Modernization

This is the dirt road we live on.

I was pulled from my breakfast this morning to move my car so that pavers could come and fix the road.

I guess there wont be anymore hiking 20 miles on a dirt road to get to work.

I think they mean 4 eva. and by that I mean 4 mutha f***n' eva!

A drawer of manly things. Clockwise from left: brain medicine, adhesive bandages, extreme moisturizer that is a thick gel (either because it is old or because it is intense and manly), a paste like hair product, jungle-grade bug replant, a comb (this is mostly just for show), hair cutting scissors,nail clippers x2, nose hair clippers, manly anti allergy spray (witch I just learned lists glaucoma as a side effect), industrial sized deodorant for an industrial stink (which I forget to use 98% of the time).

I hate old cars and patriotism

I am just going to come out and say it: I think fixing up and showing off old cars is lame. You know whats even lamer than fixing them up? cruising.

And why, I ask, do they open the trunks? Do they want me to come check out the junk in their trunk? Because I will.

While I don't know if anyone would call me the most patriotic person, I am pretty sure you are NOT supposed hose down your flag.

And there is a Got-Damn spider in my car. I am so mad right now...

On a lighter note: here is my dinner of barbecued fish and plantains.

Fire(works)

This is Portland. We went to Pok Pok. There we ate boar and drank a whiskey soda ice cream float. This is not a picture of Pok Pok, this is a tortilla lady on the side of a taco truck.

This is a display of artwork not by children.

These burgers come with bits of cheese injected into them.

I was trying to take a picture of this baby's freaky little hands, but, it was just too wiggly.

Megan made Mojito's, with Mate (also known as Chimarrao, which, I just learned right now, has very elaborate rules regarding it's consumption) to celebrate the Fourth of July, or was it Canada Day.

One of Blythe's co-workers brought this amazing ice cream cake. It has clowns, tools, ghosts, flowers, Santas, bunnies and I'm sure there is some other stuff I'm not remembering.

When Megan told me that there was going to be bocci ball involved in the holiday celebration; I told her that bocci ball (also spelled bocce or boccie according to Wikapedia (boccie being the spelling that spell-check recognizes as correct (and we all know that spell-check (and Wikepedia for that matter) has never led me astray))) was lame and that it all sounded too bourgeoisie.

I guess I forgot that I am fancy now and love all things bourgeoisie e.g. picnics, white shoes and bocce ball.

Maybe this knife is a little excessive. But, maybe it's an excessive cake.

Surprisingly, no fingers were lost in the holiday festivities.

Here is a picture of holiday party goers. There was a clearer picture, however, no one would have appreciated it.

The streets of Portland were ablaze with fireworks

We found one front yard that must have spent hundreds of dollars (in a neighboring state or Indian reservation) on their arsenal of fireworks.

At various points fireworks would shoot off exactly when a cyclist or a convertible would pass by.

I think some of them probably wanted to come back and pick fights, but didn't for fear of being called un-patriotic.

For the grand finale they brought out, what looked like, a 2 liter bottle wrapped in duct tape. It wasn't very colorful, but it was really loud.