Kruger Farm

Dave, Libby, Molly and I had our Kruger Farm adventure today. Here are some pictures to document the occasion.

Dave and Molly head into the pumpkin patch.

Molly is in the barn. Molly sees...

Calves!!!

Libby uses her map reading abilities to help us through the corn maze.

Thanks Libby!

Molly likes the leaves on the ground. She sets one on the bench

near Dave.

The End!

A Mariner's Life for Me

Swimming in front of my eyes was a large sea bound ship. It bobbed up and down, nodding affirmatively as I questioned it about my future as a mariner. It seemed my only option. I looked around the pier wondering if anyone had followed me to this potential get-away. Something moved in the shadows and rather than wait to distinguish what had moved, I scampered up onto the quarter deck.

I stepped into a crowd of others who had also accepted a life at sea. A tall man stood to my left with long, greasy, brown hair. He smiled at me, revealing a set of yellow, broken teeth. On my right, a collection of red-haired men stood together looking comfortable with each other. They laughed and reacted to each other knowingly. The tall, greasy man nudged me and said, "The Riley clan." He smiled widely and bounced his head up and down. He kept starring at me, smiling. I smiled quickly then turned away from him. He nudged me again and extending his hand to me said, "They call me Boris. What do they call you?"

"Ah..." I responded. I looked over my shoulder and into the shadows. I was feeling increasingly anxious about the movement I had seen in the shadows. Boris grabbed my hand and began shaking it. He repeated his question to me and I muttered to him that my name was Milo and that it was a pleasure to make his acquaintance. At that, he stopped bouncing his head and instead looked at me curiously.

"What part of London you from?" he questioned me.

"No part, I'm not from London." I said and looked back over my shoulder. Something moved again. This time I saw the rising sun reflect off what could only be a silver-plated pistol held in the hand of a man wearing a long black coat that brushed against the bottom of his knees. He looked at the ship from under his dark bowler hat. I turned my back to him and held my breath. Had he seen me?

To be continued...

The DMV

My third trip to the DMV should have been successful. My purse was bursting with papers stating that I am the person I say I am. I had my passport, marriage certificate, an official letter from the social security office, my driver's license, WA registration, proof of insurance, a pay stub, and credit card bill (with my current address). You would think that this coupled with $200 would have gotten me what I wanted. But, my first trip to the DMV had already foretold that things like this don't come easy.

My first trip to the DMV was at the tail end of a long line of errands. I pulled into the parking lot and noticed a sort of exodus happening from the building. Someone walked to the door and made movements like they were locking the place up. This baffled me, because my clock said it was only 5pm and I clearly remembered writing that they would be open until 5:30pm on a lime-green post-it note that I stuck neatly upon my desk at home. So, I came home and decided to investigate this discrepancy. I had indeed written 5:30pm as the closing time for the DEQ, not the DMV.

On second trip to the DMV, I had all my ducks straight in a row, or so I thought. I had gone over the on-line DMV checklist several times and had even conferred with Dave about needing to bring anything else. He suggested that I bring a pay stub. So, I brought one along for good measure. I walked in and was summoned immediately to the counter where the helpful people sit. It took the man less than 1min. to dash all my hopes of getting anything accomplished within that trip. He looked at my pay stub with contempt and spelled out for me the specifics of what they were looking for as "proof" of my identity and residence. I left with yet another checklist of things to bring.

One obvious thing I had neglected to bring with me on my second trip was the title of the vehicle. I've owned the car since 2002, but I don't actually know what the title looks like. I have one--someplace. I looked for it. I thought I had found it. I drove back to the DMV, with all my documents and strode up to the counter. The helpful man at the counter was a bit feistier than I was in the mood for. He told me that the document in my hand was not my title, but rather another registration form. I sighed and asked, "Does it at least look like a title?" He hesitated and it seemed to me that he was processing whether or not I was jesting with him. I wasn't. He arrived upon the conclusion that I was. We came to an impasse and I was not happy with the feisty man posing as someone helpful. I got in my car and drove back home.

I don't feel like an intelligent being right now. I feel as though I should have a dunce hat sat upon my head. It should be my task to guard a doormat and keep it from a life of crime. How hard is it to get a driver's license and plates in the state of OR? What level of intelligence does it require?

Sewing in July

Sewing in July is thought to be good luck in Ireland. It is said that if you sew two things during the month of July your luck doubles. I made that up. But, honestly I did sew two things in July. Here they are:

a. a purse I sewed and embroidered (pattern from Bend the Rules of Sewing)

b. a skirt I sewed from old pajama pants, my high school graduation dress, a t-shirt, and a pair of pants from goodwill (pattern from a skirt I bought at Saturday Market)

New necklace,
Pretty necklace,
Brown, turquoise, and silver.

I bade ye,
I made ye,
Without a bow or a quiver.

On Hawthorne,
Busy Hawthorne,
That great cement river.

I bade ye,
I made ye,
With a laugh and a shiver.

Running...

Once I was deceived into thinking that running was fun. I believe it was my third grade teacher who convinced me that running was so fun that I should actually pay to do it. You see, my elementary school held an annual "Fun Run" that the students would raise money to be apart of. And believe it or not, we were all very excited to get together on a Saturday and run. That's it. We would just run.

Looking back, I could only sigh and explain it as a part of my gullible youth. That was until yesterday. Yesterday, Dave and I went for a run with some friends (Kate, Libby, and Molly). We had been talking about it for awhile, but it took their initiation to make it happen. It was hard; we huffed and puffed. I think I walked more than I ran. But, we did it! And if you can believe it, I enjoyed myself!

Today, after Dave got off of work, we went on another run. It feels good to get out there and just run; heart racing, breath painful, and sides aching. We are talking about making it a regular thing that we do every day. We've even discussed the possibility of signing up for a 10K...and paying for it. It's primarily for the cool t-shirt, but you know what...it might just be fun.

A Vacation with the Johnsons

Today Dave and I said good-by to his parents. We drove them to the airport early this morning. The farewell was sad, as most are when family and friends are involved. We both hope that one day there will be no farewell and no end to their visit to Portland. Until that time it is up to us to continue showing them all the wonders that make up our fair city.

Some of the places we highlighted on this trip were: Powell's, Saturday Market, The Screen Door, Flying Pie Pizzeria, Mt. Tabor Park, Montavilla Antique Mall, IKEA, Genies, and Cannon Beach. Each day was so full that we needed a mid-afternoon nap in order to gather enough strength for the next item on our itinerary. I was so exhausted from our trip to Cannon Beach that on our drive home it took less than 20 min. for me to fall asleep; my head bobbing up and down, swaying gently with curves of the road in the soft heat of the car.

While we rested well, we also ate well. I don't think my stomach ever had a fair opportunity to realize that it might be hungry. We estimated that while we were at Cannon Beach we must have spent over $20 on candies alone. I found one candy shop that had the most amazing caramel. It was soft and chewy, buttery and slightly salty; it was everything one could desire from a morsel of caramel. Originally I bought only one--silly me. Shortly after I ate my caramel I realized that I most certainly needed another. I went back to the candy shop and showed more restraint than I thought possible and bought only two more.

This morning all the candies and mementos were packed up in suitcases, then loaded into our car. Dave and I watched as the suitcases were checked and then as his parents walked away through the security check. I have to be honest, I am not a fan of good-byes.

*In keeping with Johnson Family tradition, all photos posted on this blog show people walking away from the camera.