Summer Time( Remembered)

As you might have seen I had a bit of car trouble a few months ago and Foxy has been retired. Fortunately I have a new vehicle, Pedro. He is a wee bit older but still has plenty at miles left on him.
Pedro and I had many adventures this summer here are a few to get you caught up with.

The first week I was home a job was presented to me that I couldn't pass up. Spend 4 week at my Grandparents place to work on their house. They live with my Aunt and Uncle and their two kids. With no extra space I could have slept on the couch for a month, or find my own space. I took the latter. I placed a futon pad in the back of Pedro, and made it home. It was like camping:falling asleep to the sound of the crickets and the chirping of the frogs, and some nights hoping that the cougars didn't eat me.


So I worked. I built stairs, and part of a deck. I pressure washed the house( beware of the exhaust it get hot! yikes),
and painted the front. I mowed the lawn, chopped down trees, and bushes. But the best part was swimming at Papa's swimming hole after all the work was done for the day. Leo(Papa) says that jumping in the river feels like resurrection morning, and I think I believe him.


Other than working, I spent time with my little sister, once even going to a Timber Festival( only in Oregon, right).

But like most I spent a most of my weekends at wedding receptions. In 7 week I went to 8 wedding receptions. If that doesn't make a single girl feel just a little bit lonely, I don't know what will.

The last wedding I went to was for my good friends Steve and Kristen in Salt Lake. In Salt Lake I went to a craft fair and drowned my singleness in pie. Ummm pie.

Foxy: In Memorandum

My dear old car, was born Dec 1989 to German parents in California. She left her family but still kept her German heritage close to her heart for the rest of her life. She found a life in Logan Utah where she lived for quite some time. In 1990 she was living In Medford Oregon with a family that did not see her many talents. She looked for a way out of that situation but the way did not appear until 2002.

In 2002 a tragic accident happened where a Dodge truck was burnt alive in a pear farm. The cause is still unknown but some believe that spontaneous combustion was the cause of death. The family that lost this truck was so stricken by grief that she( Foxy) was given to the family as away to console them in their time of loss.

The Folsom home was a good home that lovingly took care of her.2002-2003 she left home for a foreign exchange to Sweden. During this Betty the Volvo from Sweden stayed with us, her sweet spirit was a welcome guest in the home but Foxy was still sorely missed. 2003 Foxy returned home but continued her wanderings around America.

She when to Seattle, Portland, Logan and Rexburg ID. During this time she began to feel her years, braking both axes and springing an embarrassing leak in her fuel line. But at the end her pump would be the thing that did her in. On the crossing from Rexburg to Portland the gas pumps broke and she could no longer get her self started. So on July 27 2009 she died a peaceful death on the quite streets of Portland. She will be sorely missed by many. She is survived by her owner, Jessica.

Instead of flowers, there is charity that will be accepting donations in her name, The "Jessica Needs a New Car" Foundation. Contact Jessica for more information about giving to this excellent cause. If you have any fond memories or stories about Foxy leave in the comments below.

This tattoo was found on her after her owner was gone for a year. We think was a show of rebelling,and an inward longing for affection.

A Year Ago

A Year Ago
I was miserable,
Let me explain.

A year ago I was laying on a bed of sorts, a long platform, somewhat padded, that I shared with 6 other girls. I was just laying there on a Sunday afternoon, missing out on all the fun( sunsets, hiking, lounging, making fiends with a gay etc...) and silently cursing the name of Sara( love you Sara). My knee hurt, hurt being short for humbling, unforgivable, writhing( ok, it's not a "R" but neither is writing and the 3 "R's" people got away with it, so why can't I), torment. I was miserable. But as luck would have it all I needed was sleep and dear friends to help me though it. The days got better. The pain subsided and and the scab healed over. Now all there is left is a scar. A big, red bumpy scar that my sister tells me to cover up. But I don't, I'm kinda proud of that scar on my knee. It's a reminder that a year ago I was miserable, but only for a day.

A year ago my heart was torn.
Fiends that I loved left me. No longer would we be roommates, or neighbors, but only long distant pen pals. But new friends came and the tear in my hear scabbed over and fell off( kinda a icky image, sorry) But there it is, the scar. That one isn't as noticeable and no-one asks to hear that story. But it's there and I'm still proud of it. I didn't get dragged under a scooter to get it, it was much more gentle than that. Each day I let others hold my heart a little bit more till they held it together, and I was glad to let it happen. Then one by one they left, and my heart couldn't keep itself together by its self, and it fell apart. I'm all put back together now and happy. But I still think sometimes when my heart was not my own and how good it felt to let it go.

Scars are just memories. At times they are fresh, and like memories they fade till you don't think about them anymore. No longer are they associated with pain, we forget that, all we have are the "remember the whens'", and " long agos'".

A Year Ago.

On a Twin Once Again

While I was in Taiwan I had for myself a very nice twin bed. Bed being a loose translation of hard plank of wood with a small layer of padding on top. But after a few months of waking up not feeling one side of my body or the other, I got used to it, and even enjoyed it. Back in the states I was amazed at the luxury of my very own Full sized bed. I could lay on my side and still feel my arms when I woke up! I felt spoiled with comforters and a pillows and sheets that smelled like dryer sheets. But What did I give up to receive such splendor? The children with slanting eyes and wide smiles, friends a few footsteps away, the scoot scoot a toot, Taiwan. Now that my life has put me back on a twin I found that while I gave up some square footage of sleepy time luxury I have gained once again. They are not the same as before, but I still think it was a good trade. I have roommates, a curfew, classes that enlighten me, long hours in the library, and tired eyes. I have papers and quizzes and labs. I get snow in April, and 60 mile an hour winds in May.I get Rock Hard Abs class with Sara, to use my printer again, books and bags and sharpened pencils and bubble sheets and the Testing Center. I had to choose between 12 more square feet and all of that,I think I go the better deal. I'll take the twin any day.

The Journey not the Destination

I always wind up at home. No matter where the road I'm running bends or stop, all my roads lead home.
So the final destination is always the same but the journey differs each day.

The way we look at the world changes, and the world changes right along with it. Like a very intelligent man once said, " you can't step in the same river twice"(or was that Pocahontas?). Never once has a man opened his eyes to the same day twice( with the exception being Bill Murray in "Groundhogs Day"). I have started to see that some believe that they do. How can you judge and find one day to be the same as the last? Our daily actives might become menial, and repetative but our eyes have a capability to see even the slightest variation in the most similar of actives. Then we should not become bogged down with drudgery at the end of the day at where we end up( which for the majority of us is a very nice bed), but what we have done, the small things that might have enlightened even the most dreary of days. If from birth to death is journey each of us are taking, and each person on this earth is unique, then the roads across this moral coil are as infinite and innumerable as the stars in the heavens. So to those who are forgetting that each day you open you eyes is a gift so individualized it would be the envy of any personal shopper, open your eyes and see that your journey is what you make it.
Who wants a traveling companion that is forever reminding you of the miles to go, or that thinks the landscape never differs? We all know where we end up, it's how we get there that matters.

Music

I know that are some that find playlists on blogs annoying, I might have been one of them at one time. But I have decided that since I post what I'm doing/ thinking, I'm going to start posting what I'm listening to while I'm doing/thinking all of those things.
Enjoy it or turn it off, it's just that easy.

Lower Table Rock

Lower Table Rock and its twin, Upper Table Rock, rise dramatically 800 feet above the Rogue River Valley, flat-topped remnants of lava flows that filled the canyons of an ancient, meandering Rogue River over seven million years ago. Atop the Table Rocks is a mosaic of grassy mounds, stony flats and vernal, or seasonal, ponds. I went on a hike with my friend Brandon today to the top of Lower Table Rock. It was an wonderfully clear and sunny day in Medford. I couldn't ask for anything better.



Well there was one thing that could have gone better :)