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After a helacious day of thunderstorms, the West of Coos is still warm, muggy and rainy. We had hail too. And monstrous lightening, which is very rare around here. The thunder was rolling, with loud clapping intermissions. Quite the show! And now I see that rain is pretty much the agenda for the entire next week.
My flowers are not liking this news.
My parents had their annual Seafood festival garage sale. So I helped, and hung out, and drank their coffee, and watched the goings about from up on the hill.
For the past two day both the festival and the garage sale have been very, very busy. Looking over the bay into Charleston, all a body could see was wall to wall cars.
Lots of people said they were from inland, where the heat was driving them insane. They oohed and aahed over the plants, as they had to use shade cloth to keep anything but roses burning to a crisp. Poor city people.
They also said the whole town, whether it be a motel or a camp site, was totally booked up. Methinks we should be renting out rooms and rv parking. But a garage sale is good enough. People didn't seem too thrilled with the festival itself, but they loved Charleston and just wanted any reason to get out of the heat. Many said the garage sale was the highlight of the whole trip. And there are the repeat people, the ones that vacation and come visit us every year.
Today my parents ditched me in the afternoon. They had previously purchased tickets to see the Lipenzimerblahblah horses at the Myrtle Point fairgrounds. They did not realize it was the same weekend as their yearly garage sale. So Derek and I ran the garage sale for awhile and made up stories about some of the items. It's what we do.
Oh, and about the horsey show? The parents said the horses were really, really neat. However. They had purchased some special tickets for sitting in the front row that cost them extra money. When they got there, the people had sold more "special tickets" than they had spots to sit. So they drug out chairs and put them way down at the end. Basically offering my parents worse seats than if they had just bout the regular tickets and sat in the bleachers.
So after spending extra money, they just went and sat in the bleachers anyway. Hoping to at least get some far away view and perhaps a few pictures. But that too, was not to be. Oh no. For the people who planned the building of said bleachers had, in a STROKE OF GENIUS only demonstrated by the people in charge of anything at our small coastal towns, saw fit to build light poles. That blocked the view in many critical spots. Then of course there was that blonde doink that was in the front row and had to stand up the whole time blocking the view of everyone behind her. THE WHOLE TIME.
My parents vowed never to go to a show at that arena or fair ever, ever again. That was before the $4 parking or the $12 for an itinerary with a glossy horse picture on it.
I finally got that picture of the forked horn I was yapping about. YOU SEE NOW? Despite the blurry picture (I'm blaming my husband because, well, it's his fault), you can tell how cute he is.
It wasn't enough to subject you to one blurry deer picture. No. I had to subject you to a second blurry picture of previous said deer AND his sweetie. Then I shopped it to traumatize you further.
There's something reminiscent about this picture, something very... Last of the Mohicanish. You know, when the sister's are riding, or walking together or something, right before the battle where the BAD INDIANS go for the attack as their father surrenders the fort and leaves. When they are looking opposite ways, then they switch and both look the other way at the exact same time, like synchronized swimmers,
Like this:
Don't they remind you of the stupid sister? The one who drools catatonically the whole movie and finally has the where-with-all (whatever the hell that means) to throw her whining ass off a big high rock. Go deer girl!
