Stalking of the Goonies House

First things first: I'm in love with Astoria, Oregon. It has a mysterious feel that I'm a complete sucker for, it's on the coast, it's swarming with craftsman houses which I drool over,  it has an arty and interesting downtown district and you hear sea lions barking as readily as you hear the seagulls. It's hard not to be charmed by this place.
Of course, Astoria has the added draw that Goonies was filmed there: a film that made me dream of living in Oregon when I was growing up and a film that my own kids adore. We couldn't pass up an opportunity to sniff this place out and act like giddy starstruck tourists out front...

Goonies never say die!

From the Oregon Coast, With Love

As the summer heat and crowded beaches are giving way to warm evening light,long shadows and stretches of endless people-less coastline, we took our yearly autumn trip to the coast. Have I mentioned recently how much I love Oregon?

Doin' the Happy Dance

It's September and you know what that means..... SCHOOL TIME! (I'll try not to come across as being too giddy.)
Don't get me wrong, I'd happily take a bullet in the arse for my kids while simultaneously being hit by a bus. Truly, I'd do it. The bus, the bullet, hell, throw in being chased by an alligator for good measure...I'd do it allllll with a smile on my face....
....But, I swear to God, if I had to listen to my darling children walk around the house bickering with each other for one. more. day...well, the above ridiculous scenario was lookin' better and better.

 So, here's to another school year and the maintenance of sanity!

Look What the Cat Dragged In

So, we've got this cat. And like most cats, she doesn't think of herself as a cat, but has crowned herself  'Queen of The House.' Besides milk for breakfast every morning, the Queen has strict rules for her subjects:

1. Only touch her when invited to do so. Failing to follow this rule can look a little something like this:

No Caption Needed.

2. Her majesty expects full and complete attention when any one of her minions is sitting on the toilet. This rule is strictly enforced and if not adhered to can look a lot like the photo above.

3. Appreciate and fawn over every gift her highness bestows upon her lowly subjects. If not...well, you get the picture.

The Queen of the House runs a tight ship around here. I can live with rule number one, mostly because I find her a tad bit mangy and I kind of get grossed out touching her (it's best not to mention this one to her).  Rule number two I find odd and disturbing but I work around it. Buuuuut, when it comes to rule number three, the queen and I have some, shall we say, issues.

Listen, I'm sure that there are people in the world who don't mind sliding through a mouse carcass in bare feet first thing in the morning. I'm sure that there are people who find it quaint to be sitting in their living room, enjoying some peace and quiet and a nice cup of tea only to be dive-bombed repeatedly by a crazed kamikaze bird (insert scenes from The Birds here) who had, only moments before, been playing dead in the jaws of her highness and looking for the perfect moment to flee. And I'm sure that there are people who looooove opening the door to a snake laying on the front porch.

Let me be clear: I am not one of those people. 

I have been known to violate rules number 1 and 3 in one fail swoop, throwing her majesty out of the house and tossing some four letter words out the door with her. Let's just say, that I'm not always a fan of her gifts and she's not a fan of my attitude.

Given our history, imagine my surprise to open the door to find this:

 A little peace offering! A happy medium! Or maybe I planted a little too much catnip in pots in the backyard.

From Breitenbush, with Love

Breitenbush Hotsprings is a revered niche to Oregonians. When you say the name 'Breitenbush' people usually let out a little sigh of love with a little nod of the head and a dreamy, faraway look in their eye. I've noticed this curious reaction many, many times over the years and had often wondered what all the fuss was about. I've also silently wondered if all of these Breitenbush fanatics hadn't inadvertently hijacked any sort of great experience for me; sort of like when person after person talks up a movie or a restaurant and you expect to come away with your hair blown back, your life figured out, and some ecstasy to boot, only to be sorely disappointed by your own high expectations and other people's bad taste. (I'm lookin' at you, 'The Hangover, Parts I and II'.)

Anyway, Hubby Tim whisked me off to Breitenbush over the weekend for a romantic getaway. And although his earliest romantic overture involved rolling my finger up in the car window, only to be  skillfully followed up by kicking me square in the face, a'la WWE Smackdown, while getting himself comfortable during a group meditation (ohhh yeah, he's a smoooooooth operator), it actually ended up being an absurdly enchanting weekend.

Breitenbush (and all that happens there) just might be a little glimpse into heaven. If you like (respectfully) soaking naked in hot springs with complete strangers, then it definitely is.

I won't spoil the many surprises that Breitenbush holds, but I will say that if someone told me that the food they serve there was really made by cherubs and elves, I'd totally believe it.

Kindred Spirits

You're the strangest person

I ever met, she said

& I said you too

& we decided 

we'd know each other

a long time.

'Kindred Spirits' by Brian Andreas

Although they live scattered here and there, I'm grateful to have gotten to spend time with so many of my favorite people in the world already this summer. I love you all so very much! (And yes, I am buttering you all up to keep you from telling people our adventurous stories from this summer.)

Julie

Amy

Dee

Jimmer

Neil

A Generation of Trouble

My Big Fat Czech Family

Dee and Jen (I wish this photo was bigger. I also wish I'd seen Jen more than just when this picture was taken)

Farewell, Patty

As many of you know, Tim's mother, Patty, lost her battle with cancer a little over a week ago. She walked through her illness with a sobering amount of grace and her poise over her condition, for me, served as a testament to the awe-inspiring strength of the spirit. I am grateful to have been witness to such dignity.

We spent last week in Wisconsin celebrating Patty in all of her favorite ways: through laughter, stories, time with family and friends, ridiculous amounts of food and drinks, and, of course, polka. (I have a special place in my heart for a gal who loves polka.) I can't help but think she would've been happy with the way things transpired there. (Even when people started bringing up the stories that they couldn't share at the church...)

As I've reminisced over the last several days, this poem has been weaving through my thoughts; verses I haven't recalled in years. As I share it, my soul waves a bittersweet farewell to Patty Larson. May your spirit be free to dance on the wind.

I am standing by the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength,
and I stand and watch
until at last she hangs like a speck of white cloud
just where the sun and sky come down to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says, ' There she goes!
Gone where? Gone from my sight - that is all.

She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and just as able to bear her load of living freight
to the places of destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone at my side says,
'There she goes! ' ,
there are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout :
'Here she comes!' 

- Henry Van Dyke