Had a Birthday/Bon Voyage party at the parent's house on Saturday with about 70-80 family and friends. I did not realize that many people liked me and now I'm wondering who paid them off. It was strange to have friends from so many stages of my life in the same place but it confirms that no matter what choices I've made, something good has always come.
Achieved my goal of being on the road at 5am (nothing short of a miracle, trust me) and made it to Portland in time to celebrate 30 with my best friend of 15 years and birthdaymate. We went wild with some chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting and were in bed by 11. Party Animals, I tell ya.
I want to crack some jokes about another ex, the one I acquired after living a summer in this area. I want to tell you about the pervs and hicks we encountered at a rest stop in Albany, and other things but I'm tired and I'm camped out in a Safeway because a tree fell on my friend's car and took out her internet on the way. So I'll just note a few observations:
- Patchouli is alive and well in Oregon
- You don't have to feel bad about forgetting to shave or even re-think that tank top.
- I don't think they sell bras here
- They come up with some really clever names. Town names on signs seen from I-5 N include: Drain, Curtain, Burnwood and Buttersomething or other.
Little Sister figured that the Italian pronunciation of Siskayou is Sikayou (which she already is) and we fell in love with Ashland, Oregon. Tempted to bag this Alaska thing and stay here:
And here's a happy trip down my memory highway. The words "Rogue River" just like "Disneyland" or "Big Sur" cause stirrings of deeply repressed memories in the sibs and I. A little advice-- families of six should never attempt a week in a trailer, especially if they can barely function in a real house with real rooms. The highlight of the Rogue River trip was a near death experience when Dad, Little Sister and I nearly drowned while attempting to navigate the river in a canoe. Someday I'll tell you about the time Search and Rescue was called when I got lost in Big Sur.
1 comment:
Ashland, OR: What memories I have of that sweet, wholesome little town! The horrified looks on the faces of its innocent citizens, ducking into doorways, mouths gaping as they sped off in their cars, mortified, as 200 well dressed, smooth talking, loud mouthed, car guys roll into town for 6 long days of meetings and debauchery! How I miss the condemning eyes piercing the facade of a smile as they asked, more coffee, sir? But if anyone ever finds themselves stuck in this stepford world, just make your way up the road to Medford, and stop by "The Office", finest gentleman's club in southern OR, or so I've been told.
Post a Comment