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Speed Sledding

Like every year, Jess and I make the CG-Bend-Woodburn Triangle roadtrip spectacular.  On our last day there, it was suggested that with all of the ample snow, we should go sledding… but not your regular down-the-hill, walk back up, dependence on gravity sledding.  We used the four wheeler to sled.  Behold:

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Yes, I am wearing a cowboy hat, but not, I don’t honestly believe I belong in one.

If we made you suffer, don’t you want to find out why?

Twenty-three days between posts– better than a couple of months, right? Tell me I’m good. Anyways. It has been snowing here in Woodburn for the past two days which is totally contrary to my childhood. All of the seventeen years I spent here, I cannot remember two days of consecutive snow–let alone–snow that stayed on the ground for more than a hand full of hours. Oh well, it makes for a nice backdrop for the window.

This term has been topped out at two books, a seven hundred page feat. I took on Makes Me Wanna Holler first, and then read God Bless you, Mr. Rosewater. It is hard to say which one I like the best, since they were is such sharp contrast. The first was a nonfiction book about the author’s experience of growing up as a black male in the US. Compared to the second book was written by Vonnegut, a fiction piece about a privileged white man and the a portion of his life. I liked the first because of its brazen honesty and deeply carved events that tailored the author’s life. Where as, the second book was a more liberal with the painting of the characters which always thickens the actions of the book. Plus, it was a Vonnegut, so I can’t complain.

I made a pilgrimage to Pendleton a couple of days ago–for those of you her aren’t up to speed on my past history here is a short lesson: MY dad’s family comes from Pendleton, every other Thanksgiving or Christmas was spent there. Since my grandfather passed away almost 5 years ago, I hadn’t been back since all of the family made an exodus after his death. History lesson over. It was weird to go back and see these houses that I’ve always been welcomed into, but to see their doors locked shut to keep me out. Everything about that city is changing, from the stores and houses, to even the playground that my sister and I always played at. [on a side note: how could they pirate shit thing? It was so cool. The springy sea horses and seals I can understand, but not the pirate thing!] Even though the town was busy and there were people about–to me, the town was a vacant replica of all of my memories. I guess you never expect things to change, and hope they never will. But time doesn’t give credence expectations and hopes. Stupid time. By the time we made it to my grandfather’s grave, I think I was already numb. There is something about that reality, I just can’t let myself take on. Too real. Too much sadness. Instead, I just went over all of my good memories, much happier than my other options, but this wasn’t to deny any mourning. But, none of this scares me from Pendleton, rather, I can’t wait to go back… more importantly, I can’t wait to show Jessica all of my different memories. and to eat at charburger [bah humbug to this mad cow thing].

Speaking of humbugs, I got a telescope for Christmas, and I have to say that it is one of the most powerful philosophical tools I’ve ever used. I like feeling small and insignificant is a good way to keep the ego in check. I spent about two hours out in the back with my dad last night just looking as close as we can to moon. Just utterly fascinating. If I was good at math, I should have been an astronaut. maybe in my next life. we’ll wait and see.

Well, I could ramble on. but I don’t want to. I’ll save the juicy stuff for person to person conversations, I’m much more elegant that way…or at least entertaining. I swear.
Until next time….