Beautiful People

Last blog we left off at the Silvan Ridge Winery, our temp stop for the night.

We spent a few days in Eugene, Oregon visiting people I love and meeting a few new ones to add to that list.

Larry on his first training ride of the trip.

The first morning while Larry went on a training ride, I took the dogs exploring in a pasture adjacent to the vineyard.  I met Mario, a cellar master, and we exchanged life stories.  From Mexico, he exemplifies hard work and perseverance.  First on my Oregon’s ‘beautiful people’ list, he was charming, cute and oh so sexy.  Girlfriends, he’s single, just saying. 

Mario

Next on my ‘beautiful people’ or BP list is Luke.  Tall, dashing, and introspection with a Kiwi accent to boot.  (I love men with accents.  Dang it was a good morning.)  

Luke

For lunch we met at my son Samir’s house for the ‘most memorable salad’ (per Luke’s words, not mine).  A visual masterpiece, and an explosion of delectable tastes, most of the ingredients came from Samir’s permaculture garden out back.  And Anthony, a man who doesn’t even like to eat salads, created them.  I think he was trying to impress me.

Luke, Samir, Anthony, and Larry

(Larry and Luke are like brothers in a past life.  Teotihuacan, I think.)

On our after lunch walk, I set my favorite coffee shop as destination.  Russ, my barista from the past was manning the shop.  

“Did you know that Oregon is the organ of the U.S.?” He asked as he started my drink.

I leaned into the window to hear him better.

“Yeah, the jet stream flows over Oregon, covering the top border to the south border before it flows over the rest of the country.”

“Ok,” I nodded.

“It represents the health of the nation.  Do you know what Eugene is?  It’s in the center of Oregon.  We are the Heart.”  

“Wow, I didn’t realize this.”  I replied as I though, ‘Take a lot of drugs and it opens up your mind.’   I decided Russ also needed to be on my BP list.

Luke and Larry were waiting on a stone wall.  I told them my new Russ insights.  At first they didn’t say a word, just looked at me like I had two heads.  

Luke and Larry

“You know it’s known as ‘Valley of Death,’” Luke informed me.

“Yes, the indigenous said that.  But I like this better.”

After coffee, I was able to carve out a little time with my girlfriend Eloise, who just happens to live next door to my son.  (She’s already on my BP list from previous visits). We drank white wine and played catch-up.  I love that her siblings and her have a twice weekly video calls to catch up.  I was there once for the Sunday eve call.  I wish I was that disciplined.

Samir, Anthony, Larry, Luke, and Eloise.

My stepson Adam had texted, “Tell Dad to look out for crazy fans like the lady at the Tour de France.”  Without Internet for days, I’d forgotten all about it.  Here we are watching the replay, three of us (including me) had not seen the incident. 

On our second day, we went cherry picking.  I insisted.  There is nothing as satisfying as primal fruit picking.  If you haven’t, try it.  You’ll thank me. 

Game Night was in the cards for the evening plans with some additional friends.  I thought it was the board games of my youth.  Oh no, Game Night is a giant TV screen, with a loud, obnoxious computer commentator, vivid and colorful graphics and players use their cell phones.  It was a big lesson for this 60+ woman.  After I got over the initial shock of being computer illiterate and blind without my glasses, I had a good time.

Larry insisted on this Eugene stop.  It was his attempt to make me happy and start the trip on the right foot.  I wish I had traded places with Luke.  Luke could have been the new sag wagon while I stayed in Eugene, visiting girlfriends and drinking red wine.

* * *

Over the River and through the woods, to Corvallis we will go.

We left Eugene and stuffed our shopping bag and faces with pastries from a Mennonite bakery I’d heard about the last time I was in the area, trading in Rocky Mountain High for a Sugar High.

Trying to entice my husband to love Oregon, the organ of the country, I asked to stay an extra day in Corvallis on our travels north.  With that extra day I had planned to surprise a friend in Portland, however she had flown to Colorado and from there to Hawaii.  The surprise was on me.

Back to Corvallis.  Several years ago, we discovered a community garden.  It’s been our go-to picnic traveling spot, ever since.  This day we met Kathy, the master gardener who lives near.  She gave us the run down, about the garden, the town, and herself.  She was added to my beautiful people list.

There’s a giant billboard, “Romaine calm and carrot on.”  Local farmers association or something, I’ll look for it next trip into town.  

After lunch, we checked into our camping local for the next two nights, a KOA along a very busy and noisy highway.   Yee Haw.

I was unable to backup Charlie, even with the new side mirror extensions we purchased.  Pissed, I took Big White for a tour of the camp grounds before returning to try again.  By this time I was so angry, I hopped out of the truck and said, “You park the f@$#ing thing.   Right now I hate you.”

Yup, I’m definitely not on the BP list.

With a stop at a local ciders, I met a man in purple.

“I had to dye my shorts because you cannot buy purple shorts,” he told me.  

“How come your tattoo isn’t purple?”

“It will be,” he said.  I think he smiled because his eyes crinkled above his mask and his purple hair quivered.

With a pack of pineapple cider (for his post ride consumption), we drove to a dog park along the Willamette River, a dog park without any fences.  Dogs ran, Elliott after his tennis ball and Summer after her frisbee.  I really like Corvallis.  I really like Coburg, and Florence, and Eugene.  I like being in the organs.  

Evening ended with pitting cherries.  It’s part of the fruit picking adventure and what a delicious and a messy job.  Well, messy because that’s how I do everything in the kitchen...its my trade mark.  Drives Larry nuts, and that’s delicious too.

After a morning cherry and banana smoothie, Larry took off on another solo bike ride.  And I’m missing out on the Saturday Farmers Market; we need fresh produce.  

Larry insisted I bring my bike, maybe if I was out riding I’d revert back to Dr Jekyll.  But we can’t leave dogs unattended, it’s written in all the campground rules.  Besides, I wouldn’t leave dogs anyhow.  So, my bike remains tethered to the back of the camper.  Campers squeeze together in a common community trying to escape for the 4th of July holiday weekend.  And I sit, at the picnic table, with the roar of the highway as company, and the dogs sun themselves on our postage sized lawn.  I am Edward Hyde; I don’t hate Larry today, but I have evil urges.

“On my ride, they had just cut the wheat and were cutting the straw, it smelled so fresh,” he said.

“Yeah?  I smelled motor vehicles.”  (Evil Bitch Comment number one)

“I wish I was an alcoholic, I could make this trip so much better.” (Evil Bitch Comment [EBC] number two.)

I was making him feel bad, which was my intent, but it made me feel bad seeing the hurt I caused.

By the third EBC, I knew I’d better stop.  Immediate confirmation ‘Remember even Moses was a basket case,’ glared from a roadside sign.

Okay, okay, I’ll continue to ‘Fake It Till I Make It.’  I Will Smile.  I Will Be Kind.  I Will Not Speak Unless It Is Nice, and I Will Romaine Calm and Carrot On.