What can I say?

Show us what you've got!

Lookin' good pickup truck.

 No sooner had we entered the state of Louisiana than I was lining up at a gas station mini mart to buy a Saints bumper sticker.  Peter insisted: NO bumper stickers on the side of the van.  I pleaded..."but the side of the van is for the regional bumper stickers."  He wasn't having it....and thus I was defeated in one of many arguments about decorations for the mini-van.  I realized quickly, however, that I had purchased the wrong sticker.  Locals seem to prefer the simple fleur de lis, with no sort of other football insignia.  Sort of like the big giant C that we see on cars, vans, shirts, and whatnot around here. 

Hello Kitty Car!

And as for car adornment, I can say that this ever so brief and limited view of the South did not disappoint.  Yes, right there in Plaquemine, I saw a young woman driving a Hello Kitty car.  I was simply delighted.  Bad light for mediocre photo, but I can't help but exclaim that I LOVE this car.
It's a sunny day, we're at the end of the country, at the end of the river, at the end of the world, in a little town that time forgot, and we're not going down without a little bling.  Yes!
So on a trip that began with us being not a little nervous about our own bumper stickers, I had more fun looking at everybody else's flavor.

But wait...there's more!

Can you buy this at Best Buy?

 One of our friends from Vermont was explaining this weekend that she doesn't mind eating meat if it is locally grown and produced.  In fact, she's such a stud-ette that she went out and killed a chicken herself.  Now that's the spirit!!!!  Again, you might take a moment to check out my blog posts on the concept of being "chicked".  I think a significant portion of any blog that calls itself unencumbered woman should frequently detail the exploits of rock hard women.  But I digress.

Peter turned to me, "this is beautiful."

After all, we were in Louisiana,  and what better way to complete the Thanksgiving weekend than to go for a swamp tour!  The closest thing to wildlife (other than fowl) that we spotted was strapped to an ATV on a truck bed.  This says as much about the inhabitants of the automobile as our bumper stickers do!  I must say I was less freaked out by this scene than the tea party bumper sticker: Enough is Enough. I sort of thought that was one of my slogans, but I guess not anymore.

The 'gators hibernate in November.

Second longest bridge in US--18 miles long

 I can't do justice to the the tour guide who took us on a 40 seat boat and talked for about ninety minutes.  This gentleman's family has inhabited this swampland area, along with 35 other families, for many many years.  In most places I've lived, we call swamps wetlands, but I don't know about this region.  So, we'll stick to what I heard on the road. Call it a swamp.  We saw egrets, cormorants, water, trees, floating plants and folks out fishing.   And of course, lots of sun for our daylight starved Northern selves.  Ahhh....

...it is SO incredibly beautiful.

drive thru daquiris

Plaquemine, LA

forever young

 Somewhere between Chicago and Louisiana I heard that Americans are supposed to go out and shop the day after Thanksgiving.  We certainly spent money, primarily on gas to fuel the  van all the way to Plaquemine to celebrate Mark and Ginger's 15th! 
 
The best host, ever, has contracted illness upon illness, so we all got to cook for him,  and insist he sit on the sofa and nap.  When the 20th rolls around, let's hope he's slowed down enough to add at least 5 pounds to his slight, but ever athletic frame.  What a hero.
 Ginger is proudly wearing the first of my watchcap series.  It's a sixties pattern that I've been carrying around for a very long time.  I'm pleased with the pink, and will make quite a few more, I think.

Pixie Twist

But if you must buy something on Black Friday, it might as well be something that a local proprietor is supplying.
   Lovely Louisiana, with one of the most relaxed alcohol container laws in the country, serves a daquiri that spells "home" to this gal from New Orleans. We learned from the caterer that there IS actually an open container law in LA, and that trick is that the container isn't considered open until the straw is inserted into the styrofoam cup.

witness the straw, witness the drink...

my small contribution to house full o' mad cooks

Remember Naramata?

I was just surfing around on my desktop, listening to Hank Williams Junior, and there he is....Peter looking over Lake Okanaga.  Where did it go?  We hope Kathy is doing well...

evening stroll, better than anywhere.

Remember Florence?

Back Off

 Out for a walk in Greentrees with Dad the other day.  This lot looks a bit like Old Oregon.  Lush, a little bit of sun creeping through the evergreens and shrub masses.  Old model pick-up truck, home made carport, moss in the gravel driveway.  Now that I'm back in Illinois...

fighting onset of winter with flowers and boots

I almost can't remember the intense green and clean air.  It's a gorgeous sunny day here, but I've basically frozen myself for two consecutive teaching days.  Maybe I just attempt to put myself out there in the elements here in Illinois too much.  Give it up and stay inside like the rest of us.  Crank the heat, eat terrible food, drink, sleep.

the mobile home behind Dad is a twin of the first one we bought for GT

And here's Dad.  He's lost quite a lot of weight lately so he doesn't look as much like his fit retiree self anymore.  Check out the walking stick! His friend David made it for him, out of a piece of driftwood.  Decorated with 1949, Beavers (OSU) colors.  I've got a few middle aged friends here in IL who insist that there's something wimpy about walking with a stick (or sticks, as the case may be).  I beg to differ...witness!

Letters to Eva, Part I

 Letters from my grandmother to her cousin.  Grandma and her husband were running the farm that her parents had owned for years south of Portland (now the grass seed capitol of the world).  Her cousin, Eva, was living on the coast of Oregon with her daughter Ruth, who grew up to be a distinguished Oregon artist/painter.  My mother's small family had relocated to the country from Portland about a year before this letter was written.  My mom stayed in the small community of Hubbard from age of 10 through high school.

 Excerpt:

Sunday Oct. 22, 1939

Dearest Eva-
       Maybe if I get a letter started, I might finish it. I have tried for days to get caught up and do a few little extra things but so far I haven't caught my breath yet. The combination of playing around in Portland for two weekends and extra things to break in my time during the past week, have shown that I need a week of at least 9 days. Suppose you are laughing and wonder what I find to do. Monday is too far back to remember but I know I had a huge ironing from Monday's washing and I didn't even start it until afternoon. For one thing, I had to go to Monitor for Art and that broke the morning nicely. The afternoon was broken by having to take Carolyn to Woodburn at 3:30 for her music lesson. Wednesday morning, it was real wet (too wet for Art to plow) so he wanted to know if I wanted to look for mushrooms. Alright, I rigged out and we went where he, Ruth and Carolyn had gotten the others. In an hour's picking time, we had filled 2 buckets and a shopping bag and wished we had something else to fill. I had the idea then that I would call Jeannette and proposition her to use her pressure cooker. That afternoon I had to go to Woman's Club so good-bye to that day. In the evening I called Jeannette and she was glad to know we had mushrooms. She works Mon. Wed. and Fridays in Meier and Franks and is home other days.
Then comes Thursday and I leave about 9A.M. with mushrooms, jars, knife and such and takes myself to Jeannette's. Only having 8 empty pints, that was all I could fill. She filled the same amount, we and her husband had them for lunch and they again had some for dinner. The remaining ones, she took to the 2 Cramer cousins in Portland. If we had had jars for all, we could have canned at least 25 pints.  I left there in time to pick Carolyn up after school. On the way home, I had the inspiration to stop and get some grapes for juice. I picked a bucket full for 25 cents. Jeannette had given me some fall pears and quinces so I came home well supplied. Getting the grapes had delayed me so Carolyn was halfway home before I overtook her. When I did arrive, I fixed 4 quarts of juice the easy way before dinner. I cooked the rest after dinner and let them drip there in a sack all night. Then I bottled the juice in the A.M. I probably should have gotten more.
come..............................................

 Art has been plowing with the tractor all week except Wed. A.M. when we got the mushrooms. He decided last night he would work today (Sun) because it is such grand weather and he is afraid it will rain soon. We planned to pick up walnuts first. While we were there picking them up, here drives Bessie, Harold and Lillian Gilbert. They hadn't been here for yeaers and they had passed our house, not knowing it and were turning around in front of the barn yard gate to go up the rode towards Woodburn to look for our place. even Harold didn't recognize or notice the old farmhouse or barn or anything to know where he was. Isn't that goofy? If we hadn't been out there, they were going on to Broadacres to look for us. They were on their way to Eugene to see Paul.  Lillian took some black walnuts and chick weed. They were here about an hour, Harold, Art and I went over in our woods so Harold could see where he had played as a boy. He picked some mushrooms, mostly specimens to study. Even tasted some raw! After they went their way, we resumed our walnuts. after that it was nearing noon and hardly worthwhile for Art to start the tractor and come in so soon so we ate a hand out sandwich and anything else in reach.

Score one for the throwbacks!

 

I can't keep up with the number of vans I spot in Oregon, and here I am in the outpost of Florence, not even Eugene or Portland.

Is there no end to the wonder of Oregon?

Speaking of Eugene, the Register Guard ran an article today about bike lanes cluttered with leaves bound for city leaf pick up program.  Living in Oak Park, where there are No Bike lanes, it's sort of a moot point, we take our lives into our own hands whether or not there are piles of leaves in the street.

and more the next day!



weeekly anti-war protest at 101 & 126

 Saturday I was out driving with Mom and there it is, the war protest that has been staged at the main intersection since 2003! 

Birkenstock!



yes, it's the toe sock, so i can wear year 'round!

I LOVE my new Birkenstocks.  If you are like me and haven't worn a pair in a few years, give them a try. You will remember why Birkenstock has the best foot bed, ever.  I wear these all the time, around the house, outside--they feel great after my monster Florence Runs.  In fact, I'm so happy to be running here on the Oregon Coast that I've exceeded my usual mileage and was forced to take a rest day today.  Yes, forced!

Must be away from home, this never happens in Ol' Oak Park.  I'm going to walk to my appointment today with my friend the social worker...



Ashby loves the jewels



Happy Feet

My feet have been giving me plenty of grief, lately, so we're hoping that this is the break I need.  Yes, these feet have carried me through a hearty week of training: Monday: steady 6.1 miles; Tuesday: easy 4.4 w/Kris followed w/easy 6.1 (oops, that was 10.5, too much for Tuesday); Wednesday: long run 12 all through Florence with stops at Fred Meyer and town parks; Thursday: rest day and knitting first pair of socks, ever!

Again?

So Mom, Dad and I were at the dinner table and we were discussing our swimming travails. I reminded Dad of how fun it was in 1997 when we each swam a leg of the Manatee 2X1 relay. "Yes", Dad replied, "but I was the last person to finish, the lifeguards escorted me in."  I insisted, "but we placed in the father daughter division!"  Then he said, "I was even passed by an old woman!"

Getting Chicked, part II

  Nothing like a trip to another place to shake up one's orientation.  Here I am in Florence, Oregon on a sunny Sunday in November.  A trip to Safeway isn't without event, much as my trip through SFO yesterday and my arrival in my hometown and land of the quacker backers (didja know the Ducks are first in college football?).  It seems that although we of the left were so terribly spanked on Tuesday the world just hurls forward on it's own relentless path.  Signs abound, but signs of what, you wonder?  I wonder about sitting on a plane bound for San Francisco literally teeming with mature women performing handiwork (me, knitting, another across the aisle crocheting a doily, and another ahead with needlepoint).  I sat next to a delightful eight year old who lives in Romeoville and was on her first ever plane trip ("this is the first time we're going on a vacation to a place without a water park"). Then I ate lunch at SFO with a ninth grader from New York who described herself as Japanese and Vietnamese.  She goes to a boarding school in Victoria and was explaining some of the travails of her school life ("I only wear a little mascara and lip gloss, not like some of the other girls..."). My van driver from Eugene to Florence launched into a sort of "Eugene's economy is so terrible", I was just waiting for the Tea Party punchline but somehow I got him off the subject so we could discuss more middle of the road issues like his life in Anchorage, mountain biking, surfing in Seaside, and the wonders of sending kids to play outside in the muck before they tend to homework, etcetera.  We agreed that Chicago and LA are the kinds of places so devoid of open space that it would be natural for anybody to go insane.  Then he observed that it's actually Lane County that seems to house a high preponderance of substance abuse, depression, domestic violence and the like. And so it goes...


Hippie Chicks DO Rule

 When I woke up at four AM (back to standard time) I sat around for a few hours plotting my next three years of crochet/knit adventures. Then it was outside for my first run of the week.  Damp, grey, fifty-ish, clean air, not a car in sight.  Ahh. Yes...running as it was meant to be.  I went as fast as my new Asics could carry me across the bridge and back and then through Old Town, expecting to grab Kris and Cathy somewhere on the way back from their Sunday morning run.  I didn't spot them until I was all the way back on Rhody and then it became an all out sprint.  These "older" women were cooking! It took almost a mile to catch these chicks and I mean the word chick in the highest complimentary fashion possible.  Chasing Kris is already a theme in this blog, and the wonders of my nearly seventy year old friend never cease to amaze me.  A few hours later we were at the Elks for Sunday pancake breakfast and the goofy guy who always serves coffee sat down beside us for a chat (I mean goofy in the highest of terms). He starts in on his legendary crabbing and fishing adventures from when he lived in Seattle.  I suggested that he go clamming in Florence but he ignored me as usual and launched into a story about surf fishing here in Florence.  He's had bad luck along with the guys he hangs out with.  Lo and behold there's a "tall woman who works for the fish and game dept." she's somewhat legendary and came down the beach to where he was, carrying a big ol' bucket of jumbo size perch.  He pleaded: "next time can I go fishing with you?"  Yeah, chicked INDEED!!!! And then on to Safeway to buy some provisions and get the detergent for Mom's new washing machine.  After I left the store out runs the cashier..."Ms. Steward (Mrs. Steward?) you left your Safeway card!"  Oh, God.  I Must be in Oregon.

Even I can look on the bright side

The months of October, November and December serve us up a whole lot of material around here in Chicagoland.  I have already made a commitment to avoid letting this blog become a referendum on life here in suburbia.  I'm also somewhat dedicated to not getting involved in any sort of electoral political blogging, and, finally, although not as ardently, I'm avoiding this blog becoming a food or craft blog.  Nonetheless, things happen.  Holidays come and go, elections pass, things are prepared and created, and such is life.  I must say that I woke up this morning a little groggy after about two hours tossing around in the middle of the night, worried about the abandonment of the earth in our precious democracy.

fingerless gloves, adorned w/sequins.

Then again, there is always the life of a hobbyist. As long as I can needlework, train and cook, lucky me.  When I was in the pool this morning, another silver lining crept into my mind.  Finally, I can move back to California. There is a Democrat in the governor's seat, and it's Jerry Brown, no less! Go figure, I was absent for the whole Schwarzenegger era.

Thus Diagnosed!

i must be sick with something

In years past, I've been accused of being hyper-vigilant when it comes to matters of health and wellness.  I'm often concerned that some sort of symptom that I experience is a sign of a greater disease, disorder, or eventual death.  Usually, a trip to the doctor proves that I'm healthy as can be and as long as I back off a bit from whatever it is I'm doing, I'll be fine.  So this morning I just received a call from my MD.  Turns out I actually have something!  She did a bit of blood work last week and my B12 numbers are low!  My multivitamin fortifies me with daily value of B12, but the doc says to mega-dose for a few months and we'll check again if my extremities are numb and if my numbers look any better.  What an adventure! Meanwhile, I'll continue to rely on my acupuncturist to lure my inner heat out to my extremities, she is working on my yin energy which is a bit off.  This is much more fun than taking a horse pill, but it's also a lot more expensive.