(Church bbq picture--thanks Gina!)
Annnd...she's home. It's funny coming home after so long. It doesn't feel like it's been 11 months since I've been here, EXCEPT...I went for a drive today (all the way to town, in fact, for the express purpose of buying hazelnut coffee creamer and root beer--yay for cars!), and there are several new houses and a new park! I hate finding new things like that popping up all over the countryside. I'm not sure which is worse: driving by it every day for three months and feeling irked each time until it's finally finished, or finding it already done in concrete finality, thereby rendering useless all forms of passive aggressive resistance (muttering as I drive, for example). Anyway. There's a park on Thatcher road. I'm over it. really.
In other neighborhood news, my parents got an invitation this week to attend the wedding of a very lovely neighbor girl. The invitation is handmade. The gift registry is at Walmart, and the driving directions are provided from ACE Hardware. The wedding is in a family-owned park up the road. I think that's all refreshingly unassuming.
Oh, and speaking of married. The customs officer in New York was so busy asking me about my marital status and then about whether I have a boyfriend that he nearly totally forgot to ask about my recent contact with livestock! (which is what he was supposed to be asking me about all along). Thought you'd all be pleased to know your border officers are so diligent about containing the flu pandemeic. Not five minutes later, a guy also making a connecting flight struck up a conversation and found out that I'm from Oregon. "You look like a good wholesome Oregonian girl," he said. I've been wondering ever since exactly what good, wholesome and Oregonian look like, because when I stepped in a ladies' room a few minutes later, all I could see was that I looked like I'd been up 16 hours, on a plane for half of those, and not wearing any makeup. That doesn't say much for Oregon, if that's an identifiable look.