(Photo by Steve Rawley)

This is from last year (June 20th, 2011) and oh yeah that’s right, we’re going for it again this summer!

– wm

i’m copying everyone else, cuz they’re coming up with such good ideas. I’ll cross them off as we do them.

* celebrate last day of school with dinner out, ice cream, a trip to Powell’s and staying up all night (grown-ups will sleep)

* eat fudgsicles

* swim!

* swim

* did I mention swimming?

* trip to Denver to see grandma ??? (maybe she will visit us here instead)

* trip to Iowa Central Oregon to see grandpa and grandma

* house party!

* eat the first fresh strawberry from the garden

* go for walks in the neighborhood and look for deer, hawks, snakes, frogs and… ???

* picnics at the park

* read on the chaise lounge

* drink iced tea and lemonade and iced tea with lemonade

* go to the drive-in

* farmers market!

* go see live theater outdoors. somewhere. where???

* visit the zoo

* go camping

* go to the beach

* finish proofreading my novel finish writing new novel I started (Young Adult)

* get it published

* start next book (cookbook) then start writing another book!

* celebrate my daughter’s birthday, my birthday and our wedding anniversary

yay to summer.

– wm

ps the comments are from last year. hi girls! i can’t figure out how to allow comments on this post again, so sorry.

You know, when you’re on a road trip with your rowdyass family, there is nothing better than stopping at a family restaurant/diner-type place for some pie. Especially when that pie is accompanied by mashed potatoes and gravy and roast beef on an open-faced sandwich. Or perhaps a grilled cheese ‘n’ fries, with a chocolate milkshake. Or a gardenburger with extra pickles and some homemade potato salad.

(Here is my tribute to pie, my grandma, and my cousin Travis.)

I like to eat! Food tastes good, that is why. Especially when you’re in Salina, Utah. The only way Steve talks me into traveling is by telling me, “I’ll take you out for pie, c’mon…” and we’re good to go.

For my kids, a “good” restaurant means “gift shop.” We found that at Grandma’s House in Yreka, California, and that’s where I bought one of the craziest cookbooks ever. It now has a home in my collection and I will treasure it always. It has all the usual recipes you’d expect — Sweet ‘n’ Sour Meatballs, crockpot recipes galore, caramel corn, Oompa-Lompa Bread, Stroganoff for Nursing Mama’s Or Picky Kids (OK, those are different ;) The latter calls for oyster sauce, IMO and cream of chicken soup…) plus lots of standards that call for Rotel, jello and/or mayo. Lots of recipes from Sis, Cheri, Flo, Taffi and Laverna. (Why did I not name Wacky Girl “Taffi”? Man.)

my Dear, Late Granny: “You don’t eat enough bacon, that’s your problem.”

But this little gem has something out of the ordinary, and that something is… Jade. Here is one of her recipes:

Baked Beans
14 bean seeds
1 big bottle ketchup
Only 1/2 bottle mustard (because of how it tastes)

– Jade

I’m assuming Jade is the owner’s granddaughter, or perhaps just a kitchen sprite, but whoever she is? Funny, funny, funny. It also contains poetry!

I called her an angel when we were wed,
But it did not long endure,
For a year had not passed
When I really did wish
That she was an angel for sure!

Man! I can’t believe I only paid 14 bucks for this.

One more from Jade? OK.

Chocklit Cake
1 box of cake stuff
20 eggs
A drop of milk

– Jade

…but my buddy from high school is! Hi, Chris!

He and his wife do a nice job with the podcasting, go check it out.

– wm

Yeah, that’s not it. Why? Cuz I don’t believe I saw any hockey in that clip. We (heart) hockey. Hawkeytown!

(ps — it really is pretty here, isn’t it? It’s raining right now — poured so hard last night that it woke me up. I had to close all the windows! Everything was blowing. Really gorgeous now — the garden and flowers are so lush and green.)

(have a good weekend, y’all.)

xo

wm

My son: “Quick! Everybody close your eyes and let’s play ‘Who Licked Me?’” (Grandma and me, quick!: “No.”)

My daughter: “We’re playing a game — ‘What’s That Dead Thing?’”) (Me: “That is not a good game.”)

My daughter: “He’s counting up the dead squirrels and I’m counting up the dead cats and we’re going to see who has more by the time we get home.” (Me: “No.”) (Cats would have won. Uh. Lost.)

Both kids: “Woooooo-ah-woooooooo-ah-wooooooooooo-ah-woooooooooooo…” (That’s the “Sound of the Ambulance” game.) (Steve and me: “Please stop.”)

Both kids, again: “Let’s play the ‘See Who Can Be Quiet the Longest” game?” (Me: “Absolutely.”)

The funnest game was the “Sexy” game. We saw a sign for Sexy something… no, not lingerie. Or ladies. “Sexy Lawnmower Repair” or something, coming back from Newport. The kids thought that was funny, because we have a place called “Sexy Coffee” in the neighborhood. “Oooooooh, Sexy Coffee!” So this game is easy — you just add “sexy” to the beginning of everything:

“Sexy Road Repairs Ahead”
“Sexy Spirit Mountain Casino”
“Sexy Elk Jerky”
“Sexy Portland 22 Miles”

You get the idea. Sexy.

How’s your summer?

wm

Debi & Gabriele are my two favoritest bloggers right now (along with my girl Lelo, of course. Go look at pix of her glorious garden).

The new episode they posted on Under the Tuscan Gun includes a great recipe, a tour of Roman ruins and a rousing rendition of “Dante’s Inferno.” Right on.

My husband’s earliest memory: Watching the Apollo 11 moon landing, July 20th, 1969. Happy 40th anniversary, rocket men.

Cat fight outside (not ours, but you still wonder until you get up and go check), early newspaper delivery (thwack) and where am I? Oh, yeah. This is my room. In my house.

Insomnia. 4 a.m.

And I think we used up the last of the coffee at the beach. I’m askeered to go look. Ack.

We were at the beach! Staying at a beach house! For a few days, even. Isn’t that a thing of beauty? My mom and late, Dear Granny share(d? what do you say after they’re gone? It’s still her birthday, even though we can’t call her to tell her feliz cumpleanos) a birthday. Mine, as you may recall, was a week ago. It was always cool, having them together like that.

But this year is different.

Man. Is this year ever different.

When I called my mom to ask her what she wanted to do (thinking she’d say dinner out, maybe go for a hike…) she surprised me — “Take the kids to the beach!” Well, alrighty. So she rented us a beach house, and we covered the driving, groceries and meals out. It was so rawesome, as my son would say. Rawesome. We haven’t rented a beach house since I was a kid. (Pixie Kitchen, Pixieland, hours on the front porch reading, digging an entrenchment and castles in the sand, walking on the beach forever… fun.) (More pix of Pixieland? Okay, here you go. I’ve linked these before, I love ‘em.)

I was convinced that the Dorchester House was the old Pixie Kitchen, until my mom reminded me that it burned down. Denial, denial. It is a beautiful place to go in your head. (I had completely forgotten that it burned down. I’ve also forgotten which motels and hotels we’ve stayed at, our favorites, the best routes to the beach, once you’re there. Our house was great, but the staircase to get beach access was not. Concrete, carved into the hillside, 132 steps from here to there.) And being the Oregon coast, and not say, Carlsbad, California, it was blustery, cold and gray. Fleeces, hats that won’t stay on, long pants…

“Perfect weather!” says Hockey God.

We didn’t do any of the touristy stuff (including, but not limited to: Depoe Bay and the Sea Hag (we did go to Mo’s twice, yay, Mo’s), Newport and the coast aquarium — Wacky Boy is fond of the Oddwater exhibit — Devil’s Punchbowl, agate beach, the outlet stores, the freakin’ casinos… so many options, so little enthusiasm for driving). Steve and I did take a walk one morning and went for coffee. The girl was confused by his double espresso order and wanted to put chocolate or ice in it.

We visited Connie Hansen’s garden, which was, as always, delectable and perfect. They built sand castles and entrenchments, I watched until I got too cold. The news about the tides was right — they have been way out and the tidepools were extraordinary. Steve took some cool photos and I’m hoping he’ll post some. We watched movies, ate like pigs, read, did a puzzle, played games — it was a great weekend.

I read Joyce Carol Oates’s “We Were the Mulvaneys” cover to cover like a madwoman — could not put it down, stayed up late, got up early to finish it. It is her masterpiece. She just got out of the way and let Judd tell his story. Oates, the writer, who is such a strong presence in her own work that you can almost hear her voice sometimes, moved out of the way. It was Judd’s story, and Marianne’s, and Patrick’s. And there was Corinne and her husband, Michael Mulvaney, and their eldest, Michael Jr., who, in that frustrating way of older brothers, was elusive, bigger than life, then just almost there — then gone.

Oates is reliably good, spooky, deep, Gothic, emotional and detached all at once. Her writing means a lot to me, as a writer and as a woman. “Black Water” for instance was so good — years later it is still tucked away in my mind. (This is why I can’t remember our phone number, the password for the voicemail, which buildings have burned and which haven’t — it’s all those books tucked away, taking up space.) Intense book.

Gotta work out, catch y’all later.

Hope everyone had a good Fourth (if you’re in the States and like to blow things up). We loved being away from the fireworks and howling dogs.

xo

wm

I liked living in New York, for the short time I was there. Well, the several short times I was there (a few times for just about a week per visit, once for a few months). Esp. when my favorite bartender at Life Cafe asked me which Portland, “Ore-gone or Maine? Ore-gone! Oh, you got the killer green bud out there…” Glad we’re known for something besides the rain.

Funny story in today’s New York Times about golfing at Edgefield. I like McMenamins fine as long as I don’t have to eat their food. Also, I first ran into my sexy husband, Hockey God (thank god he finally updated his blog, woooooooot) when he worked at another McMenamins, the Barley Mill, when we used to live off Hawthorne. Also, when I finally got the nerve to break up with my gay boyfriend my new boyfriend and I used to hide out at Tavern & Pool in NW because if we’d gone to the Blue Moon he would have found us and honestly? I liked the new boyfriend a LOT more than the old boyfriend and didn’t feel like being found. I like men and bars is that so wrong? So you can see that McMenamins has played a big role in my love life.

Here’s my favorite Portland comment from the story:

it rains all the time. the people are mean. the streets are dirt. bears eat people in their back yards. Oregon is horrible. you would never, ever, ever, ever want to move there. don’t even visit. it is a scary place. rains all the time. rains all the time. no jobs. rains all the time. don’t even think about even stopping here, even for a day.
— cecil

cecil, u r soooooooooo rite! People here are the meanest. Esp. these girls. Can you believe they throw around phrases like “circle jerk” and no one even deletes the comment? Esp. since it’s in a post about a sweet little school where innocent little children are going to go? (In regards to my husband’s other blog: All Power to the People.)

Portland Girls: We Blog Dirty