RACCOONS IN MY TENT.

FENDER GUITARS AND SIA’S INNER VOICE

I took a day off and went to Crater Lake yesterday.
I drove through a town called White City… as you’re driving in to town there is a large maple sign that reads in large, white letters… “WHITE CITY… THE BEST PLACE TO LIVE.”
Uh huh…. Interesting slogan. White City is a hop skip and a jump from the sprawling town of WEED… I had to stop and take a picture with the exit sign for that one, just for my brother.
Once I got in to Crater Lake park, there is a seven mile drive almost all uphill, windy and on a day like that, would not be much fun of a walk. I drove past a PCT hiker, did a loop back and stopped to give him a ride to the top. Being the bit of a chicken that I am, I circled back three times to get a good look at his face and gear before I finally offered him a ride. I figured I had to continue on the circle of love, since I had so many people give me rides on my way back from our hike earlier this year.
His name was Matt, and he was a very nice guy, he was hiking the trail alone, which is so out of my range of strength, I can’t begin to describe how much I look up to people who can do it like that.

I also ran in to a girl that I played softball with years ago. I recognized her parents at first… They were constant fixtures in the bleachers at all the games, and I remember her Momma keeping score for us quite frequently. None of them were very pleasant with me when I approached them to say hi and do a quick catch up on how life was going for her and so on and so forth… but maybe I just walked in at a bad time.
Either way, I enjoyed my visit to the lake, and the surprising comfort in a familiar face.
But I’ve always been kind a sucker for nostalgia… so there it is.

I then headed down highway 62 for about an hour and met up with my grandparents in Klamath Falls, Oregon. They are so cute, they have been married for 56 years, and look like a million dollars. After dinner I walked Mags to the nearby safeway and got some foor for the feast I’m making for everyone on Sunday, (my last day ☹ )

The safeway was very entertaining, and I liked the eclectic mix of townies… My favorite was an older, very attractive gentlemen darning Winnie the pooh sweatpants, a tazmanian devil t shirt, and a very large black leather fanny pack… I must say, if you’re gonna go for it, you might as well go all the way… And he nailed that outfit like he’d been planning it for weeks.
Bravo my friend…. Bravo.

We went to dinner at John and Dana’s tonight. John (Page) is an amazing custom furniture and guitar artist. He worked for fender for over 20 years, and now is building his own guitars and functional art out of his home and shop here in wolf creek. He is the one that makes the famous “Devil’s Tears” salsa.. I wanted to take some home so bad that they invited us for dinner tonight so we could watch and help him make it, and take some back with us.
Myshkin jammed on some of his amazingly detailed and brilliant electric guitars, and we all danced and caroused away the night.

We came home and Tina and I put on my favorite CD, and she helped me with a tarot reading… Inner Voice…… Inner Voice…. Inner Silence…

Sia’s song “Broken Biscuit”
Listen to that song… the lyrics are… well, they just are.

LOVE YOU ALL!!!! ☺
LOVE AND HUGS AND BIG FAT SLOBBER KISSES*.
*from Maggie.


TODAY August 6, 2008

Yesterday we weeded the neighbor lady’s garden… She’s pushin 90 and her garden looks like it’s on its way out too… However, we tore through that stuff, and she has herself some ripe harvest. We took all the fresh compost back to the café property because we needed some greens in our pile…

We went down ot Jeanie’s in grants pass again last night….
At the 55 and over trailor park…
Four of us girls completely cleaned up an 80 year old oak tree that had been cut down… but left in such a giant pile, and in such a mess, that we had to cut up the rest and de-terd all the branches… While being sexually harassed by jeanie’s estranged perverted of an old man husband…. Bleh… Can you tell he got to me? Anyway, after that we came home, drank some wine and jammed… Myshkin sang a song about trailor parks, the slimy and creepy men that live there, all of the under three pound dogs, and the vast excess of tarps… Long story, but very funny.

This morning we covered up all the straw bales and the exposed cob because there was call for a thunder/rain storm this afternoon.