Blog Archives

like a stone i’ll wait for you there

3/7 – Grove to the ‘Burn = ~100 miles

3/9 – ‘Burn to Grove = ~100 miles

3/10 – Grove to Bend = ~125 miles

3/11 – Bend to Grove = ~125 miles

3/14 – Grove to the ‘Burn = ~100 miles

3/15 – ‘Burn to Eugene to Beaverton to Grove = ~300 miles

Total driving done in 8 days = too much (850 miles)

As you can tell, I’ve been fairly mobile for the past week. The week finished off with moving my sister into her new apartment in Beaverton. She officially completed college in 3.5 years and is waiting to hear about her acceptance into the Masters of Social Work program at Portland State.

The worst part of moving her wasn’t the flights of stairs, or the ridiculous amount of stuff she has (although she falsely advocates that I had more stuff in comparison at the same stage), or even the hours spent on I-5… rather, it was trying to get her new, fancy couch into her new apartment. We first tried to angle it in: no go. Flip it on it’s side, angle it in: nope. Take the hinges of the door and angle it in while its flipped on its side: uh-uh. Angling the back half upwards and jam it in: no way.

After thirty minutes, we found a solution (that didn’t include an ax): rotate the couch on its side, take off the 1/2 inch feet of the couch, slight incline on the back side, angled at a forty-five degree angle, and some pushes down the fluff on the top of the couch. Still, some paint did transfer onto the couch. Had the door jam been just an atom or two smaller, or had the couch been stuffed with just a little more fluff, Meg would of had a hallway couch. I think it’s furniture like that couch, that turn apartments from unfurnished to furnished because nobody wants try and move it out. Sorry Meg, but it’s staying.

This is the week leading up to spring break… just in the nick of time.

Hey, here’s a picture:

Reluctant Great Aqua-Dane

Only thing I got to show you, running around the room

I’ll admit it, I like commuting. My commute is fairly easy, if I make it past the school bus stops before the buses are there.Up in the hills that take me from Hawkins to Chambers, where the houses are just now sprinkling in and replacing the trees. I always pass the same old man walking a dog that is equally old, in dog years of course. Every morning, since my first commute to Cottage Grove, this man gives me a slow wave. I give him the obligatory wave over the steering wheel. Never met the guy, don’t live near him (to the best of my knowledge). And yet he waves… every morning. I think I know why some people do this. I think that the wave-counterwave is all a life-affirming action. When he waves, he says to me non-verbally, “you exist” and my return wave assures him, “you exist too.” Especially early in the morning is important to reassure people that they exist.

Or…

The wave-counterwave may be him saying, “please don’t run me over, because I know that you and I are the only two people out here right now… and only you would know.” My wave tells this old man, “your day is not today.”

No, but seriously I could never run over that guy… he has a dog with him.

I enjoy these little routines and niceties.

Next time: Truckers that flash their taillights when you let them in to your lane.

 

It’s adios to aviros, tell ’em to stay between the lines

I think that this has been the longest dry-spell of posting. I’ve been neglectful. I’ve been bad, but being bad can be so good. Especially when my office is so hot. My legs stick to my chair. no good.So 2,784 miles driven between Eugene and Woodburn, I’ve completed my marathon commuting. The good news is that that I never fell asleep once at the wheel… not unlinke two years ago where a mid-I5 nap was looking pretty tempting. If anyone needs an update on the daily progress of any of the numerous bridge construction or a detailed layout of where the cops like to sit, I can deliver both. It was nice to have a friendly dog to come home to every night, but I’m glad the driving is over. I maintain that being in your parents’ house all by yourself is one of the most unsettling feelings. It’s like a house of ghosts, but the ghosts will be back at the end of their vacation.

I just got back from Bend, Jess and I went over to visit her family. They have this pretty clydesdale, I think I would really enjoy having a horse–you could dress them up for the holidays, ride them into town to get groceries. At this point I think I am feeling the urge to make a “horse-power” joke, but I’ll resist. That would preceding into what Pratt and Derek Bell would call a “Wellsy”*. But I digress. I really enjoy being at their place, it is nice being away from other houses and there is something very soothing about sleeping to the sound of the Dechutes river… that is until the crossbar in the hide-a-bed wakes you up. Although, I think that my favorite time to go to Bend is in the winter, but I think that is because I had a childhood that was primarily deprived of decent snowfall.

*ok, here’s the Wellsy, “How much horsepower this bad mama-jama got?” “Oh, about one.” Told you it was bad.