A little later, back at the house, i was puttering with some pictures at my computer and heard the lush throb of twin piston engines pulling hard. Came out on my front stoop (aka “the observation platform”) in time to snap the above photo as the shiny bird circled right over my house and departed to the north.

Again, maybe 30 minutes later, i heard the engines yet again and came out to watch as the plane head south over the town with the landing gear down. A-hah!

I grabbed my camera bag, jumped in the rover and buzzed over to Ashland muni just in time to catch the plane taxiing in. I parked and headed over toward where she’d come to park. On my way, walking between numerous private planes in the tie-down area, i saw a couple standing and looking toward the plane. “Howdy,” i called, “do you know the story behind that bird?”

“Oh… indeed i do,” the man said, “you want to hear it?”

Suffice to say i got a bit of an earful. As it happens the plane turned out to be the locally very well-known Esther Mae, owned by none other than Johnathan Phelps of, among other things, Full Sail University fame. This holds  particular irony for me seeing as how the website of Full Sail University has lately been held up as a “good example” for my efforts with the SOU website. And, now you know where the school’s logo comes from, too.

Now, don’t get me wrong, the fact that a local uber-rich-guy chooses to spend some of his money keeping a beautiful aircraft aloft and in prime condition is a good thing. Not to mention he also employs a pilot, co-pilot and flight attendant (all in period costume, of course). Oh, there’s also a ground crew in a chase car… and probably several mechanics and machinists who owe a good chunk of their living to Mr. Phelps. And, i’m just guessing here, but i assume several caterers and decorators and arrangers are all employed wherever the Esther Mae happens to be. So, this guy is pumping more money into the local economy in one day than i do in five years. But despite all that there’s a certain “over-the-top” Maurice Minnefield thing about the whole show.

However i will admit i’m happier to see this beautiful silver bird cavorting in the sky over Ashland than i would be if Mr. Phelps preferred exotic cars or maybe a rare jetboat he used to tear up Emigrant Lake over the Labor Day weekend.

I’m also hopeful the opener sets the stage for a season devoted to the actual work of a creative agency. It would be a welcome change to spend some time with these characters while they struggle with the business of starting up and running a brand new agency.

Now all i need is for Breaking Bad to return along with my guilty pleasure – Caprica, and my iTunes season passes will be complete.

But when it comes to actual life there can be little doubt that my Irish heritage and with it the curse/blessing of Irish luck rules the day.

“Irish Luck” is, of course, a statement dripping with irony. The Irish are about as unlucky an ethnic group as you could find. However growing up my mother often referred to having Irish Luck when oddly bad or annoying things happened. For people within earshot who looked confused at the term she explained it thusly: “One balmy summer’s day an Irishman is strolling down the street when he happens to step in pile of manure. Looking down at his shoe he exclaims,’ah! bless me and my luck, i coulda been wearin’ my good shoes.’”

So you can understand perfectly how i felt this past Saturday when our Range Rover began spewing oil on the road from Burns to Bend…. but i then learned Bend is the home of Bend Rovers. Ah! bless my luck, we coulda been stranded in Wagontire.

So after some sad debate, we opted to park the rover, with kayak on roof, in the parking lot of the rover place and leave a couple of what i hoped would be humorous voice mails on the phone. We stashed the rover’s key in the yellow watering can/planter by the door, transferred much of what the rover was carrying to the pickup and continued on our way to Ashland.

After the long weekend passed I called Bend Rovers and spoke to Francis the owner. He was nonplussed by finding a green rover with a sea kayak on its roof in their parking lot. “We got one car ‘head of ya, but we’ll have news for you tomorrow for sure.” Behold and lo the next day he actually called me back. Amazing! Turns out the oil leak, which blew more than two quarts in about 200 miles, was simply a cracked oil pressure sending unit. Cheap part, easy installation. But… that was just the beginning: front brakes were down to about 1mm of pad, rear were about the same, but the killer was the right front axel seal was leaking and there was virtually no grease left. Yeah, another of those $600 jobs to replace an $80 part. So there’s another four-figure repair bill. But it can’t be helped, the car is from 1993 and quite possibly had the original brake pads… so they were due. The axel seal… i’m a bit pissed that Gregg of Gregg’s Autohaus didn’t catch that while he was rooting around the front end replacing ignition parts by the bucket full, but i’ve come to learn he wasn’t much of a mechanic,  he was more a “pill doc” who only cared about treating-and-streeting.

But the larger lesson here is the one Tom and Ray of Car Talk try to teach us every day: cars suck. Cars are simply terrible things on nearly every level when examined rationally. That you can’t fully participate in life in this country (with a couple notable exceptions) without a car is a travesty bested only by our pathetic healthcare system. But that’s why i choose to own a Range Rover… and to drive it as little as possible. People, especially in this crunchy little town, will no doubt find such a car wasteful and extravagant, but i wager i burn less gasoline in a week than any average Prius owner… and even with two four-figure repair bills plus the cost of buying the car, i’m still way ahead money-wise.

Before i forget… there are some photos on Facebook.

In any event the sum of money i’ve been promised to receive has inspired tonight’s dinner:

1. .75 Tim Horten* mixed great northern beans and French “green” beans soaked overnight in water and Penzey’s “Mural of Flavor” spice mix
2. 2 Tim Hortens of chicken broth
3. 2 Andouille sausages (cut diagonally, thin)
4. 1/3 hunk of prepared polenta with green chilis (cut into small cubes)
5. 1/4 hunk of monterey jack cheese (also cubed small)
6. 1 really massive handful of baby 3x washed spinach

Drain and rinse the soaked beans, add to the wonderful All-Clad saucier pan with the stock and bring to rapid boil. After about 15 minutes of fast boil, reduce heat and add the andouille sausage. After 45 minutes add the polenta cubes. After another 15 minutes add the spinach. After the spinach is wilted (but not cooked to death) stir the spinach into the bean/sausage/polenta mixture and add the cheese cubes. Be mindful of the liquid level throughout cooking…. the beans may absorb a surprising amount rather suddenly. If the beans boil dry and burn you’re basically, uh, fucked. Add water, broth, beer, or dry white wine as required to keep a stew (not soup) going.

Season with sea salt as required and serve within 5 minutes of removing from heat.

This dish, which can easily be scaled up to serve any number of people, comes in at about $2.50 per serving and is magnificently filling, and reasonably nutritious. An easy way to enable complete protein synthesis and reduce fat is to skip the sausage and serve with brown or white rice. My new favorite rice is short grain brown with the husk intact. It’s meaty.

Why am i going on about this meal? Simple: i am poor. My current gig pays more than BSU (which nearly goes w/o saying) but it still pays crap. And this town isn’t cheap. Ashland has a prepared food tax that, surprisingly, catches some Oregon visitors off guard. I need to implement true austerity budgeting and stick to it. Monthly paychecks that suck eggs will be a great motivator to save money.

*Years ago Annette and i did a big trip across Canada. At one point we made the mandatory stop at a Tim Horten’s donuts. I bought a coffee that came in a “Tim Horton’s Tourjour Frais” cup. Not a fancy thermal mug, not a fancy anything, but it is indestructible…. and it has turned out to be a perfect measuring device.

Oh, this is my new office.

Where the magic will eventually happen

So, the perennial question is “where is it better to be: in a city or out in the boonies?”

Without fail i keep coming to the conclusion that it is better to live in a city (a real city, not Boise, not Ashland, hardly Portland). Real cities are increasingly scarce in North America. A short list of real cities might include New York, San Francisco, Rome, Paris, Moscow, Madrid, Tokyo… etc.

Think about it. If the shit comes down, and by that i mean continued economic faltering combined with increased socioeconomic stratification, continuous war (against some shadowy enemy), the inexorable march toward the end of fossil fuels, the increasing decline of species and habitat, the decline of reason and the rise of extremism, where is it best to plant one’s flag?

This line of questioning leads me to the same conclusion every time; don’t sell the brooklyn condo… it will come in handy in as yet unforeseen ways.