Oregon's State Beverage is Milk!

We're going North to the Future tomorrow from She Flies With Her Own Wings (if you know your state mottoes then you will know where we are going and where we are now). In honor of the fun we will most definitely have, here is a video from when we drove down last October, when we put our full faith in the Swedish powers of a 1968 Volvo (and the omnipotent powers of our God), and were rewarded in full:

Also, Oregon's state dance is the Folk Dance. I'm not quite sure how that one goes.

Curling Cornices.

Taylor and I have been knocking the stuffing out of the mountain this week. It has snowed every day, at least 6 inches a day- and it's light and fluffy snow, like in January!
Here are three different cornices we were jumping (and falling) off of. I am the first picture, and Taylor is in the other two. These cornices weren't that big or anything- the first one was 7 feet and the last one is around 11 feet- but oh it was fun!

Can't Every Weekend Be A Holiday Weekend?

Taylor and I just returned from a trip- him to visit his good friend Ross at the coast, and me to Portland to see my good friend Marie. I had the camera, though, so you will just have to trust me that Taylor (and Moma) had a pretty sweet time.
Marie and I went to a great thrift store, just chock full of goodies. She purchased this gem of a nesting-doll, showing Russian (or shall I say USSR-ian?) leaders through the ages. Can you spot mini Stalin?
Another thrift store we visited apparently decided that separating books based on the author's sex was the way to go. Do I need to mention that the store was run by a conservative Christian group?
We then headed up to Seattle and had what I believe could firmly be asserted as a marvelous time. The Sculpture Park there is really fun, and Marie and I could be heard to shout in glee, "Is that a Richard Sera? Oh my gosh! It's so great!" A wedding party and their photographer thought so as well:
A gathering of slightly blurry Whitworthians were seen at a party Eli threw at his lovely new home:
The childhood game of Jump Off The Swings is still great as an adult, we decided. From top to bottom are Marie and Matt, Jenene, Lars, and Marie and me.
And so, to end this post and this weekend, we have a shot of Marie's legs, flying high, wishing us well:

Steens! Alvord! Moma!

We left the town of Bend for the first time in 5 months yesterday- I guess our first cold winter in three years made us go into hibernation mode. As lifelong Oregonians, we felt the stateriotic (pride in one's home state) duty to go camping and experience nature in it's finest, specifically in the famous Steens Mountains of south-eastern Oregon. That whole area is a favorite of ours, and I was proportionately way too excited for the two day camping excursion- which I blame on not having left a 30-mile radius in so long.
The start of the trip wasn't too auspicious, because we left too early to take Moma on her morning walk, and she barked at us to let us know of her displeasure. Our ears rang:
But she soon wised up to the coolness of our destination, and once we got there, decided to help Taylor fish for rainbow trout:
Her help payed off, because he caught a big, old papa. Meanwhile, I took a lovely nap under an old teepee frame I found (was it built by Native Americans or hippies, we will never know). My pillow wasn't near as bad as Jacob's rock- a nice paperback book by Virginia Woolf. I like to think I soaked up some of her way with words into my dreams (which were bizarre, by the way):
Also, our campsite had been frequented by lovers of iconic '90's bands, as seen by these quaint engravings on the picnic table. The attention to detail in the backwards 'R' is my favorite part:
The next day we headed around the bend, so to speak, to the Alvord Desert, a true freak of nature in nature. Picture, if you will, mountains almost 10,000 feet high on one side and a huge flat desert miles across on the other- so great! You can drive no-handed and blind, and still be safe. If we could only figure out how to make the moolah out there, we would totally buy a big parcel of land and make it our home sweet home- a lack of crowds and a surplus of space equals count us in!
Moma and I had a race. It was a tie:
And then she faced the gusty winds, and tried to figure out just where the heck we were:
All in all, a good mini-excursion. Camping is ten times as much fun with a dog than without. And Moma had been so good on the trip that when we got home, she promptly ran off yipping and yapping after a herd of deer. Sheesh already.

All eyes are on the mountain.

Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you... for one day only... Taylor the Wondrously Talented Telemark Skiier!
And... Adalie the Amazingly Awe-Inspiring Barista Extraordinaire!

Psst... it's Easter!

Happy Easter! Many happy tidings and well wishes from ours to yours.
We celebrated today in our family's traditional way:
First, Taylor had to show Moma who wears the pants in this family:
Next, my dad, Taylor, and I shot some very nasty pinecones:
Then, we all sat down to a big dinner of deviled eggs:
Finally, my sister entertained us all with her many cool Facial Tricks and Silly Noises:
¡Vivan los conejos de Pascual!

City of Beckley!

Taylor has kindly agreed to showcase his lengthening rattail for us. I think it's going to be the curly, sexy, flying-in-the-wind-and-in-the-face-of-convention type of rattail:

Finally, we invite you to check out our city. We offer many amenities, including Sweet Treats Saturdays, a Beautification Committee, and a Mayor with the last name of Pugh.
www.beckley.org

A declaration of thoughts, being thought.

Our dog chases planes. She spots a plane, flying oh so very high up in the sky, and then she takes off across the ground, running and looking up to make sure she's still going in the right direction.
She also chases birds, which is more normal dog behavior. Yesterday she spotted a Great Horned Owl with a dying, squeaking rabbit flopping from it's claws. She ran instantly after it, with Taylor in hot pursuit, and after 3 miles and a highway crossing, she succeeded in cornering the owl in a tree, and somehow getting it to drop it's quarry, now very much dead. Then she systematically crunched up the bones to make it more consumable, and swallowed the thing whole.
This incident has served to convince me that my Power Animal can no longer be the Snowshoe Hare, as I have stated in a previous post. No, it cannot be, because Taylor has decided that his Power Animal is a Lynx, and Moma has decided that her Power Animal is some sort of Feral Canine, and both of those prey on rabbits and hares. I cannot be eaten by my own family.
And, I know, Taylor and I only heard of Power Animals through the movie 'Thumbsucker,' and we thought of it as a joke (and still do), but the thing is is that I am a firm believer in the phrase "Every joke has a heart of truth" (a thank you to my mom, for repeating that enough to make me believe it), so a change has to happen.
The dilemma is now this, and I'm going to pose it as a question you would ask on a first date that is going very, very poorly: if I had to choose an animal, what would I be?
And the answer is, I don't know, but here are some contenders:
Caribou- the females have antlers as well so they can protect their babies from rampaging bull caribou who only want one thing from the nursing mother (and we all know what it is that men want...)
Walrus- whiskers, overgrown buck teeth, and wrinkly skin is what I have to look forward to when I'm old anyways, so why not embrace it right now?
Stegosaurus with triplets- by the looks of it, I will be well at ease in the city life, and the babies are cutie patooties, so that's all the reasons I need!

Postcript: I am not a writer, I am a reader- and that is why everything I write sounds like something you have read, because I have a sponge for a brain. Hopefully someday I will think of something original, something that will be a mix of all I have read with some inspiration thrown in- and it will be grand.
I've decided that the greatest thing to happen for most people would be for them to have just one original thought in their entire lives, just one would be enough to convince them... to convince them to think, and to do something with those thoughts, because they would then be searching for the next original thought.
Or maybe they wouldn't- because I am also convinced the the majority of the world are not thinkers, but absorbers- and that is scary because absorbers are followers, and followers in large numbers are mobs, and mobs are lead by thinkers who know their followers are foolish and unthinking, and want someone else to do the hard work for them.
This we must be aware of, and fight against- we must fight against the dark thinkers, and against the lethargy that always wants to overtake the thinking mind, and turn it into an absorbing mind. But awareness, and recognition, of that danger is half the battle- most don't even get that far!
So take heart, man, and see that you are alive! And only once! And for not very long! Wasting time is foolish, but being a blank-sheet absorber- a sponge with no destination- is even more than foolish- it is stamping your foot at wisdom, and pissing at the feet of God. We must take vows of moral courage if we are to live this life well, and I take mine- to seek wisdom so that I may get closer to my goal of creating something new, and by doing that- to see God. Creation is devotion, and devotion is obedience, and I will obey Him who gave me my thinking, reasoning, rational mind.

Oh, to be an adventurous old lady!

It has been so long (21 days) since I last communicated with the World Wide Blogosphere that I am half-ashamed. But only half.

Moma, our fine furried friend, is a truly awesome animal. Look at this picture and see the truth of that statement. Not much is better than a sleeping puppy posing as a praying mantis:
We've been spending a lot of time cross-country skiing. There are only a few trails around here that dogs are allowed on legally, and one of them has a waterfall as a destination.
One of the best things about going out and skiing is that we have met a lot of really sweet old ladies and their equally sweet dogs- one such Grand Dame is 84 years old, has a bum knee, and still goes skiing almost every day. We first met her right near this waterfall:
Long before Christmas Taylor and I made up this really fantastic package and sent it to our just-as-fantastic friends, Scott and Claire, who are living in Italy for a year or so. And two days ago, we got it back. What the devil is that all about?! The stamp on the package said the address was wrong- but it isn't because they received a letter we sent them! Those Italians are just plain nutters!
So, dear Claire and Scott, here is a picture of what international mail did to your Christmas present, and we are saving it for you until you get back:
Also, as I am sure most of you are aware, there was a total eclipse of my heart... and also the moon.
And I need you now tonight, And I need you more than ever...
Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time
I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark
We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks
I really need you tonight
Forever's gonna start tonight:
Going to the library is, and always has been, one of my favorite things to do. All the long aisles with high bookshelves, and the millions of options, and the collective smell of thousands of books- it's all so comfortable. Taylor and I have totally raided our library's collection of falconry guides (Taylor), how-to books on the art of composting toilets (both of us), and great novels by Margaret Atwood, Roald Dahl, and Julia Alvarez (me):
Squirrel says, "Howdy-doo-dee, friends, neighbors, and countrymen. I'm a reading fool!"