The Days Of Wyrd

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.

Posted by Wyrd at 07:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

That the Federal Government owns most of Oregon?  (53.1% to be exact)

That the King of Jordan ate a mushroom, swiss cheese burger and onion rings at the Kozy Kitchen in Myrtle Point?  I went through there a month ago and I had THE EXACT SAME THING.  I hope his food was better.  *Ahem*.  He was riding a Harley, btw.  I should send him a  S&M Barbie.

And most importantly, that our Coos County Icon, Crazy Theresa was spotted (bye me) hanging outside of McDonald's last week?  

Posted by Wyrd at 08:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

It's hot folks.  H-O-T.  My middle name is now, water-the-garden.  And the garden thanks me.  With tons of smelly, pretty flowers.  Carnations, Oswego Tea, snapdragons that smell like jolly ranchers, roses, lillies, lobelia, crimson mullien.  Everything is blooming, even the little hostas. And herbs galore.  Greens.  Mint for my juleps.  If I had juleps.  Is juleps a body part?  Wait.  Am I missing something?

 I worked on transplanting my lemon cucumbers yesterday.  They are my cucumber favorite.  My husband requested they be grown in our garden last year, because his paternal grandfather always grew them.  So I did, thinking they wouldn't amount to much.  NOT TRUE.  They were huge little globes of delightfully fresh, crisp watery cucumberness that grew wonderfully, even when I stuck them in too-little of pots.   One of the nice things about transplanting these cukes is that as you repot them you smell this wonderful fresh cucumber fragrance.  And it will make you happy.  Honest.

Posted by Wyrd at 02:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Instead of going camping around in the State in search of beautiful scenery and fireworks (which in Coos County and along the coast are staggered so that onlookers may participate in several gatherings), we opted to stay close to home and celebrate. 

We ventured over to the parental home for a nice family gathering and huge fire-pit barbeque.  Where else could we enjoy a private party with a view of Charleston, the bay, the bar, and south slough.  Plus the family is rich with wonderful cooks who bring many fine ass-fattening dishes.  I myself was instructed to bring "something chocolate".  And so I did.  Chocolate cheesecake with an oreo crust.  I melted a bag of caramels with a half a cup of heavy cream, added a cup of chopped walnuts, and poured it over the crust.  On top of that went the cheesecake.  Frosted with a dark chocolate ganache.  Had I been blessed with more time and a higher pan I would have added more layers.  Which was unnecessary.  Totally.

Also, Mr Wyrd took a few days extra off to work on the new greenhouse he is building me.  So in between planting more beans and peas outside and watering, I was repotting my greenhouse babies for the trip to their new house.  

On the actual day of the 4th, there were not as many people around and about as is usual.  Also, local neighborhood firework activity was down by about 90%.  It could be because our drunken neighbor has left for Alaska for work for several months.  Or it could be the $600 something fine that has been layed upon those who have fireworks that shoot more than 3 feet off the ground, (like all of them).  Which the police insisted they were going to inforce. 

Whatever.

Posted by Wyrd at 07:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Wyrd at 05:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

It seems that the yearbooks are out today.  The yearbooks we parents already paid some 40 or 50 bucks for.  Yes, Marshfield was letting the kids pick them up today... FOR AN EXTRA THREE BUCKS.  If they did not want to pay the extra 3 bucks, or couldn't, then they had to wait for Friday to get them.  What's the big deal you ask?  Well today was the last day of school for the Seniors.  So if the rest of the kids wanted their senior friends to sign their yearbooks, they were SOL.

Gee, thanks Marshfield.   Another petty way to suck more bucks out of the parents.  GOOD GOING. 

Posted by Wyrd at 04:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Or, young boy becomes a partial Transformer.  That's what has happened to my sweet Derek.  He just got a full mouth of braces a couple of days ago, after a week of torture with rubber band spacers between his teeth.  The spacers, they say, are the worst part.  And they hurt right away.  The pain of spacers is supposed to subside within two to three days.  Ibuprofen is the drug of choice.  Oh yeah, and the spacers pop out and break alot too.  If they break and remain between the teeth, no big deal, they are still doing their job.  If they come completely out you have to replace them yourself.  Or rather, MOM is supposed to.  Well mom couldn't. 

Derek's teeth were so tight together that the orthodontist's assistant could barely get them in.  And with so much chance of slippage, (mind you, replacing them requires that you thread a couple of pieces of dental floss through them and pulling tight, then cramming the fat little rubber band between the teeth), I could not tolerate the thought of cutting my already hurting son's mouth/lips up.  So after a few tries, I pussed out.  Derek, however, brave soul that he is, was determined to do it on his own.  AND HE SUCCEEDED.  Several times because the damn thing kept popping out.  PROBLEM SOLVED.  Sort of.

We were told very little about the braces process as far as pain goes.  I think that's because they don't want to scare the victim patient.  So Derek and I turned to our knowledgeable friends.  The consensus was this:

Derek's friends:  You can really eat whatever you want.  Oh yeah, and it hurts like hell.

My friends:  You have to change your whole diet.  What do you mean they can eat what they want?  Ask them this, are YOU an orthodontist?  So what makes you smarter than one?  Oh and sure, it's two years of torture.  Lot's of blood and pain.  But SO worth it.

In the end, it was not so much about choosing what he WANTED to eat as it was choosing what it was POSSIBLE to eat.  So far that is soup, tapioca pudding, jello, and little sandwiches picked into mouse size pieces.  And mashed potatoes.  Now excuse me while I go cook something soft and mushy for the boy.

Posted by Wyrd at 10:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The past two days were over 100 degrees here.  Today was a cool and breezy 90.  Every plant on the property began showing signs of burn.  My greenhouses and the porch and the garden are all intertwined with sheets and screens.  Thank god I moved so many things out of harms way.  Harms way = almost everywhere. 

Some years we pray for a couple of days of warm, and often we get them.  Maybe an Indian summer in the fall.  But never, ever, and I'm including the Great Coastal Heatwave of I think it was '82, has it ever been this hot on the coast.  At least not in my getting-quite-extensive lifetime.   Do you realize it was only two weeks ago that we had snow, hail and freezing temperatures?  HUH????

Kitty update:  Ripped out a bunch of stitches.  Stitches replaced, drain removed, and now the poor thing is in the dreaded CONE.  Why of course I will take a picture.

Posted by Wyrd at 07:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

After the sun started to go down, it cooled to 90 degrees on the porch.  I have been watering constantly today.  Not only is this heat dangerous for plants, but it also poses a massive threat to us used-to-cool-weather coastal beings.  Thank goodness I have trees and plants, it turns my zone into a balmy jungle region instead of a desert wasteland. 

I kept the house closed up today, (mostly because kitty got herself in another scrap and had an abscess, requiring her to have a drain put in, meaning no outside), and the ceiling fan on.  Everytime I thought I was going to die from the heat, I just went outside, where it was 20 degrees hotter.  I cannot imagine that tomorrow will be even hotter.  Is this possible? 

It's a perfect evening for that walk on Sunset Beach. 

Posted by Wyrd at 04:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Because it's my last of two real workdays.  I'm exceedingly lucky however, even my work is fun.  And it's not the only REAL work I do.  Just the part of work which I actually have to leave home for. 

Anyway.

Mother's day recap:  I got a truckload of gorgeous compost.  I also sent a truckload of compost to my mommy.  Derek's present to us both was to unload said compost.  Considering the tropical weather we are having, the dirt came just in time.  Soon you will be seeing pictures of my gardening antics.  And that's not a lie, like it was the last time, when I said I would give you my bread recipe later in the week and I did not.  But don't worry.  You will get that too.  Promise.

And just to show you I mean business, here's a pretty picture for you.

I have no idea who any of these people are. 

Posted by Wyrd at 08:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

It's been a cold and windy blowhole on the coast.  Big, cold destructive blasts of North Pole wind make it impossible to be outside and be happy.  Last night we actually had ice on our car windshields.  Bleah.

The basil I put out too early just shriveled up and croaked.  But did that teach me?  Heck no.  I'm still putting things out.  It's my sink or swim program.  It's also the only way I can empty out my crammed full greenhouses.  So I can start some more things.  Stop looking at me that way.

Posted by Wyrd at 04:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I've always had a little fondness in my heart for Bend.  I was forced to live there for a couple of years when I was much younger, and though in the beginning, I hated the idea to the point of depression, I actually came to appreciate a few of Bend's qualities. 

It wasn't really Bend's fault that I was at first unhappy.  Firstmost, I was miserable before I ever went there.  Secondly, I am just not a snow loving high desert girl.  I am an ocean craving seagypsy.   So starting out unhappy and going to a place that was completely foreign and uninhabitable to me, topped off with a fine helping of one disaster after another made it very difficult to have any kind of a positive attitude about my new surroundings. 

Infact, I absolutely hated Bend. 

The 100 and something degree summer days.  The nights that, (considering Bend has a  growing season of about two days), could turn to frost during the night at any time.  Then there were the sub zero winter temperatures.  And oh my GOD the snow.  And the ice.  The ice that I would fall on every time I entered a commercial establishment.  That little patch right in the door that I would ALWAYS hit.  Oh and the 12 foot long icicles that threatened to pierce your heart if you slammed the door too hard and dislodged them from the roof. 

As the days moved on, I came to see the similarities between Central Oregon and my hometown.  Both were centrally located through ways for the surrounding towns and cities.  Both became landlocked occasionally, cut off from the outside world because of mostly natural disasters.  Both had their locals, who were savvy about their surroundings and true survivors.  They were originally small town people in a small town just like Coos Bay.

Bend has had its share of takers as well.  Just like the politicians that come in here and mess things up and get what they can, this story makes me realize yet another example of the corruption and disloyalty that Coos Bay and Bend share. 

Posted by Wyrd at 09:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Just a few news updates from The Oregonian:

Bass in Columbia highly contaminated tests find. 

"New tests of smallmouth bass from the Columbia River near Bonneville Dam found fish with concentrations of industrial chemicals up to 26,000 times higher than what state officials consider safe for human consumption."

My.  God.

It would seem that the contamination comes from "historical" dumping of old electrical wire.  Or so they say.  You would think they would have tested said fish before now.  Of course, they are starting to test clams and all sorts of other aquatic food stuffs.  But you know, the fish don't just STAY in the river.  They actually do leave and go other places. 

Yeah, now we are getting the bigger picture here. 

Tests find SOME pesticide in lower Clackamas River 

In 119 water samples they found 63 pesticides and herbicides.  But you know me, I'm an environmental drama queen.  Pesticides and herbicides are perfectly safe to consume, why, they are practically vitamins! 

Posted by Wyrd at 01:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

That's right folks.  No Home Depot after all.  Concerned with falling profits, Home Depot decided to go over their contract with a barbie comb until they found themselves a legal out to their contract with us Wild West Folk.

Sad.  But not as sad as when we lost Lowes.  We like them better.

In other news, we had two earthquakes off the coast of Oregon.  A 5.9 and a 4.2.  WheeHaw.

On the home front, I finished a massive pile of paperwork this week.  M-A-S-S-I-V-E.  Paperwork is now replaced by gutting the living room, and gardening.  I potted up copius amounts of exotic geranium seeds.  I was reminded of how much I hated the word copius so I had to use it.  Today there will be sowings of varieties of Coleus.  Along with peppers and tomatoes. 

Greek Grrl aka NayborGirl and I tried to pretend to be social animals and ventured out into the city yesterday.  We looked for garage sales.  I think there were three.  All closed.  Because it was rainy and cold.  So we perused by the Goodwill.  I think I can truthfully say that I will never go there again.  Their prices were horrible.  When I go to a thrift store, I expect items to be at least half price.  Not only were they not half price, but they were often TWICE full price.  As was demonstrated by their many from-the-dollar-store items marked up to 1.99.  Next we went to hospice, which I have always cursed in the name of too expensive, but they are nothing like Goodwill, so I shall stop whining about them.  For now.  (I was rather grossed out by their coughing and hacking sick cashier though...).  Really, the best commercial non-profit thrift store is still the Salvation Army.  Bar. None. 

Posted by Wyrd at 09:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

My excuse for neglecting all that I am responsible for.  I'm blaming my big fat ingrown toenail.  I know it sounds like such a little thing to you.  But when it happened to me and my big fat toe was pounding and hurting, I thought, hmm, a little like bad labor.

When it first started hurting I kind of soaked it here and there, and just limited my wearing of hard shoes unless absolutely necessary, which I kind of do all the time anyway.  I was probably born in a barn too.  But then one day after abusing said toe, it started hurting bad enough that I knew a remedy was soon in order. 

So I did what I always do when I have a question.  I searched the web.  There I found a list of standard home treatments.  Half the people said, soak your toe, dig out your toenail and stuff crap underneath of it.  The other half said especially don't do anything I just mentioned.  Then if that didn't work go to the doctor.  

So I searched for information on what doctors did to you.  They cut off the side of the toenail a few times.  Then when that doesn't work they rip off the whole thing.  Then when that doesn't work they rip off the whole thing and treat it with napalm or some such shit so that it NEVER GROWS BACK AGAIN.  After all this lovely information and the joy of looking at pictures that make Freddy look benign, I decided to take matters into my own hands.  If all else failed I vowed to see the doctor.

So.

My house became a toe hospital.

In the bathroom I had witch hazel, cotton, soaking solutions, a tub, and a variety of surgical implements (metal files). By the couch, I had vitamins and ibuprofen.  I arranged things so that I did not have to walk very far to accomplish my TASKS.

And you know what?  I was lucky, so far it has worked.

What worked for me was:

1. keeping off my feet as much as possible

2. absolutely no shoe wearing, only loose sandals and socks, or just socks.

3. If my toe didnt hurt too bad, I pried up part of the nail, after soaking my feet, and gently pushed a small twisted wad of witch hazel soaked cotton underneath of it.  Three of four times a day is a really good idea.  Sometimes I used a goldenseal tincture.  I bet an essiac tinture would have been good as well.

4. Soaking my feet at least 4 times a day.  Though less was better than nothing, soaking them more kept Mr. Fat Toe healing faster.

5. Just in case, I ordered this strange thing on the web.  It's a rectangular piece of something technical that you glue to the top of your toenail.  It has a memory, that makes it want to flatten back out, so it pulls the sides of your toenails up slightly.  They say you get immediate relief and 80% of people were cured.  Whatever.  I didn't have to use it so I don't know.

6. Oh yeah.  I also put a bandage on my toe, only on the underside, as if I had cut the bottom of my toe.  You apply it right up to, but not on, the edge of your toenail, and wrap it around the back, and slightly pointing towards your heel.  My bandage was pretty big so I wrapped it clear around the other side of my toe, and stuck it on the top of my foot.  I realized, that you could pull it tight enough to jam the OTHER side of your toenail into your toe.  Potentially causing an ingrown toenail problem on both sides of your poor sad hurting little toe.  So don't do that. 

7.  By the way, and I know this will come as a surprise to all of you, but, I am NOT a doctor. 

Posted by Wyrd at 08:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Just a little bathroom break so to speak, a hiatus from pictures of ships and flowers.  A brief PAUSE.  A bit of Eye Candy.  Check out that bejewel-like igloo.  When I was little, my beloved cousin was going to build an igloo for him and I.  An igloo with which we could escape the adult world (we were in trouble.  again.).  A little underground home made of ice.  Furniture.  All ice.  Only there was no ice.  Just dirt.  And though we tried hard.  All we managed to do was to dig up the old dead cat.  And then we were in trouble.  Again.

I'll stop now. 

Posted by Wyrd at 08:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)