Oregon, I love you Oregon. Your deserts — so near. Central Oregon — so lovely. Your beaches — from Portland, only two hours away! Your big mountains, also only two hours away! We can ski, snowshoe, swim and surf. Bring a wetsuit, though, and possibly the Coast Guard. It’s a little rough, our beach. (And I’m talking all of the Oregon coastline, until you hit far, far south.) It’s rocky and often rainy and windy and sunny and gorgeous, sometimes all at the same time.

I hate you, Oregon. Your lousy schools, your rude citizens… (It did not used to be this way, I’m speaking as a native here. However, a new transplant, a woman who moved here from the Bay Area with her pre-teen daughter, recently described Portland to me thusly: “Portland is like a really beautiful woman, and you think, ‘She seems nice!’ Then you find out she’s this rude, evil bitch.” I apologized because, you know, I Am Portland, Hear Me Roar, and told her, “I could not agree more.”)

… your hellish traffic, your mold and mildew that clings to our lungs and sinuses and makes my daughter’s asthma come back…

(We hate you, asthma. Bugger off.)…

…and brings my bronchitis back for its twice- or sometimes thrice-yearly appearance. Will it turn into bronchial pneumonia? Will it not? Will antibiotics work, or will my lungs kill me this time? Stay tuned.

Hockey God and the kids and I have been dreaming — in all honesty, it’s my dream, I’ve just dragged them into it, now — about moving away. We’re thinking Iowa, where his family lives.

“We come from Iowa/
Iowa!/
corn in every hand/
finest in the land/
we come from Iowa/
Iowa!/
That’s where the tall corn grows…”

Do we really need:
7 Bed, 2.25 Bath
3,400 Sq. Ft.
7.38 Acres

???

Do we?

Well hell yes we do, because it’s priced to sell at $269,900, and that is much less than you could get a fixer-upper for here. And “here” would include no acreage, no view, plus lousy schools, bitchy people, more rain than you could ever dream of, and possibly a drug house or two on the block. Because, you know. “The neighborhood is transitional! That’s why we can get you in at this price!” Love, Your Realtor.

We love Iowa. We’ve started job-hunting. The kids are already starting to pack.

More on this later… of to take Wacky Girl in for a doctor appointment. Asthma.

From the last few fortune cookies we’ve nibbled on here:

“Your mentality is practical and alert.”

“You will win favors when you expand your social circle.”

“Work on improving your exercise routine.”

“The softest voice sometimes carries the most power.”

“Children will play an important role in your life.”

On the news just now:

“Tough week for an Oklahoma family who is trying to relocate to Portland. Everything they owned has been stolen.”

Welcome to Portland — here’s a nice drug house for you to live next door to.

I called my girlfriend today. Let’s call her M, because that’s her name:

me: “Was it your birthday on the fifth?”

M: “Of October. It’ll be coming up again next October.”

me: “It’s not October?”

M: “And… Anna Nicole lives on.”

me: “Seriously. It’s not October? What the hell month is this?”

M: “Hon. It’s February.”

me: “Hmmm. So Happy Valentine’s!”

M: “Thanks, babe.”

My favorite spam I’ve ever received:

“You A Winner!”

No, YOU a winner!

I, I am NOT a winner for “Share the Love.” Dammit. Terrible Mother, you rock.

Back to my list: To my kids, everyday I say, “You’re the best.” For my Thursday Thirteen, here are “Thirteen Other Ways I Get Them Talkin'”:

May I start by saying, if you ever meet us in person, you’ll be thinking a better question is, “How do I get them to stop talking?” Nonetheless, I’ve heard that some of you have kids who clam up. Even Wacky Girl, for example, has been known to tell her father, Hockey God, “Ask mom, I already told her,” when he asks, “How was school?” (more…)

“There are three things in life that are fun to watch: a rippling stream, a fire in the fireplace and a Zamboni going around and around.”

— Charlie Brown

“This is my living faith, an active faith, a faith of verbs: to question, explore, experiment, experience, walk, run, dance, play, eat, love, learn, dare, taste, touch, smell, listen, argue, speak, write, read, draw, provoke, emote, scream, sin, repent, cry, kneel, pray, bow, rise, stand, look, laugh, cajole, create, confront, confound, walk back, walk forward, circle, hide, and seek. To seek: to embrace the questions, be wary of answers.”

— Terry Tempest Williams, naturalist and author (1955- )

Hockey God started a Friday Fiction blog. Because we’re not blogging enough around here. Post if you have anything, or maybe join us next week?

My first effort:

Grocery Lists I’ve Found in Various Shopping Carts
by Wacky Mommy

List 1:
Bread
Milk
Water
Cereal-Golden grams
p-nut butter
+
jelly (more…)

I’ve been nominated for a blog award over at Share the Love (One Woman’s World)!!!!! Yeah and allelujah! And the house said… (Amen.)

In what category, Wacky Mommy, pray tell? Best kisser! Can you believe it?

I jest. 8. Woman Power! — Best Representative of Women! Yes, that’s right. I am just, you know, so feeling the love and happy since receiving this nomination. I’d like to thank all the little people whose hair I yanked to get here. And my DOG! I love my DOG! And the kids. My husband, for never giving up on me, even when I wouldn’t let him sleep at night. Because I was bored and needed someone to talk to. And also I didn’t like my pillow, so could he please give me his? Thank you, baby. To all my readers and fans — I LOVE YOU. Here’s a latte and a cooky.

So please vote for me! While you’re over there, I would like to put in a word for two of my favorite writers and mamas, Planet Nomad and Terrible Mother. Also, I think one or both of them nominated me so I kinda owe them. Please vote for them, too. Only I just noticed they’re running against each other for “Best Writing” so I don’t really know how to advise you there. Although I did notice that Planet Nomad has been nominated in, like, four categories. Show-off. So vote accordingly.

Also, I just found out via Terrible Mother that Molly Ivins passed away. Goddammit. A Texan who would have made a rockin’ president, gone. Rest in peace, girl.

Pet lovers of America: Are you neurotic? If so, your pet must have inherited it from you. If you’re well-adjusted, no problem. You must have some unexplored, deeply hidden neuroses because your pet? All of his/her/its problems are your fault.

For my Thursday Thirteen:

13 Things I Found Out at the Vet’s Office Today

13. I need to modify my behavior if I want the dog to change, according to the vet tech. I began cursing at her, and it went downhill from there. And yes, she already knew about this and this (but not this) from reading his chart. (Is it karma? Is this whole thing my bad karma, because I stole the dog? Universe, you win.)

12. “I have fucking tried everything. Nothing works,” is what I hissed at her. (I did not slap her, as promised. Sorry.) Then I told her I was ready to have him put down over this, because my life is a mess. My house? Also a mess. She harumphed and left. They then sent in another vet tech who was nicer.

11. Just because the cat has worms it does not mean the dog does. Or the other cat. We now have a prescription for worm medicine for the one cat.

10. I found out that if I give the dog four tablets of Benadryl (25 mg. each) he may sleep at night and not stay awake, tormented, chewing his feet and tail and keeping us awake. (Bonus: I didn’t have to buy any! I’m planning to give him the liquid stuff I give the kids. Not straight out of the bottle — I’ll use a medicine spoon. Which I will wash afterward. Or burn.) (Also, the whole visit set me back $144. And that was without shots.)

9. The vet: “If you’re not getting enough sleep because the dog is keeping you awake, this might make you a little stressed.”

8. Then: “Our goal is to keep you less crazy than your dog.” Good, because that’s my goal, too. Finally we’re on the same page.

7. I need to take out the trash every time I leave the dog alone in the house. And keep all the dishes done. (Funny, I’ve already been DOING THAT. Because the few times we haven’t: Chaos.)

6. I am to give him one Metronidazole tab, 500 mg., every 12 hours for the next week. This supposedly will prevent bowel-carnage all over my domicile.

5. If I fill out a nine-page “Canine Behavior Consultation Questionnaire” and pay a vet who specializes in separation anxiety hundreds, perhaps thousands, of dollars, she will work with us. Sample questions: How does your dog get along with family members? Answer: Too well. He cannot bear to see us go. Describe your dog’s learning ability. Answer: He is smarter than I am. I’d have to say “Pretty good” to this one. List family member with least control: Hahahahahaha!!!! See? It’s always gotta come back to me, doesn’t it?

4. The Dog Whisperer says, “Give me a biting dog anyday over one of those frickin’ neurotic Yuppie Black Labs because those dogs? Those dogs cannot be helped.” (Or words to that effect. Actually, I didn’t find this out at the vet — I told her that I’d read this in an interview with him. She sadly agreed.)

3. If we try giving him treats we might be able to teach him better habits. (If we hadn’t already tried that one, lady, my dog probably wouldn’t weigh NINETY-SIX POUNDS. Not 85 — 96.)

2. Doggie Prozac might help. We probably would not be able to find a good adoptive home for him. (We’ve considered this.) “Dogs like this are extremely hard to place.”

1. “It might come down to how much your quality of life is suffering. Not his — he’s fine. I mean, look at him. He’s fine. But this is not good for you.”