6:30am (seriously?!) -written at 11:53pm
Alarm screeching. Officially members of angry morning club. Must immediately go to local Phils to procure coffee but hair is stringy mess and I'm certain my skin is crawling with creatures. (M recently read an article in the Strib about bedbugs. Thanks for that.) Hygiene/decontamination first, caffeine later. Wardrobe check meets specs. Moods are much improved and we are ready to tackle this day. Feeling industrious when we are out the door and on the road before 8am. We happily toodle over to Phils and begin the day with $6 coffee (quad venti nonfat no whip no foam quarter shot mocha) for me and cheese crusted bagel for M.
8:30am
My phone nagivates us out of the urban metropolis and across bridges that stack upon each other. I comment that this is reminiscent of the Bay Bridge from Oakland to San Fran. We decide that after our (laughable) half-marathon that Stena has insisted we participate in (from Napa to Sonoma), we will make a side trip. (Only in retrospect does it occur to me that California is a HUGE state and perhaps this is not entirely feasible. Still, M thinks this is a genius idea, sans the running portion.)
As we leave Portland, billboards appear that entice us to throw our Pickathon tickets out the Versa window. Example 1: Combine Demolition Derby. Whaaaaaaaat?!? This has to be one of the most dangerous forms of redneck entertainment. Ever. M tells me that combines top out at 5 mph so that may diminish the excitement factor. But not the suspense!! I imagine it would go something like this, "Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh hes not going to make it watch out for those prongs i cant stand it.!!.." *CRASH* "Oh. OK, lets go home."
We are still chattering about the combines when a sign for the Example 2: Elephant Garlic Festival appears. I recall seeing a blurb about a giant head of garlic that's as big as my face. M vetoes this idea based on the following argument:
1. She doesn't like the smell of garlic. (Or the taste, as I realize later after I made a delicious soup on another trip and she picked out all the meat and left all the minced garlic. Impressive.)
2. How would we explain to people that we flew all the way to Oregon, bought tickets to Pickathon and then spend an the entire time watching combines (slowly) crash into each other and wandering around at a party one could smell 10 miles away?
Point match.
A few miles later, signs appear for the Mecca of Jerky. Must accelerate... Stand closed. Son of a Bitch.
Thats the jerky stand. Not much to look at but you should have seen their menu!! Your standard fare, beef, turkey but then the exotics!! Bison, venison, llama, pony named Rusty!! No hoofed critter, cloven or otherwise, was safe!
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