Mom Thoughts

Been thinking about my mom, who's turning ??? years old today, and how she's not perfect (but who is?!), but that that's okay, because she loves me. And you need a mom's love around, floating like a gas, just in case you ever have to breathe it in—like on those really tough mornings when you didn't sleep, just turned over and over until your legs were all tangled up in the sheets, and coffee isn't nearly enough to do battle with the kinda day facing down on you. That's what you need a mom's love for. And you need her for her potato salad recipe.

Also, it's bonus mom goodness if you can get her to cry at your wedding (as above, at my big sis's wedding). Love you, mom!

FOJ

Oh hi, how are you? Been a busy bunch of days since we last talked. Fourth Of July-wise, we'd all planned a giant river float, and so when the day dawned mid-70s-partly-cloudy, we fucking floated anyway. Plans are important.

It was a little hot and a little cold as the sun came and went. I forged the water face down on an air mattress, which was pretty boss until a wave smoked me in the head on the first set of rapids. Knocked my chapeau and sun spectacles right off, and refilled my Coors Light with Clackamas River water. However, when the river turned glassy-smooth and moved slowly, we all hitched our tubes together and made a giant floating friend barge. Lots of laughing and other moments of quality.

Many hours later, after we'd crawled out of the river and roasted our goosebumps in the late afternoon sun, everyone went to Hudson's house for a mini-ramp-orientated BBQ. This scene, right here—with sun-dappled yard, dogs, food, and friends—is quintessential summer stuff, non? Simple folk like myself could not ask for more.

P.S. I stole these pics from my pals' Instagram feeds. River shot: OriginalBK. Mini ramp shot: O_m_k

Adios

As I may have mentioned before, this here log cabin—the house I grew up in; the one my dad and grand dad built back in the '70s when I was just a sliver of a pine cone inside my parents' tinder box—was bulldozed recently to make room for a mansion-y type thing. Vacation home for the owner of the San Diego Padres I think? I could be wrong, I don't follow sports. Anyhoo, I'm not sad about it. It's sad to say goodbye to your roots, but I did that a long time ago. What's nice is to think about the place and all the happy, wild days I had running around barefoot in the middle-of-nowhere mountains.

-Shot the plate-glass window out of the green house with a BB gun during an ill-fated target practice and got in the kind of trouble you still remember 24 years later.

-Climbed on the roof regularly to sit atop the chimney and feel free.

-Fell in the creek countless times—never drowned.

-Crept around in the pastures eating bugs and examining plant life.

-Woke up early on the first day of summer—smelled the green grass smell; heard the crop duster flying overhead spraying mosquitos—and knew instinctively that everything desirable was already around me in abundance.

About A Ball

Oh hi. It's Friday and I don't have anything to say. I haven't read anything or watched anything or heard anything or done anything good lately (with the exception of red wine and spicy almonds at Box Social with Trish the other night—which was a kinda chocolate sauce on the top of my boring week). Besides that, though, all I can do is live vicariously through Lefty and hope I stumble upon one of life's unmolested softballs to dig my own teeth into, ya know?

Stay Home

Think of a reason (mine was out of town visitors), and take your reason wandering all over your town—eating, drinking, crossing back and forth over bridges and walking up dusty trails. Leave behind all semblance of budgeting and schedule restrictions. Buy 5 dollar almond-milk lattes at Heart without a care. Spend hours sitting around a wooden kitchen table drinking pine-scented cocktails and just, ya know, talking. Make a list of every restaurant you ever wanted to try in Portland and knock ’em off, one by one. Drop face-first into bed exhausted every night after so much walking and so much sun. It's what they call a "staycation" I guess. It's what I did last week. And it was SO good. No airports, no train rides, no itineraries. Just good friends, sun-toasted days, and my very own bed at the end of the night.