Even the Clouds are Relaxed
Nice relaxing Labor Day weekend. Friday, we unplugged from last weeks tragic realities and headed down to my fathers tranquil and remote compound in Southern Oregon. No T.V., no cellphones and no computer were the name of the game. Technology replaced with a whole zoo’s worth of nature’s critters. We saw tons of deer, hawks, star fish, sea anemones, a bear (that we barely missed hitting as it hoped across Highway 101). We drank wine on the deck, read books, and watched impressive cloud formations explode upon the horizons. Even the clouds are different out here in the West. My dad’s place is situated on top of a large hill and from the deck you can enjoy a vista that spans about 300 degrees. The amount of stars you can see at night while laying in the hammock is almost unnerving. It reminds me of an old Calvin & Hobbes comic where Calvin, staring up at the stars, contemplates existentialism, only to be pounced on and ravaged by an overly playful and downright darwinian Hobbes.

While staring up at the stars Saturday night the misses received her first ever bee sting. I know, it’s hard to believe someone can make it into their 30’s without ever having been stung by a bee – but she did. Her winning streak ran out when, in the dark, she inadvertently stepped on a ground nest and subsequently got stung on the foot. It was pitch black outside, so it was anyone’s guess what hit her. She was certain that she had just been bitten by a huge venomous snake or overtaken by a whole party of deadly scorpions. Next time we head down there we’re bringing two of these bee death hotels.

I’m trying to convince my father that he needs to buy a vintage airstream to put on his property.

Soundtrack to this week being provided by the beautiful samba-bossa stylings of Joyce. Her guitar work and voice are completely settling, like the sound my cat makes when it jumps on the bed. Also, a great Azymuth Brazillian Soul t-shirt.