Always Heed the Kerplunk

Last Thursday, a few of us spent an evening paddling on the Willamette.


As with the end of every paddle, the boats have to be loaded. This particular evening, I grabbed my keys to unlock the CRV, then proceeded to lay them on the spare tire. Loaded Gerty, chatted, said good-byes, and left. As we puttered up I-205, a 'kerplunk' was heard at the Sunnyside exit. I looked at Zach. He looked at me. In unison we said, "What was that?!" Gerty was still attached and nothing looked amiss. We drove on.

Next scene: Friday mid-morning

Armed with books bound for the library, I scrounged around the house for my keys/wallet. I voiced my perplexion to Zach. He bounded down the steps, stopped on the landing, and said, "Did you get them off the spare tire last night?"

Oh no.

We mad dashed to the CRV in a desperate attempt ward off the inevitable. No luck. Zach voiced the obvious, "Well, we need to call the credit card companies and bank" as he walked into the house. I stood at the rear of the CRV in shock. In twelve years, I had never lost my wallet or keys. My stellar record was tarnished in the worst way.


As I stood and brooded, I glared at the spare tire as though it had been the sole culprit in the situation. In my glaring, I noticed the subtle tilt of the tire. In my despair, I looked behind it.


With glee, I gave a holler and proclaimed that we had been saved! Zach stuck his head out the door and I pointed down to the secret spare tire hiding spot.

The casualties were my college ID, library card, and my debit card.

Arm Fatalities in a Galaxy Far, Far Away

In honor of Zach's birthday, he declared today as the Ultimate Star Wars Marathon. Obviously, turning 30 equates watching 30 hours of light saber battles, X wing flights, and hearing "I have a bad feeling about this" multiple times.

At the stroke of 8am, the TV was powered and the marathon commenced. The beginning hours were lonely, but by mid afternoon friends trickled in to partake of the momentous occasion. The comments throughout have been comical, but the most interesting realization has been the number of arms lost in the making of Star Wars.

It has been quite unsettling as to the number of limbs we have seen disconnected by light saber action. Most importantly, the connection has been made that losing an appendage runs in the Skywalker family--Anakin and Luke. The group consensus has been that there should have been Appendage Protection 101 in the Jedi Temple to avoid such catastrophes.

As the sun sets and the city settles for the evening, Yoda has made his eccentric appearance in The Empire Strikes Back. Just a couple more hours to go and the marathon will be complete.

Discombobulation

Due to Zach's birthday festivities yesterday, I think the readjustment phase deferred to today. I am not focused and feel as though I should just sleep. Plus, it has messed with my psyche to be surrounded by these balloons.


They are EVERYWHERE IN THE HOUSE! Cabinets, showers, garbage cans, and even the Honeycomb cereal box. It has been hysterical to see where they have been stashed.

Note to self, when leaving the state, it may not be the wise to let the life group meet while you are gone.

Tales from the Motherland

Zach and I have returned from our week sabbatical to Kentucky. For the week, we were at our seperate homesteads which was unique and fun. The following is the ten highlights from the Frazier Farm. Zach's may follow, but I have yet to locate the camera he took with him.

#1: The Great White Hunter Strikes!

#2: The Family

The night involved a cookout, many laughs, and fireworks.

#3: Mammaw

This was a bittersweet situation. I love my Mammaw, but life has taken its toll on her. She shuffles, stares, and sits. The once vibrant grandmother has slipped. It was hard to see, and honestly, this trip was probably the last time I will see her alive.

#4: Pond Sunsets

I love sunsets, especially on the farm. I took this picture while Stephen was fishing one evening.

#5: True Value Hardware

For the first time in four years, I set foot in the hardware store. It smells the same. It looks the same.

The Twenty-Ninth Anniversary, Take I

Today I get to celebrate my partner in crime's birthday. For 29 plus 1 years he has walked, talked, loved, cried, laughed, hugged, swam, and ran his way around this earth. He has been the ultimate partner in a crazy world, either telling me to "stop it", "go cook", or "if you want to do it, do it."

He is the love of my life and today I wish him a very happy birthday.

May I get to celebrate the next bazillion twenty-ninth anniversaries with you as well.

Silence in 3, 2, 1...

The suitcase is packed. The backpack is bulging with books and an itinerary. My mind is whirling with, "What have I forgotten?!" I need to go to bed.

I had a post devised to outline the fun MAX ride we took today, but blogger is being a poo poo head and not uploading photos or saving posts for that matter. Gah.

I quickly jot this note to say I am heading to the land of dial up Internet, cows, manure, corn, and four wheelers. The blog for the next week will be quiet, unless I can McGyver a solution to upload a picture here and there. Really, it might just be one picture.

YEAH! I'm going to the motherland.

The sun shines bright on my old Kentucky home...

Ride the Max

The agenda stated canoeing, but the gut did feel well with it. After a call to Robert in the wee hours of the morning, the day was cleared for the affairs at hand--preparing for the trip to Kentucky. As Zach snored the morning away, I mopped, dusted, laundered, and vacuumed around him. Once I peeked in and saw an open eye, I whisked him to the bathroom for his monthly haircut.

By noon, everything was in order and the day laid bare before us. The sky was overcast and the calendar of events was empty except for the Gay Pride Festival. With a spring in his step, Zach declared that we were going to do a lifelong dream--ride the MAX.

An half an hour later we boarded the blue line for unscripted fun. It is an experience to see who you will meet and see along the way. We rode straight through to the Hillsboro station, which is quite desolate. However, in the middle of desolate there is always a Starbucks.

On the return trip we stepped off in Pioneer Square to enjoy flowers, a funky band, and a taste of the Gay Pride festival.

We stopped off for church, then returned to Gateway about 7:30pm. Fabulous fun! We still have a few branches of the MAX to do, but it was a good start.

The Knock

As I stuffed the pasta shells with the ricotta cheese mixture, giggles of two three-year-olds wafted through the open front window. Every so often there was some babbling chatter, but I did not tune into the details. Their laughter has melded into the sounds of the city these summer days.

I was setting the timer when the knocking started. I opened the door to find one upset looking mother with a firm grip on the shoulders of the daughters. The apology began with, "I had no idea what they were doing until they brought me some petals..."

It seems the giggling and enjoyment of the night for the daughters centered around my geranium plant by the front door. With their creative minds, they used my geranium petals to play wedding; at least that is my theory since the front walkway was littered with vivid red petals.




As the girls stated their "I'm sorries", it took my entire will power to not bust out laughing. Where blooms had been lavish and lush, it was now plant naked.


After assuring the mother that the plant would survive and I forgave the girls, she wheeled the culprits to her door with a firm, "Your outdoor privileges have been revoked for the rest of the day."

Once they were in their apartment, I yelled up the stairs, "Zach, you should come down her," as I grabbed the camera.

We laughed hard. Hours later we are still laughing.

Welcome, Jennie!

Something was afoot.

I had a facebook notice that I should visit Robert from Carol, and within two minutes of reading that notice I received a call from Robert asking what I was doing, when was I going to Kentucky, and did I need to canoe before or after my trip.

"Trying to get motivated while doing laundry, we leave on Monday, and both." I replied.

Robert persisted a bit, "Why don't you come check out the new deck. I am just piddling around the house and Matt is painting the house. I do have another friend, Jennie, here but that won't be an issue."

"Ok, I'll show up eventually," I responded.

However, once I hung up the phone I thought to myself, "Jennie? I don't remember Robert ever talking about a friend named Jennie."

An hour or so later I stood in the Green's backyard basking in the beauty of this babe.

"OOOhhhh, I LOVE the color!" I exclaimed.

The how-when-where-why dissertation commenced with the tagline of, "I named her Jennie because she is a Jensen racing boat. Plus I wanted to get a name before you showed up," Robert confessed.


Shocked and appalled am I. How am I suppose to handle the demotion from Naming-the-Fleet Manager? I thought my record was pretty good.

There was Marshmallow Creme Puff.

Currently, the fleet includes Red Rover...


...the SS Meriweather...


...of course, Gerty...

...and now, Teles aka Jennie. I named her after the Greek Sirens; she is a woo-er of men.

A Letter of Complaint

Dear Mr. Mosquito-in-charge,

This past weekend my friends and I spent our time lounging by the Trask River, gallivanting along Highway 101, and eating biscuits on a stick.


It was a fabulous weekend filled with many laughs, sawing competitions, and smoky smelling clothes.


However, I write this letter as a formal complaint to your blood sucking needs. Granted you forsook bites while I ran along the beach, dallied along the river and slept. You bided your time and attacked when I least expected it...on the cusp of my departure.

Gradually on the ride home, the whelps appeared and I have now documented no less than 16 bites. This was highly unnecessary. Yet, for the record, I want to say that it has not deterred my bragging of an amazing weekend with those I love.

So there.

Sincerely,

A whelpy, smoky, content adventurer

Morning Elegance

The air is cooler and smells sweeter. It is overcast, as though attempting to mute the sounds of the day. Raindrops cling to leaves, tables, and grill covers.

Wrapped in Zach's blue robe, I have caught up on my correspondance, put in a load of laundry and made my to do list over a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats. Mornings such as this inspire me to curl up in my green chair with a book of poetry. But, I can never figure out poetry so the book usually ends up being a fantasty or biography.

Unfortunately, this morning I cannot dally in my whims. In a few hours, the CRV will be packed and headed to the coast for a weekend camping trip with a bunch of our life group peeps.

Right now the packing looks like this.

Errands yet to be ran include the bank, Winco, Walmart, and the gym.

Plus I need to find my long johns because, of course, the weekend we choose to camp the temperatures plummet to sub artic range. Maybe.

So I plunge into the day, with Oren Lavie's Her Morning Elegance as the soundtrack.

Walk Right In

Donned in a tank top and running shorts, windows and doors flung wide open for breezes, I am loving the warm weather. I love the sun. Even more, I love what the sun entices. Birds. Gardens. Worms. Neighbors.

When the sun shines, humans escape their respective dens and burrows to see what is afoot. I enjoy watching this occur in an apartment setting. Today, I turned the corner from the kitchen to find two noses and four hands pressed against one of the screens. After a bit of chatting, I returned to the kitchen to change over the laundry. Turning the corner again, I found two bodies plopped in my doorway asking, "Whose shoes?", "Who in the picture?", "Do you have stairs?", etc.

Then came the discovery of the rocking chair.

They were in love.

We giggled.

They tried to fix the broken arm while repeatedly saying, "Old. Very old."

It made me smile; especially since the parents were next door doing some ugly fighting.

Beauty is in the iris of the beholder

Melissa and I were in need of a day together. Granted we are in the same state, but there are a few miles between our abodes. Nonetheless, Melissa had the right recipe for a Tuesday outing--a free iris garden.

Entering through a honeysuckle ladened arbor, the sights before us were luscious and beautiful. Bed after bed were filled with an array of flower combinations; Columbine, Lupin, and Irises to name a few.

We talked about Mali. We talked about Melissa's job. We oohed at the bright colors; me fainting over the yellow, and Melissa drooling over the purples. We tried to give each other tips on how to manipulate our cameras, but realized we really don't know what we are doing. We laughed. A lot.

I loved watching this woman serenely peer into the gardens. I told her that, which made her laugh. She said that was the look she was going for at the moment.

For hours we meandered and enjoyed each other's company, the essence of friendship.

Another Farewell

Confession: I mooched the above picture from Suzanne's Facebook page. It screams fakeness, but rest assured it is them at Crater Lake during their road trip a couple weeks ago to the Grand Canyon and back. (Now you know who to blame for the notion in our heads.) Nonetheless, it is worthy and cool enough to mooch for this purpose.

At 9:05am this morning, I found myself sitting across from these lovebirds in a NW Starbucks. With our beverage of choice in hand we spent an hour catching up on our whirlwind lives. This Thursday Suzanne will officially graduate from OSHU, and Sunday morning they will trek to their new home--Salt Lake City, UT. A new adventure.

Matt and Suzanne plopped into our lives over three years ago through a life group. They were in the beginning of their schooling--chiropractor for Matt, medical for Suzanne. Their dedication was paramount and evident due to them leaving every Tuesday at 9pm. Suzanne continually enthralled me with crazy medical stories, while Matt made my hips love him thanks to adjustments.

Through the years, Suzanne and I became pen pals. Granted our letters only crossed a few streets, but the days I opened my mailbox to find a Bailey letter I knew I was in for a treat. I have a sundry of notes written on the back of intestinal dissertations, rare dermatological rashes and a few I could not even discern their meaning. Periodically a 'legit' type note would appear and I would know that Suzanne had not written that in class. Months could pass without face to face meetings, yet we would plan a meal and spends hours catching up as though no time had passed.

As I drove away from the Starbucks this morning, a twinge of sadness got me. Once again I said goodbye. Though I am so excited for what lies before them, selfishly I am going to miss our times together.

Matt and Suzanne--know wholeheartedly that we are so excited for you and will pray for you often. Thank you for being fabulous friends and being such a part of our lives the past three and a half years. You will be missed greatly.

PS: I expect letters. If not, I know where you live.

Farewell, #5

Life in an apartment complex can be interesting at times. In our townhouse five-plex we have five very distinct family units. Over the months we have come to be a little community, sharing laughs, sugar and at times frustrations.

Today we lost one of our community, #5. Nancy was the common figure, and at times we were amazed at the number of people who came and went and frequently curious as to how many people actually lived there. All day they packed their UHaul bound for a house in Gresham.

We will miss their laughter and vivacious Mexican parties. I am going to miss the little one running through our open door to say "HI", only to be yelled for by his mother. I am going to miss Juan sitting on the ottoman outside their door, smoking, ready to chat about jobs, weather, how crazy the kids are driving him, or what I was going to make for dinner. We will miss Joshua turning our front porch into a trench on the front line of some wild, epic battle.

But, alas, times change and we will spend the next month or so wondering who will be the new neighbors.