Odd Things

Today was a day for odd and quirky things.

I needed to go out to Marcola in the beautiful Mohawk Valley, just over the ridge to the east, to pick up all the hamburger that resulted from the cow that our cattleman friend Charles delivered there for us. I had trouble finding the place so I stopped at the little general store, which was like stepping back 50 years, with its old wooden floor and all. And then the proprietor proceeded to tell me that he comes from Mennonite stock, and a great-great-grandpa was the first Mennonite deacon in America, and his grandpa on his mother's side carried in his buggy the lumber for the first Fairview Church, and there was a connection to Milford, Nebraska, in all this.

That kind of thing doesn't happen too often.

Then I found the meat place which looked more like an old secondhand store, and out front was a dumpster piled high with glistening white bones edged with touches of pink. If you think about it, this is not something you see every day.

The door was like someone's back screen door and I was relieved to see the inside, which was all professional with stainless steel counters and hairnetted workers.

The nice lady told me to back up to that white building. I did, and she wheeled out a stack of seven large racks, each one full of bags of frozen hamburger set on end. "Here you go," she said, "and that there is full of boxes." 'That there' was an ancient green trailer thing, just past the old boxes lying in the mud, whose back doors opened up to reveal, surprise surprise, lots of boxes.

Did you ever pack about 400 bags of frozen hamburger into your car? Thankfully the cold wet rain had let up (Yes, at times in Oregon we have warm, dry rain) and I packed and carried and lifted for a long time, and then this nice gentleman came along and helped me.

I had scouted out a few garage sales on my route and at one of them I found a nice black jacket for Paul since he is always ruining his at the warehouse. After I came home, however, I was very chagrined to find that the words GEYSER PEAK WINERY were embroidered on the front. Why does this sort of thing always happen to me?? And Paul is not like our friend Konrad who would wear it but leave the garage sale tag on to show that he doesn't actually support a winery.

So I took a seam ripper and picked out the very tightly stitched word WINERY until I nearly went cross-eyed, figuring if we all keep this little secret, then Paul will think he's wearing a jacket from a ski resort or something.

My point here is that I have a knack for buying that sort of "bargain."

Between the thread picking, Ben and I worked and worked to stuff hundreds of pounds of hamburger into the freezer. Unfortunately the bags do not stack well and it is an interesting experience to have half a shelf-ful suddenly avalanche out at your feet.

And then my quirky daughter was looking at horses in the encyclopedia and with a very sad countenance told me that there's this one horse that she always feels sorry for because it has this light area on its back and her friends Janane and Deana always say it looks diseased, but she knows it's just how an Appaloosa is supposed to look. I wondered how many women in the world have 8-year-old daughters who feel compassion for a horse in a picture in a 1978-vintage encyclopedia.

My quirky day was rounded off by Steven. Every morning Hansie the dog watches through the patio door, and then when Steven heads out of the kitchen toward the back door, Hansie knows it's time for breakfast and he ambles off the porch and around to the carport. But now it's gotten to where every time Steven heads west through the kitchen, Hansie thinks it's breakfast time and heads for the carport. So tonight Steven asked in worried tones:

Quote of the Day:
"Do you think I'm deceiving Hansie when I walk through the kitchen and he thinks I'm going to feed him but I'm not?"