Damn.

I just watched a six-year-old TEAR IT UP on the So You Think You Can Dance stage.

I'm pretty sure all other six-year-olds are gonna look like suckas to me now.

The Doctor makes me laugh

It's been circulating around the blogosphere for a few days now, but I've only just had a chance to check out Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog (check here for a primer). Kiala said to do it, and she's got good ideas. Except for the karaoke, of course. Karaoke scares me.

Anyway, it amazed me how true to life the tale of Dr Horrible is. This little scene could have played out exactly in my own abode tonight:

Penny (aka Jay): What are you doing?

Dr Horrible (aka me): Texting. It's very important or I'd stop.

Heh.

At another point during the show (watch free at at hulu.com!), Dr Horrible responds to an e-mailed challenge from a supposed nemesis by saying I don’t have time for a grudge match with every poser in a parka.

Amen to that, mister man. If I had a dollar for every time I'd uttered that exact same phrase...

This really hacks me off.

Browsing thru ye olde Google Reader tonight, I saw an article about a resort going in next to the northern Idaho Cabela's store. And this information bothered me. Not because to do so would require a zoning change from the area's current rural residential status (though that does bug me a bit - GD Disneyland around a bunch of hobby farms? Rick-diculous!) And it's not because there's this whole crazy big box thing planned for the area around the store.

Nope. It's the fact that this article revealed to me that Idaho has not one, but TWO Cabela's stores. What the hell?! You know how many Oregon has? Zero many, that's how many! Yeah sure - Idaho's a big ol' outdoorsy style state, but I'm convinced that it's rockin' more than its fair share of the Cabela's.

I recognize that I'm a little more outraged about this particular situation than is truly healthy. But the fact is, I loves me some Cabela's. During our recent trip to and through Boise, we made it a part of our mission to explore the local store. And it was good. What was supposed to be a relatively quick trip through to grab some items before we headed out on our camping trip morphed into a few hours of test-driving chairs and cots, BBQ admiration, perusal of camp toilet options and educational taxidermy.

In short, I was enthralled.

Seriously, what's not to like about this here B-B-Q grill? It has faux wood sheathing, antler handles and a fancy deer head on the front! I think Jay was secretly wishing he could upgrade to this bad boy.

A fella rounded the corner as I snapped this pic, and as with most situations I find myself in, I had no explanation for why I was photographing these personal toileting products. Truthfully, it's my crippling fear of port-o-lets and vault toilets that drew me to this aisle. A girl's gotta know her options.

Some fine, fine taxidermy. That's NATURE, y'all.

A village of adorable little prairie dogs! This one's eating! That one's scratching!

And this one's burrowin'!

And here's one thing that I would have expected to see during my Idaho travels (Idahoans being a creative and resourceful people), but had to wait to enjoy until the photo was sent to me by the lovely Miz Jody. There is some good stuff happening here: bottom line (pun intended, betches), we've got some reuse/recycle going on, but the political commentary provided by this garment is what really gets into my braincase - see, what's happening is that this Wal-Mart shopper is not only saying that she'll take something made for a man and repurpose it for her own use (Gender Equality Now!), but she's literally turned the underdrawers-as-sportsbra symbolism ON ITS HEAD to show that it takes a woman to mix up this patriarchal, good ol' boy system in America!!! You see it now, don't you? Don't you?!?

I miss Hillary.

Courtesy of the Portland Mercury, I've found my new favorite innerweb site - Cake Wrecks. There is truly some skerry stuff going on there. Like this for instance:

I think I may possibly have nightmares tonight. I mean, WHO EATS SOMETHING LIKE THIS? Wouldn't you feel a bit oodged out cutting into a wee baby noggin? And good lord, would you select Red Velvet cake for a more realistic scenario? And what would that say about you? That you're some kind of closet psychopath?! Sinner...

Speaking of unappetizing cakes, what in heckfire was the person thinking that made this cake? Or more importantly, what was the person who ordered this cake thinking? Yeah, I'd like a foot cake? But not a normal foot - no, I'd like a Lotus foot, thankyouverymuch. And yick - looks like this par-tic-ular Lotus foot has itself a little toenail fungus sitchyashun:

And I'm just sayin'...if I were to sit this cake down in front of my friend Lori, I'm pretty sure she'd find a way to avoid having to eat any of it. And you wouldn't blame her at all, would you?

And finally, this birthday cake makes me smile:

I live every week like it's Shark Week

ZOMG, It's Shark Week!

I'm terrified of sharks. They freak me out FOR REALZ. But I'm also fascinated by them, and every year I fill up the DVR's hard drive with Shark Week programming. I recognize what I've got here is an irrational fear. I know I'm not likely to ever encounter a Great White shark out there in the ocean. But the thing is...phobias are irrational by definition!

Two things contributed mightily to this water phobia of mine: the Newport Beach, California junior lifeguard program during the summer of 1988, and my uncle's big picture book of sharks.

The junior lifeguarding thing was a good way to keep two preteen girls busy during the summer, but my sister and I had very different experiences. While Faith flew out of the back of speeding boats and jumped from the Balboa Pier with abandon, I refused to do either activity. I was convinced I'd somehow get tangled in a propeller or scrape all my skin off on the barnacle-encrusted pilings under the pier. I'd heard rumors that hammerhead sharks sculked around the end of the pier where all the fishermen tossed out their lines, and I WANTED NO PART OF THAT. Nevertheless, I managed to make it through the summer with a minimal amount of psychological damage and even capped off the experience by completing our version of an Ironman competition. We started in Huntington Beach and ran to the southern end of Balboa Beach, swimming out and around two piers along the way. I never saw any sharks, but whatevs.

The phobia got even worse the next year when we visited my Knuckle Len, his wife and their new baby in Seattle. I was sleeping in Sofa City during that visit, and to entertain myself before the living room cleared out and everyone headed to bed, I flipped through a big ol' coffee table-sized book about sharks. This bad boy had huge color photos of glistening shark teeth, and even more skerry - photos of shark attack victims. That was it. I was done with the water.

Over the years, I've managed to get over my "If I was meant to be in the water, I'd have freakin' GILLS" mentality, for the most part at least. I love to be on water, just not so much in the water. And while I work on this phobia of mine, I like to do some research, a little reconnaisance, if you will. So this year, I'm looking forward to the following programming:

- Mythbusters: Jaws Special (do dogs attract sharks?!)

- Sharkbite! Surviving Great White (survivors talk - and prolly show off some bitchin' scars!)

- Air Jaws: Sharks of South Africa (sharks hurtle out of the water to attack their prey!)

- Top Five Eaten Alive (chomp chomp chompity chomp!)

and most importantly,


How Not To Become Shark Bait

*** Special note: the Shark Week website has a fun feature this year - Shark Yourself! I was only too happy to take advantage of that! ***

And you wonder where my water phobia comes from...

This is freakin' me out. Don't even try to tell me that the nibbly lil' fishies aren't actually chewing on the footsies. I realize they don't have teeth. But I am oodged out nonetheless. And this part? The part that goes...

The communal pool also presented its own problem: At times the fish would flock to the feet of an individual with a surplus of dead skin, leaving others with a dearth of fish.

Horrifying. Utterly horrifying.

Survey Says...

Shelby forwarded along this survey today. I don't know if it's the peer pressure of a chain e-mail or the fact that I'm enamored of my own personal trivia, but I loves me a survey.


50 ODD Things about you! If you opened this, FILL IT OUT! Learn 50 things about your friends, and let them learn 50 things about you!

1. Do you like bleu cheese? I finally tried it for the very first time a couple of years ago. And to my surprise, I liked it! But caesar and ranch are definitely ones I’d choose first.

2. Have you ever smoked heroin? Hellsno. Intervention on A&E has scared me straight!

3. Do you own a gun? Nope, but a friend has offered to take me shootin’ and I’m pretty excited about that.

4. What flavor do you add to your drink at Sonic's? I’m a cranberry low-cal limeade, two-shots-of-rum kinda girl.

5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? Yeah, which causes my blood pressure to skyrocket, never a good thing at the doctor’s office.

6. What do you think of hot dogs? I think they’re pretty gross.

7. Favorite Christmas song? Fairytale of New York by The Pogues.

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Vanilla latte.

9. Can you do push ups? Yeah, but I tend to pass out around 10.

10. What's your favorite piece of jewelry? My silver necklace, which I wear constantly. There are three tiny charms – a nugget of Labradorite (my favorite gemstone), a pearl (my birthstone) and a silver charm with the letter “A” (because I’m my own favorite person and shizz).

11. Favorite hobby? Don’t have an all-the-time favorite, more a rotating list of activities that entertain me – I love to read, camp, take photos, and my current favorite – documenting my own ridiculousness in the blogosphere.

12. Do you have A.D.D.? I have driving-induced ADD. I can’t just drive – I’ve got to be on the phone at the same time. So far I’ve not caused any accidents, but I really need to hook myself up with one of them thar bluetooths so I can achieve true geekdom while increasing the safety of those around me.

13. What's one trait that you hate about yourself? I have little patience for stupidity and ignorance. But I really don’t think that’s anything I need to work on. Perhaps other people could stop sucking so much.

14. Middle name? Dyan.

15. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment. My head’s starting to ache, I wanna eat that badass banana bread I made the other night and currently have tucked into my bag, and I wish the goddamn evil gnome standing near my desk ranting about her outrage of the day would shut the hell up.

16. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink. Wine, water, coffee.

17. Current worry right now? How many angry calls from citizens I’ll get today about a project I’m working on.

18. Current hate right now? I’m stealing Shelb’s: people that talk all the time (except me)

19. Favorite place to be? A hammock in the sun, with a book and a cocktail.

20. How did you bring in the New Year? I have no recollection of that night.

21. Like to go camping? Love it!

22. Name three people who will complete this? I’m not sending this to anyone else, is that wrong? Am I going to get leprosy ‘cause I didn’t? I ain’t skerred.

23. Do you own slippers? Yep, but I usually wear flip-flops around the house.

24. What color shirt are you wearing? Light blue.

25. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? Nope, that sounds a little too Moonlight Bunny Ranch to me.

26. Can you whistle? Yep, but I learned how after all my friends did and I got so mad that my best friend was able to whistle and I wasn’t that I socked her in the mouth – and knocked out her two front teeth. This was 1st grade or something, so in my defense, those chompers were loose anyway…

27. Favorite color? Silver.

28. Would you be a pirate? I’ve been told that perhaps I’m more plunder…or maybe “booty”. Nice.

29. What songs do you sing in the shower? Whatever my iPod’s playing.

30. Favorite boys name? Finley.

32. What's in your pocket right now? Cash for a latte.

32. Last thing that made you laugh? Hearing a coworker describe someone in exactly the same disparaging terms that I would use.

33. Best bed sheets as a kid? Return of the Jedi, betches.

34. Worst injury you've ever had? Jacked-up knee, but the first week post surgery was the worst.

35. Do you love where you live? I like my city, but love it? No. I do love Oregon however, and get a bit tetchy when people be talkin’ the sh*t.

36. How many TV's do you have in your house? Four. Don’t you judge me.

37. Who is your loudest friend? Shelb.

38. How many pets do you have? I’m gonna go with 3.

39. Does someone have a crush on you? God, I sure hope so. I’m adorable.

40. What is your favorite book? Don’t have a favorite, but I just finished “Which Brings Me to You” by Steve Almond and Julianna Baggott and I loved it.

41. What is your favorite candy? Sour Patch Kids.

42. Favorite Sports Team? I really don’t have one.

43. What were you doing at 12 AM last night? Dreaming about strangling sh*t interns.

44. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? That my husband better get up and let the dog out, ‘cause I. AM. NOT. DOING. IT.

45. Worst habit? Terribly selfish.

46. Do you play an instrument? Played the piccolo and flute once upon a time. Couldn’t read music to save my life now.

47. How long does it take you to get to work? 12 minutes.

48. Plans for the weekend? Wine tasting party, Oregon Brewers Festival, Birthday kegger party – I’ve grounded myself from alcohol for a week, but the restriction drops this weekend…clearly.

49. If you could eat anything in the world right this second? Steak grilled medium, with creamy horseradish on the side.

50. Do you like the person who sent this to you? She’s only like, one of my most favorite people EVER! Gosh!

Wholesome Hometown Fun

Jay met up with me after work tonight and we headed over to the Tuesday Market for some food, fun and people-watchin'. We met up with the Prince-Starrs and then I got a call from Tiffany, wondering whether I was down at the Market. She joined up with our lil' gang and we went over to the brand spankin' new Venetian Theatre on Main Street. For the last nine years, I've watched that place molder and leak, but last year the place was gutted, reinforced with giant steel beams and then reopened as a 2nd run movie theater, restaurant and coffee bar.

The Venetian is gorgeous! And I'm so glad that we're finally getting some more reasons to stay downtown after 5pm. Hillsboro's done a fantastic job getting people down to Main Street - the Saturday Market's very popular, but the Tuesday version is getting quite busy as well - the fountain in the center of the Civic Center Plaza is a magnet for families, and now there's something up my alley: movies and happy hour. Hellsyeah.

I said hi to a bunch of peeps while we wandered through the Market - our former landlord (also the developer of the Venetian - big ups to Denzil!), one of the county commissioners, another PIO-about-town, a few coworkers, Pam & Wayne (owners of our former doggie daycare joint, Schroeders Den), and even my chiropractor!

After everyone else enjoyed a few pints at the Venetian (but not me, thankyouverymuch - I'm still grounded), we headed out into the Market proper to grab some grub. Jay and I stuck to the delish lumpia again and I laughed when I saw this sign, because no - I'd never guess that a big ol' black BBQ would actually be HOT:




Here's T mackin' on an Old Mack outside Wilson's. She rolled right up on him and told him that she just wanted to say hi since he was lookin' so sharp. I mean, those are pretty fancy boots and everything. They had themselves a nice lil' chat and then he strolled on down the street with his three Corgi doggles.

ToT got the best of me

In previous posts, I've mentioned having some difficulties with my Tippy-overish Tendencies (ToT). The thing is, I have terrible balance. I'd love to say it was due to some vicious college rumble at a fraternity house, where I sustained damage to my inner ear and have never been the same. But the truth is, I don't know how it happened. I just manage to trip over my own itty bitty Flintstone feet on a regular basis.

It seems I have the worst trouble with porches. Maybe it's the stairs that give me trouble - perhaps the varying vertical rises do me in. I dunno. But I do know that I've fallen off a few too many porches lately.

Stepping out the doorway to my own backyard during a summer BBQ, I missed a step and started falling down and to the right. I managed to turn the fall into a little shimmy and a shake and spun around, slamming into the side yard fence with my shoulder. So graceful.

And in May, while saying good night following my visit with the Norreds, I walked right off the edge of their front porch, fully expecting there to be another step under my feet. I damn near lost my shizz completely hitting the uneven ground.

Which brings us to this weekend. Jay and I were invited over to Melissa and Joe's house for a backyard BBQ on Saturday evening. We'd eaten and were sitting outside around the firepit, watchin' the sun go down when I headed into the house to get a glass of water from the fridge. On my way back out the sliding glass door...something weird happened. I thought there was only one step down, but it turns out there were two.

I ate cement. HARD.

I thought I'd ripped off my kneecap or something, but it's just a giant raspberry now. And my big toe felt a little funny. However, I only seemed to have scuffed my new pedi a bit. This morning though, my toe was purple. PURPLE! And it hurts like a beeyotch.

The common denominator in all of these incidents may in fact have been the drink. So yesterday, I made a decision. I grounded myself from drinking. I texted Shelb, letting her know that I was utilizing her method for rectifying bad behavior. She asked what happened, and I replied that I'd fallen off yet another porch (she'd been a witness to the Norred Porch Fall).

Her response?

No no no! You need to ground yourself from PORCHES

Who knew?

Seriously? Beaverton has a comedy club?!

During one of my recent happy hour excursions, I met Auggie Smith, a stand-up comedian from Portland. He mentioned being a comedian and that he'd be hitting an open mic night at a local club later in the evening. He also said he was doing a show at a Beaverton comedy club, which I immediately called baloney on:

Auggie: Yeah, there is so a comedy club in Beaverton.

Me: No, no way. I'd totally know if that were true. (Traveling into town for shows at Harvey's is a pain in my tuchus, so I'd wanna know if I had a closer option.)

A: I'm serious!

Me: Really? Then what's the name of this joint?

A: Jesters

Me: Ok, now I know you're making it up. Jesters? That's the fakest thing I've ever heard. Good luck with your imaginary venue!

Turns out the Jester Comedy Club actually exists. And I'm so glad that I didn't launch into the line of questioning I'd considered during our happy hour convo. He mentioned at one point that he could do his type of work anywhere, so it didn't really matter where he lived. I was tempted to ask "What is it that you do exactly?" If he'd responded that he was a comedian, I'm sure my extremely tactful self would have said something like "No, I know - but what do you do in real life?" You know, assuming that the comedy thing was an after work and weekends kind of thing.

So Auggie's actually a comedian. Like full-time and everything. And he's funny - really freakin' funny. The girls and I strolled on down to Jesters on Friday night for the 8 PM show and laughed ourselves silly. After the show, I bought Jay a copy of Auggie's CD since he'd not been able to join us that night and offered my apologies to Auggie for ever doubting him. He was a true gentleman about it, and didn't do any of the things that I'm likely to do when placed in a similar situation, which is primarily saying "Neener neener neenerpants!" and pulling my imaginary face mask down while shouting "Face! In your face!"

Cause I'm mature like that.

Quick Clicks by Yours Truly

I like to travel with my handy dandy Canon everywhere, because you just never know when you might see something interesting out there in the world.

A few weeks ago, I snapped this pic of a very inventive cyclist. Well, he's either inventive or way too cheap to buy a bluetooth headset...

And yesterday, I spotted these pretty pretty clouds in the sky east of my house.

Last night when I got home from work, I saw the big ol' moon in the sky beyond the little park near my house. I think the dude in the center of the photo was a little curious at to why I was taking his picture, but WTF was he doing just laying out on his chaise lounge mattress? In the park? And in the dark? You're the weirdo, pal.

And then there's this. Far from a natural wonder or interesting invention, this family caught my eye as representatives for things I don't like to see out there in the world. The kids look static in the photo, but as I waited for my Sonic deliciousness, they were climbing around like monkeys (and not the cute teeny ones like Marcel from Friends) on the tables, on the bike rack, and on the ordering kiosk thingie.

See, those are just the sort of kids whose parents would sue the heckfire out of my beloved Sonic because their kids are stupid and the parents are oblivious to the monkeyness. And don't even get me started on the adults...I mean, seriously? Airbrushed shirt, skinny-scrawny arms with tats and a tobacco-spewing cowboy hat wearer? I think you know where I stand on those issues.

Okay, I'm gonna go have some rum drinks now.

Those were my exact words as I left the office this afternoon. Whoo doggie! It has been one hella busy week. I was at work until after 9 last night, and I've had plans after work every night this week. I needed a quick five, but that was gonna have to wait until after I'd enjoyed tonight's happy hour plans.

I fought my way through downtown and waited in an interminable line of cars to go over the Hawthorne Bridge. Omigod, I could not believe the number of ballsy bike riders there are in downtown Portland! I watched as one guy almost got wiped out by a car switching lanes, and another that came rocketing down the middle of a busy four lane street - I was convinced somebody was going to jam into another lane and smash that speedracer to bits.

I finally made it over to the Lloyd Center area to meet Rema and Koty, two friends from the good ol' Benson Poly days. It was fantab to see them both doing so wonderfully, as Rema's just glowing with the magic of luurrrrvvve these days, and Koty looks terribly relaxed as she enjoys another teacher's summer filled with pedicures and date nights with her man.

I was able to score my first rum drink of the evening (mmmm....mojito!) during this happiest of happy hours. I scrambled in with just a few minutes to spare before the end of HH, and was immediately accosted by our very enthusiastic waiter. He took one look at me and said "I know you! You look so familiar! I've waited on you before, haven't I?!" I assured him that wasn't true - looking at Rema to confirm that fact - as I've only ever been to this particular establishment with her in the past. And Rema (so quick to help, that one) replied "Well, she was probably DRUNK then!" A great big smile came over his face and he asked if maybe he'd seen me at the Dublin Pub, since that's where he likes to get twisted. Lovely.

Afterwards, we met up with another couple of girls we knew in high school, one with two really cute kids (damn, I can't freakin' believe I just wrote that), and the other who's about 19 months pregnant. And the pregnant chick? Yeah, it comes out in conversation that her man's a bit of a hunter-killer type, that they live near me in the countryside, and - AND! - they've got a shooting range on their property. Then this chick invited Rema out to go shootin'. Y'all remember Rema, right? Rema with the ridealong? That girl can handle herself with the firearms. Anyway, Rema took one look at my wide eyes and big smile and said, "Can I bring her with me?" SUCCESS! Fingers crossed I get to go shootin' real soon!

On the way home I made a quick stop at Sonic for a refreshing cranberry limeade. It was the perfect drink on a perfect Portland night. And what made it even mo' bettah? The two shots of Meyers Dark I poured in when I got home. Yee-haw, betches!

Drinkin', bloggin' and getting eyeballed by white cats - three of my fave activities

The Interweb is a beautiful, magical place...but I like the real world better.

Yesterday, I wrote about the supercoolness of finding people you click with. You know what's even cooler than that? What happened to me today.

After work this afternoon, I rolled downtown to meet up with Elaine of ICouldKillHer.com infamy. Months and months ago, one of my coworkers told me he'd come across the link to ICKH and insisted that I start reading the blog immediately. He just knew that this particular brand of ridiculous was right up my alley. And boy was he right! I was thoroughly entertained by the catty back-and-forth of the two friends and blog co-authors, Elaine and Haley. I lurked around the posts, and finally started commenting a couple of months ago.

Then something happened...mysterious posts began to show up, claiming that Haley died (not really) and that Elaine was on the hunt for a new BFF. "Yee-haw!", I thought, "Here's my chance to befriend someone who likes her wine and vicodin just as much as me!"

We decided to get together for happy hour down at Shanghai Tunnel along with some of her friends. I had no idea what she looked like, but I figured she'd seen pictures of me here, so I said I'd just get there early and she could find me. And can I just say? That was a bit of an awkward wait. I texted Jay that I felt as though I was waiting for a blind date or something. I sat and checked my e-mail and tried not to do anything embarrassing to cause her to duck and run.

At around 4:45, I watched a woman round the corner as I sat outside the bar and I was certain it was Elaine. I was right! (The uber-cool can sense their own, you know) A few more of her friends joined us, then we headed down to the basement of Shanghai Tunnel. It was a blessedly cool space on such a hot freakin' day. I had a splendid time learning some of the Elaine/Haley backstory and loved meeting Elaine's fab friends.

Sometimes you'll hear nonsense about how blogging removes people from interacting with others, like we all just hide out behind out laptops and prefer to live vicariously through our online aliases. There's certainly an element of that out there in the blogosphere, but that's not been my experience. I've managed to find, through this glorious world wide web of ours, people with similar sensibilities that share my brand of humor - and that actually live in my area. And I've gone out and met them, at readings and book signings and yes, even happy hours. In the process, I've learned new little snippets about this town that I grew up in and still love, but have lost touch with since moving out here to the 'burbs. It's been fan-freakin'-tastic, and that's fo' sho'.

Happy Birthday Jeremy!

Dear Fer,

There are two very important things to remember as you celebrate your 22nd today:

1) The birthday checks from people that aren't Mom start drying up around this point, and

2) Hydration, hydration, hydration

Good luck on scoring free meals all day and make sure your friends pay for your drinks tonight, k?

Love,

Me

Two Suburban Chicks Walk Into Booty Call V...

Last night, Melissa and I met up for dinner at Montage and a little cultural enlightenment. At least, that's what we told people we were up to. The dinner part was true enough, but the story behind the cultural enlightenment was a bit, umm...seamier.

You see, after dinner we headed over to Plan B for Booty Call V. What is Booty Call V, you ask? And more importantly, what were these particular chicks (neither of us have ever been remotely "edgy" or "alternative") doing at such an event? The thing is, BC5 was billed as an event with authors reading erotica. But a better description for last night's event was AN UTTER FREAKSHOW. And I mean that in the best possible way.

We ended up having to drive together from Montage to Plan B because the two cucumber limeades I'd had with dinner were deceptively strong and rendered me damn near kneewalkin'. I desperately required a few hours and several gallons of water to make me safe on the roadways.

We arrived at Plan B, grabbed ourselves some seats in the patio area and settled in for some preshow people-watching. It was grrrrr-eat! Melissa confided that she was feeling a bit left out of the whole craploads o' tattoos trend and I spent some time enjoying the growing agitation of my tablemates. What cracked me up is that we all knew we were going to a sexy reading and the event flyer indicated that bootylicious music was going to be played. So it KILLED me that this group of chicks was all up in arms about the misogynistic rap songs being spun by the DJ. One broad even wrote out a nastygram and strolled on up to the DJ to drop it off. Are you kidding me? Get over yourselves, freakshows. We're hear to listen to nasty dirty sexy stories. Is now really the time to be all crazy uptight?

And the uptight thing was totally turned on its head a little later when the same nastygram writer, who had the weirdest fangs-but-not-fangs smile and her complete mismatch of a boyfriend started getting a little freaky deaky across the picnic table. Melissa and I noticed they were getting handsy, then just after one particularly naughty passage, the guy licked his finger, then traced it down her forearm to her palm. Ugggghhhhh. I'm no puritan, but c'mon - no one wants to see that!

The readings themselves were great. I'd planned to attend specifically because Melissa Lion was one of the participating authors and I'd enjoyed her Back Fence PDX event in June so very much. The other three authors were also fantastic, and one in particular completely impressed me. Zach Plague, author of Boring Boring Boring Boring Boring Boring Boring, is also a graphic designer and created his book both in the traditional, read from left to right format and as a series of posters. Very cool.

The Prince-Starrs & Us: Pickin' Out Our China Pattern

Chemistry is a tricky deal. There are people in the world that you click with, and others that you want to get away from as soon as you meet them. Chemistry's an even trickier beast when you're in a couple, and you befriend another couple. Maybe the guys get along, but the women despise each other. Or perhaps the women are tight and the guys each think the other's a giant tool. It's tough finding the right match.

Fortunately for Jay and I, it seems we've found that match. And we hope - fingers crossed - the Prince-Starrs feel the same way about us.

Because they are The Coolest.

The four of us headed west into the forest on Saturday morning, and against all odds, found a lovely wooded walk-in campsite near the Wilson River. After setting up camp, we toodled down the road to our favorite swimming hole to spend the afternoon. There was some swimming, a little drinking (okay, a lot of drinking), some rope-swinging and even a little time floating down some mini rapids.

And perhaps the most amazing thing of all? I swam in the river. No seriously, I did. I've got a long-standing, well ingrained phobia of water. Specifically, things that live in the water. And I don't like nuthin' touchin' me in the water. Back when I was growing up, we had friends that lived on houseboats and I used to freak the funk out when they'd pull up traps with crawdads and such in them. Egads! Pincers! Nothankyouverymuch.

So yeah, I thoroughly enjoyed going down the mini rapids in a borrowed boat (thanks new pals Tyra and Jesse!), then forgoing the boat entirely and just tossing my ownself down into the current. But things hit a bit of a snag when I started thinking that trying out the rope swing was a good idea. I watched Jay swing out and splash into the water, but something really bad happened when I jumped up off those rocks. 'Cause you know what? I panicked. Panicked HARD. And apparently what happens when I panic is that I lose all upper body strength. Fortunately, my ungainly leap got me out past the rocks, but when I hit the water, it was not pretty. Like, at all. So very embarrassing for me.

Back at the campsite that evening, we enjoyed grilled brats and camaraderie 'round the campfire and made some more plans for future outings with our new BFFCouple (TM). We toasted our fantastic day with some Prince-Starr-bottled mead (I think Bill had Jay at "I do a little homebrewing" upon their first meeting). For me though, the Prince-Starrs won my heart with their actions the next day. You see, while I was slumped in my chair, feeling only about 54% human and cursing the gods for iced rum and lime, they were making us a delicious breakfast. And after breakfast, when I crawled back into my sleeping bag for a catnap? They packed up their gear and then helped us lug our stuff up to the car. How sweet is that?!

Prince-Starrs: We love you.

The Swimmin' Hole

Sheila rows her boat ashore


Prince-Starrs, rockin' the river bank

Jay accepting the kindness of strangers, and expressing his total lack of concern about whether there's a roofie in that whiskey.


Getting some big air coming off the rope swing

But later in the evening, his rope burn from a bad takeoff starts getting redder, then purplish, and finally, a very vivid black and blue by the end of the weekend...


Bill tries to figure out where exactly a case and a half of beer went over the course of the day; Jay's just happy to be there.

Goin' Campin' (maybe)

We're headed out in little bit to the hills of Tillamook Forest with the Prince-Starrs. We haven't exactly planned ahead, which means the likelihood of finding an official campsite is awfully low. I'm crossing my fingers that somebody out there developed a stomach bug overnight and is heading back to civilization this morning. If the sanctioned campsites are full, we've still got a few hidey-holes along the Wilson River where we can fit a few tents. Today's gonna be wicked hot, so a day of playin' on the river, grilled brats and Pyrat rum is most certainly in order.

I'm embarrassed.

So, the thing is...I spent a lot of time in college. A LOT. No, you don't need to know how long exactly. That is a story I'm saving for another day. A day when I can find the appropriate photographs to accompany my tale.

Anyway, what I can't figure out is how - in all those years of higher education - I never learned about taxonomy. A few weeks ago when we were in Boise, one of my friend Amy's school books caught my eye. She explained it was for one of her information management-type classes, and that her first assignment for the class was to develop a taxonomy to sort a long list of items. Whowhat? The practice and science of classification? How fascinating!

For years now, I've driven mah mans crazy with my categorization of all things within our various domiciles. We don't have a second or third bedroom - we have a "craft room" and a "music room" instead. And woe be unto that boy if he leaves his guitar in our bedroom - it belongs in the music room fortheloveofgod!!! I also lose it on a regular basis when he puts the clean dishes from the dishwasher away, but in the wrong location. We've got a set of four rolled-rim white mixing bowls in one cabinet, and he's always insisting upon putting the handled white mixing bowls with the pour spout in with them. They don't nest properly together - what's he thinking? [He's prolly thinkin' his wife is cloud-cuckoo-crazy is what he's thinkin']

Even the one place over which Jay would like to believe he has complete domain - the garage - is not exempt from my organizational schemes. The boy can't simply toss his tools and gear just anywhere. No, there are zones to consider: hand tools, automotive stuff, sports equipment, camping gear, holiday decorations...truly, the list goes on and on. Our junk isn't thrown together willy-nilly, no sirree.

Back to taxonomy: I was so thrilled to learn that it's not simply been Obsessive Compulsive Disorder that's had me sorting things incessantly all these years. It's a practice! A science, even! And that's why I don't feel one whit of self consciousness sharing the photo below with you all. Because I know you will appreciate the necessity of stopping at the dollar store in Twin Falls, Idaho to buy these cute little bins so that I could appropriately sort the myriad items within my camp box. Left to right, the categories are as follows:

Personal Care (bug spray, first aid stuff)

Light & Fire (flashlights, replacement bulbs, batteries, matches)

Entertainment (travel-size Battleship and Connect 4, dominoes, dog toys)

Kitchen (utensils, Dr. Bronner's soap, dishrags, grill mitt)

A place for everything, and everything in its place!

I Need a Buffer...STAT!

I have a larger than average personal buffer. Most people know this about me, and they respect my space (except Jackie - she keeps insisting on inflicting her hug therapy on me, but she's typically successful only after multiple cocktails).

The weird thing is, my buffer applies to sound as well. There are some things I hear in my office that make me stark raving cruiseazy: nail clipping, visits by young children and oversharing in personal phone calls are the worst.

Firstly, who knows where that fingernail shrapnel is going? What if one of those things flies over the cube wall and lands in my latte?! And the weekly visits from your snot-smeared kid? Yeah, I'm just sayin'...if I wanted to be surrounded by smelly, noisy children, I would have forgone those two college degrees and gone to work at KinderCare. Finally, do I have to even address the phone call thing? Look, if you've got to call your doctor about your ulcerated varicose veins/explosive irritable bowel disease/your toddler's genital rash - FOR THE LOVE OF GOD - do it from your cell phone...outside and in your car if at all possible. No one wants to hear that.

You'd think that I'd have a nice respite from these auditory horrors at home, right? Where it's just me, Jay, Kedz and the babygatos? Well, that might be true during the winter months, but it's summer! And it's hot! And we have no A/C! So that means that when I come home from work, windows and doors are flung open and the ceiling fans start crankin'.

And in the evenings, when I sit clicketyclackety typing away on my laptop, I've started to notice something. Something horrible. You see, several times during the course of an evening, one of my neighbors comes out to his patio, and - how shall I put this delicately? - does a farmer's blow. Egads! Where are we - the backwoods? Oh hellsno, this is the suburbs! We don't do that kind of thing here!

I'm totally tempted to leave a box of Puffs Plus on his doorstep. Oh, who am I kidding? I'll prolly just drop a few thou on A/C and more effectively insulate myself from the world. And in the meantime, I'll be declining all garden party invites from that guy.

And Now...Parade Pics.

Thanks again to Tiffany for hookin' us up with some sweet front row real estate and a dedicated parking spot for the Hillsboro 4th of July Parade!

We set up a table with some delish brunchie items and were the envy of everyone that passed by. I can't tell you how many people said "Now, that's the way you do it!" to us as they walked by. One person even tried to trade us candy for a slice of French bread! Hilarious!

You know you wanna get with this program

This bicyclist is a total Cheater McCheaterpants

Gordon Smith! His eyes may be closed, but he's flashin' the finest set of pearly whites in the whole parade!

Jay and I were TRIPPED OUT to see this guy - a former Eugene news anchor from our days down south and current Secretary of State candidate. And might I just say? This fella rawked those jeans he was sportin'.

These Boy Scouts got my Cutest Float vote

The low point of the parade - I did not like the way these impertinent children were eyeballin' me

A Zillion Things That Mean Nothing

Out there in the innerwebs, Melissa Lion (just, like, my most favoritest young adult author ever) posted today about the value of words. Specifically, she writes about nonprofit bookstores, underpaid booksellers and how, if we approach books and literature as a charity, then the more difficult it will be for people to make a living at it.

I'd never thought about my consumption of books that way. I've never known an author, though, so truly the topic's just never come up. I've always been a voracious reader, and have often found that my library card keeps me from charging the heckfire outta my credit card. I'll go out and buy a book from time to time, but most often I'll just order something from Amazon, or hit the nearest bookstore to home, which is a Barnes and Noble. And now I feel muy guilty.

The thing is, we should be willing to pay for the things we value. I have no problem paying top dollar for certain things - spa treatments, vet bills, camping gear and tequila top the list - but I've got this fascination for paying as little as possible for other items...like books.

That fantabulous Recovering Californian's theory is that we look for these discounts because we buy too much crap. I totally agree. In fact, I immediately thought about someone I know that has the biggest closet I've ever seen - and it was built to house a wardrobe of Walmart clothes and shoes. Yeah, you may have a shoe, sandal and boot in every color and style, but not a pair cost you more than $25 and a year later they'll look like crappity crapsticks.

On the other hand, I know someone that appears to have five pairs of varying footwear and only enough outfits to get through 10 days without repeats. The difference is that everything in this person's kit is high-quality shizz that'll last for years and years. I find myself somewhere in the middle. But even here at the midpoint, I still find myself overwhelmed by the amount of crap I've been able to collect over the years.

I think I'll do some closet-purgin' and indie bookshop perusin' this weekend. The Pointe Spa's Margarita Pedicure and the Don Eduardo Anejo can wait.

This is B-A-L-O-N-E-Y

For some inexplicable reason, I lost my FiOS wireless internet connection yesterday. I did all the things the techie types have told me to do in this scenario - rebooting my laptop, restarting the modem, resetting the modem, unplugging cables and plugging them back in - and nothing helped. I even resorted to curling up on the couch with Dozer the King of Gatos for a quick catnap (but truthfully, that was more to preserve my sanity and keep me from hurling my modem through a window). Still no connection.

A FiOS tech is due here tomorrow between noon and 2 pm, but in the meantime, I've got to plug my laptop directly into the low-voltage box in the closet in my bedroom. So that really makes for comfortable blogging dontchaknow...

On the CATwalk

This morning Sharon, Dana and I did the 5k CAT (Cancer Awareness & Treatment) walk in downtown Hillsboro! The original plan was for the entire PBGG to walk together, but Jackie came down with the bubonic plague or hantavirus or something, so Jason stood in as our Jackie and the four of us enjoyed an easy stroll through Hillsboro.

Today I walked in memory of my friend Benji. In elementary school he was diagnosed with Leukemia and after a bone marrow transplant, his cancer went into remission. We met in high school and later shared a house in Eugene with two other high school friends. It was during our third year of college when we lived together on Kincaid Street that Benji got sick. For six months or so, his doctors thought he had mono. And then we got the true diagnosis: Lymphoma. Benji moved home to Portland for chemo and surgery and we all floundered without him. Benji died just before we turned 21. I think about him often and miss his crinkly smile terribly. So today I walked for Benji. Because 20 is too young to say goodbye.

It's Friday-Slash-Thursday, Part 2

Tiki drinks rule. Just FYI.

And just so you know...my doggle is freakin' adorable.

It's FRIDAY!!! Wait...it's still Thursday?

Lemme tell you a little story about how much I like three-day holiday weekends.

I LOVE THREE-DAY HOLIDAY WEEKENDS!

That is all.

No, actually I've got a little more for you. This afternoon was crazy busy. I left work at 4 pm so that I could get downtown to the Pearl to see my chiro before the long weekend. I saw him two weeks ago on Thursday and I'd sworn I'd never make another Thursday appointment. You see, on Thursdays the Pearl District Farmer's Market is held in the itty bitty parking lot of the EcoTrust Building, which is where my hot topic of a chiropractor's clinic is located.

But today my neck was all jacked up, and I NEEDED TO BE SEEN, so I set up an appointment for 4:45 pm. Unfortch, it was harder than I anticipated to get out of work by 4. I was able to manage it shortly after 4 pm, and then I rolled out to the highway to head into town. Being the day before a holiday weekend, the highway was freakin' packed. And let me just say - I almost ran out of gas. In the left hand lane of a no-shoulder-type situation. I was panicking. For serious.

But I managed to make it to the EcoTrust, and after seven thousand years of circling the joint, I found a parking spot. Amen and shizz.

After my chiro visit, I took the long way home, hit the liquor store for some delish rum (light, dark and golden, natch) then went to my friend Tiffany's to reserve some parade seating for tomorrow morning. Despite T's camping trip this weekend, she was ever so happy to set me up with her house key so I could partake of both the bathroom and refrigerator facilities in her absence.

Tiffany is a really good friend.

The parade goes by right in front of her house, so I just set up some chairs to claim our spot and tomorrow around 10 am, Jason, Sharon, Dana and I will be enjoying some small town cheer while we sit in our camp chairs swillin' mimosas and do some snack attackin' on the antipasti platter and bear claws.

'Cause we're classy like that.

Damn Near Poisoned Myself Just Now.

Tonight after work I stopped into the nearest grocery joint to pick up some toilet paper (there are certain items we must always have in this house and TP is one of those things. Ice-cold tequila is another, but that is a topic for another day). While browsing through the unfamiliar aisles looking for my most necessary of necessaries, I stumbled across the wine section.

I must admit to being surprised that this particular market even had a wine section. But all it took was seeing a fancy label and I was sucked in. I picked myself up a bottle of Swirling Dervish Sauvignon Blanc and then thought to myself "Self, you should really get yourself a nice bottle of red while you're at it - that Sauv ain't gonna be cold enough to drink for a while yet."

So I moved on down the road to the red section and selected a nice Zinfandel for sippin' on the patio while I caught up on some light reading this evening. Upon arriving home, I poured myself a glass of Zin and headed outside with my sunnies and a book (another young adult novel, but don't you judge me).

I should have known something was up when I caught that first whiff of the boo-kett (or bouquet for you wine snobs). But oooohhh noooooo...I just took a healthy sip.

And almost died.

It was horrible. And tasted like pure evil. And I have resolved to never, ever buy wine from that place again.

Except that I'm really curious about that Swirling Dervish wine. Such a pretty label, after all...

The Sawtooths and I Are In Love. And It's Serious.

Omigod, what an amazing place. We were looking for somewhere to totally chill for a few days and the Sawtooth Wilderness was the perfect spot. We checked in at the rangers office in Ketchum on our way north and got a fab recommendation for quiet campsites near Stanley. And I must say, the Mountain View campground at Little Redfish Lake did not disappoint.

Our lakefront view of the Sawtooth Mountains

That right there is some nature, y'all

Sunbeam Dam near Yankee Fork

Salmon River from above Rough Creek

Abandoned cabin way up a forest service road near Rough Creek (though it might make an excellent off-the-grid hideout...I can picture the moat now...)

Our hopes to check out some of Idaho's famous hot springs were dashed due to high water levels from the spring runoff. Fortunately the "boat box" at Elkhorn Hot Springs was still usable.

Soakin'

Redfish Lake was gorgeous. I spent a lot of time reading on the beach while Kedzie and Jason played in the water.

And Kedzie was unstoppable in that water. We probably could have doubled the time we were there, tossing his dummy toy endlessly, and it prolly still wouldn't have been enough for our little dingodog.

More vids!

Kedzie's having the BEST WEEK EVER from aidywi on Vimeo.


Is this Fetch or Keep Away? from aidywi on Vimeo.

We love-a the lava.

We saw two interesting things along the roadside during our visit to Craters of the Moon National Monument. The first were these signs, and I found the one on the right hilarious - I mean, does this sign imply that building permits are a mere recommendation in other Idaho counties?:




The other roadside curiosity was on our way out towards the Sawtooths. We'd just left Craters and noticed a car parked at the side of the road. There were three people standing near the car and down in the lava field - and they were all wearing bright orange toga-type situations and rockin' interesting hairstyles. I am totally bummed that I didn't snap a picture of that.

Kedz wasn't allowed on the trail to this cinder cone, but he would have torn that mess up!

Climbing? Who's climbing? I'm simply peeking over this ledge here...

Jay checks out a spatter cone

I also managed to take a couple of videos during our ramble through the lava beds. Enjoy!

Windy Day at Craters of the Moon from aidywi on Vimeo.



Jay goes spelunking from aidywi on Vimeo.