Monochrome Existance

I sometimes think it's a "chicken or the egg" thing. Oregon has been known for being one of the "greenest" states in the union. We were "green" before green was even green. The state was discovered on the renewable resource of man power (although i bet lewis and clark would have opted for a jet boat had one been available). There are so many bikers in the city that we have a shortage of bike parking. Yes. . .i said a shortage of bike parking; unbelievable. If you plan on riding to just about any event you better get there early because you may have to ride around looking for a "parking" space. Even my office building has gone through major renovations to expand our bike parking area. Right. . .chicken or the egg. . .

While driving south to Medford this weekend i had a lot of time to think about the state of my state. Passing through Eugene and pushing on to Roseburg I noticed something. . .everything is so green, only green. The hillsides and valley floor are thousands of different shades of green. About the only deviations from the verde ("green" in mexican) was the occasional livestock, the roadway, and the hypnotizing yellow line. So i thought to myself. . .is everything green because we live "green" or do we live "green" because of the beauty around us. I would like to be the romantic (put my cynicism to the side for just a minute) and say that we know we have something special here and we want to keep it that way. If that means taking a bike to the grocery store and ride around the block a few times to find a place to park. . .than so be it. If it means stripping down every piece of garbage to separate what you can and can't recycle. . .count me it. If it means reusing your paper grocery bags until they shred into bits of brown confetti. . .i'm your man. When the end result is endless natural beauty; how can't you catch the "green" fever. I wish i could have taken a picture to demonstrate what i mean but. . .you'll just have to come out and see for yourself.

It may be a little late to warn you but this is going to be a long post. I'm chillaxing in the backyard soaking up the last glints of sunlight the day has to offer (sorry). My trip south was quite an adventure. I left on Thursday to exercise my responsibilities as a lower(est) middle manager. It's performance review time. Oh joy. I have one employee in Medford, a dreadful place, but a place nonetheless. Not to far from Medford are the towns of Jacksonville and Ashland. My story starts in Jacksonville.

I left work around 4 on Friday. I headed back to my hotel, took a quick dip in the pool and get prettied up for a night on the town. I hoped in the Yota and started the rural drive to Jacksonville or commonly referred to as J-ville. I hit up a joint called the Stagecoach Tavern (or something like that). I grabbed a few drinks to wet my palate and moved onward. My next destination was for some food and more drink. I stopped into a place known as the Bella Union. I grabbed a seat at the bar and ordered up a whiskey and coke to go with my Cesar salad (with chicken). Halfway through my dinner a beautiful woman came up to the bar to harass the bartender. It was her 37th birthday apparently. She may have resembled 37 under all that make-up but as she was. . .didn't look a day over 32. I commented on the lack of apparent years and she suggested it was all "moisturizer." As the night wore on so did my buzz. The not-so-young lady's date apparently stormed out of the bar and left her holding the bill. . .on her birthday mind you (it's actually today but whatever). What kind of man would walk out on a woman on her "birthday?" I eventually found out. . .a smart one. So the bird sits down next to me half whining about how her date left her by herself. We started talking, as people here in Oregon do, and kept drinking. She was. . .how do i say this. . .not the classiest of ladies. Certainly not one i would take home to mom (airfare isn't cheap) . After showing me pictures (from her cell phone) of her "lotus flower" and her "own" breasts (to give her some credit, she did have to pay for them, so i guess she does "own" them), i figured this was not the gal for me. At this point the "shit" talking began. I just wanted to see how much b.s. i could feed this woman and how much i could get away with saying. As many of you know, i can b.s. with the best of them (i sell insurance for a living). I threw a couple of her drinks on my tab for the entertainment she was providing me and the restaurant staff (i guess she and the barkeep had a "thing" on one of the tables in another dining room. I think he was happy to have someone keep her away from him, so was his girlfriend, a waitress at the bar). Come to find out, this lovely lady was in need of a ride back to Medford, i guess somewhere in our conversation i offered her a ride (i don't recall that part of our conversation). She called her. . .get this. . .18 year old son (i'm not judging) and let him know that she had found a "ride." A ride home is fine, i'm a gentleman, but when she put her cougar legs in my lap and asked me to validate their firmness (i chose the ankle but she was thinking more like the inner thigh), i started looking for my escape route. The night was drawing to a close and so was my ability to navigate those windy roads back to my hotel. I called for the check, paid the nice barkeep and "went to the bathroom before we left." In all honesty, i did go to the bathroom and i did leave, just not out the front door and not with her. The bar back, who had the pleasure of watching the entire evening unfold, helped me sneak out a side door. I feel bad that the woman was left, not once, but twice in one night. This bird was a total whack job. I patted myself on the back for a job well done and hit the sack (alone).

This is "downtown" Jacksonville. Quite the happening place.

The next day i woke with clear conscience and a pounding head. I pulled all my stuff together, spruced myself up with a hot shower, half shave and a scrub of the pearly whites. Then it was off to Ashland, home of Southern Oregon University. I got into Ashland a little after 10 and decided to do what i always do in a new town, walk aimlessly. Ashland is a very cool (not temp it was nearly 90 degrees at 10am), artsy, college town. Ashland is often described as "5 square miles of Utopia surrounded by reality." I found this reference to be pretty on point. I stopped into Brothers for a quick and nutritious breakfast. I walked off my breakfast in Lithia Park, a densely wooded, well manicured park that stretches from downtown Ashland to nearly the California border. I wandered around some more, picked up some sunscreen, and started doing some research on the best place to drink, listen to some music, and a safe place to park the Yota for a restful night of sleep. I stopped in to the Black Sheep to watch some Spanish football (Barca v. Murica) and sip a few beverages. By this time the city was baking, so i took shelter in the Varsity theater and watched "Smart People." A very good movie featuring Ellen Paige (Juno), Dennis Quaid, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Thomas Haden Church (Loel from "wings" or the other guy in "Sideways"). After the movie i jumped in my truck and drove around looking for some water to splash around in. I was not successful but my travels did find me the next best thing, a snow capped mountain. Mt. Ashland is a ski resort just a few miles south of town. I drove up hoping for some good views, which there was no shortage of. Unfortunately, i wasn't wearing my photo journalist hat. I took pictures (as you will see) but they sucked (as you will also see). When i got back down from the mountain i started back into town. I drove around the residential parts of Ashland looking for a quiet place to park my residence for the evening. I had three expectations for my location, close to a bar, level ground (which in Ashland, is hard to come by) and no street lights. While Ashland is a "Utopia" the local police aren't big fans of transients so i tried to lay as low as one can. . .sleeping in a truck bed on an urban, Utopian side street. It was about 6 and my stomach was in need of some filling. While driving around i passed a bar that already had cops outside. I figured it would make for a good watering hole. I strolled over to the Siskiyou and to my surprise (police activity never lies), i found my spot for the night. I tried my first portabello mushroom sandwich (my new favorite) and started sampling the 14 beers on tap (i didn't make it through them all, i didn't even really try). The barkeep was a friendly jane and the fellow next to me was a chatty potter, originally from Alaska, moved to Central Point at 15 and then down to Ashland 10 years ago. His name was Bill. Bill and i talked about everything you aren't supposed to talk about, politics, religion, materialism, the "State of Jefferson," etc. Thankfully, he didn't have any pictures saved onto his camera phone or at least didn't offer to show me any (which reminds me, the crazy lass at the bar also showed me a picture she had of some dude's member, WHAT THE FUCK! Sorry mom). I spent the evening chatting with Bill and Vanessa and around midnight made my way back to my truck. I had a restful night in the back of my beloved Yota and in the morning i started heading back to Portland. The trip back was uneventful minus. . .the f'ing turkey that flew into the side of my truck and smashed my side mirror. A f'ing turkey! How does one get hit by a turkey on I-5? If you can answer that one i'd like to know.

I decided to give my beloved 4-banger a little break and snap a few pictures on the way to the top of Mt. Ashland. It's so shiny (not for long, he, he)

Mt. Ashland gets about 300 inches of snow. Apparently it's pretty steep terrain, so much that their slogan is "If you can ski Mt. Ashland you can ski anywhere." Sounds like a challenge for Brody.

This is looking out into the Applegate Valley, home of some of Oregon's more robust red wines. None of that Pinot crap down here.

More of the valley.

Okay so you can't say i didn't warn you about the wind-baggedness of this post. Sadly. . .i have so much more to write about. I'll let you all off the hook for now (aka the four of you who actually read this, who i will most likely speak to on the phone sometime this week). I hope this finds you all well and making flight reservations for your trip out here. Watch out for dive bombing turkeys (seriously?).

Turkey carnage.