get back, loretta / by laurel

I've found myself cowering in the corner with a free (or stolen) second, and thought it might be appropriate to update this little corner of Cyberspace I like to call home. I say cowering because it is now t-minus two hours before we leave for the airport, which will (hopefully) whisk us away to the Aloha State and my dad has gone into full-on military sergeant mode: "I want your bags PACKED by six o'clock. SIX O'CLOCK!" (And so on).

Right now I'm sitting at my family's archaic iMac (remember the ones with all the rounded edges, fully encased in a peppy box of COLOR? Yeah, we have the gray one) in Oregon. I arrived thursday night, surrounded on all sides on the airplane by Blazer fans (who knew?), and I've been up to the usual antics since:

-Breakfast with the grandparents at the food-has-been-fantastic-for-fifty-years breakfast joint, listening to them mostly talk about sprinkler systems and fencing, wherein I punctuated the conversation with my input: BARBED! WIRE!

-I managed to make it to DownTown (two caps there) Salem. Toodling around the mall with my Dad, I singlehandedly convinced him to buy hip Adidas shoes AND slim cut, dark wash jeans. Too hip, too hip.

-Quickly following the shopping trip was the Wee One's high school graduation. It was an endless blue (Blue! White! Fight, fight, fight!) sea of 5'5" identically groomed girls, their long hair fluttering in the non-existent breeze. In matching flip flops, holding hands four-abreast, they marched fearlessly down the aisle. It was as if they were challenging the future that would separate them all to a gamely match of Red Rover, Red Rover (I'll give you one guess as to who will win that match). The guys were no different; heads cocked back with the toes-forward gait of someone who spends more time on a skateboard than a sidewalk.

-Saturday was spent driving up to Seattle (three states! two weeks! Where in the world is Carmen San Diego!) with Wee One to shoot a wedding. The drive consisted mainly of scanning the radio stations in hopes of finding something decent to listen to, and squawking angrily if my sister paused too long on a country station. We bummed around Seattle (University District) for a bit, shot the wedding, drove home, and on the way, discovered that the State of Washington collectively decided to repave the freeway that night.

Much delay ensued.

I've come to two conclusions regarding 'the day':

A) There are no good radio stations in the state of Washington. We drove an hour and a half before we heard a single song written after 1995. I'm not joking about this.

B) There are more exits--and well marked ones, at that--in church buildings than exist in any building, anywhere in the United States. Should you choose to wed in a church, there's a 90% chance (95% if the church happens to have been renovated after 1976) that there WILL be a glowing green exit sign in nearly all of your wedding pictures. People are afraid of church. There are a million exits. That's just the way it is.

C) Washington drivers, and Oregon drivers driving in Washington. I'm simply stating this as a fact, a title, if you will. Washington drivers. Oregon drivers in Washington. I will say this: I live in LA. I drive in LA. I am surrounded by LA traffic and LA drivers every single day of my existence.

Washington Drivers and Oregon Drivers Driving in Washington would scare the hail mary's out of LA drivers.

This world.

I tell you.