March has always been a busy month for Jess and I, with a parent’s birthday which seems every weekend in the month we don’t get much time in the Grove. Thankful April arrived in the form of sun-blessed days, to which we took full advantage.
Friday night, after school was over, Jess and I took a ride north to Brownsville to meet up with Heidi and her fiancee “H”. We had agreed to meet at the Pioneer Villa outside of the town. Jess and I rolled in about 15 minutes before Heidi and H. Once parked, Jess says, “There’s a guy sleeping in the back of that Cadillac.” My only response was for her not to stare at him because he was wearing sunglasses and could possibly not be asleep or could very soon be not asleep. To which Jess replied, “His lips look fake.” I reminded her that she was staring.
After about ten minutes and not even as much as a flinch from this
gentleman, Jess finally came to conclusion that it was a mannequin. I said, “Who would keep a mannequin in the backseat of their car?” After a good dose of staring of my own, I agreed with her. It was indeed a dummy, unfortunately, the driver of the car never came back so we could seek an explanation… although I would put my money on theft deterrent device. Although the dinner was great, the company was fantastic, this was easily the highlight of the entire trip.
On Saturday, when we woke up and saw that the weather was outstanding we made a few calls, check a few websites and were on our way to the coast with one of my colleague, Erin, and her five year old daughter Kennedy to do our part to thin the clam population of Charleston, Oregon. Although the time we spent on the beach left a lot of heat to be desired, once we hit the muddy banks inside Charleston the sun didn’t stop shinning. Within two hours we had caught our limit on cockle clams and a good number of mary washingtons. We had a fantastic time, even if fiver year-old Kennedy out clammed all of us.
Because Erin and Kennedy have only been Oregonians for eight months, they had been neglectful in having the chowder excellence that is Mo’s… which is heads and shoulders over The Chowder Bowl (You know it, Miller). After dinner we made the trek home and arrived just around nine. I steamed the clams that night and then made a great chowder this evening, which is one of the reasons I am currently suffering from a food coma.
On Sunday, Jess and I left the house to get some routine shopping done and ended up coming back with a car full of flowers, gardening supplies and what not. We ended up redoing our entire front yard. The only original thing left standing was the tree. We planted nearly 35 daffodils and tulips in the places where there had been little shrubs before.
After working in the yard for nearly the entire day, we settled down in a our comfortably cold house, let the dog in (he went straight to his bed for the night) had dinner and drank a great Pinot Gris. All in all a very successful weekending.
Like witnessing a double solar eclipse, both long-time friend Greg Miller and long-time cousin, Jaeger are visiting. Greg drove out from New York, via Pittsburg, Las Vegas, and Sacramento. Jaeger came via Philly. We’ve made a couple of coast runs (speaking of which, Miller testifies to the chowder supremacy of Mo’s) and witnessed a couple of Portland Beaver loses to the Albuquerque Isotopes.
By far, the best was the run to Astoria today, take a peak:
Had a nice little trip to the coast weekend with Jess and my family in celebration of Mom’s birthday. Of course, the pups, Moose and Tolley, tagged along.
Well, my partial summer of George continues, sans recliner with a built in fridge… but as I see it, we’ve all got to make sacrifices at some point in our lives.Had a very romantic dinner tonight, the sat by the light of the fireplace, I cooked the dinner, then watched a couple of movies. Of course, it would have been much more romantic if Jess wasn’t in Bend but it is the thought that counts. But seriously, there is nothing better than a crackling fire and an Al Pacino movie. Tonight’s selection was Carlito’s Way. I maintain that Serpico and Scent of a Woman are my favorite (non-Godfather) Pacino movies.
Last night was interesting too. My parents were at the coast with my sister this weekend, giving her a last hoorah before she moves into Collier hall here on the U of O campus (4 days!). My dad called to see if I’d like to meet them at the Mo’s in Florence for dinner. I couldn’t pass up a free meal, let alone, a free meal at Mo’s. We had a nice dinner (try the blackened halibut). The real interesting part was the drive home by myself. Not only was it a torrential downpour, but the main road to Eugene was closed due to a major accident. I had to take highway 36 all they way back to Junction City and then 99 back to Eugene. When they clal 36 a highway, it is really a bloated description of a road that is barely two lanes. Nestled in between a rockwall and a devastating drop on the other side, it made the rain all that much more fun. Initially I was stuck behind a congo line of cars that were going, at best, 25 to 26 mph on this 55 mph road. Even after I passed them, I could only go about 45 thanks in part to my total lack of knowledge pertaining to the road and the constant sheet of rain on my windsheild. Two and half hours later, I made it back to Eugene. Even with the long drive home, it sure beat my usual, dinner at the coffee table and then followed by my lounging half on and half off of the couch for the remaining hours of my consciousness.
It’s nearing 1:30 in the morning and the fire is nearly out (both physically and figuratively). Time to sign off.