. The variety of fruits and vegetables could put most grocers to shame. We ended up with apples, cherries, plums, squash and corn all of which were fantastic. After making our purchases we followed the crowd of people around to a courtyard with even more booths. The first we came to was an anti Wal-Mart booth with literature pertaining to the proposed super shopping center in Pullman. The Super Wal-Mart would be built in a residential area and open 24 hours with enough light pollution to dissipate any hope of ever seeing the stars in Pullman again. Before I had finished reading the pamphlet on the negatives involved Amanda was buying sushi? Four Asian youths had a little sushi stand a little further down. I hadn’t had sushi in, well, too long. It was yummy and quickly devoured. We continued onward around the block going in and out of the shops along the way. While Amanda and Sarah were window browsing for Sarah’s new bike I noticed a man sitting on the patio of a bar motioning in my direction. I looked behind myself to see who he was motioning for and seeing no one turned back to a pointing finger and then another motion. Did he want to sell me drugs? What could this guy possibly want with me? He was what you may call a rough looking character. Shaved head, but not cleanly so. White wife beater; ripped and stained. Tattooed, but not well done. They looked more like they were done with an ink pen and sewing needle.

“Got a cigarette?”, he asked motioning with his middle and index fingers.
I shrugged, “Nah man.”.
“Ya like the Cardinals?”
I told him yeah and how I’d just moved from Missouri and how they’ve always been my favorite.
“I like ‘em too. They’re the best in the league.” Pause. “Know anywhere I could buy a pack?”
“Naw.”
About this time Amanda and Sarah walked past and instead of rescuing me pretended not to even notice. Thanks a lot guys, I thought.
“Pull up and talk a while.”
He must have noticed me looking around.
“Well, I need to go. They look like they’re ready.”
“Oh, is one of them your sister?”
“My wife.”
“Ah, which one?”
“The red head.”
“Congratulaaations.”, he said with an extended hand.
I shook it and said, “Thanks. Well, see ya man.”

Now this isn’t the first time I’ve had a person of similar character have a similarly surprised reaction to finding out that I’m married. It’s funny how the implied insult inherent in their surprised complement completely escapes them.

Today we packed a picnic and went to Moscow’s Music in The Park. We took our usual back route through the wheat fields. It’s crazy how in just a week’s time the wheat has turned from a luscious green to a dull yellow. When we found the park we were a little put off by the lack of parking and 10 dollar admission, but it was a great day to see a full orchestra in a park. Between us and the stage was a sand volleyball court that today served the purpose of a sandbox. It was almost more entertaining to watch the children carrying sand from one place to another like giant ants than what was on stage. There were concession stands and a beer garden, but we had brought all we would need minus an empty cup. I’m assuming had they known we brought our own beer they would have been a bit upset with us. But with our empty concession cup, well positioned scooter, and deep basket in which to do the pouring no one was the wiser.