Thursday, August 27, 2009
Discovery
Ok...so I have lived all my life in the same small town. But...I have been in the city of Portland which is 75 miles away so many times it seems as though it's my second home. Traveling over Highway 6 through the Coast Range, driving the road from memory, knowing each little twist and turn. Watching the road, being safe, keeping those eyes on the road. Never once had I diverged from the road and been to U.S. Forest Service Jones Creek Campground. Yesterday I did.
A friend has been camping there this week (it's her first time there too) and asked me to join her for a day on the riverbank. When I turned off of Highway 6, I was blown away by the beautiful campground and facilities. Private, quiet sites with dappled sunlight filtering through the tall trees, made me want to immediately go home and get my tent! The day use area has easy to navigate steps down to the river and the water was wonderful. The river is quiet there and perfect for kids and families. Lazily floating on the river, I enjoyed the warm rays of the sun and good company. I hesitated to leave, the afternoon was perfect!
We couldn't believe that we didn't know how wonderful the place was! Always driving by, we never knew such relaxation and rejuvenation opportunities were available right off of the beaten path. It pays to pause and enjoy the moments of this crazy thing we call life...
Sunday, August 23, 2009
It's Time
It's time...almost time to return to work after a summer of adventures, travels and r & r. One more week before the school year begins and "early to bed...early to rise." I'm looking forward to another year of working with students, parents and reconnecting with my co-workers. The "little universe" that is high school is never dull and there is always something going on. I suppose that "something" could be called "drama." Yes...little bits of drama everyday when you are working with teenagers. But I wouldn't change it for all the time in the world. Watching young people grow into adults and learning to deal with "real life" is fascinating. It keeps me young and reminds me to take one day at a time.
But before school, there is one week...one week of summer vacation left. Unfinished chores that are on the "to do" list beckon me with guilt. I turn my head away from the list and listen to my heart that tells me that the jobs will wait, but the summer days will not. Deep breaths and warm sun are on my priority list this week. Time is of the essence and I will not waste it...so where is my lawn chair and bring me my ice tea...The lazy days of summer are here for me!
photo above is the tiny city park in Christopher, Illinois where my father grew up. I visited there in June with my parents.
But before school, there is one week...one week of summer vacation left. Unfinished chores that are on the "to do" list beckon me with guilt. I turn my head away from the list and listen to my heart that tells me that the jobs will wait, but the summer days will not. Deep breaths and warm sun are on my priority list this week. Time is of the essence and I will not waste it...so where is my lawn chair and bring me my ice tea...The lazy days of summer are here for me!
photo above is the tiny city park in Christopher, Illinois where my father grew up. I visited there in June with my parents.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Shadow Paths
It is a beautiful day...warm and sunny, a perfect August afternoon. I am relishing the last two weeks of summer vacation and vow to remember the sweetness of the season. Life is good. In my daydreaming, I remember those who are going through life's sorrows, specifically the loss of loved ones. While I am enjoying the warmth and wonderful weather, there are those that are clinging to sanity while mourning the passing of cherished family. Everyone has their hurts and sometimes it is too easy to let those in pain pass by without offering a word, a touch or comfort. Why do we let them pass by? Sometimes we just don't know what to say, we don't know how to say it or we simply don't want to appear foolish and stupid by our lack of eloquence.
Let me be brave enough to appear foolish...let me be honest enough to share my failures, my misses with others if it will help them rise above their despair. I don't want empathy to ever leave my heart. I will try to take the path that points the way to honesty and loyalty...even though it may be in the shadows...
"It is impossible for one to live without tears who considers things exactly as they are."
Gregory of Nyssa, De Beatitudine
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Pig N Ford at the Tillamook County Fair
My son, Chris drives car 12 in the Pig N Ford races at the Tillamook County Fair. For those of you that have never heard of these "unique" races, check out the Pig N Ford website.
"In every race, each driver must first grab a 20-pound pig before cranking his engine, hopping into the T, and zooming around the track at speeds of up to 65 miles per hour. When he returns to the finish line, he must turn off the engine, return the pig to the correct numbered pen, grab another, and do it all over again. Twice. The first car back to the finish line is declared the winner. Strategy helps (particularly in the pig-exchange portion of the race, when drivers must decide where to park, to block or be blocked), but it’s mostly a mad, dusty dash, with humorous sound effects, that has delighted crowds for eight decades." (from Oregon Coast Today article 2006)
My son's father, Rick Hurliman began driving car 12 after purchasing it from his uncle, Francis Hurliman in the early 1980's. After much expense, we rebuilt the car using vintage parts and after a few years had a contender. Rick won a few championships on car 12, but after an accident in 1999 (he got kicked by the crank and severely injured his hand), decided to retire from driving. Chris has been racing the car for several years and has did a great job! This year the car had some mechanical issues and Rick and Chris, with the assistance of Chris' grandpa, George Hurliman, did their best to work the kinks out. The old car didn't cooperate and Chris was held out of the running for the championship. That's the way it goes with the vintage racers, sometimes they run like a top and sometimes they don't. That's part of the challenge and fun of Pig N Ford racing. There's always next year, Chris! I'll be there again rootin' you on!
Labels:
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pig n ford,
summer,
tillamook county fair,
tillamook oregon
Cowgirl Up!
One of my favorite things to do is to watch my daughter, Lesley barrel race. For many years I was a "Show Mom" and hauled the trailer to take her to horse shows where she rode Western and English. Her horse, Nevada was awesome for her and they shared many wins and awards. After Lesley graduated from high school she decided to make a change and go from the form of equitation to the speed of barrel racing. She purchased a young mare named Little Calico and is training her to race. In the meantime, Lesley has discovered that Nevada has the speed of a little stick of dynamite! Nevada has a lot of heart and is fast around the barrels. So Lesley is enjoying taking Nevada to some barrel shows and letting her "do her job" around the barrels. Of course, I love to tag a long and root them on. Great family time and awesome memories! Cowgirl UP!
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Perfect Chicken Dinner: North or South?
Top: Southern Fried Chicken Dinner (mashed potatoes/gravy, dumplins, sweet corn, green beans, cole slaw and homemade yeast rolls) served family style at Giant City Lodge in Giant City State Park in Southern Illinois.
Bottom: Northern Chicken Dinner
I wrote the following for my college Writing 121 class a few years ago. Funny what you can compare and contrast!
The Civil War, or the War Between the States as it is called south of the Mason-Dixon Line, is not over! There are countless subjects that “fire up” the heart of any true Southerner, and the quest for the perfect chicken dinner is one of them. There is definitely a “North and South” difference when it comes to a chicken dinner dining experience. While you might walk away from both dinners a bit stuffed, you typically will be stuffed full of entirely different foods.
Walk into any family restaurant in “Dixie” at suppertime and you will most likely be greeted with a cheerful, “Hi, ya’ll. Have a seat and your waitress will be right with ya.” Your waitress will arrive and ask if you want sweet or unsweet tea. She’s not talking about hot tea; she’s talking about fresh brewed ice tea, the Southerners year around beverage of choice. If you ask a Northern waitress for “sweet tea” you will probably get a blank stare, or a pot of hot tea with a few small packets of sugar. You will also get that “deer in the headlights” look from the Northern waitress if you ask if the tea is fresh brewed. It seems that the only ice tea that most Northern restaurants know is the kind that flows out of the fountain pop machine.
A good dinner salad is usually enjoyed next by Northerners and Southerners alike. The Southern salad might contain some black-eyed peas, baby lima beans and turnip greens in addition to the expected lettuce and carrots. The Northern salad usually has something a bit “artsy” in it, like a festively cut piece of onion or a hard chunk of baby cob corn. The big difference is the choice of bread that accompanies the salad. In the North you might get a stale breadstick or if you’re really fortunate, a special dinner roll fresh off of the Franz delivery truck! Those dining in the South will enjoy either a big thick slab of hot cornbread and honey butter or a mouth-watering handmade buttermilk biscuit and fresh jam.
Moving along toward the main course, some Southern decisions need to be made. In addition to the real mashed potatoes and country gravy, you will choose two or three “sides” from a huge list that includes: corn, fresh green beans and bacon, greens, cole slaw, fried apples, dumplings, macaroni and cheese, hash brown or sweet potato casserole, fried okra, to name a few. In the North, you will have the “awesome” task of deciding between a baked potato, French fries or rice pilaf, which is really a clump of instant rice mixed with bullion with a few peas thrown in for good luck. Most Northerners decide to “play it safe” and stick with the baked potato (only available after 5:00 p.m.) or enjoy a few fries with ketchup.
After the choices are made, dinner, as it is known in the North, or supper, as it is known in the South, is served. It’s time to bring out the “big bird”. “Up” North your chicken might be broiled, baked or marinated in some “fancy-dancy” goop. It might be covered with fresh lemon slices or it might be stuffed with something strange. It will probably be a boneless breast, as Northerners think the breast is the only edible part of the bird. You can be sure that it will have a pretentious sounding name, like “Grand Chicken Lemon”, or something of that nature. “Down” South you will enjoy golden brown, crispy, hot, well-seasoned fried chicken, breasts, drumsticks, wings and other assorted parts included. It will have been fried in either butter, lard or bacon grease and it will be so delicious that your arteries won’t care a bit! Plain and simple, “down home” chicken can’t be beat!
If you are still able to find a corner of your tummy left unfilled, dessert is waiting. In the South, you might choose an apple dumpling made with tender slices of Golden Delicious apples, baked in a crust, covered with pecan streusel and served warm with vanilla ice cream. In the North, you might pay the price of a whole pie for a sliver of pie, “fresh” from the freezer. As you eat your dessert, your gaze will fall upon the bill for your meal. It is almost guaranteed that the Southern meal will be about one-half of the cost of the Northern meal. It’s one instance where you don’t get what you pay for! However, the expected tip is the same no matter where you dine. You then “roll” out of the restaurant with visions of a long nap to help you recover from your gluttony.
While the history books declare that the North won the Civil War, there are definitely some battles that go unreported and undocumented. One such battle is the “Battle of the Chicken Dinner”. This battle rages on and fuels the War Between the States, fought in Southern dining halls where the tinkling of the ice cubes in the sweet tea mingle with the rebel yell of “Southern chicken rules!” to the fern adorned eateries of the North and the timid cries of “Just say no to fat!” Having eaten chicken dinners on both sides of the Mason-Dixon Line, I choose to live and dine in Dixie! The South will rise again, thanks to their perfect chicken dinner.
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