Fourth of July
My sole commentary on the nature of this holiday - since it's almost impossible to experience any holiday today without analyzing what it means - will be to say that I did not, in fact, celebrate 18th-century United States' independence from Great Britain by blowing shit up in the middle of a nearby intersection.
Instead I worked until about noon - Christa had something to wrap up at her graphic design job in the morning - and we looked for a swimming hole to get lost in for the rest of the beautifully toasty day. We settled on Dabney, a small picnic spot thirty miles east of Portland. It was crowded like any other outdoor spot on the Fourth, but we found parking and some towel-space easily.
I love rivers, though it's a very academic type of appreciation; once I step in the cold, cold water, my tingling toes and shivering thighs interfere somewhat with my eyes feasting on the gorgeous landscape.
It was an excellent outing overall, despite my kvetching. We managed to get out of a parking ticket (or worse, a towing) on the way back. Now that we finally have my car fully registered and titled in Oregon - thank you, DMV - we were able to enjoy the simple pleasure of cruising around, listening to whatever the iPod shuffles next.
We picked up a tuna steak for dinner; grilled rare, with a bit of pineapple glazing, served with garlic mashed potatoes, and zucchini and mushrooms steamed with wine. Then, the 1986 cheeseball Labyrinth and some MST3K.
Happy independence!
Instead I worked until about noon - Christa had something to wrap up at her graphic design job in the morning - and we looked for a swimming hole to get lost in for the rest of the beautifully toasty day. We settled on Dabney, a small picnic spot thirty miles east of Portland. It was crowded like any other outdoor spot on the Fourth, but we found parking and some towel-space easily.
I love rivers, though it's a very academic type of appreciation; once I step in the cold, cold water, my tingling toes and shivering thighs interfere somewhat with my eyes feasting on the gorgeous landscape.
It was an excellent outing overall, despite my kvetching. We managed to get out of a parking ticket (or worse, a towing) on the way back. Now that we finally have my car fully registered and titled in Oregon - thank you, DMV - we were able to enjoy the simple pleasure of cruising around, listening to whatever the iPod shuffles next.
We picked up a tuna steak for dinner; grilled rare, with a bit of pineapple glazing, served with garlic mashed potatoes, and zucchini and mushrooms steamed with wine. Then, the 1986 cheeseball Labyrinth and some MST3K.
Happy independence!
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