Stephanie says

Pinned. Can’t move. Pressure on my chest. Gripped by terror. Can’t breathe. Heart pounding so hard I’m afraid it will burst from my chest. Pinned. Can’t move. Can’t breathe. I try to fight, can’t move. Groan. I hear “you’re dreaming, wake up” And reality breaks through the surface of the nightmare. I awake drenched in sweat, gasping for breath. This Is A Theme Thursday Post. Click this link to check out what others have written on the subject of surface.

The move from Central Oregon to Yoncalla went quite well. I led the caravan at the wheel of a U-Haul van with Rosie cowering in her crate at my side and towing my ‘62 F100 pickup, next came Gus and Octavia in my car with Moose in the backseat, followed by Carlos bringing up the rear in Gus’s truck with Lilly and Bella strapped in their car seats. Carlos had the little girls to entertain but they love their uncle and behave for him. Gus and Octavia enjoying some quality alone-time were hampered with Moose, aka Mr. Flatulence. Lots of time spent rolling down the windows whenever he cut a foul one. I figure I got the best of that deal. Gus actually suggested switching dogs at our one rest stop. Yeah, right. Gus and Carlos began unloading as soon as we got to the new house while Octavia and I made a grocery run. We got back to find Gus searching for tools and Carlos nowhere in sight. Turned out he was locked in the bathroom. The door latch mechanism wouldn’t respond to turning t...

My grandfather, Elmer O. Post graduated from Oregon Ag (now Oregon State U - go Beavers) in 1917. After college he opened a creamery and made cheese. He operated a creamery for 24 odd years. He's the good looking man in the rubber apron. No bias here. He was visiting us shortly after attending his 50th class reunion in 1967 - I remember asking him how he could possibly recognize anyone after 50 years. Impertinent. As that milestone approaches for me, it doesn't seem as improbable as it once did...

Photo courtesy of Oregon Truffle Festival “In the rarified world of truffles, Oregon is known as the premier center of research and expertise outside of Europe.” Who’d have guessed? We’re talking Eugene Oregon specifically, a mere 40 miles north from my home. There are a variety of events scheduled, for the well-heeled anyway: Cultivation Seminar; Growers' Forum; Truffle Dog Training – which is of particular interest to me. My black dog has a keen sense of smell and is pretty smart (of course). I could train my big boy but he’d scarf down any truffles he found – he eats orange sections for heavens sake. I’ve read my share of the “A Year in Provence” genre and the subject of truffles get a lot of ink. But to date I have not tasted one. That is about to change. There is one event in my price range, for $20 I get truffles tastings, wine tastings, and a commemorative wine glass. I’ll let you know. I may have found my calling. http://www.oregontrufflefestival.com/news.html

polka dot piggies This Is A Theme Thursday Post.

On a wintry dark and rainy evening animal crackers and cocoa were exactly what I wanted for my supper. No cocoa to be found in the cupboard but a few squares 60% bittersweet chocolate melted in hot milk did the trick, a melting candy cane for my stirrer. No animal crackers to be found alas, so substituted toasted sour dough cut in dunking strips. And all was well. Animal crackers, and cocoa to drink, That is the finest of suppers, I think; When I’m grown up and can have what I please I think I shall always insist upon these. (Excerpt from Christopher Morley poem.)

I lived in Portland in the late 1960s and some of my haunts still stand, like “The Original Pancake House” at the end of the Ross Island Bridge. It seems like my group were pretty much unemployed and we’d hang there eating pancakes, drinking endless cups coffee (free refills) and smoking cigarette after cigarette. Ah, fond memories hack, hack. Restaurant venues in those days were blue collar American: Burger joints; pizzerias; breakfast chains; steak houses; bar food at taverns; one Greek cantina; fish houses; and “Chinese” – mainstream version of Mandarin. Taco Bells were just opening up and Mexican food was new to me and probably most of Portland, it seemed exotic, and I’m talking Taco Bell here. Go ahead and laugh. In the ensuing 40 years good food has made it to Portland and I make it a point to try new places when I visit my daughter. We had some very good Turkish food for cheap, cheap, cheap on my last visit. She taught a course in Thailand a few years back so we’ve been...