well placed curse words

Apparently have been in a yelly mood while on my bike recently and i'm a little embarrassed at my conduct. First of all, last week as you may note from a prior post, I had to take a few deep breaths and count to ten to keep myself from assaulting a fixed gear no helmet wearing earphones on cyclist who was running red lights and stop signs and pretty much just giving all us cyclists bad names, and then Monday at the PIR bike races, I went off on some dude.

Basically, only four open women showed up to race which meant we had to race with the CAT 4/5 men. Aside from racing for seventeen laps as opposed to the normal women's length of twelve, I wasn't really complaining since there was a really strong headwind and I'd rather ride in a pack of thirty-five as opposed to a pack of four, but the men - while mostly older than us in age - are not exactly wiser than us in the better bike handling. I think that might be the biggest difference between men riders and women riders; more often than not we as women are so paranoid about crashing and ruining someone else's day... that sometimes it may hinder how aggressive we are. Men, on the other hand, are more balls to the wall and will do what they want and go where they please without any regard for anyone else. So, needless to say - some of the guys didn't really pay attention to whether or not they were merging into your line. It's not that they wanted to do that, it's just that they hadn't paid attention to anyone else but themselves. So Monday night, I pretty much spent a large amount of the race yelling "hey! - watch it! - on your left - on your right and my personal favorite, WOAH!"

Anyways, the majority of the ride went by uneventful. It took a lap or so to figure out the pacing, learning the people that you didn't want to ride behind due to their "squirleyness", and trying to stay in the mid section of the pack. A few times when I felt I was closer to the rear than I was to the front, I'd slingshot around on the final turn as we turned into the headwind and reposition myself and tuck in. This strategy seemed to work pretty well and a few times it got me closer to the front than I really wanted. I used these moments as opportunities to pull the pack for a little bit and feel as if I was doing my part. We kept a faster pace than we normally do in the women's races, but within the pack... it was hard to notice really.

One of the women riders out that day was a CAT 3 who rides for Veloce. She stayed to the front of the pack most of the ride and my goal was to pretty much stick with her. At one point, as the laps to go dwindled and dwindled down... she leaned over to me and said she'd lead me out into the final sprint. "Um - okay" I said... "What does that mean I need to do exactly?" So that was it, we were talking strategy! That's one thing I feel like I miss when the rest of my team doesn't show up to ride, a plan for action, for attacking or for defense. I am a hard racer - but not always a smart racer. It's nice to have people working with you as a team for a common goal, but more often than not I just find myself, and only myself, trying to push it as hard as I can for as long as I can. But here, this nice lady who I had never ridden with or spoke with before tonight, was helping set me up to win. Her advice was just to stick to her wheel and then going into the final sprint, she'll block the wind and then lightly peel away while I overcome her and go for the win.

Going into the final lap, this was my strategy and I stuck to it. When she moved up in the pack, I moved up in the pack... sticking tight and not letting any substantial space in between our wheels. But then, with 1/3 of the last lap done, some guy started drifting into my space. I had noticed this guy earlier. I had seen him not be able to keep a line and made a note to stay away from him. However, apparently he didn't get that memo and here he was, moving into my front wheel. I quickly tightened down on my breaks to create more room, but this guy still hadn't noticed that I was RIGHT THERE and his back wheel started moving into my front wheel. - scalink, scalink was the sound of the wheels hitting each other - I braked hard, heard some guys behind me yell, and tried to stay steady and hold my bike as well as I could. I envisioned a catastrophic pile up of carbon, body limbs, road rash everywhere and a lot of cussing. No, make that SHIT LOADS of cussing. Before that could happen though, I realized the crisis had been averted and everyone was safe, no one went down. I was pleased we I hadn't crashed, but more than anything I was pissed off. I was pissed off because A) the ass almost made me crash, and B) all the riders behind me probably thought it was my fault, C) all the riders behind me almost crashed into me, and D) I lost the wheel I was following! Here I was.... riding, I had put in 16 quality laps, a nice lady was offering me a lead-in for a sprint finish, and this asshole almost took it all away. So, with the little bit of extra space that was created by the incident, I reared up out of my saddle, surged and as I passed him, I turned to him and yelled "YOU F**CKER!!!".

I then sprinted past him and caught up to the Veloce wheel that I had been instructed to follow.

With hopefully not too much time lost, I was able to get behind the Veloce wheel and I notified her that I was there... waiting. No sooner did I get there though, than a large field of men started whizzing by, picking up the pace. This made me anxious... I was waiting, waiting for her to make her move so I could follow... but if anything, she seemed to be slowing down, not speeding up. "Was this part of her strategy?" I wondered. Then, she yelled back to me..."I'm done, toast. I've emptied out my gas tank... go ahead!" "sure?" I asked... "go!" she said. So I went. Still fueled by the asshole and then getting passed by the guys, I amped up my pace and set in for the final sprint. Going around that last bend... much like earlier in the race, I slingshotted myself forward... passing guy after bad bike handling guy and then crossed the finish line.

It didn't hit me till a little while afterwards that I had just essentially won my first womens race, I was still quite pissed off about the near crash. But, yeah... I did win my first race. Granted, it was in the midst of a field of men and there were only four of us... but it was still a hard ride. Seventeen laps as opposed to twelve, strong headwinds, and navigating a field of 30 plus semi shaky bike handlers at a faster pace than normal. It's still a win, my first one since joining a team last fall and the first one that really goes into some kind of overall point scale that means something. Now, that means I just have to win again... against more people in my own sex - oh the pressure. Also, I feel a little bad about the yelling thing, especially since us Bridgetown Velo girls have a reputation for always being "so nice". Granted, yelling expletives wasn't exactly the most sportsman like or lady like way to handle the matter I'm sure, but I don't exactly take crashing lightly. So please, excuse me for my "hey! - watch it! - on your left - on your right - WOAH! and my new personal favorite, YOU f*CKER!!!!"

blogs, the newest form of "making the paper"

ps: while I feel bad about cursing at the dude... I really DO enjoy a well placed curse word. Know what I f*cking mean?

______________________________________________________________________

photo by the Barkers :)

And, for some more bike related mumbo jumbo:

I've mainly pegged myself as a sprinter and I've avoided races like Portland's Mt Tabor six race series, which lend itself to anyone with a climbing bone in their body. While I don't mind climbing when it comes to ice and rock and my own two feet, doing so on a bike is worlds different and some people just love it. I for one, hate it. In fact, I've done quite well at avoiding the six lap torturefest around the extinct volcano while my teammates have been there for the past five weeks earning points and winning prizes. However, for the sake of team comrodery, strategy, and actually paying for an ass kicking... I gladly signed myself up for the last race of the series.

So far, one of my teammates Margi had won the CAT 4 race last week, while another teammate Sara, had consistently been placing high. Also... other girls from other teams had been doing well and its as if everyone was in contention for the final overall series win. That's where good teammates come in handy. Margi set us up with some strategy going into the race and hopefully, one of our riders could come out on top. Knowing that at about two laps into the race whatever hill climbing legs I had would putter out... my goal for the night was to go hard into the second lap and try to attack and string out the pack. Hopefully, this would whittle down the field and create opportunities for our women to snatch prize laps and the overall win. So... that's exactly what I did. At first, climbing the hill didn't seem so bad and for a minute, I thought there might not be much to this race. Going into the second downhill... I buckled down and whipped around to the front of the pack. I had some followers sprint to keep up, but shortly into the grade increase in road, whatever i had in me quickly vanished and I watched as the leaders moved ahead and then left me behind. "Oh well..." i thought to myself..."I hoped that helped". And I went on to finish the remaining three laps in a race not to be last.

Overall, the race wasn't awful, I'll give it some credit. By the time it seems you are really hating the hill, you find yourself at the top of it and then you're rewarded with a nice downhill that makes you ask yourself "that was it? really?" But, that being said... I am still not a fan, but I'm not a hater either. Also, so... it turns out my wee little efforts did help out. According to people on my team who placed waaay ahead of me... our Bridgetown Velo teamwork made a win for the Orange Crush happen. Apparently, my attack worked as planned and helped drop a few girls. When I let up, my teammate Rachael took control which set up Margi to swing around and take the prime. From there, she led a small group of riders up the hill and Sara took over on the downhill. That caused the big break of five. From that break, Margi won the other primes and was gearing up for a final sprint, but miscalculated the laps. Sara kept her lead for the remaining lap and cruised into the finish, winning for the night and winning the series overall.

This is a sweet photo that has pretty much all of the BTVG's racing Tabor this past Weds, plus Lisa R who did quite well for herself.

This is actually the second year in a row that Bridgetown Velo has won the Cat 4 race, so that is pretty cool indeed. As well, it was Sara Fletcher's first win and to win the series from there is pretty darn tootin awesome. It was just great to work as team, plan some strategy going into the race, and see how everyone's efforts, while we may not all be going for the win... payoff in the end. I always wondered how all the other guys who race with Lance in the Tour De France feel when he wins and gets the spotlight, and well - I understand a bit more now. It's about team work - yo.

As well, speaking of Bridgetown Velo girls, recently we CAT 4's have been hitting it pretty hard with everyone bringing home some type of top ten finish since the beginning of June basically, with even more races to go! Here are some highlights:

Margi- Tabor: 1st (07/08/09), Tabor: 4th Overall, Firecracker Crit: 4, Elkhorn :3rd

Fletcher- High Desert: RR: 6th, Tabor:1st (07/15/09) Tabor: 1st Overall

Catlin- Race Across Oregon: 4th

Justine- High Desert: RR: 10th, CRIT: 4,

Myself- PIR: 1st place (07/15/09), PIR: 4th overall for June, Swan Island Crit: 5th

Rachael - High Desert: RR: 10th, CRIT: 9

Casey- Firecracker TT: 2nd

smorgasbord

A Friday round-up of random disjointed news, thoughts, and things that make me smile.

periwinkle and lavender crayons make me smile.

LAVENDER:

So, Wednesday I walked a few blocks to the Downtown Farmers Market on my lunch break. Summertime in Portland means Farmers Market time and I really wish I made a point to go them more than I do. I hardly ever buy anything, but I love watching the interactions between the fresh faced farm girls and the kindly old men tending their booths and the shoppers. I love walking past the bundles of fresh flowers and lavender, the pints of local and ripe blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, cherries and peaches. I love the crusty artisan breads and potent cheeses. I love listening to the musicians who set up shop and more excitement to the atmosphere and I love the community that happens as a result of it all.

BEARDS:

A few months ago an article appeared in Portland Monthly Magazine that claimed that Portland may very well be the beardiest city in the USA. While I don't know so much about that claim - seeing how I can't grow a beard and all - I often ask of my friends who are girls if they would grow one. While many of my friends have never stopped to think about this, it's something I ponder often. Mostly, I have come to the conclusion that indeed, I would if I could. In fact, I proudly admit to have beard envy. Honestly, I don't know if the guys in my family can even grow facial hair to start with, I've never seen anyone with any thing more than a light peach fuzzy five o' clock shadow sit down at the dinner table... but if I did grow a beard, mine would be a light scruffy outdoorsy woodsman I'm wearing a plaid shirt and chopping wood kinda thing. In the back of my head I'm always on the lookout for the perfect beard and one day I will find it. For the mean time though, I might just have to settle for these colorful standbys available on ESTY.

DREAMS:

-I really wish I had an outdoor shower. One that was surrounded by corrugated steel and had a bed of smooth pebbles underfoot. When the water would hit the panels of the shower, it would sound like rain on a tin roof. Kind of like this.

-One day, I want to live in a place that is mainly powered by solar energy.

-I think if crossed off many of my goals for the year already and it's only July. I should do an assessment soon.

-I want to learn to play the banjo.

SPEAKING OF:

Banjos. I can't wait, tomorrow I'm off to Seattle to see one of my favorite musicians Gillian Welch, headline at the No Depression Festival with other stellar acts like Iron and Wine, Jesse Sykes, Patterson Hood, Justin Townes Earle, Jessica Lea Mayfield and a selection of All Star Seattle Musicians (including Sera Cahoone and Star Anna). I am sure there will plenty of banjo and that makes me very very happy. In honor of the occasion, I think I might sport a rustic plaid shirt or maybe my Miss Ohio t-shirt, I haven't quite decided yet.

IN CASE IT GETS HOT:

I won't be drinking bottled water.

And neither will you if you live in the Australian town of Bundaboon which recently put a ban on buying, selling and consuming bottled water. This is quite possibly the first community in the world to have such a ban. Kudos Aussies! Kudos!!

SO THEN I GUESS I'LL RESORT TO:

I wish I had this new Timbuk2 bag to put frosty beverages into.

What looks like a normal messenger bag is really a cooler! The Dolores Chiller is lined with a waterproof insulated TPU liner (i have no idea what that is really) that keeps the cold and the drips inside, you can bike to your favorite park and enjoy a frosty beverage all summer long! And, what's even cooler (no pun intended) it even comes with it's own bottle opener!

THERE IS A TEAR IN MY BEER:

So, we know it was all over the news this week about MJ's funeral. And while it is sad and yes, I do morn the King of Pop since he had a massive impact on not only the music industry today but also how people see music (maybe even a bigger impact than Elvis since he bridged race, language and pop and dance and all that fun stuff. He made so many see beyond color and spoke messages of love and understanding. But, at the same time... he was a man and men have been setting the standards for the music industry from the beginning. Madonna though, was the first woman to not cater to "the man". She became successful to the main stream on her own terms. Using shock, sex, power all those things men have had in their control... and she set her own rules (much like martha stewart) and was able to rise to the same power. She used sex because she realized the power it had and did so because she wanted to... not cause some dude did. As well, she has been able to successfully create and recreate herself with the times... over the years MJ just got weird, lost touch with reality, spent money wildly and started naming his kids after bed linens. Madonna though, she wears the pants.

I was born in 19**, and while rolled to MJ at the skating rink, Madonna was who I danced to in my room. Much like how when I grew up I had dreams of being a professional baseball player like Pete Rose, but due to my sex - those opportunities were denied. Until the mid 90's, all that had been presented to me as professional role models in sports (aside from tennis players) were male athletes. However, then came the womens world cup in 99... and suddenly, women in sports were shown as not only women, but fierce competitors. From that point on.... girls everywhere had role models in athletics in the main stream media. They were on the Wheaties boxes, on the covers of magazines, posters on walls. They were more than just pretty faces, they were multi dimensional, and they were women. For me in music and tough industries as such - Madonna was the first one. She helped show me what was possible and that it's okay to wear the pants (and take them off) too.

THAT WHICH ALSO INSPIRES ME:

Is the artwork of one Geoff McFetridge. I first became aware of his work on the pages of Patagonia catalogs, where his simple line based illustrations graced t-shirts and other assorted textiles. Geoff is a graphic designer and visual artist based in Los Angeles. The breadth of Geoff's work covers designs for magazines, posters, t-shirts, textiles, motion graphics and advertising as well as film production. I like the way his illustrations, while simple, convey depth in their meaning and interpretation. When up in Seattle sometime soon I'd love to catch his installation at SAM, but until then, I'll just watch the video he illustrated for the Whitest Boy Alive over and over and over again.

IN CASE YOU WANTED TO KNOW:

These are the monthly results from my bike racing in June at PIR, fourth place in the women's division overall... not too shabby.

IF YOU WANTED TO WATCH THE TOUR DE FRANCE IN PORTLAND: check this link out

THERE IS SOMETHING IN THE AIR:

It was last year this time when I got into a bike accident while being doored by someone. It was also this time last year when Portland found themselves in the midst of a massive Bike vs Car War. There must be something in the air in early July because just this week another friend got into a bike accident, one friend was forewarned by a car they were turning right so she wouldn't get run over on her bike, and myself... normally pretty even keel almost went bat shit crazy on another cyclist for failing to stop at two stop signs and one red light and not even having a helmet on. I was so close to shoving him off his fixed gear. Anyways, when thinking about accidents and stuff, I'm glad I didn't handle my dooring accident like this lady who is suing for over $12,000 in medical bills and up to $100,000 for pain and suffering. OMG... really? All I got was a good story about drag queens, firemen, AND and new front wheel.

MY GUILTY PLEASURE OF THE WEEK: this nice little write up that doesn't make me feel so alone when it comes to my fashion choices.

IF YOU LIKE MUSIC: And you like Brandi Carlile, you might want to jump on these tickets for her new upcoming album tour ASAP. Don't say I didn't warn you. And while you're at it... listen to one of my favorite songs, Dreams, wich is off of her new album, Give Up the Ghost. This recording is from the Portland show last month. wheee!

Brandi Carlile - Dreams (Live in Portland) by musictoday

there, I think that's all... let the weekend begin.

when it works, it works

A few weeks ago I made my first vintage book purchase as seen in the eyes of collection, appreciation, enjoyment, and information. You see, I'm pretty much a socialist in my political beliefs and one thing that I get excited about are government sponsored social programs (I get especially happy when they work). Anyways, one of the first major social programs that our country undertook was the New Deal under President Roosvelt. The New Deal and the Works Progress Administration were created during the Depression to help out of work Americans. Especially of note was the Federal One Project, which catered to fund jobless artists (writers, painters, graphic designers, architects, muralists, song writers, photographers, etc) who are routinely some of the hardest hit by economic downturn. During this time period, great works of art, writings, music, architecture, public space and infrastructure seen as something truly "American" were created.

Take for example, Oregon's famous Timberline Lodge, which is a prime example of many elements from the Program being put into realization. Local workers used large timbers and local stone to build the lodge, while skilled artists carved intricate decorative elements to be placed through out. The iron works were all hand turned by local blacksmiths and the heavy woolen drapes were all woven and designed by local textile artists and weavers. So many elements of so many crafts and trades came together for one awesome structure that is a testament to american design and craftsmanship. In fact, during the WPA there was so much construction that almost every community in America has a park, bridge or school constructed by the agency.

Of great importance to me as a graphic designer, were the posters that were created for the Federal Art Project. Over 2,000 posters were created between 1936 to 1943 these striking silkscreen, lithograph and woodcut posters were designed to publicize health and safety programs, cultural programs, art exhibitions and performances, travel and tourism, educational programs and community activities. I was so drawn to this special period in American Graphic Design, that my senior year of college I wrote a massive research paper about the FAP. The paper not only secured my A status for a very challenging Art History professor, but it also won first place in the Savannah College of Art and Design Art History Research Paper Competition and Symposium (try saying that three times fast). To this day, that was one of my most cherished achievements in college, especially since I wasn't even an Art History major. Take a look at this flickr site with tons of images from the poster collection. It's sad that when the posters were printed, many of them were just discarded and thrown in the trash... but that's the sad thing about public art I suppose.

Another program which helped unemployed writers, journalists, archaeologists, historians, geologists and cartographers, was the Federal Writers Project. One of the main projects that this agency created was a series of American Guide Books which encouraged US Citizens to travel and explore their own countryside and the lush history it contained as opposed to traveling overseas, which was very costly (and still is).

So, I decided that I wanted to share in American History and learn a little bit more about my new state, so I went on an internet search for one of the "jewels" of the American Guide Series, the book of Oregon - AKA: "Oregon: End of the Trail". Luckily, I found a copy in moderate condition from a seller in Oklahoma and a week later I found the lightly aged book in my mailbox.

The book is a very interesting look at Oregon from a watershed in the history of America and from a point when the state itself and its population was rapidly changing. Much like long time Oregonians fear today, the contributers of this guide feared the imminent disappearance of the small-town rural life which has characterized Oregon. They were also apprehensive of the construction of the Bonneville Dam and the construction of highways that would not only mar the beauty of the land, but increase urbanization.

In an interesting write up on the guide, the WPA State Supervisor T. J. Edmonds said when asked about Oregon's future: "The sons and daughters of Oregon today are tall and sturdy, and the complexion of the daughters is faintly like that of the native rose - a hue gained from living and playing in the pleasant outdoors. Will the sons of the impending industrial age be shorter and shrewder, and the daughters dependent for their beauty upon commodities sold in drug-stores; and will Oregonians become less appreciative of nature and rooted living and more avid and neurotic in the pursuit of wealth?" I think those statements and fears are true today. For those Oregonians born and raised here to the ones who have immigrated here for those very reasons.

In the coming weeks I look forward to tackling more of the book and hopefully maybe before the end of the summer, to take a weekend and go on one of the tours the book describes. In later years, maybe as well I can plan a route via bicycle through the history and culture of Oregon and the New Deal.

If you don't want to rush out and find a faded copy of the book yourself, the Oregon State Archives ran an exhibit the other year about the publication and some of the routes it followed. There are some great little tidbits of aged wisdom here and some nice black and white photos of the roadsides. I recommend you take a look and plan a little weekend roadways trip yourself. As well, if you live afar... do a little research and try to track down one of these books for your homeland or favorite vacation spot. Not only are they collectors items, but they help showcase a little bit of what makes America so special.

that's what love does to you...

So, a little holiday recap is in order.

This time last week, I went into the woods, to the mountain, to the beach. Afterwards, I went back into the woods, to the mountain and then to the beach again. Then, I rode my bike all over Portland and when I was done doing that... I went back to the coast for Fourth of July fireworks and bonfires on the beach. The next day, I slept in, sipped bloody marys, ate burbon pancakes, went for a walk in the Rose Gardens, ate walla-walla onion rings, and picked fresh blueberries, raspberries and blackberries. Honestly, everyday was just about the best day ever. In fact, most days in Oregon seem like just about the best days ever. Yes, even in the winter. Yes, even when it rains.

Have I mentioned before that I love Oregon? Have I mentioned that I love having so many amazing places and things to do right at my finger tips. The coast, the woods, the mountains, the river, the art, the culture, the beer, the bikes, the coffee... I feel so gluttonous for being able have my cake and eat it too, all the time. I feel as if any moment all this amazingness could be snatched away from me and I could be sent back to live in Ohio... eh. So basically, that is why I try to pack as much in as I can into every day and every moment. My new found home never fails to amaze me. Oh, have I mentioned before that I love Oregon? Cause I do.

Honestly. Straight up. No lie.

In fact, I think I have a greater love in my heart for spots on a map than I do for actual people. And that's not to sound cold hearted or anything... as I am uber-capable of loving people, but certain geographic places have more of a pull on me than any one person could. Since I was younger, I have always believed that as long as I am living in a place that I like, then I can be happy no matter what my situation in life is. Maine, which I've previously written about, is one of these places and the more I live here, the more I do, the more I find that Oregon and the Pacific Northwest also has the same deep pull on me.

A few years ago I was choosing a book to read for a trip to Europe and I randomly selected "Out of Africa" off the shelf. Having seen and loved the movie, I thought I would equally enjoy the book... and I did. But what really drew me into the story wasn't so much the romance between the dreamy roguish Denys Finch Hatton as the writing in general. Viewed by "some as not that exciting of a story", I loved reading for the way that Isak Dineson (pen name for the Danish Baroness Karen Blixen) swept you up the words and imagery. Blixen so loved Africa, the people, the culture, the feel of everything - that it's apparent in the way she writes. In one of her texts, Blixen shared a thought about non-tangible love that instantaneously hit me. She wrote "A great passion, such as one that truly devours your heart and soul, you cannot feel for individual beings. Perhaps, you cannot feel it for anything which is capable of loving you in return. Those officers who have loved their armies, those lords who have loved their soil... they can talk about passion."

So true, so true.

For me, this is the love I feel in my current surroundings. It is not a love of any ownership or any promises, but it is a love and a passion that transcends and goes deeper than candlelight dinners and warm embraces. Like Blixen said, the land cannot love me back. In fact, land acts much like a river; one day it provides you with fish and the next day it destroys your house with floods. This love is an appreciation, a respect. In sickness and in health, in sun and in rain. I've come to accept that the land will never buy me flowers or take me to the movies, but with the land... I have unlimited days of free and unencumbered pleasure, I have dreams of my future and stories of my past. And so I say thank you. Thank you Oregon.

Anyways, I digress... here are some photos from the weekend:

surfing the 45 degree waters in Pacific City

cliffs on the coast

the view from Hebo Mountain, the tallest peak around

4th of July fireworks and bonfires at Seaside

Anna*

*Funny note about this photo of my dog Anna:

She looks cute and completely adorable here right?

Well, this was taken about an hour after she rubbed herself in poo - fresh human stinky poo (I shit you not). She wasn't so cute and adorable then. We were walking the cliffs in Pacific City and she was on leash when she decided to go explore some nearby bushes. Sam* saw this and exclaimed "jenn, your dog is rubbing herself in something!" So Sam tugged on the retractable leash and exclaimed "Oh my god!... Anna just rubbed herself in s**t!" It was then that Anna came running up to me as proud as could be in a "look at me mom!" kinda way.

Oh boy did I look at her. I looked at her and saw the light brown smearing of poo all over the side of her face, neck and pretty green collar. And the worst thing was... the poo smelled. It smelled so bad! In fact it was one of those "I need to cover my nose or else I'm gonna throw up" kinda smells. To make things more disgusting, we figured that due to the roll of toilet paper and the bottle of cold unopened water laying right near the poo in the bushes, that some one must had diarrhea while hiking and came prepared. So, I grabbed the bottle of water, opened it, poured it on my dog... but no luck with getting the poo off. So then we proceeded to walk back down the massive sand dunes where I kicked sand in my dog's face (to solidify the runny smelly s**t, ya know), and then doused her in the icy cold waters of the Pacific Ocean. Luckily at the nearby surf spot there were hot showers where I further cleaned her and her nice green collar, but let me just say - that s**t was nasty.

Regardless though, I'm probably wrong, but I'm under the impression that s**t in Oregon probably smells better than it does anywhere else, but that's what love does to you.

I want to go to there...

photo by M. Lebow

In three hours time I'll be headed out of town for a few days for a much needed and deserved camping holiday. In roughly five hours, I'll be be setting up camp by a lake in the Coastal Mountains of Oregon. After night fall, I'll build a fire, drink wine and do some quality snuggling. Then in the morning, I'll wake to the sounds of birds chirping in the tall pines. Surrounded by the crisp mountain air, I'll warm up with an awesome breakfast and coffee. Following... and in no big rush, we'll load up the car (with my dog Anna), go to the beach, rent some surfboards, and spend all day in the sun working on our tans (with a short break for fish n chips and microbrews of course). Then, do it all over again....