A Blog about Blogging: A Few Blogs That I’m Enjoying :)
I started blogging about 2 years ago, and I must say that it has been pretty exhilarating. For one, I love to gab, so this is the perfect platform for me. For two, I love to read other people’s blogs. In this blog, though, I just want to share with you a few people whose blogs I never miss (with a couple of mentioned exceptions). Even if I don’t always comment on them (I know I need to get better about that. Otherwise, how will they even know that I’m reading it?), I never miss an article.
Here are a few in alphabetical order:
- Believe in the Muse, a blog by an ex-coworker/fellow grad student named Angela Pinckard. (I like to think of her as still being my coworker/fellow grad student, though. Miss you, Ang.) Her blog is always an interesting read.
- Coffee. Cardigans. Vinyls. Love, a blog by my husband. I may be a bit biased, but he is an excellent, passionate writer. He makes me want to be a better person, which is why I married him, I suppose.
He just moved his WordPress blog over to a Tumblr platform, so if you already are a subscriber to his WordPress blog, you’ll need to be sure to subscribe to his Tumblr if you want to read what he updates currently. - Donald Miller, the self-titled blog of my favorite writer, Donald Miller. He is on a bit of a hiatus right now while he’s finishing up his latest book, but he still updates regularly enough.
- The Happy Janssens, a blog by someone named Sara that Cheyenne turned me onto. She used to talk about her adventures on the road with her nomadic family. They have since settled down and bought a house, but the blogs are still interesting.
- Jonathan Foster, the self-titled blog of a friend. He writes a lot of inspirational blogs that make me want to go out and do good things.
- No Such Thing As Normal, a blog by one of my church acquaintances named Taryn Davidson. She’s an excellent, funny writer whose wit is penetrating and shocking. I would say Chelsea Handler meets someone-not-quite-so-crude…at least most of the time.
- Our Lovely Mess, a blog by one of my dear, far-away friends named Cheyenne Johnson who writes about her family, motherhood, natural things, etc. But don’t let that scare you. Most people who write about their children all the time are annoying, but her writing is definitely not annoying. If anything, it’s self-sacrificially honest. I admire her realistic outlook and the charm of her writing.
- Rachel Held Evans is a self-titled blog, obviously. I haven’t read her blogs very much, but I have read a few. She’s smart, and she smartly handles her material. If you have an open mind about God, faith, religion, etc. and if you like somewhat deep theological discussions that make you think and force you out of your comfort zone, then you might enjoy her blog.
- Soppin’ Biscuits, a blog by one of my coworkers named Megan Martin. It’s funny, punchy, and charming, much like her real-life personality if you know her. I wouldn’t dare categorize her blog because each entry is equally random.
- Thoughts on a Page, a blog by Tim Hatten. I went to church with Tim and his adorable family many moons ago. I just started reading his blog, and I am enjoying it thoroughly. However, I can’t quite categorize it since I haven’t been reading it long enough. But based on what I’ve read so far, he seems to write about life, God, his family, etc.
I want to thank all of the bloggers that I have mentioned for your wit, your charm, your brilliance, and your insight. Keep the blogs coming, and when you get discouraged because you think that nobody is reading your stuff or that nobody cares, remember that you will always have at least an audience of one (and I don’t mean yourself). 
For the non-bloggers who are reading this blog, you need to follow these people because they are adding so much flavor to the gumbo of the writing world. For all the bloggers who are reading this blog, follow each other if you’re not already. Also, if I didn’t mention you here, it’s not that you suck as a writer and a person; it’s just that I might not be reading your blog. But if you’d like for me to read your blog, just leave a comment with a link to it, and I’ll be sure to check it out.
Also, I’d like to know whose blogs you’re reading. Feel free to share.
Happy blogging!
Saturday, June 18, Day 10 (the final day) of Our Road Trip: “Gosh, It’s Getting Hotter and Hotter”
Holly’s alarm clock started blasting at 5 a.m. I woke up and looked across to their bed. Apparently, the alarm clock didn’t alarm anyone but me. About a minute later–after no one woke up–I turned the thing off and went back to sleep. Big mistake! We didn’t wind up waking up until about 10 a.m. instead, which put us dramatically behind schedule. We had a 10-hour drive ahead of us. After getting everyone up, getting dressed, and eating food from the gas station next door, we didn’t leave until around 11:00. I was wearing my new garage sale brown sundress–the one that was too cold for Portland–and we noticed that the temperature outside was a melting eighty or ninety-something degrees.
Kansas was the first hint that we were nearing the Mason-Dixon line. First of all, it was hotter than our Wyoming gas stop (35 degrees). Second of all, the people were beginning to seem more and more “Southern.” We saw a Baptist tour bus parked outside of Arby’s. The only thing remotely similar to that in Portland was a Chinese Baptist Church. (I’m not even sure if that qualifies as being similar.)
After making our way through the boring state of Kansans, which was just as boring as Texas, with the exception of the occasional buffalo that we saw–or was that in Oklahoma–we arrived in the anticlimactic state of Oklahoma. Our GPS’s route had us driving through Tulsa, Oklahoma City, Texarkana, Shreveport, and then home. However, once we got to Tulsa, we happened upon a road closure of the interstate that went from Tulsa to Oklahoma City. We aimlessly drove around Tulsa, trying to allow the GPS to reroute us, but it insisted on rerouting us to the closed road every time. Holly took out her iPhone, pulled up Google Maps, which found a route that was cognizant of the road closure, and got us back on track. This route would take us through Muscogee, OK; Fort Smith, AR; Little Rock; Eldorado; Farmerville; and then home. This doesn’t sound like a bad route, but it caused us to get home at midnight instead of 9:00. Eek! I then began thinking about the nature of decision-making and how one decision can have such an impact on your life.
We sat in a place called Backyard Burgers and pondered over our recent adventures, especially the Utopian land of Portland. By this time, it was already a hundred or so degrees outside. We learned that it got up to about 103 in Louisiana that day.
As hot as it was when we got out of the car and into our driveway, it felt so good to be back home. My mother had been staying at our house during that time to watch our basset hound, but she had left a few hours before to go home. I opened the door, and Abigail approached the baby gate between the living room and kitchen. She simply stared at me. No barking, no howling, just silence. I walked closer to her confused face and said, “Abigail?” A light bulb clicked on in her head, and she started moaning and whaling like I had never heard before. The dramatics lasted for about 10 minutes as she spun around in circles and barked maniacally, which caused her to hurt her own ears, thus giving her the need to shake her head violently in order to make her big ears flop around carelessly so that they would stop hurting. There was a constant train of howl, bark, shake…howl, bark, shake. We were home at last!!
Thursday-Friday, June 16-17, Days 8-9 of Road Trip: “Palio’s, a Cemetery Journey, and Homeward Bound”
We woke up, took our showers, packed our bags, loaded up Holly’s car, and caught the Max line back to Palio’s Coffee so Josh and Holly could experience the place with the magical coffee, as well. Fortunately, we didn’t get lost this time, and once inside, Cody and I ordered poppy seed bagels with cream cheese and white chocolate mochas. Holly ordered a macchiato, and Josh ordered a hot chocolate and a vegan peanut butter chocolate chip bar. We sat down for a while, sipping on our drinks and reflecting on how much we enjoyed our stay in Portland.
We then walked down to SE Hawthorne Blvd. and stumbled on a fantastic used furniture store filled with cool retro furniture. We looked around for a while and then walked down to the bus stop. On the way there, Cody screamed, “Hey, I think that guy on the motorcycle was Donald Miller.” (He still swears to it.)
While at the bus stop, we talked to a man who guessed that we must be from Tennessee because of our accents. Even the most deliberate accent masking still isn’t enough to disguise my thick Southern draw. Oh well…I guess I’ll just always sound like Ellie May Clampit no matter where I go.
When we got on the bus, I shouted, “It’s Terrible Tim!!!”
“NICHOLE!!!!!!” the bus driver loudly responded.
“You remembered my name! That’s crazy!!”
“Of course I remembered your name,” laughed Terrible Tim. I was so happy. Cody was so happy. We were all so happy. Portland was simply a giant love den.
We got off the bus, walked to another stop, and caught the next bus to Mt. Calvary Catholic Cemetery, which was located just a short ride outside of the downtown area. The road leading to the cemetery had enchanted, mystical rainforests on either side. We got off the bus and went to the main office of the cemetery. “Hi, my aunt called you a few days ago about the grave of Harold James,” I told the attendant. Harold James was my great-grandfather, a man whom I had never met before in my life. During Aunt Gloria’s genealogy research, she found out that he is buried in Portland, OR, and then she sent me on a mission to find his grave and take a picture of it.
“Oh, yes,” replied the attendant. “Here is a map for you. Just walk up those stairs in the center of the cemetery until you get to the trees that are about halfway up, and his grave will be the the second grave on the third row.” I took the map, thanked her for her trouble, and then led everyone up the hill. We went straight to it. There it was. The grave of Harold James, my great-grandfather who had left my Nanny Williams before I was ever even born and went to Portland. I stood there mesmerized by the idea that I was standing over the grave of the man who started the entire side of my mother’s family as I knew it, a man whom I had never known nor had ever even really heard about, a man with whom I might even share various facial features or personality flaws, 6 (or more) feet below me, a man who had moved over 2,500 miles away from his family, my family. I sat there somberly over his grave, wanting to stick around much longer, wanting to take a piece of him with me somehow, but the bus would be arriving in a couple of minutes, so I had to say my goodbyes to him.
The bus arrived as soon as we made it back to the street, and it took us to the Max station where we rode the green line all the way back to the hotel where Holly’s car was parked. We said our goodbyes to Portland, stopped at Wendy’s for burgers, and headed east on I-84, about 300 miles from the Oregon/Idaho border. We stopped for gas just outside of Portland, and the attendant who was pumping our gas looked exactly like Harry Dunne (Jeff Daniels) from Dumber and Dumber, we joked later.
We had plans to make a 26-hour, nonstop drive to Selena, Kansas. The GPS said that we would make it there around 8:00 p.m. the next night. As daunting as it was, we figured we would do anyway so we would save money on a hotel or tent lodging.
The eastern Oregon countryside was as stunning as the southern countryside, complete with its rolling hills, crystal clear creeks, and vibrant green grass and underbrush. I dozed off to sleep a couple of hours later and woke up to the sound of Josh panicking over the terrible road conditions in Idaho. There were huge rocky mountains on either side of our car, and they were covered in snow! Yes, snow! The narrow, two-lane road was his warranted reason for panicking. The mountains were almost spooky as their ambiance penetrated the dark atmosphere of the night.
Our next state would be Wyoming, which was filled with rolling hills and cattle ranches. When we approached Cheyenne, Wyoming, Cody surprised us with George Strait’s “Leaving Cheyenne” on his iPod.
When we entered Colorado, we could see the snow capped peaks of the Rockies in the distance. We even saw the occasional gazelle prancing around while we were there. We stopped for gas, and I gave the lady inside 30 dollars. We were so wrapped up in our conversation when we left that no one actually remembered to pump the gas. We realized it about an hour down the road. I took the receipt and called the phone number that was on it. I spoke to the manager who informed me that they would mail us the money if their drawer showed that they had an extra 30 dollars in it, but he wouldn’t know until the next morning until it would be time for the assistant manager to count the drawer. So we agreed to call back the next day to check up on it. Bummer.
We finally made it to the boring state of Kansas, drove for what seemed to be another 50 years, and finally made it to Selena. We got a room at the Super 8 Motel. Josh and Holly went for a dip in the pool, and then we took showers and went to bed.
Favorite quotes of the day:
“I Googled ‘how to start a dairy farm.’” –Cody
“My grandmother just ruined this picture of my macchiato by commenting, ‘It looks like mashed potatoes and gravy.’” –Holly
After running over a tire in the road, Holly said, “I once did that to a dead dog.”
After eating one bite of Josh’s vegan cake, Cody screamed, “I’m so Vegan!!”
“Now that we’re on the road again and are just sitting here doing nothing, I can write down people’s quotes more frequently.” –Nichole
“Crap. I’ve already used all my good material.” –Cody
We woke up and made our way toward Voodoo Doughnuts, which is one of the popular spots among the locals. The decorations were quite interesting, sort of reminiscent of a bedroom of one of those Gothic kids from the 90′s. Some of the benches looked like caskets, and there were t-shirts for sale that had funny expressions. One said, “The magic is in the hole.” The place was magical. They had several different varieties, but I stuck with the old standbys: one glazed and one chocolate glazed. Cody, however, had a chocolate glazed and a Butterfinger ® doughnut. (Yes, I just wanted to put the cute little registered trademark symbol after the word “Butterfinger” because I thought it would be cool.) Holly ordered the Oreo ® doughnut and the Tangtastic ® doughnut, and Josh ordered two plain cake doughnuts, complete with chocolate milk.
When we left there, we decided to go back to Powell’s Bookstore. (We’re so one-dimensional.) I didn’t buy any books, though, because I kept comparing the price of the new/used book to its Kindle counterpart, and the Kindle always won. I feel almost wrong for letting the Kindle win, but one day when I’m rich, I won’t worry about such things.
I stopped in the stationary section and bought a few postcards. I climbed the stairs to the coffee shop and plopped down at a table to write them out. There’s something so right and pure about physically writing your friends and family. I think I might take up letter writing one day. Maybe I’ll get a French pen pal like the one I had in the sixth grade.
Holly and Josh left Powell’s to go to Whole Foods, then to H&M, and then to the hotel; and then they took a sky car to Oregon Health Sciences University while Cody and I remained at Powell’s for a little while. As I was completely engulfed in my post card project, pretending to be Jane Austen while gazing longingly toward the misty streets outside the window, Cody approached the table and revealed his recent findings. One was a book entitled Confessions by Tolstoy, which was about his disenfranchisement with the direction of religion and how he sought to seek spirituality on a more personal level. Cody said, “Donald Miller is the modern day Tolstoy.” The second book that Cody had chosen (the one that he actually bought) was a book entitled Fires by Raymond Carver, which is a collection of his essays, poems, and short stories. The book had been recommended by one of the employees as being a “must read” for anyone who wants to learn about cultivating his/her writing voice. The story of his that I’ve always enjoyed is “Cathedral,” mainly because of the dry, snarky main character. If you ever get a chance to read it one day, do it.
We made our purchases, walked down the street and dropped the postcards into the mailbox, and then proceeded to find a place to eat. We found a little Chinese place on Urban Spoon called Sunshine Café. We didn’t realize that it was going to be another Asian place, but by the time we got there, we were already tired of walking and were extremely hungry, so we decided to stay. Cody ordered terryaki, and I ordered something American: a turkey, cranberry, and cream cheese sandwich on sourdough bread. It was quite tasty.
Afterward, we went back to the hotel to change clothes. I had been wearing a sun dress and was a little chilly, so I wanted to bundle up a bit. When we left the hotel, we got on the bus to go to Palio’s Dessert and Espresso. Our bus driver introduced himself as Terrible Tim. He was such a mystical, fantastical, wonderful hippie who was quite chatty. He got off the bus at the same time as we did because the next driver’s shift was starting, and he gave us directions to our next stop since we had actually missed it a few miles back. We sat there and talked to Terrible Tim for about 10 minutes or so while we waited on the next bus. He told us about how 20 years ago he had ridden his bicycle all the way from Rhode Island to Portland and then wound up staying in Portland because he didn’t want to bike that far again. He gave us his phone number and told us to call him if we needed some ideas for good eating places. As he was writing down his number, he told us, “I promise I won’t try to sell you Amway or religion.” We got on the next bus, and Terrible Tim told our driver, “They’re going to Palio’s. Be sure to tell them where to get off.”
We got off the bus and found ourselves in a neighborhood called Ladd’s Addition. The houses there were so charming, but what was better than the houses were the billions of rose gardens that lined the streets and filled up the centers of various roundabouts. It was still drizzling a bit, and the moisture brought in the sweet smell of the roses as our eyes were almost unable to contain the lush green grass and wild ferns. We got lost, but a young mother carrying her baby in a baby backpack (unsure of the technical term) and another woman said, “Just follow us. We’re walking right by the coffee shop.” We learned that locals refer to this area as the vortex since it is nearly impossible to find your way around the neighborhood because of its oddly-shaped layout. Each intersection in the neighborhood is a roundabout that is centered around a proud rose garden display, which is why the intersections are so unusual. Also, there would be roundabouts instead of regular intersections in order to avoid the cutting down of a tree.
Eventually, we got to the coffee shop where we said goodbye to baby backpack lady. We walked inside and ordered white mochas. I don’t know if you remember me talking about how FANTASTIC the coffee was at Old City Java in Knoxville, TN, when we went there last year, but this is the first coffee shop to ever compare with the taste of the coffee there. We sat at a table and people watched outside our window for a while. Hardly any cars passed by at all, but mostly everyone seemed to be on bicycles. The place was absolute heaven.
Cody sat there reading Raymond Carver as I updated my blog. I couldn’t help but get distracted by the group of 10-year-old boys sitting at a table next to ours. They were playing some type of smart, nerdy card game as they sipped on their coffee and made Seinfeld references. A man and a woman approached their table and began discussing the card game, among other things. They were talking to these boys like the boys were grown adults. These kids were smart, so smart that I stared longingly toward their table, resisting the urge to ask, “Can I have you?” I want to have smart kids. How does that level of intelligence even happen?
We left the shop and walked down the street toward what we would eventually learn to be the wrong bus stop. But we were okay with it since we got to observe the locals in their natural habitat. We finally found the right stop, got on the bus, tried to make our way toward Mississippi Pizza; but naturally, we got lost again. But we eventually made it there about an hour after Josh and Holly did. We watched a local band (not sure of their name) perform their little hearts out. I think I remember seeing a guitar, a trumpet, an accordion, a stand-up bass, and maybe some other instruments. Cody bought what he thought was their CD, but it turned out to be the CD of the band that followed them.
We didn’t have enough time for the main attraction, so we caught the last bus of the night, made our way back to the hotel, and called it a night.
Favorite quote of the day:
“Earlier today when I was sitting in the hotel and the housekeeper came in to make up the beds, I had to resist the urge to have the ‘don’t-tuck-the-sheets’ talk.” –Cody (Seinfeld fans will understand this one.)
I woke up on Tuesday to find that Cody was almost dressed and ready to take Portland “head on.” I looked over at Josh and Holly who were still sound asleep. I then took a shower, and when I got out, I saw where Cody had sent me a text message that said, “I decided to go on down. Let me know when you get out of the shower, and I’ll tell you where to meet me.”
I sent him a text and then met up with him on the street below. We walked to a coffee shop called Temptations Café where we had coffee and muffins, Cody a lemon poppy seed and I a blueberry. We sat at one of those tables that is attached to the window, making it perfect for us to people watch.
All the rumors were true. Almost EVERYONE either rides a bike or rides public transit in Portland. There aren’t a whole lot of people who simply walk on the sidewalks, unlike New York City where the sidewalks have traffic jams that I liken to the traffic jams in the West Monroe High School hallways.
After we left the coffee shop, we walked through one of the city parks on our way to meet up with Josh and Holly back at the hotel. We were amazed at how the fresh air wafted the sweet smell of Portland’s flowers into our nostrils right there in the middle of town. Everything was so lush. After we met up with Josh and Holly, we rode the train to Powell’s Books, which is the biggest used bookstore in the United States. As we walked into the door, the smell of used books nearly knocked us down, and we just stood there and breathed with our eyes closed in the entryway. It was just as amazing as the Grand Canyon. We walked around for a little while, and then Cody realized that he had forgotten to brush his teeth and put on deodorant, so we decided to separate from Josh and Holly and go back to the hotel. But we promised ourselves that we would go back the next day, at least. All of our phones died, so we couldn’t meet back up with them afterwards, but we decided to make the most of our time. We went back to the Pearl District and then eventually made our way to the Portland State University campus.
Portlandians are very passionate people. Just before getting off the MAX light rail to go to the university, a few gamers (people who are obsessed with video games) hopped onto the train and loudly talked about video games the entire time they were on there. Cody was laughing on the inside at how intense they were and how they were acting out the characters in the games. We love Portland.
We decided to tour the bookstore on campus and the campus itself. For a campus that is downtown, it is definitely beautiful. We walked around the campus for a while and then decided to go get some grub. We were kind of lost at this point in the ballgame, so we simply went to the first restaurant that we saw. We stopped at some sort of Asian restaurant–can’t remember the name–and it was absolutely delicious. I have no idea what I ate, but it was spectacular!
Afterwards, Cody and I decided to go check out an apartment that we had seen earlier that was for rent , but the place was an absolute dump, and it was smaller than a small hotel room. We walked around aimlessly for about 15 minutes or so and then made our way toward Washington Park. Again, what gorgeous scenery we saw, and the hiking was fantastic, especially considering that we were still very close to the city.
We left there, went back to the hotel, and tried to locate StumpTown Coffee on the computer. We found the location and then rode the long ride over there. It was well worth it since we got to see a coffee shop that roasts its own beans and had a barista that had a really killer mustache who had awkwardly loud heavy metal music playing in the background, which added to its coolness factor. I ordered a chai latte, and Cody ordered a mocha latte, on which the barista practiced his latte art. Most baristas in Portland–if not all–have to basically go to a barista training school before they can be hired in a coffee shop, which makes for consistently delicious cups of coffee everywhere you go.
Afterwards, we met up with Josh and Holly at Bridgeport for supper. Fun times were had.
We took a bus back to the hotel. A girl across from me had piercings all the way up her ear, but instead of earrings, her holes were filled with probably 20 different paperclips. Nice! Beside her was a woman who was talking about her daughter. “My daughter just got a Kindle,” she boasted. “When she’s having a stressful day, she goes into her room and reads.” The lady then wadded up her fist and said, “Yes, that’s what I used to do. I’m so proud of her.” I smiled softly and thought about how much I loved Portlandians. When we made it back to the hotel, everyone crashed for the night in hopes of waking up earlier the next day.
We woke up in the Rodeway Inn in Yrek, California, and were so happy to be able to take showers. I must say that the water pressure was the best I’ve ever witnessed. After we left the hotel, we stopped by Burger King and ate ham, egg, and cheese croissants. Well, Holly had a chicken sandwich and Josh a burger, but Cody and I had croissants.
We made our way toward Interstate 5 and were left speechless by the Northern California countryside. Filled with rolling hills, Holly and I had no other choice but to sing songs from The Sound of Music once again. We crossed the Oregon border and were so happy to finally arrive at the state of our destination; however, we couldn’t go to Portland just yet. We decided to drive to the coast and take the scenic Highway 101. It’s almost as though we were afraid to go to Portland. We had built up the place so much in our minds that we were almost scared of it.
Before we turned off of Interstate 5, we stopped to get gas and were quickly reminded of the fact that people aren’t allowed to pump their own gas in the state of Oregon, which thrilled me since pumping gas is one of my least favorite activities in the entire world. I went inside to pay, and Cody stayed outside to to talk to the attendant.
“Are you enjoying your stay in Argon?” the attendant asked with a thick Oregon accent.
“This is actually our first stop,” Cody responded, just before telling him about our long adventure from Louisiana.
The man said how amazing it was that we were doing that and that he wanted to do something like that himself one day. Then, Cody asked him if Highway 101 was worth the extra time that it takes to get there, and the man said, “I don’t know. I’ve never been.”
We would soon learn that that it would definitely be worth the extra time. But in order to get to 101, we had to cut through at Highways 138 and 38, which were so beautiful. A clear blue river flowed beside us on one side, and on the other side were rolling hills and pastures that were the happy home to various elk and sheep. As I gazed out the window, I pretended to be Heidi frolicking around the hills, just before the scenery evolved into an enchanted rainforest with trees, moss, and wild ferns on either side of the road that created a canopy over our pathway. It felt as though we were in Fern Gully.
After we turned onto Highway 101, it was a while before we actually arrived to the coast. It was nothing like anything that I had ever seen before. We parked the car at one of the access points and made our way toward this beach of wonder. The violent waves crashed into the rocks, which served as the perfect backdrop for the boulders, caves, pelicans, seagulls, and starfish. It was chilly, and not long after we were there, a melancholy mist politely started to come down, revealing to us why the Oregon ground is so lush and green.
We didn’t want to leave. Ever. But we needed to head to Portland before it got too late. We stopped at a gas station so I could use the restroom, and I saw that it was located outside. I decided to see if it was unlocked before going through the trouble to get a key from inside. It was unlocked. Perfect. While inside, the lumberjack-looking gas attendant opened the door while I was on the toilet.
“Hey,” I screamed.
“That’s why you’re supposed to ask for a key,” he barked at me as though trying to teach me a lesson.
“It was unlocked. Why would I get a key if it’s unlocked?” I responded.
I heard nothing after that. Apparently, he either felt like an idiot or decided to stop being a pervert. I walked back to the car, and when we drove off, I scowled angrily at him as he eyeballed me through his angry beard.
I don’t know if I won the argument or not. I suppose that if I had, he would have felt bad or something.
We then went across the street to eat at a Fish ‘n Chips restaurant. I suppose I could’ve just used the bathroom here, I thought to myself. But it was too late, of course. But after we left the restaurant, I rolled down the window and yelled out a few insults. I guess you could say that I won at that point.
We started making our way to Portland, only a few short hours away, and Holly read Donald Miller’s Through Painted Deserts to us aloud.
When we finally arrived in Portland, we almost couldn’t contain our excitement. One of the first stores that we saw from the road was a store that sold unicycles. This place couldn’t get any more perfect. We checked into the hotel and then proceeded to go out to find a coffee shop. The streets were clean and quiet–so quiet that they were already closed…ha–so we came back to the hotel and turned in for the night.
Favorite quotes of the day, as recorded by Holly:
“I want to write a letter to those lights.” –Cody
“So Burt and his bees are healing my lips.” –Cody
“…and his ear wax.” –Holly
“Look. More Joshua trees, Joshua.” –Holly
“I don’t even remember what it’s like to work anymore.” –Josh
“You’ve only missed one day so far.” –Cody
“It would be weird if they were something other than the Elkton Elks–like the Elkton Rebels.” –Josh
“Ugghhh!!!” –All
“It’s gorgeous. It’s Josh Copeland.” –Cody (on Pacific Ocean)
“Ponytail time! Pull it out. Pull it out.” –Josh
Check back to this blog in a couple of days. I’ll be posting a few videos of our time at the beach when I have a faster Internet connection.
We woke up Sunday morning to the sound of the kids of the man with the propane lamp fighting over a Pop-Tart, along with the loud squawk of millions of birds that must have been standing directly on our tent. Once we realized that we weren’t going to be able to go back to sleep, we all decided to go ahead and get up. As we began stirring and eating a few bites of the food from our goodie bag, I noticed Holly gazing longingly toward the people in the tent next to us. California Dad—as Holly referred to him—was practically perfect in every way, much like Mary Poppins. She observed how his children had patches sewn over the holes in their jeans. How nice. Holly even considered going over to California Dad and asking him if he would adopt her. At this point, I’m laughing uncontrollably.
When we finished nibbling on our food, we packed up our camp in record timing and then took the scenic drive back to Yosemite. We found a trail that led to Bridalveil Falls, which was spectacular. We climbed on the rocks, took a few pictures, and then decided to hike on the 2.1-mile trail toward El Capitan, another large waterfall. But this waterfall was dry because of the season, but we could see rock climbers who had been up there for days. I’m still pretty amazed at the situation. They’re probably still up there, peeing happily into a can.
We then hiked back to our car and then decided to say goodbye to Yosemite and begin making our way toward Portland. We stopped at a pizzeria along the way and a little coffee shop called Dutch Bros out in the middle of nowhere that had a top-notch barista. We thought, “Welcome to the Pacific Northwest where fine coffee shops are a dime a dozen. “ Happy were we.
We finally stopped in a town called Yreka to sleep in a hotel since some of us had not bathed since day one. The hotel was pretty shabby and was reminiscent of the movie Vacancy, according to Cody who was continually trying to make us frightened of the place, but that didn’t keep us from sleeping soundly while visions of Portland danced in our heads.
Favorite quotes of the day:
In response to the hardcore factor of the rock climbers….“And I thought WE were hardcore for riding in a car for 40 hours –Holly
“Are there any suspicious DVDs in this room?” –Cody
