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We got to be in some weather...

on the drive north to look for houses Easter weekend.

I think Pat was a little thrown by the first installment, presaged by a foggy McDonalds, where we went to stock up on fishie sandwiches-

This was after passing my fave, Black Butte, which is so small compared to Shasta that it doesn't even show up in the pics of the main mountain.

We were taking 3 days to get to Portland so we'd arrive fresh, going thru Bend, here on a better day-

So we went thru Klamath Falls, soon to meet the weather, but better than the I/S 5, which is all up and down thru lower Oregon...

The next day was clearer between Bend and Portland.
Hmm, I seem to have exceeded my allotment here, no more uploads now.

We did get some rain in Pld, but it was nice much of the time if a little cool, our storm seems to have been the last throw of Winter, come in the Spring. The day after we got to Bend, the hotel guy said, "but it was 78 here yesterday!" (25C?)

We househunted like beavers for two days, and made an offer on one, but we weren't ready to bid high enough to get one yet, so still looking. The market is very tough here and no one is settling much under asking price, and the good ones often going over. One little 1950s place had four offers the day we were there just because it was affordable ($259k).

Drove back down the 5 to get back in two days.

On the state border we could get 1 1/2 radio stas, Southern Ore Public Radio and some cowboy station [I count that as the 1/2], and heard a song by someone called Chuck Prophet on the pr station, so have a CD ordered to hear someone new. A song called "You Can Tell Me Anything" I believe, perfect for Lj I reckon.

The girls watched The Popstar and the Princess a number of times on the player, not too bad, but had about enough reps of the songs by time we got home...

Got Wolcanos?

I used to think this was Mt. Shasta...

A wolcano, right? Well no, that's just Black Butte, the clouds were hiding-

Hmm... Later in the trip

Can we soom in sooome? What's this???

Well then, Black Butte wasn't it- Hiding are we?

Now, that's a mountain! So the West Coast is part of the Ring of Fire...

More later...

The Yipes...

It was the beast of times, it was the wurst of times…

If only the time change was all it wois. I waz toast, not even wheat toast, or sourdough, just boiled toast. It was the Yipes.

So I let the Toimenatrix and de Sprouts go down to Oica Woild without me. Whadda mistake, I had forgot it was the Yipes of March, de ja fudge, all oivah again. All over us too.

I slept in. I know what ta do, even if I din’t know it was the Yipes. It was Satuh-datday , after all.

After late breakie, I put on schooners and motorvate, or more properly, footervate down to the coffeehouse for foitha stimubration. I asked Jules at the regista to peel up an eyelid to see if there was an evidentiary of brain cell activity. He made sure to fly unannounced soon thereafta. That one could see the Yipes in my eyes…

Some time that afternoon I got boeing to return the movies and books to the libe before it closed- in there by the skin ommy teef.

While leaving the lib, the Yipes pounced widout warming. The cell jingles, the Tee’s special jangle.

“Carlo, we been put off the boat. Lilly Bet haz da plague! We ben sent to tha plague boat.”

“Wait, wait, you want me to come down? I can drive down, it’s only an yowur and a media.”

“No, wait,” she sez, “I’ll call if I need ya, the quaranteen boat should get us back.”

So I go gaz up the coche, and check the ol, incase sheza callin’, and head back to tha hoose, soz tobe availabble incaysa shee calls.

When it becomes apparent she’s on their way home, I start pullin’ up Lilly’s bedding and start up the lavenderia. My scalp is itchin even tho I know it’s all in my head. Last year, with the other sprout, it was like, “check my head,” “you check mine too…” tho neither of us got it.

So we ben busy, wash, wash, wash. Comb, comb, comb. Search, search, search. Only Lilly so far.

We’ll get this one, just like the last one. The joys of preschool and grade school!

A plak on bot’ dere houses.

Mar. 10th, 2015

Has Lj gone wonkers, or is just our firewall filtering out all the formatting and graphics all of a sudden?

On another vein, 3 out of the four of us are drinking Trad'l Medicinals PMS Tea-- scullcap, cinnamon and lemon grass. Been readin up on scullcap- good for nerves, mood, prostate and var othe' stuff.

Started with Mom, who is going thru the Change, and has been k-nown to savage the occasional animule.

After reading up, we spread to Dad, who at his ancient perch is afeared of becoming an grumpy anciano hombre [not tomention will consume ANYthing that benefirsts a prostate], and then on to DD sho shufferes from a mild ADD and bursts of intense excitement during homework- doesn't like MSG much, or rather DOES like snacks with it too much!

Who would have thunk one herb was good for so many things?

Mar. 10th, 2015

I think this is what she means, seeing as how the DVD has been here from the library at least one a month:
"The Princess and the Popstar"...

2nd Grade questionnaire answers:
1. My name is DD
2. My eyes are brown
3. My hair is brown
4. My favorite book is Hole Kitty
5. My favorite food is sezzxxx seafood
6. My favorite movie is the Popstar and the Parsens

As for the last, I can only say, "Good for them"!
A tourist site notes:
Before a back road trip to the ghost towns of Harshaw, Mowry, Washington Camp,, fill up your tank, as we could find only one gas station in Patagonia, and its hours were limited. Stock up on water and food at the local market before taking what could be an all day trip.

While the road out of Patagonia is good gravel because of the many ranches in the area, it deteriorates the farther you move southward and a high clearance vehicle is recommended.

Beware, that this area is rife with [---] and as such, also U.S. Border Patrol. An SUV visiting was stopped for a vehicle check and were told that these back roads are not generally frequented by most tourists because it is also a favored route of smuggling of uncustomed products, with attendant issues.

Reading Elizabeth Bear's

New Amsterdam, one of the protagonists "in her youth was a [highly desired]" and was thinking how one advantage of gaining more years had expanded my age criterion for foxey women- beautiful or interesting or both.

And then realized that this was not really so, as I had always met desireable of highly various ages, ever since I had left home at 18. In my 18s and 20s, had dated several women in their 40s and 50s, and in my 30s and 40s had dated into the 50s and 60s as well as my own age group- and sometimes hardly dated AT ALL, not thru choice, ahem.

At 19-20 or so, had met two 40s women I had found highly desireable, altho they were both like, "dude, I gotta get my 10-foot pole, sorry but it ain't gonnna happen!" although I DID get those dates, they were never energetic.

One gave me her address down in SW new Mexico, in case I "was ever in the neighborhood." And a few years later, I was, coming out West to hunt my first oilfield job.

She was in Jefferson Camp, NM, WAY down in the middle of nowhere in a remote mountain range, living with her bf, where if you took a wrong turn you were out in the desert heading for Nogales Mexico. Me and Beastaluni, my 2+2 (2 wheel, 2 cylinder) Ducati beasti that purred at the moon were crashing and banging through rutted and half-paved roads. Made that wrong turn until came to a sign, Nogales, Mexico 27 miles.

Turned around, back into the mountains, tired of the crashing and banging, realized I was driving wrong (slowly), so stopped for the relaxing pause-that-refreshes, and took out again with a renewed ATTitude, using the throttle and steering with the sliding back wheel (correct technique for 750s on dirt roads), until finally came to Jefferson Camp, and found the bf's two-foot thick adobe house.

"Oh hello [who are you?]", he was very cordial, invited me in. The very dark and dim living room had a few easy chairs and one end half filled with fuzzy veggie bricks- "oh, alfalfa, eh?"- about the size of a hardbound collegeiate dictionary. "She's up at her cabin on top of the mountain, if you want to hike up?" he offered.

I had driven the far, so I did, and we visited a while. I clearly not about to be invited to stay, so hiked back down and drove back out of the boonies. Id don't think I have managed to convey how the whole thing was a little surreal, and not at all outside the milleau of New Amsterdam, a steampunk, historical, vampire novel, tho my pause on the road may have contributed to that, not to mention the living room full of alfalfa. I was a little bemused, but it was none of my business, and they both seemed happy, so What the Hey? but I was clearly short-term visitor!

My favorite incident of the trip, at one point I came around a curve in the road- "crash, bang, GRowl", and surprised a lil deer about the size of a not-very-big greyhound. He took ONE look- and listen- to this apparation- it looks like a spaceship and growls like a lion, and went- "SPROING!" straight up this nearly vertical 50-foot cliff at the side of the road, "Boing, Bounce, Jump!", and disappeared over the top without even a puff of dust, and I'm like, "did I SEE that?" Though I did... and I wished tha-un, and them all, many happy years in the mountains!

1975_ducati_750_gt_gold silentum

Deer picture_cr
If they all had their way, there would be no storm drains and everyone would flood. If they didn't build streets or sanitary sewers people might notice.

They don't consider the Lonie Bureaucat as someone noticing they neglected the storm drains.

A develr's engineer today managed this morning's meeting to be in the Council District office so they could attempt to throw the s.d. engineer under the bus. Fortunately that one came prepared with documentation so the honors were fairly even.

The boss said it was managed well.

D came by her artistic bent honestly...

Woke up in the middle of the night a few nights ago, thinking of "Whither Now, O Man?", an art work envisioned and executed by Mom back in the sixties-incidentally the middle of the Cold War. It was the inspiration for an uncredited 20' by 40' work in the lobby of a major bank building in KC during that same period.

It was a triptych of three panels (doh!) of collage form-- plaster of paris on canvas:
a. the first panel a mud-like mash of goo and KansasCity-Lansing formation Cretaceous fossils- crinoids, bracheopods, gastropods, et al- Primordial Life in the Mud!
b. the second panel was articles of civilization stuck in the plaster-mud-- watches, jewelry, a TV charm, tools, implements and impedia of modern life- the Joys of Civilization. With a rubber golfball up in the right corner, stuck full of toothpicks, for the curse and power of the atom.
c. the third panel- what would be stuck in the mud and goo? but- back to the fossils!

The whole thing painted in tones of gold and copper. It was quite a little home masterpiece- no lightweight piece, about 3 feet by 5 feet, it hung on the living room wall for years.

Had to do a search to see if I could find a ref to the bank work, found the building but nothing came up for the artwork. Mom's piece, though, is still remembered- here!

Jan. 30th, 2015

As a teen, thought I was going to be a physicist until I read PK Dick's The Penultimate Truth, and saw a researcher checking the windows of our Physics 101 lab for stray radiation from the reactor next door, and began to reconsider...

Part of why I got my Bachelor's at 44 instead of 22.