On Friday, July 27th, Adair and I left Salem at about 9:00 local time. We made good progress east through Pendleton, and into Idaho. Although they say Idaho is east of Oregon, I'm not sure I believe it, because things went decidedly south during our time there. You may or may not know, Idaho is the worst state in the country. However, it must have a terrific marketing department, because we could not find a single hotel in the entire damn state. In Twin Falls, the Blue Angels were in town. In Burley, there was a triathlon starting the next day. I saw no water in the area, so I assume it was a triathlon involving some sort of dinner/desert/alcohol consumption competition. So, we pushed right on through. Once entering Utah, things definitely got better. We found a hotel on my dying phone, and reserved it. Unfortunately, it was a complete trash heap of a place, but it was cheap and our car was left untouched during the night. Not sure how many Mormons we saw, but at Denny's a...
Rage. That's what I feel...because I left my damned Cheetos at the checkout stand. Lets start at the beginning. As we may have mentioned before, recycling basically doesn't exist in New Orleans. I know this city/state has some bigger problems, but for whatever reason any hint of sustainability has never been made a priority around here. Adair told me that at her school they do teach the kids to sort out the recyclables, but it's all a ruse, as the teachers just toss it all in the trash at the end of the day. I'm not sure that the thought really counts on this issue, but oh well. I'm not trying to push my granola Oregonian agenda on anyone, but I feel like most of us can agree that recycling is generally a good thing; especially in a city that finds itself with such a wealth of glass bottles week after week. So, fine. No recycling, I can live with that. Putting a juice container in the trash once in a while won't kill me, no matter how strange it feels. Howev...
Or, Being Pregnant is Effing Crazy Or, Or, Being in the Womb in Even Crazier Today I held my wife's hand while a doctor hunted around inside her like a blind man looking for a nickel. This doc touched my baby's head. My baby, who is still like two weeks away from being born. Thirteen Marches from now, we will be celebrating my daughter becoming a teenager, with the subtle implication being that exactly thirteen years before, she became a human. The lesser known fact of that day will be that actually, thirteen years and two weeks before , an actual person fuckin shoved her around in there before she was even born to try and find her mom's cervix while she continued to gestate. Jesus. And this isn't some awful emergency scenario or macabre medical malpractice going on, either. The baby is great, and the doctor is great. This little procedure is supposed to make sure Adair doesn't go too far past 40 weeks. So that mean's that it's this lady's j...
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