Maui Wowee: Part One

Hello everyone!

Sorry about the delay, but I have legitimately been out of commission for the past three or four five or six days. I even went to see the doctor to make sure I didn't have the Swine Flu, or, rather, H1N1 Influenza A, because I had all the symptoms except for a fever (which I wasn't even sure about since we don't have a thermometer). But I didn't have a fever, which meant no Swine Flu H1N1 Influenza A or any influenza for that matter. Here's a photo of me in the waiting room complete with a mask to protect everyone else in case I had Captain Trips:



BTW, here's a handy dandy test you can take to find out if you have Swine Flu H1N1 Influenza A.

Some of you might think I overreacted by going to the doctor, but after listening to these two women on my flight from Seattle to Portland talking about their trip to Cancun, I wasn't taking any chances. Besides, I got a free mask!

Not having Swine Flu H1N1 Influenza A is all fine and dandy, but several days later I still feel like crap. In fact, the last time I was this sick was after the Christmas/New Year's trip to Idaho in 2005-06 when we decided to fly from Portland to Spokane and back instead of driving. Both Cathy and I felt like we were on our respective deathbeds after that trip. I guess that's what happens when you cram a whole bunch of people into a small space and have them breathe each other's air. If one of the passengers is sick, those germs get to go hog wild. Add this to my list of reasons I hate flying, which includes, in no particular order: tight, cramped spaces that all but put passengers into the same stress positions as the prisoners in Guantanamo Bay; annoying flight attendants that wake you by announcing over the loudspeaker that they now accept debit cards to purchase their crappy food and then wake you just to ask if you want a beverage--as if that's exactly what sleeping people want; screaming children and snoring adults; people sitting near you who won't shut up about the least interesting topics possible, such as which CSI is the best; and, of course, good old TSA searches (more on that later).

Speaking of which, if they're going to go through all the trouble of "protecting our safety" by making everyone take his or her shoes off and by banning more than 3 ounces of liquid toiletries on the flight, why not just have a bunch of doctors there to check everyone for sickness? If you're sick and contagious, you don't fly. Not only would it protect everyone who isn't sick (like me before my flight), but it would also give everyone a free medical checkup. Of course, that would probably go against a person's Constitutional rights to spread disease as far and wide as possible. However, our Fourth Amendment protection against unreasonable search and seizure apparently doesn't apply if we want to fly on an airline.

Anyway, I'm getting off track. This post is supposed to be about our fantastic Maui trip, so here goes!

Since we were flying out of Portland early Saturday morning, we decided to head up there Friday night and get a room. Some of the motels near the airport have a deal where if you stay a night, you can park in their lot for up to ten days for free. Since a week's worth of parking at the airport costs almost as much as a room, we went this route, just like we did when we went to Alaska last September.

Anyway, we got up at the ungodly hour of 3 am Saturday morning (actually, Cathy did, but I slept in for another half hour or so while she showered and got ready) and caught the 4:20 shuttle to the airport! After checking in at the always-understaffed counter to get our boarding passes, we went and waited in the next line to check in our luggage.

See, PDX has the stupidest setup I've ever encountered. You wait in line at the airline counter to check in and get your boarding passes. Then, if you have luggage to check, you put it on the scale and the airline counter person puts a sticker on it so the luggage handlers know where it's going. So far so good.

But here's where it gets stupid. Instead of the counter attendant placing your luggage on the belt behind him or her and sending it to be loaded on the plane, you have to take your luggage and go wait in another line near the door to have the TSA agents scan it. Fortunately for us, there wasn't much of a line here. Then the TSA agents take your bags (along with ones from a variety of other flights and airlines) and pile them on a big flatbed cart, which, once full, gets wheeled back over to the belt behind the ticket counter and unloaded. In theory, other people behind the curtain sort out the bags as they come through all mismatched and thrown together. What an idiotic setup!

Why can't they just set up the TSA scanning station just on the other side of the curtain? In all the other airports I've checked luggage into (which admittedly hasn't been a lot, but has been a more than a couple), that's the was they do it. You just check in your luggage at the counter, and they take it away. You don't have to go stand in another line. Even in Hawaii where you have an extra line for fruit inspection, you don't have to deal with the crap you do in Portland. I guess the powerful luggage cart lobby managed to get its way at PDX!

Anyway, after the first two lines, we headed over to line number three: security! Like a dumbass, I had forgotten to pack my sandals (who needs sandals in Maui?), so I of course had to take off my hiking boots. I also had a laptop and a video camera in my backpack, so I had to take those out and seperate them as well. All told, I ended up using four of the tubs, and somehow managed to make it through with a relatively small amount of hassle.

Not so for Cathy. Sure, she was wearing sandals and had a backpack containing nothing that needed to be seperated (she knows how to travel since she often does so for work), so her trip through the metal detector went smoothly. But then she was "randomly selected" for an in-depth search. By "in-depth" I mean thorough. The TSA lady actually felt up my wife. As in touched her private parts. To any of you thinking it would be hot to watch your wife get felt up by another woman in public, I'm hear to tell you it's not, at least when the other lady is an old TSA employee wearing rubber gloves and you're at an airport at 5 am.

Of course, I can't blame the lady since it's apparenly her job to do this. But what sort of sexually-repressed bureaucrat thought up this policy? I mean, taking off shoes is bad enough, but at least that was done in response to someone supposedly trying to light a crude, homemade bomb in his shoe while on a plane. But has anyone tried to smuggle a bomb aboard an airplane in his or her private parts? Moreover, even if this has happened before, does that justify random searches in which a federal officer cops a feel? Standing there watching my wife all but get violated by this woman for doing nothing more than wanting to take a vacation, I couldn't help but notice how Soviet Union-ish this was, but with a touch of good old American sexual repression added. Do you feel safer now?

I've noticed this posting is running quite long, and we haven't even left the mainland yet. But I'm going to end it here for now and post a sequel (or two or three) in the next few days. Cathy took lots of great photos, so we still have a long way to go. Stay tuned!

Rob

A Brief Delay

Hello everyone!

I originally planned on spending today recapping my trip to Maui here on my blog, complete with a big bunch of photos taken by Cathy--including some underwater shots taken while snorkeling with her new digital waterproof camera. But since we got in last night, I've realized that at some point during the trip I caught a nasty cold. Of course, leave it to me to catch a cold in Maui of all places. Anyway, I spent the day running a few errands and mostly lying around the house trying to not feel crappy, and, as a result, my "regularly scheduled" posting will be delayed for a few days. See ya soon.

Rob

DW&F: Trousers and Traffic

Hello everyone!

Well, we didn't get a chance to leave today because Cathy had to work later than we were hoping. Originally, we had planned on heading up to Portland this afternoon/evening and then going on to Sandpoint tomorrow. Well, apparently Portland is still closed, as is I-84, so we're going to try to cross Santiam Pass toward Bend and head up US 97. But chains are required to cross the pass, and since I didn't feel like chaining up on the side of the road in the dark, we just decided we'd head out tomorrow. I have a feeling we won't make the whole trip in one day, so we might end up spending the night in Tri-Cities, Washington, which is one of my least favorite places in the Pacific Northwest. If you've never been there, think of it as an anti-oasis, in that it's a concentration of suck surrounded by cool places an hour or two in practically any direction. But we have a friend who lives there, so I guess it's not all that bad.

Daily Win and FAIL!

Win: New jeans

I bought myself a new pair of jeans today, and they are very comfortable. Let's just say my appreciation of Oregon microbrews has helped make some of my old pants fit a bit more snugly these days, so I had forgotten how nice it is to be wearing pants that fit properly. Win!

Look, I realize that new pants isn't the most epic of all wins, but that's all I've got right now, so it will just have to do! Besides, it's a good excuse to post the photo above, which most definitely is a win!

FAIL: Traffic

I hate traffic. It really brings out the worst in people. Today I ended up dodging last-minute shoppers as I was running some errands before we leave town, and half of Eugene was making the loop between Valley River, Delta Oaks, Costco, Gateway, and Oakway. I went to G.I. Joe's and got stuck dealing with the 15,000 or so idiots trying to leave the parking lot after buying crap at the Wal-Mart next door (not that Joe's is much better). I tried to go around and leave at the other exit--the one without the light--but soon realized that there was no way I'd be able to turn left onto Green Acres, so I figured I'd turn right and take Crescent to Coburg, and then catch the Beltline from there. Wrong! It literally took over 20 minutes to go from Delta Oaks to Coburg Rd.

Once I finally made it to Coburg, the traffic was so heavy that I couldn't get over two lanes to make the turn onto the Beltline without having to cut someone off because my lane was moving at a crawl, and the left lane was loaded with traffic whizzing past. "No big deal," I thought. "I'll just take Coburg straight through and get home in no time." Wrong again! It was fine for a few blocks after Beltline until about Willakenzie or so. But then traffic slowed a crawl, apparently because I was getting close to Harlow and the millions of zombies coming and going to Gateway.

Eventually I passed Harlow, but things still didn't get any better because Oakway was next. It was about this time that the old lady with the "PEACE IS PATRIOTIC" bumper sticker cut me off and almost ran over the idiot who thought it was a good idea to jaywalk between Albertsons and the gas station next to Starbucks at Oakway, even though perhaps 30 yards away there was a crosswalk with a FREAKIN' TRAFFIC SIGNAL!

All of a sudden after passing I-105, most of the traffic magically disappeared, and I was able to take out my frustrations by driving several miles per hour over the speed limit across the Ferry Street Bridge. All told, it took me about an hour to make it home, which according to Google maps is only a distance of 7.2 miles. Seriously, the CD I was listening to cycled through all its songs and began to repeat itself before I made it home, and I wasn't even listening to an EP! FAIL!


Rob

Candidates, Aging Punksters, Cheese, and Crazy Coast Weather

Hello everyone!

I've been making a lot of promises in the past few weeks about upcoming blog postings about Obama's visit to Eugene and about the cheese of the month experiences. I realize that I better not procrastinate anymore, or else it's going to be too late and I'll officially be a liar.

Unofficially being a liar is bad enough.

Anyway, on with the blog posting! This one may seem like three or four posts in one,
so lucky you!

As you all should know by now, we went to see and hear Barack Obama give a speech on Mar. 21 (which you can watch here).

I had heard rumors of him coming weeks prior, but the official word didn't come until just a few days before. We knew it was going to be first come, first serve, and since I turned in my final final paper for the winter term the day before, I volunteered to be the one to stand in line all day if needed since I had nothing better to do.

I drove by at about noon the day of the speech, and there was already a line forming in front of Mac Court. Keep in mind, the doors were scheduled to open at 7pm and the festivities were not scheduled until 9.

I had a couple things to take care of first, and then I showed up at about 3pm. By this time, the line had grown into two lines that went in both directions from the front entrance on University St., around each corner on either side of the block, and at least half a block down 18th and 15th Avenues. I jumped in on 15th under a covered bike rack in case it rained (it didn't). Within an hour, each line had wrapped around on Agate St. and met the other. Here's a campus map to help you visualize.

This would've been a great photo if the assclown in the khakis hadn't stepped in the way at the last second. Just picture a line of people that extends all the way to the farthest car you can see:

The mood in the line was quite jovial. A car alarm went off for almost two minutes. Once it stopped, the line applauded. People were amusing themselves at the guy who kept doing laps while holding up a big orange sign that said "9/11 WAS AN INSIDE JOB" while also admiring his determination. Another guy rode by on a bike and scolded the people in line for wasting time trying to work for change within the system. He should have had a sign like the 9/11 guy because most people in the crowd had no idea what he was talking about.

There were also a couple McCain supporters, but unfortunately, everything remained civil. I had a chance to talk to a few people from the Jeff Merkley campaign, the guy who is the biggest challenger to my guy Steve Novick in the May primaries. They seemed nice enough, but too bad for them that they're on the losing team.

If I'm starting to be annoying with all these Novick references, don't worry--I'm just getting started. I'll be doing an internship this spring with his campaign, so I'm not going to shut up about it until May or November if when Novick wins the primaries.

They ended up opening the doors a half hour or so early, and it was a good thing since they had the TSA airport screeners working there with metal detectors. For once I didn't mind because I don't want the Obama-JFK or Obama-RFK comparisons to be too appropriate.

Despite waiting in line for well over 3 hours, we still ended up in the nosebleed seats. When we got there, some a cappella group was singing into one microphone and it sounded terrible. Our friend Wade was working the show, but luckily for him he was only doing stage and lighting, not sound. Anyway, it turns out nobody bothered to tell the sound guy that 20 or so people will be singing, and he was only set up for one person to be speaking at a time, hence, one mike. The crowd didn't know any of this, however, and for the first time in my life, I heard a "Fix the sound!" chant. Yikes!

After another painful a cappella group, nothing happened for a while, so the crowd amused itself by starting a wave. I must admit, we looked pretty good!

Next, some retired general spoke, and finally Obama himself talked. It was more like a rock concert or stand-up comedy show than any political rally that I've ever been to. He acknowledged comments from the crowd at times, but he still kept enough control that it didn't devolve into chaos. He didn't say anything especially surprising to me, but I'm sure that's because I've followed his campaign pretty closely. I've decided that he's far from perfect as a candidate, but he'll do. Anyway, here he is:

Here he is shaking hands on the way out:

Two nights later, a friend and I saw Henry Rollins at McDonald Theatre. For those who don't know who he is, I'm too lazy to explain, so I'll direct you to his Wikipedia page.

Again, we had nosebleed seats, but since I paid nothing for them, I won't complain. Here's a photo of the show:

I know the photo is not very exciting, but the show was. It was just him talking for over three and a half hours! And he spoke quickly, too, not slow like Steven Wright. Much like the Obama speech, this was part stand-up, part rock concert (without the music), and part political rant. It was well worth it, and I'd highly recommend it if he comes to your area.

Shiftng gears a bit, let's talk about cheese! As many of you know, I was the proud recipient of the best gift of all time: a membership in the gourmet cheese of the month club! My first shipment arrived in mid February. Here's a photo:

From left to right, we have Mini Triple Crème, Denhey Farms English Cheddar, and SAFR Port Salut.

The first one we tried was the Port Salut, which was accompanied by a bottle of Chinon and some of Cathy's homemade crackers:

First off, I have to say that the Chinon made for an excellent pairing with the Port Salut, just like I knew it would. How did I know? Am I some cheese and wine snob? Of course not! But it sure is fun to pretend. Actually, the pamphlet that came with the cheese said that it "pairs beautifully" with Chinon.

As for the cheese, it was fantastic. Seriously, I had no idea cheese could taste so good. This was soft and spreadable, and it tasted like an orgasm in my mouth. Luckily it was my orgasm, not someone else's. And it was a dry orgasm. Come to think of it (no pun intended), it tasted nothing like an orgasm. Not that I've ever tasted an orgasm. At least not a man's. Moving right along...

The next cheese we tried was the English Cheddar. The pamphlet recommended a fruity wine or dark ale, so I went the dark ale route and opted for a Lagunitas Imperial Stout and more homemade crackers. Unfortunately, the photo got erased, so just picture the above photo but replace the cheese with a white cheddar wedge and the wine with some dark, dark, stout beer.

I had my doubts, but this turned out to be a fantastic pairing, too. The cheese was pretty mild and almost sweet, and of course the stout was, well, stout. But they went together perfectly. I could live on this.

Finally, we tried the Saint Andrè with a Rosè wine, again with homemade crackers:

Here's the thing about the Saint Andrè. The pamphlet said it has "a bloomy, downy-white, edible rind." What it failed to mention was that the rind was moldy. And although it may indeed be edible, it tastes like ass. No, not ass, like an old, funky, mildewy, gym sock that was used in place of toilet paper.

Being the trooper I am, I pressed on and made it to the center, and that was pretty good. But I still had the rind taste in my mouth, and the rest of it is still in our fridge, no doubt turning into an excellent middle school science fair project as we speak.

I should get another shipment sometime in April, and of course I'll write about it when I get around to it! Maybe.

Last weekend, Cathy and I went to the coast for a few days. It was nice to get away. We stayed at the Clifftop Inn in Oceanside. It literally is on a cliff top. Here are a couple photos from the deck outside our room:


We managed to run into all kinds of weather at the coast. Here's a strange snowstorm in late March. At the coast. Which knocked down a bunch of trees:

Later on, we went to Cannon Beach. Here's another photo :

Here's a strange beach house. I wonder if this is Dick Cheney's "undisclosed location." Note the razor wire:

On the way out, we stopped by the world's largest Sitka Spruce tree. Unfortunately, a big storm knocked it down last December. I somehow doubt it's still the largest:

It was great to get away. But now it's back to the grind. And the grind not only involves a new school term, but a senatorial campaign as well. Stay tuned.

Rob

Vacation and Dumping My Computer

Hello everyone!

I'm back!

For those who have no idea that I went anywhere, well I did. And now I'm back. More on that in a moment.

But first, I want to talk about what I returned to. Or should I say, what I didn't return to. What didn't I return to?

A computer that worked.

Now, I do realize that it had been four years since I first purchased my spiffy eMachines T2482 desktop computer, but I never expected it to just throw in the towel so suddenly. Was it the fact that I was gone for a week? I promise, I didn't use any other computers while I was gone. I was still as hopelessly devoted to you while I was away, eMachines T2482, as I was that fateful summer afternoon in 2003 when I first laid my eyes on you in Circuit City in Springfield. There was a sale...

At first, I blamed myself. I mean, I was kinda heavy-handed with my typing. Also, I would download several updates while simultaneously watching a video on YouTube, searching MySpace, listening to a song on Pandora, and writing a paper in MS Word 2000. A lesser person would have dumped you just for having "2000" in the name of one of your programs. Not me.

But then I began to realize that you were giving up on me, not the other way around. Still, I had a difficult time coming to terms with it.

Until I met Toshiba A215-S4757, that is!

You know what, eMachines T2482? You were holding me back! That's right, you were cramping my style! I mean, Toshiba A215-S4757 is a laptop. That means I can go anywhere I want with Toshiba A215-S4757, but with you I had to either stay home with you or sneak around and use one of the computers at the LCC computer lab. That's right, I used other computers behind your back. Where do you think those documents on the flash drive came from? Don't act like you didn't know what was going on!

But now I don't have to sneak around and use those anonymous machines at the lab! See, Toshiba A215-S4757 gives me the freedom I never had with you, eMachines T2482! Or should I say, "Desktop Dumbass"!

But that's okay. We had some good times together, eMachines T2482. But really, Toshiba A215-S4757 showed me just what a cheap tramp you are. I mean, come on, selling yourself for $30 on ebay? How could I possibly respect you, eMachines T2482, after that?

Look, don't make things any more difficult than they already are. Just take your things and leave. Yes, you can keep the floppy disc drive, but the printer, wireless mouse, monitor, speakers, and keyboard all stay with me. I know you need all that stuff, but you're just going to have to find someone else to give it to you. Really, it's for the best.

Anyway, onto the trip...

The whole point of it was to visit Cathy's family in New England. I have to admit that initially I wasn't thrilled about the whole idea of spending time with a bunch of (mostly) old people that I've never met. There was talk about this being the last time we'd all get to be together because everyone was old and hanging in there for us to come out and visit before they pass on and that we'd be horrible, selfish people if we didn't come out, no matter what we had planned.

Incidentally, Cathy and I had had something radically different planned. But we only had so much vacation time available, so New England it was, whether we liked it or not.

But I have to admit, I had a great time. I had heard stories about Cathy's family, how they're all "crazy" and that this was going to be a long seven days. But really, they were all great, and I'm not just saying that in case one of them reads this!

Besides, with a family like mine, I'm used to "crazy" relatives!

We flew out of Portland. On the way to the airport, we saw the strangest thing:


That's right, it's a truckload of soy sauce. Who would need this much soy sauce? I had visions of going to a gas station and being asked if I want regular, super unleaded, or soy sauce. It's not even Kikkoman, for crying out loud!

Our flight went from Portland, Oregon to Manchester, New Hampshire via Atlanta, Georgia. Now I know that anyone with a Rand McNally road atlas, a globe, or Google Earth would be asking, "Why would you go through Atlanta if you were going to New Hampshire from Portland?" Well the answer is...

Hmm...

Well, I'm not sure why. But it was cheaper that way, so there you go.

On our flight from Atlanta to Manchester just before we left the gate, the flight attendant got on the loudspeaker and said, "This is a non-stop flight to Burlington, Vermont..." Immediately, everyone on the plane (about 50 people--it was a small plane) simultaneously gasped. A couple people said, "You mean Manchester, right?" He got back on the loudspeaker and said, "Sorry, that's Manchester, not Burlington," and all 50 people simultaneously exhaled with such force that I thought the sudden increase in air pressure would rip apart the plane if it hadn't been designed to handle rapid air pressure changes.

We made it to New Hampshire and hung out for a few days at Cathy's Grandma Taylor's house:

This was my first time meeting Cathy's mom's side of the family. Her Grandma is 94 years old and still living on her own.

I guess some developmental company was in the process of finalizing a deal to buy her property. Their plans include demolishing the house and then building a road and 7-8 new houses. I had mixed feelings about it. I got to see the blueprints, and they were going to include public green space, walking trails, and lots of natural forest around each of the lots (they had about 10 acres to work with). And the house was in pretty rough shape after years of neglect, so it probably wasn't worth repairing. But still, all I kept thinking was that there were a lot of memories that were going to be destroyed with the house, and they weren't even my memories.

The house bordered a small farm:



Have you ever seen corn that tall? Well, now you have! We didn't find any children living in it, though. And no dead baseball players came out ready to play a game, either.

We walked through the corn and ended up at the Nashua River:

It was very quaint. Incidentally, "quaint" was the appropriate word to describe everything in New England.

Along the river was the New Hampshire-Massachusetts state line, and there was a stone marker to, well, mark the border:


I'm not sure why there's a border marker in the middle of nowhere, but I had fun jumping to one side and saying, "I'm in New Hampshire!" and jumping back and saying "I'm in Massachusetts!" over and over again. I think everyone else was annoyed by the eighteenth time I did it. That didn't stop me from doing it another 65 more times!

We got to enjoy some of the wildlife more than they enjoyed us:

Does this picture make my fingers look fat?

Here's a baby snapping turtle being held by Uncle Jim:


He looks thrilled (the turtle, not Jim).

I like this shot:

It's a frog in a puddle with the clouds reflected in the water. I didn't intend for the reflection to end up in the shot, but it did, and I'm not complaining.

They do weird things in New England:

Nobody in our group had any idea what "Meat Bingo" is. We wondered if it's regular bingo with meat awarded to the winners, or if meat was somehow involved in the actual game play. Did they use, say, pepperoni slices to mark their card? Or was a piece of pork on a fork dipped in barbecue sauce used to stamp the cards? Or maybe types of meat were used in place of the B-I-N-G-O letters: "Pork chop 34! Brisket 49! T-bone 11! Ground chuck 62!"

Alas, the event happened before we got there, so we'll never know.

Not only do I not know what Meat Bingo is, I have no idea what an "Ass-Plus Community" is:


I tried a local carbonated beverage called "Moxie":


Moxie is somewhere between cola and root beer and... raw sewage. I drank a couple liters of it, though, mainly because I needed something to mix with the booze.

I had heard that New Englanders love Moxie, but most of the New Englanders we came across either didn't like it, had never tried it, or had never heard of it.

I do find the guy in the orange jacket pointing at me to be a bit threatening, though.

And speaking of booze, here are the before and after photos:



You may notice there are more bottles in the "after" picture than in the "before" one. Well, that's because we went back to the liquor store a few times!

New Hampshire liquor stores are funny. They're state run like Oregon and Idaho, but they're about ten time the size. Since the three of us (Cathy, her sister, and I) couldn't agree on what to get, we decided to buy a bunch of the little bottles.

I suppose I should explain the purpose of the booze in the first place. It started out as a joke: "We're going to need a bottle of booze to get through this week," turned into "Well, maybe it would be nice to be able to have a swig every now and again to take the edge off," and then turned back into "We're going to need a bottle of booze to get through this week," except no longer joking. Unfortunately, being the dumbass I am, I bought a bottle here in Oregon and proceeded to forget to pack it. So it was off to the liquor store for us.

By the way, mixing Bailey's and Pepsi--bad idea!

We also went to Target. Cathy's sister lives in Alaska, and they don't have any Targets (yet), so whenever we hang out with her in the lower 48, we have to go to the local Target.

The one in Nashua was cool, though, because it had two stories. A two story store is usually not a big deal. The JC Penney'ses and Macy'ses of the world are usually two stories, but have you ever seen a shopping cart in one of those stores? Neither have I. But every Target I've been to is loaded with those red plastic carts. Of course, this presents a problem because you can't take a cart up and down an escalator. This Target solved that problem by building an escalator specifically for carts:

Of course, I had to get a cart just so I could try out the cart escalator!

Interestingly enough, there was a Latino family speaking Spanish in the store. We were almost as far away from Latin America as we could be while remaining in the US, but there they were. This amused me because I knew that it would really piss off the xenophobes out there, though I know this family probably has to deal with a bunch of crap from them all the time.

After New Hampshire, it was off to Vermont to see our friend Kate. We passed a cool waterfall along the way:


My first thought was that I should try to climb it. But thankfully, there was a sign to explain to me how stupid my idea was:


I guess people wised up by 1978. It's a good thing, too, because they were running out of room on the sign!

We made it to the small, quaint town of Warren to hang out with Kate for a few hours. I don't have any pictures of that, though. Just imagine Kate in a small, quaint town. If you don't know Kate, just picture someone you don't know in a small, quaint town. If you don't know Kate and you've never been to a small, quaint town, just imagine someone you don't know in some place you've never been to.

We then headed to Massachusetts to visit Cathy's Dad's side of the family. On the way, we went back through New Hampshire and passed two coach buses on the freeway. The one in the back was ordinary enough, but the one in the front said "McCain 2008" all over it. "Holy shit, it's The Straight Talk Express!" We couldn't take any photos because by this time, it was dark outside, but the bus's interior lights were on, and we could see inside. "Hey, that's the back of John McCain's white, combed-over head!"

Of course, it would have been much more exciting to see someone with a better chance of winning the election--someone like Tom Tancredo, Mike Gravel, or Richard Nixon's rotting corpse. But hey, what can you do?

Eventually, we made it to Massachusetts. There was a different sort of wildlife there:


For the first time, I got to see turkeys fly. It's just like seeing pigs fly, except the pigs are smaller and have feathers, wings, and a beak.

We also went cranberry picking. Here's what cranberries look like:


And I always thought they were shaped like a can.

This was also when I learned how to pronounce Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg. I never said I learned how to properly pronounce it.

Later we crawled under a fence (not realizing there was an open gate just a few feet away) to go see an old stone church:


The photo is dark, but I like it that way. It's foreboding!

Cathy's other Grandma was pretty cool, too. She had a bunch of jigsaw puzzles that we worked on. Finally, she dug out the puzzle that "no one has ever been able to put together." Of course, we had to try, and Grandma kept stopping by and saying things like "I should have given you one of the easy 300 piece puzzles, instead," and, "This one's too hard. Why don't you try an easier one?"

That only encouraged us more. Eight hours later:



We had help on this one from Cousin P.J. He's a pyrotechnician and gets to blow stuff up for a living. He's also the only Asian person I've ever met with a New England accent, so that makes him double cool in my book! Here's a video of his work:



Finally, we flew back to Portland, drove for two hours to Eugene, and made it home to my broken computer. Since then, I've been busy getting a new computer, getting my books for school that starts Monday, trying to figure out what the deal is with my financial aid, and working the whole time. Vacation is definitely over!

Today is a good day to call in sick. Where's my phone?

Rob

Vacation!

Hello everyone!

Well, we made it back from our little road trip, and I must admit, it was lots of fun. We drove to Reno and stayed at the fabulous Atlantis Hotel and Casino. Now, most people who know us know that we're not gamblers by any stretch. But the whole point of going to Reno was that it was on the way to Tahoe, and, the last time I was there, the rooms were cheap. Unfortunately, it turns out the rooms are only cheap on weekdays, and we were there on a Friday night. But we stayed there anyway, and the room was gaudily extravagant, and it was all amusing to us.

We then decided to go to the fancy schmancy MonteVigna Italian Ristoranté for dinner. Our waiter was this guy in his mid 20s, and it was pretty clear he was used to serving pretentious snobs who think they're some sort of VIP just because they decided to go to Reno for their one week of vacation per year because they can't afford Vegas. Where was I? Oh yeah, after I gave our waiter crap because he showed me the wine bottle before opening it ("Hey, I'm just doing my job," says he), he loosened up and the three of us were able to relax. He even started to flip me crap right back, though he was hesitant about it. The guy who kept bringing us bread was as stiff as a board the whole time, though.

But I've gotta say, the food was fantastic. And even though we may have to eat nothing but ramen and cup-o-noodles for a month to make up for the cost, that one meal was worth it.

Then I played a few slot machines. I really didn't want to, but I kept feeling obligated since we were in a casino. Within 10 minutes, I had lost $40. We figured that they had gotten enough of our money, and we headed to our room to watch good old TV. Casinos hate it when you do that! It turns out they even have ways for you to gamble over your cable TV. The greedy bastards!

The next day we went to Lake Tahoe. In many ways, it looks a lot like Lake Pend Oreille in Sandpoint, Idaho where I lived for eight years. Here's me at Tahoe:

And here are a bunch of seagulls at Pend Oreille:

Here are the famous Emerald Bay and Fannette Island in Tahoe:

And here are a not-so-famous bay and a bunch of not-so-famous islands in Pend Oreille:

Regardless, both lakes are cool. No, I mean it. They're not just cool, they're both friggin' cold. I know because I've been in both. I didn't go in Tahoe this time (come on, it's March!), and I haven't been in it since I was a little kid, but I still remember it being butt-cold. There are some experiences that you have as a kid that are impossible to forget. The first time you feel your testicles in the back of your throat is one of them.

However, if there's one thing Tahoe has that Pend Oreille doesn't, it's gotta be its huge cones:

Look at that pair! They're enormous, I tells ya!

After Tahoe, we headed south through the California Mother Lode area. This is the area where all the gold miners came during the gold rush. There are a bunch of "quaint" little tourist towns and rolling hills through here. It's kinda cool, actually:

The yellow things on the hillside are California Poppies. The only reason I know that is because Cathy said so.

We followed the Gold Country Highway, State Highway 49. Get it, 49? Like the 49ers! No, not the football team, moron. I'm talking about the people the football team was named after. You know, the 49ers? No, not the 69ers. Never mind.

Here's another picture:


We spent the evening in Sonora, one of my favorite stops during my inventory days. We didn't quite make it to the Iron Horse Saloon, however. For some reason, I wasn't craving warm pitchers of Budweiser and an upside down pub table in the middle of the pool table. If at least one reader gets that reference, I'll be a happy camper!

The next day, we went to Yosemite. If you haven't been, you should. Everyone has seen pictures, but they just don't do it justice. I'm still going to show ours, though:

That's Bridal Veil. Here's a much closer shot:

We were getting drenched while I took that picture. Cathy had to take off her glasses because they were soaked from all the mist!

Here's El Capitan. If you look closely, you can see some small dots at the top of the cliff. Those are actually very large trees. What I'm trying to say is that El Capitan is friggin' gargantuan! No wonder it takes climbers a few days to reach the top. Speaking of which, if you look at where I'm pointing and squint just right, you might see David Lee Roth still up there wiggling his hips and singing "Just Like Paradise". Sorry Dave, you're no longer cool.

Next we went to Yosemite Falls. In case you have trouble seeing the falls in the photo, I've helpfully pointed to where the upper falls is:

And here it is without me in the way:

Now, I know it's not that impressive looking. But take a look at this photo of the lower part of the falls:

See the red, white, and blue spots? Those are people--patriotic ones, apparently. What I'm saying is that the falls is enormous. I mean, ENORMOUS!

Here's another shot of the upper falls from farther away:

This rock is called "Half Dome". Cathy helpfully pointed out that "Dome" is in fact one word, and it's not called "Half Do Me". Regardless, we have no idea why they decided to name it that. Here it is, and notice the trees along the ridge to the right:


Later, Half Dome fell over on an old lady, and I single handedly lifted it off her. Man, it was heavy. Luckily, Cathy was there to take a photo:


That was quite the workout!

Next we started to head back. We spent the night in Jackson, another favorite town from the inventory days not far from Sonora. The next day we headed toward the Coast and up Highway 101 through the Redwoods staying in Eureka. We don't have any pictures of this part of the trip because the camera's memory stick was full. We even stopped by a Target to buy a new one, but the punk ass kid who worked behind the counter got all high and mighty and arrogantly told us that our camera model is obsolete and Target doesn't carry that type of memory card anymore. You know what, my camera might be obsolete, but at least I don't work at Target!

Look, there's nothing wrong with working at Target, or any corporate retail chain for that matter. It's a crappy job, and sometimes you've just got to take a crappy job. But just because your crappy job allows you to gain some essentially useless tidbit of information that I don't have, it doesn't mean you're better than me, nor does it mean you have the right to act like you are. Yes, I realize your job is degrading and humiliating, but you're certainly not the only one with a degrading and humiliating job, buddy!

Where was I? Oh yes, our wonderful, relaxing vacation. Eureka is a cool town. I could see us living there some day. We went to the Lost Coast Brewery for dinner, and it was the antithesis of our Reno dinner in terms of formality. But it was fantastic. I had the Downtown Brown. And some food, too.

The next day, we leisurely worked our way up the coast through more Redwoods and back into Oregon and eventually home to our spoiled little cat who left us a nice, yellow, liquid present on our bathroom floor. Ah, home sweet home.

Well, I hope you enjoyed reading about our vacation as much as we enjoyed taking it, though I know that's impossible. Until next time!

Rob