{She said} Berry, berry good.

It turns out that there are some pretty amazing things about summer here in Oregon.  Feast your eyes, folks:

Obsidian blackberries ~ Oregon, July 2010 ~ by Katie

Last week, I skipped out on work a few hours early one afternoon and joined El Husband for an afternoon of berry-picking out in the sun.  I had never encountered honest-to-goodness fresh blackberries before moving here, and I will just tell you that the smell...oh, my goodness, the smell is sensational.

Standing next to Bart in a shaft of sunlight, listening to the thump of our pickings into the buckets, I realized that I was more content than I'd been in a long time. And that is a superb feeling. 

The Husband ~ Oregon, July 2010 ~ by Katie

I think I just may go back tomorrow for more...

{He Said} This week brought to you by the letters F and U!

Growing up it was the superstition of the parental units that all things come in threes.  The weekend started with this.  At least no one was hurt.

On a recent date we saw this sign (there are street car tracks all over the city) and had a chuckle with "there has to be a reason they put the sign up".

Well we now know why there is a sign.  Saturday we were enjoying a nice trip down to the waterfront after a Farmer's Market run for fresh produce.  Pulling up to a stop light (and street car tracks) I hear a crash behind and turn around just in time to see Katie going over the front of the bike.

Now those of you who know my sweet wife will also know her first thought after the wreck.

"Did anybody see that."

We got her safely to the sidewalk and as she is leaning against her bike she passes out into some bushes.  She proceeds to roll over and starts to spit all of the dirt out of her mouth (later she tells me that her first thought was "why are you waking me up from my nap").

After she passes out one more time and has a seizure like episode the inner doctor is now going through all of the possibilities of what went wrong.  None of them are good and all of them have some component of blood seeping around her brain/needing to go emergently to the operating room/going to die on me within the next hour.  

After a couple of hours at the University emergency department she was sent home with some very sore muscles.  Of note prior to going to the hospital Katie had to change out of her jeans because "I like these jeans and I don't want the ER to cut them off".  There was also eye makeup that had to be applied (no it was not mine).

This has taught me a couple of lessons:

1.  Never laugh at signs

2.  It is easier to be doctor to people you don't know

3.  Nothing can ever happen to Katie, I was a basket case on the inside

As for things coming in three's.

Feast your eyes on what I came out to in the parking garage.

At least we are safe now.

Unless things really happen in four's.

{She Said} That's just...swell.

I am genetically predisposed to a rather violent temper. 

{Case in point: the time my dad went berserk and brandished a firearm at some smart-aleck teens in a parking lot. 

In front of his mother and his two oldest daughters. 

But, hey, this here is a family-friendly blog and that's another story that we will not be telling at another time...

I'm just sayin' there may be a probable wellspring for these rants.}  

So, anyway, you may permit me the bit of rage that surged up when I walked out to the car for my drive to work this morning.

Minding my own business.
Juggling the purse, the lunch bag, the keys.
Reviewing the to-do list.
"Remember to do those co-worker evaluations/schedule the dermatology appointment/make sure that new suture arrived/am I on call this weekend?/ask April about book club/wonder how my patient from yesterday is doing...awwww, man.

Seriously?

So, today's checklist veered away from my previous to-do items and instead populated itself with:
"File a police report/call the insurance agent/find a glass repair shop/get resoundingly lost in Vancouver, Washington while trying to find the glass shop in north Portland, Oregon because I am NOT genetically predisposed to a good sense of direction and Mapquest has some outdated exit numbers and some effer stole our GPS from its well-concealed spot in the car/contact the adjuster with some serial numbers/go find myself good chocolate."

Ahem.  So the violent temper is now on a quiet simmer {lucky for the smash-and-grabber that they are anonymous}, and I'm off to see about that chocolate.

Hope your weekend starts off nicely, folks.

{She Said} Dinner is Served

Sometimes when my husband gets home from a long day, welcoming him home is my priority.  Maybe next time I should put the main course on the back  burner before the smoke alarm dinner bell brings me back to the domestic tasks, eh? 

 Dinner. May 2009, Portland.

{Yeah. The leaping flames were rather impressive. As for the stovetop, the hazmat cleanup crews have been summoned.}

{She Said} Wrong Side of the Bed

People, I am just going to come right out and say it: I am not a morning person.
I have discovered through my 5:30 am  {sometimes earlier} wakeup call that morning is:

         1) An inexcusable affront to the senses. 

2) A rotten way to start the day. 

Husband and I have established a workable method of survival {for him} / a relatively non-hostile compromise {for me}. When I have to pry myself from the warm cocoon of a soft pillow and the blessed embrace of a mountainous down comforter to put my feet on that cold, hard {and I swear deliberately chilled} floor, there is a volatile mix of tired and certifiable crankiness brewing in my countenance.

The Husband, who is no dummy, is practiced in the art of leaving me alone for the first 15 minutes.  For 15 precious minutes,  there is blessed silence to allow me a bit of acclimatization to that outside world.  I am not responsible for whatever reprehensible thoughts course through my mind.

But.

Then Husband gets into the shower.
Which is where he sings all kinds of happy songs.

And sometimes, in my sleep-addled rage, I want to fling open the shower curtain and smite  all that early morning happiness.






Can you tell someone woke up feeling like a little crab-cake today?
My kingdom for a nap.

{She Said} Why My Mother-In-Law Rocks:

Because she worked awfully hard to get this guy here.  And today is the anniversary of said labor of love (I couldn't resist). 

Happy Birthday, Darlin'!

Bart in Woodburn, OR ~ April 2010

Without further ado, I'm going to go spank that birthday boy. 

Separated at birth

{The blog has been intermittently napping as of late. I haven't found my groove since we've been back from our recent vacay. It was bliss to be away from everything and to have my best pal with me. You see, we've been working fairly solidly since we moved here last July...so I've been basking in the afterglow of that long-awaited time away.}

One of my favorite parts of the road trip was a morning spent in Point Lobos State Park on the California coast. The harbor seals and their pups were tucked away in a little nursery cove, basking on the beach.  Otters were slicing through the waves with their pups, doing their otter thing, looking ridiculously cute and intelligent. And there, good people, is where we found my fat cat's doppelganger: 

Harbor seal pup, Point Lobos, CA ~ April 2010

Seriously, the resemblance is uncanny....

Sallie Cat ~ August, 2009

Bart's observation of the baby seal: "Oh suuuure...fat rolls are cute if they're covered in fur. What about the rest of us?"

I believe that's the million dollar question, babe.