Our little green house in Oregon

This is our little green house in Oregon.  It was built in 1898 so its really cool.  I wish you were all here in it with us, although on second thought, that might be a little tight.  The weather in the picture is the same as it is today, but hopefully, the sunny season will save us soon!

Life on a stick.... I digress

Well, if any of you were ever wondering about the title of the blog... today we will discuss it.  Its about that idea of being a little kid with a popsicle in the summer.  Is there a greater joy?  There are so many flavors to choose from... creamsicle, fudgy pop, vanilla with the chocolate crunchy shell on the outside, or perhaps just red, orange, purple, or green.  Either way, all of it meant pure joy.  I, like my siblings and friends, often took to the great outdoors to enjoy the comforts of the popsicle.  Unfortunately, in the Alabama sun, that only meant one thing... fast melting.  Lick, Lick, Lick... it was never fast enough to avoid the inevitable.  The stick would start to show through, perhaps even at the expense of a splinter on the tongue, but it was all worth it in the end, even if I got an ice cream headache.  Why, you might ask?   Perhaps it was for that glance across the yard to see my brother doing the same with the ice cream dripping down his white Hanes T-shirt.  It could have even been because I could see my dad covertly peeking out the window watching us and smiling from ear to ear, thinking no one saw him.  Mostly though, it was the pure joy of knowing that I could wash off all the stickiness in the sprinkler with my siblings when I was finished and no one would want to go inside for a while. That is what I have to remember as I march through this grown up part of life.  It is all really very similar to those moments of childhood.  With the good comes the bad, and with the fresh new pop comes the stick.  You see folks, I figure you can choose to be in this life and feel its sorrows and joys without reason, or you can know that it is all about balance, it is all about truly enjoying the popsicle of Life even if there is a stick in there somewhere. Enjoy!

I almost got hit by a bus once.....

So, I was thinking today of how I once nearly got hit by a bus upon trying to get into my car.  I was just minding my own business walking across the street to my car.   I looked up to see the bus approaching, so I scurried over to my car in enough time.  I even waved at the bus driver to let him know I was there, but then I realized that there was no time to actually get into the car because the bus was fast approaching.  I put my back against the car, shuffled my heels under the car and took a deep breath in.  VVRROOOMMMM!!!!... the bus zoomed quickly by my face with only about 10 inches of clearance and I was left feeling a little rattled by the whole event.  I mean, it is a common vernacular in life for us as humans living in this culture to joke that we "may just walk out and get hit by a bus one day", but one never really expects that to happen do they?  So, if I DO get hit by a bus at any point, can someone who loves me make sure that it is celebrated on my tombstone in some way or another?  A little etching or diagram would do just fine.  I just wouldn't want to pass up that type of irony in this little pinch of time called Life.  Thanks!

DeeAnna Wales, B.A. , Anthropologist

      So in recent times I have been noticing that, as a society we are allowed a few letters after our name if we have earned certain specific levels of education.  Usually these levels are Masters degrees or PhD, however since I still owe $9,567.14 on my Bachelors degree, I have decided to use my little letters too!  I mean, I have earned them after all.  

     Additionally, I would like to add a little insight into the usefulness of my degree.  Now for many years I always chuckled at the useLESSness of my expensive piece of paper.  I even asked a representative calling from my university for a donation once if I could return it!  Needless to say, the answer was no and I'm still paying.  I graduated with honors from Auburn University.  I loved the liberal arts thing and decided after much deliberation to choose a major that worked with the classes I was the most interested in.   That is where the Anthropology degree made its way to the top of the list.  I really enjoyed the classes and even got to go to Archaeology field school in my senior year.  I had some elaborate plans of graduate school back then, but that has long since morphed into other interests and into the bittersweet reality of paying back student loans and paying the bills.

    Upon much reflection however, I have realized that I AM in fact using my degree and here is how.  I'm not sure how many of you read my post titled "A day in my work life", but it is basically the ins and outs of my life at the free sample counter and what that's like.  It is many things, but the most prominent activity is the people watching.  We see all kinds of folks there, doing all sorts of things with their free food samples.  I have come to realize that people watching is Anthropology and that I am living out that dream I had in college of being an Anthropologist!  Not many people have the opportunity to do this, so it brings me great joy to know that all that cash I'm STILL spending, 11 years later, is really being put to good use! 

    I also do the Anthropological surveying and observing while partaking in any and all activities where the public is included.  For instance, this includes what to some may seem like an arbitrary trip to the Fred Meyer, out for a bite to eat, or just standing in line at the post office, but to me, they are invaluable opportunities for furthering my academic expertise.   What's the best part, you might ask?  I have this additional level of expertise without the burden of paying more for those other silly letters behind my name (M.A. or PhD).  Therefore I ask all of you to enjoy my hard earned title right along with me (B.A.).  So if any of you ever need any help of a seasoned Anthropologist, drop me a line and I'll be there to observe and help!

Ray Charles and the glove box...

Hello world!  I am writing today to share with you a story of a time when I was living in the San Francisco Bay Area for culinary school.  I was there for 6 months while Mike stayed behind in Portland for work.  I LOVED the school and needless to say that the time spent in Sonoma county was an amazing, life enriching experience.  I lived with a very interesting family, worked at Whole Foods Market, and had many an adventure.  The only one that really stands out in my mind at this moment involves the weather there.  You see, in the winter in the bay area, there is LOTS of rain and this particular year it caused some mudslides closer to the Russian River.  In regard to this, lots of little varmints like squirrels, possums, rats and mice are forced to abandon their otherwise dry and safe homes for higher ground.  Well, a common theme in my life is looking like an easy target, and this is no exception.  As I hopped in my little Honda Accord station wagon one day on my way to class, I stopped at the first red light and thought I would take that opportunity to fire up some tunes for the drive.   Ah yes, there's nothing like a little Ray Charles as you drive through the beautiful wine country.  All I needed was the face to my stereo out of the glove box.  I opened the glove box while random folks waiting on the corner to cross the street glanced at me, and AAAAUUUUUUGGGGHHHH!!!!  A MOUSE NEST!!!  I screamed as loud as possible, assuring that no one on the corner missed it, slammed the glove box as they all stared in amazement and confusion, and the light changed.....I drove away.  Now I'm sure that to this day, those folks have a story to tell their grandchildren, but they can tell them any number of things that they suspect I found in the glove box.  With the way I screamed, it could have even been a body part or something similar.  Well, I drove on to school, mortified, mind racing...'oh god, he's in here somewhere', I thought.  I called my friend Tressie, my husband Mike, and my father, begging them all for help in a panicky state.  They all laughed and said that because of our distance, they could be of no help....perfect!  Over the course of the next week, I set traps in the car which caught nothing, drove ONLY with my pants tucked into my socks, and suddenly became a fanatic about keeping my car as clean as possible (Mice REALLY like kleenex apparantly).  Eventually, he (Harvey I liked to call him) moved out I suppose because the nests stopped being rebuilt and I stopped finding mouse poop.  However, to this day, I will NEVER open my glove box with the same level of ease and comfort I once knew in my youth.  Ah... those days of innocent naivety...

Meet Jasmine....She drinks a lot!

Well folks, I think we've been in this long enough to introduce you to Jasmine.  From what i could tell of her anatomy, fur, tail, and facial features of Jasmine when I got her, I thought she was a cat.  However, after living with her for about 12 years, I have realized she considers herself to be some higher form of human.  In an effort to not discourage her in being who she is in life, I am now going along with that concept.  The reality of it is that she drinks a lot, is verbally abusive, and really enjoys telling our more "special" dog Luna that she is adopted even though Luna doesn't really understand what that word means.  All along Luna thought she was just a dog and now Jasmine is confusing her by telling her this because Luna thinks that A Dopted is a type of animal or something like that.  Our other dog, Fatcha is very smart and quick to stand up to Jasmine, but it's only child's play to Jasmine who always walks away unscathed.  Mike and I do our best to keep the group organized, but he and I are, after all, only that lesser form of human to her and it is at many points futile.  She once told us we could be out of the house by the end of the month if we didn't stop bossing her around.  Case CLOSED.... we give up!

DeeAnna in the back seat with rice and beans

So, I once got this email from my dear friend Christine whose birthday is upon us and as an ode to her, I thought I'd post this on the blog for you to all get a kick out of.  She titled the picture "DeeAnna in the back seat with rice and beans".  I find that a fitting name for such an acutely ridiculous piece of art don't you?  Anyway, I don't exactly know where I was going, or what was so hilarious, or how I managed to not get my kerchief in the dish, but here it is for the whole world to see and laugh at!  Enjoy!

A funny story request!

So, I've gotten a request from my biggest fan for a funny story.  I'd like to share the one I call "The Tootsie Roll and the old man"  ....One day, while living in Chapel Hill, NC, Mike and I went to lunch at the Whole Foods Market.  When we were pulling up into the parking space, there was a little old man who decided that he would lean his shopping cart on my car hood since he didn't want to walk it to where the carts go.  So when I got out, Mike says "are you coming babe"?  and I say, "well I'm going to move this F'n cart first since it was leaned on the car" and I moved the cart while giving a frownie face to the old man.  So....fast forward to after lunch.  Mike had left before me and so I was leaving on my own.  When I approached my car, I saw a little white thing sticking out of the door handle.  It appeared to be a note or a kleenex or something.  As I walked closer, I was able to see that it was a Kleenex and that it had something in it that seemed to be gum or a Tootsie roll or something.  So I think to myself "Damned Kids", threw it on the passengers seat to throw away once I got to the book store, and got in to start the car.  Now, as I cruised about my merry way over the speed bumps in the parking lot, I realized that there was a horrific odor coming from the Tootsie package.  I pulled over slightly out of the flow of traffic to inspect it more closely only to find that ALAS!!!! It was in fact A TURD!!!! Oh My God!  Help Meeeee!  So the best I can figure folks is to not upset little old men in the south by dropping the F-bomb as a southern belle, because you might just get a little Tootsie roll in the door of your car as a result!  AUGH!!! Have a good night!

How I know some men are losers....

Well folks, recently a VERY close friend of mine called and told me she and her boyfriend broke up.  As I heard her story, I started to think of how I might express this one to the world via blog.  There are certain clues that help us to know if the man you are currently seeing is bogus.  #1-He has you build your own fire, INCLUDING bringing in the firewood while you have the flu!  #2-When you are well enough to stagger to the kitchen and get some soup....he hollers out "Hey, get me a beer will you"? #3-He acts childish most of the time and #4-He is overtly jealous of your best girlfriends, but never invites you to hang out with his friends unless you're going to cook for them!   So, I say, good riddance and on to the next hopeful or to some quiet single time where perhaps you get a fish or a cat...you know, something that doesn't talk back!  You're better off without this one my dear!  

Oh, by the way, we enabled the comments so that you can just post anonymously and don't have to get an account now or register...so comment away friends! :)