Memoirs.

Here's a little ditty from my childhood...

...I'm going to set up all the facts for you, so you may be better prepared as a reader and understand the context. You're welcome.


Fact #1 - We were dirt poor growing up.
Fact #2 - My Mom has always had a desire to be a rural pioneer woman.
Fact #3 - Our family car, for a majority of my childhood, was a teal Geo Metro (more detailed physical description given in following text).

STOP


This is the best look-alike I could find.


Fact #4 - Often, growing up, we frequented livestock auctions as a form of "family entertainment".
Fact #5 - One time, my Mom bought a cow at an above mentioned auction.

STOP


This is a baby cow, similar to the one who is going to be the leading character in this story.



Now that you have the facts, let me tell you how this all went down.

It was just another night at at the barn/amphitheater/auction house, and the bidding wars were getting heated.

"$100!"

"$250!"

"$500!"

Huge bids were flying and prized animals were being sold to downright serious farmers. Plaid. Jeans. Ginormous belt buckles and hats. It was quite the scene.

A small group of calves came out to be auctioned later in the evening. The calf we ended up buying could be likened to the smallest, weakest child who was picked last for a game of dodgeball in an elementary school playground.

I can't recall where the actual bidding began, but I can remember what price it ended on.

"$7!"

Mom's hand was the only one up; she got gutsy and just went for it. All the farmers stepped down from the bid. The little runt calf would be no use to them, plus they could see the sparkle in Mom's eye.

"Sold!"

So, my Mom compulsively bought a $7 baby cow at a livestock auction that day.


We certainly weren't in a place to be making such a purchase (as far as where we would actually store the calf). We lived in a cul-de-sac in a little suburb of Southern Oregon, and there was NO WAY that thing would fit in the Geo Metro.

False.

Quick sidebar: our Geo Metro came equipped with luxury seating. The front passenger side seat somehow got broke, and had to always be in the reclined position. The headrest on the driver's seat also bent back like a limp noodle.



Next steps...

...we pushed the calf over to Mom's side of the Geo in the backseat so it had some space, and my brother sat behind me, so he got squished by me in the front reclined passenger seat.

We knew that if we could just make it home and then figure out some kind of makeshift living area for the cow, we'd be in business. We, unfortunately, only made it into the driveway of our house when the calf had an episode of explosive diarrhea in the backseat with my poor, frantic brother.

The calf was dehydrated and nervous, so we had to buy it a cow-version of Gatorade to help the situation out.


From there, the story is all a blur in my mind. I know that we eventually found an actual farm location to keep the little guy at, and we eventually gave the cow to my Grandpa for Father's Day. Nothing says "Happy Father's Day" more than an unwanted barnyard animal.


That's a tale I love sharing with people. So many funny things happen when you're forced to be creative in your ways of having fun.

Thanks for buying the $7 cow, Mom. The story shall always be told in all it's glory.

Unexpected.

I owed my mom a mother/daughter lunch date, so we decided today was the day to redeem the coupon.

I kept asking her, "Where do you want to go?" and she would respond with a mysterious, "You'll see."

We drove out the old country roads past our house and reached a fork. Taking a left would lead us out on a winery tour, and taking a right would push us further into the middle of nowhere.

We took a right.


After about 9 miles of beautiful scenic fall countryside rolling along beside us, we arrived in the town of Umpqua, a bustling metropolis that has one (1) post office and one (1) restraunt, and that's about it.

I was hesitant at first, but as we approached the "Lighthouse Bakery and Cafe", I found something I didn't think I would...an unexpected surprise.


The inside of the building was very cozy, featuring soothing earth tones, large wooden sitting chairs, and a fireplace. The people that worked there looked like they didn't belong in that town, and I loved that. It felt unfamiliar and new.


We looked around for a bit, then ordered and waited for our food...

...we were number 23.


Mom got a grilled cheese with onions, mushrooms and tomatoes. I got a 3 cheese veggie burger.

It's a meatless joint.




What I didn't take a photo of is the crescent almond cookie I ate BEFORE I got my lunch, because I'M AN ADULT AND I CAN DO WHAT I WANT.


They also featured a colorful variety of fresh produce and bulk organic foods.





A fun time was had by all...


...until the sun gets in your eyes, then you have to re-position.

Whoops.

Looks like I forgot about blogging for 6 months.


Don't be too sad. I'll give you a quick re-cap:

(I apologize for the odd sizing and shuffling of photos)











Wordless Wednesday.

Don't worry, I won't make a habit of themes that use alliteration.

Pastimes.

About 2 years ago, I started collaborating with one of my good friends on what came to be known simply as the "love list". This list contained an itemized account of things that I get great pleasure out of, do often, or love the idea of.

I've still been catologing these things that make me happy.

I want to share something with you today that has been more of a recent discovery of something I really love doing, a new pastime, if you will:

Leaning over the counter when I eat, like an Italian



This (above) is the island in our kitchen.

I discovered that I really don't like sitting down when I am enjoying a meal. But, for added security, I've discovered a trick called "the lean", to ensure security in both my footing and also in the event that I slop my food. I've been engaging in the lean now for quite some time, and I always seem to end up leaning and eating at the island.

The Italians lean over the counter, primarily I hear, while they are eating pizza and doing "the fold". I can't think of a better eating model to follow after.

I secretly wish I was Italian.



I dare you to make your own love list. Take the time to write down the things you like doing. It's kind of fun to see what kind of person you are on paper.

Here's to a good week, friends. Cheers.

Origins.

I'd like to share a find from last weekend's thrift store escapades:

Firstly, to lay some ground work, I'd like to explain a collection I've started. I (not for fashion, per se, but for comedy and my own strange pleasure) have grown a liking for earrings of the animal variety. When I go to thrift stores or garage sales, my eye is on the proverbial hunt for any kind of animalia ear trash.

Just last Sunday, bless my lucky stars, I found a treasure trove. Let's have a look, shall we?

"Coastal Classics"


That's right. WHALE EARRINGS.

So, no matter how awesome you think that this post already is...just you wait. When I said I found a "treasure trove", I wasn't kidding.

I found my purchase at St. Vincent De Paul's, my favorite thrift store. I was pleased as punch to see these sitting in the middle of the jewelry cabinent, practically calling out to me in their grandeur. After purchasing, I put them in my purse. Later, I got them out, and was preparing to take them off the card they were attached to. Lo! I found a "note from the artist" typed in gold lettering on the back.

Please, listen and revel to the message written on here, which I have entitled Origins.

"From the finest clays of the earth comes the porcelain. From the vast array of colors in the minerals of the earth comes the pure mineral paint. From the sea and the shore comes the awesome subject matter. From the artists' hand comes the image painted this exact size. From the intense heat of the kiln comes the firing process that makes this fine art on porcelain last through the ages. May you enjoy owning this fine piece as much as Julie enjoyed painting it."



I think I shall enjoy this fine handcrafted jewelry as much, if not more, as Julie did when she created it.

Thank you, Julie. Thank you.

Weekend pastcast.

Is that the opposite of a forecast?

I am happy to report that my former city, Eugene, and I had a reunion...along with a good friend of mine, Shelby.

Saturday was the main event.

During a quick jaunt to a very American, over-crowded, one-stop shop center whose mascot is a price-slashing happy face, I found a great find on the shelves. This find was not of the merchandise variety, but it definitely made my day:

Abandoned shopping list!


"Surprise for Tonya". Written, in obviously different penmanship. Haha. Also, it makes me glad that there is a place in our nation where consumers can go to find their chicken gravy, computer ink, and Chex Mix all in one place.


Part duex of our Saturday combined the following elements:

Finger painting!




AND


Watching Free Willy!



I've got one thing to say to that: "Hold me, like the River Jordan."

Goals.

Boots, cats, boots, cats, boots, cats.

Oh, hullo. You just caught me beatboxing. Well, if you take out the vowels, it's pretty much rhythm. Ever heard of Gloria Estefan? Yeah. I would say she's an inspiration.


I've always tried to make it a creative goal to learn how to beatbox. Also, playing the fiddle; not the violin, the fiddle.





An unrelated note: I think it's funny that Blogger, in their helpfulness, tries to give suggestions for labels you can put on each post. Underneath "labels for this post" it says "e.g. scooters, vacation, fall". I really think those are the ingredients for a great blog post. I like fall. I like vacations. I don't like scooters, but I do like segways...so, that is pretty close.

There you go. All over the map.


Tomorrow is Friday, and that is relieving. Here's to the weekend.