It’s Just A Fantasy


Ok, here’s the kind of weird ass fantasies I find myself daydreaming when I’m bored walking around with the dog. I see this teeny, beat up motorboat today with peeling paint and sun faded windshield in a parking lot. I think to myself, how cool would it be to buy this thing, put like 300 pounds in the front to keep it from flipping before buying the most powerful motor on the market and strap it on the back. I then take it to like the most expensive lake community in America where people have those $200,000 speed boats they sun on and just kick their ass in this beat up fishing boat. There they are showing off to friends when I come out of nowhere passing them at Mach 2 in this total junker. I’d so do this.



What next, Elmer Fudd as an Astronaut?


Sometimes when we look to see the man behind the curtain in life we find a very different version of reality than we expected. Take my recent trip through Nevada where I passed very near the southwest edge of area 51. My entire science paradigm crumbled as I learned this simple Bugs Bunny technology (pictured) was being used to launch our advanced space craft rather than captured alien technology. I am truly devastated.

Country Wisdom


Since moving back into the heart of Oregon farm country after a decades absence, I’ve become ever more curious about the cultural islands out there that have survived the onslaught of new inhabitants from California. Driving the backroads of Dayton looking for interesting photo subjects, I was heading for Salem when I spun the car around to go inside Bob’s Grande Island Country Store. There I found this group (pictured) of farmers indulging in conversation over a morning coffee. I’ve learned to look very inconspicuous in such situations, and claimed a table nearby to listen in. The topic of the day: California fires. The group solution? Get a million hungry goats and release them onto the ridges of the mountains above Los Angeles and let them eat the undergrowth to the ground thereby strangling the fires from any further fuel. Oh country wisdom, how I love you so.

The Cathedral Challenge

20171212_150631 (2).jpg

You can find a full 18 hole frisbee golf course at Mission Creek State Park just outside Salem on the banks of the Willamette River in Oregon. The 12th hole, the famed “Cathedral,” is pictured above. And you thought you needed a steady hand to cut the Thanksgiving turkey! If you’ve never tried frisbee golf, you can buy discs at just about any sporting goods store. You’ll need a driver and a putter!

Memory Pull


It had been over a year since we’d visited the Alameda Hot Springs Retreat in Montana, but that didn’t stop our dog Barley from digging in like a tractor and pulling me to the room we stayed in previously right after I hooked him up to the leash. I continue to respect our animals abilities for memory and emotion as I move forward in this life and spend more time with them.



I was in a favorite local restaurant recently when the owner pointed out a new item he started carrying that week. It was Ginger Beer, and if you’ve never tried it, the ginger gives the beverage a kick not present in the average soda; so after your introduction, it’s easy to become a ginger beer addict. I wasn’t disappointed by the new line, but found myself trying harder and harder to speed up the flow of the liquid as I drank. I knew something was different so I turned the label around and found it was bottled in Australia. Then it made sense, the small mouth on the bottle was more culturally appropriate for a country that didn’t associate meal time with massive portions, all you can eat buffets, and Double Big Gulps. Just as I’d found in Japan, much of Europe, and Thailand, consumption was more about enjoying flavors and pairings over machine gun eating. It’s good to have these little moments of awareness to understand how much of our lives, even little things, are guided by cultural perception.

Ghostly Visit


One of my spontaneous travels brought me to the old mountain ghost town of Garnet, Montana recently. The former mining town that once held thousands of people is now filled with camera bedecked tourists trying to find memorable selfies amidst the crumbling remnants of former lives. It’s an eerie feeling walking into a room filled with the possessions of interrupted lives (pictured). Perhaps it’s that intrusion that makes one feel ghosts still wander the halls as you momentarily share their space. Walls peel and wood fades, but the atmosphere remains. Such isolation would have been a hard life without television and wifi, but somehow we managed to survive. The experience made me reflect on my own relatives crossing the Oregon Trail, giving me the knowledge that somewhere in there, I must have some pretty tough genes.

Previous Older Entries

%d bloggers like this: