The drive from Oregon to LA was stunning. In the north, everything was green, and beginning to bloom. There was snow on the mountains in good amounts,and the reservoirs were full. The countryside looked healthy.
My knee feels enough better that I've been able to enjoy a bit of shopping, and a boatload of socializing. I've even been able to do some minor repairs around the house, although not nearly as much as I had intended to.
One of my goals for this trip was to find and fetch a stash of upholstery fabric I bought something on the order of 20 years ago. My ex gave me the chairs I bought the fabric for, so it seemed reasonable that I finish the job. So far, although I have looked in a couple of likely spots, I haven't found it. Of course, I'm also not in the same house I was when I bought the fabric. The mauve I bought to go in Riverside might not be too comfortable with the blue and brown scheme of the dining room in Astoria.
Speaking of color schemes... I got an email from the interior designer who works with my architect in Oregon. She told me she had picked out a great color scheme for the restaurant: Bright blue, chartreuse, and orange. It happens that I had not asked for her to assist in any way, I had shown her the colors I had already chosen for myself, AND the last two colors named are the ones I have hated like poison since early childhood. I emailed back that I was sorry if she had gotten the impression that I had hired her, as I had not, and did not want any further input. Well, I might not have been quite as dispassionate as that. I might have used the phrase "hate like poison."
I'm afraid I didn't take the designer's suggestions at all well. I was in a trembling rage for hours; I really felt as if my turf had been invaded. I'm open to the possibility that I was experiencing a bit of ethnic insult; after all, I'm a Puerto Rican getting ready to open a Puerto Rican restaurant, and here's this white chick telling me what colors to use. I really don't think that's the case, though. I think it was personal. I've been pretty easy on the rest of the contractors, because they've asked me what I wanted, Do you want exposed pipes, or a dropped ceiling? Do you want built-in counters, or free-standing? It didn't sit well with me, that this total stranger came at me with, "I've chosen your color scheme," as if I were some colorblind monkey who needed rescue.
Thus endeth the rant.