kick it in the sticks

This is a tricky time of year in Oregon.

It's that time of year where I'm not sure whether the state has simply forgotten to refill a prescription, or just gone off its meds all together but either way, it's a whole lot of back and forth and indecisiveness and I'm pretty sure if we don't start getting some more consistent sunshine soon people are going to lose their sh*t.

All that aside however, the days where it actually does decide to be spring are pretty glorious and Bryan and I have inadvertently been taking full advantage of it. Take last weekend for example (spoiler alert: I'll probably get around to posting about this current weekend sometime next week… Or the week after… Or like, next year or something)...

Friday night we decided to investigate the situation over at Sasquatch Brewery and after realizing that Friday night is in fact a Friday night and therefore one of, if not the busiest night of the week, we ended up on the back patio working our way through a beer sampler on a tasting board cut to the shape of a Sasquatch footprint.

And you know what? It was warm enough to be outside! On a patio! Wearing sandals! First time I've busted 'em out this year! I celebrated quietly with fried pickles and a pint of IRA.

And then I took him to John's Marketplace. Beer Mecca. His very own Holy Land.

He was a happy boy.

But the real glory here was that the coming of spring is becoming more of a reality and even on into the night as we hung out around the bonfire in his buddy's backyard it never got too cold to handle and that right there is hope sprung anew. 

Bonfires have that effect (affect? I need help - someone correct me on this, I'm too lazy at the moment to decipher which one is correct… Feel free to leave it in the commentson things though.

So does beer.

Both things were in good supply.

It was a good ol' redneck night of things. 

Old man Whiskey, just hanging with the boys.
And then... Oh, and then came Saturday! 

We woke up at a decent hour to a couple of very concerned pups who at first needed to be let out and then, upon their return indoors, decided to inflict partial paralysis by laying in the most inconvenient positions across legs and/or completely under the covers and remained that way until it was time for breakfast, at which point Bryan set to frying us up some eggs and bacon while I rolled around on the floor with three pit bulls who set to proving their worth as bags of mashed potatoes covered with velvet.

…And Roxy.

Vicious killers they are not... Exceptional paper weights and personal heating devices, absolutely top notch.

As the day continued to break, a plan began to fully form... It was looking to be a gorgeous day. 

Perfect for taking the dogs down to the river. 

Perfect for playing in the park. 

Perfect for a ride.

So here's the thing... So many of my friend ride motorcycles. SO MANY. But somehow, over the years, I've never finagled my way onto the back of one. How? How have I come this far and never been on a bike? Well, actually, to be fair, I was almost on a bike once, but it was Scott's and it was parked and then I got too scared that I would knock it over and baby can't afford no Harley repairs so I got about halfway on, freaked out and decided that I'd better not because I'm the person who has nearly fallen down standing almost perfectly still twice

(true story)

And then there was that one night out in Canby when Wendy decided she needed jello shots and cigarettes (her motto is "do as I say, not as I do" for the record) and that we needed to go to dive bar on the corner but that since I was still in my work clothes that I simply could NOT go in there looking like that (and I couldn't - pencil skirt and sweater are not dive bar appropriate) so she threw me in her closet and I came out in ripped jeans and a Harley t shirt. So basically, between those two anecdotes, that's about as close as I've ever come to being a biker chick.

So meanwhile, back to Saturday, we loaded the dogs into his truck and headed down to the banks of the Willamette and let them splash around for a good long while (oh, and Roxy in the river - ohmygoodnessnewfavoritethingever). 

What's funny is what it looks like when you're walking through a park with three pits and how nervous people are at first when they see this little force coming at them and then watching them laugh when all they do is wiggle and sniff and wag their tails at you. I'm a big proponent for not judging a breed by stereotypes and these three goons do right by the sweetness of their kind. Actually, quick break for this video clip because you know, cute (the dog, too).

It goes without saying that the dogs had a ball. Ol' Whiskey boy was trotting along like a champ, running ahead and feeling the intense need to mark every. single. thing. even when he, uh, ran out of fuel. No matter. It's all in the fixation. He and Roxy both were enjoying testing their leash-less limits, wandering on ahead (and a little too often out of sight) and causing Bryan to bust out a little of the Staff Sergeant bellow to get their attention. Roxanne was reasonably quick to listen, dropping to the ground once she knew Dad meant business, but Whiskey on the other hand... I'm pretty sure as far as Whiskey was concerned, he outranks Bryan and therefore doesn't need to listen.

Amusing to him until he found himself on the short leash.

And then there was Gypsy. "Bucket O' Tub Tub" as Bryan calls her (affectionately). She really has been working hard and losing weight but she's still a little foil-wrapped burrito of a dog.

Unrelated photo but it's Gypsy being put to use as damn fine ottoman

But oh, the be a dog on a sunny day with nothing but a big field to run through and a whole river to play in.

Ah, life.

OK, but meanwhile, after the dogs were good and tuckered out (and they made us me feel bad for making their wet, muddy selves ride in the bed of the truck and sat back there with their hurt feelings and whatnot) we took the kids home and let them rack out on the floor. Busy day, guys. 

And then we geared up. And again, let me point out here, that I am a motorcycle rookie, so Bryan's mom lent me all I needed to keep me alive - including the helmet with the skull and crossbones.

Damn... I was badass.

(except not really because, hi, have you met me? I'm about as threatening as Roxy)

He however has been on bikes since he was practically a newborn so watching him roll that beast out of the garage and fire it up seemed as natural as watching him take a breath. After a brief rundown of the "do's" and "don't's" (do: hold on, don't: fight the bike, do: lean with the turns, don't: hold on for such dear life that you cut off his air supply). I actually realized pretty quickly that a vice grip isn't as necessary as I thought it would be and ended up just holding onto the edge of his jacket, leaning back in the seat and enjoying the ride.

And oh man, did I enjoy that ride! It was beyond what I could have imagined. Absolutely amazing!

We rode out to Oregon City under the bluest skies and brightest sun. Mount Hood staring us down.

I'll never be able to tell you how much I love this state. 


And the best part? Actually before we took off out of town…

Because Bryan's house is about 5 minutes from Jodi's we decided to buzz by and see what those kids were up to. So there we are, leathered up and rolling on the loudest bike known to man, and we roll into the driveway. I see the windows open and start shouting things like,

"Buells! Buells! SCOTT AND JODI BUELL!" 

So out walks Scott wondering who the hell the crazy woman screaming on a motorcycle is and finally slows to a stop.

"Not… Who I expected… To be getting off a bike."

Awesome. In my opinion, I had already own that whole day right there. 

So we stopped and bugged them for awhile, played with the dogs and then started to overheat in the sun and leather and said our goodbyes and hopped on the bike and we were off!

In my opinion, the whole thing was over way too soon. Even though between the ride and stopping for lunch we were probably out there for a good couple of hours, I could have stayed on that thing all day long. Totally see the appeal now.

Anyway, as the day drew to a close we rolled back into town, hung out there at the house for a bit, caught a few more pictures of Roxanne being Roxanne (frog legs and all) (that really is just how she sits) and then it was time for me to head out and back to real life.

This life? My, it's been pretty great lately.

Now I just have to figure out when I can get back on the Harley...


  1. Everything about this makes me happy

  2. What a fun-filled weekend!! (You used the right "effect" btw) ;)

  3. So this California girl can't help but wonder, what constitutes warm enough for sandals on the patio?