We don’t get out of Drain much.



As evidenced by today’s Christmas shopping trip into the metropolis of Eugene, (It’s all subjective.)  Drain’s population hovers around 1000 souls; Yoncalla has just about the same.  Eugene has a whopping 160,000 AND traffic signals.  Just so you know, red means stop. 

Teresa drove today and must have maddened the traffic-light deity because at each and every intersection, the light turned red as we approached.  I didn’t notice this particularly until after our stop at Harbor Freight to pick up a gift for her husband, (an electric wood splitter of all things.  They have been married a very long time…  Wait, wait, is there a “Fargo” joke lurking in there?)  This was a virgin visit for me and I purchased an assortment of flashlights for stocking stuffers, a long-running favorite of my daughter.  I bought a hammer and tape measure for Bonnie – who is closing on a fixer-upper house next week.  She’s gonna need tools.  Giving credit where due, this was Teresa’s clever idea. 

We’d set a time to meet Bonnie at the Eugene Saturday Market and were running early.  What now?  A trip to the Latino market to replenish a spice Teresa loves, (and one unavailable at the market in Drain...)   I’ve driven past this grocery many times and had a glowing recommendation from brother Terry on their delicious lunch counter.  He was shopping there once when a little girl tossed her doll up into the top shelves.  Who knows why.  Kids.  They do stuff.  The girl approached Terry, asking him to get the doll down in Spanish, (he is a tall, tall fellow, who as it happens is fluent in Spanish, and had this opportunity to rescue the doll and charm the girl and her mother.  And me.  That’s Terry.)  

I digress.  Walking into the grocery, the aroma of spicy, spicy food cooking assails the nostrils.  The air is thick, almost palpable with exotic scents.  Imagine a Hanna-Barbera cartoon depicting aroma swirling enticingly around and above before diving into a bulbous nose. 

A fine produce section has four-foot long cactus blades soaking in a water pail.  There are nubbly choya cactus fruit in the bins.  This is far more than a Latino grocery.  There are banana leaves.  Pints of fresh Kim-chee.  I’m in food heaven in just the produce area.  Later I finds tins of apricot jam (huh?  Tins?)  Tins of quail eggs packed in water (and that’s a little creepy.) Stuffed grape leaves.  I could spend a lot of time here. 

But we must go meet Bonnie.  We’re at most, two miles from the fairgrounds yet getting there was surprisingly difficult – if I’m not driving (wonderful) then I’m not paying attention.  If I am driving, then I’m not paying attention.  Notice the similarity?  Well, I wasn’t driving and Teresa appears to suffer from the same affliction.  But you know what?  With much laughter, we found our way.  The back way as it turned out.  Got a parking spot in the first row.  Crossed a little bridge and there we were at the main door of the Lane County Fairgrounds Exhibition Center.  We even found Bonnie!  

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