Erin The Great

Day 3

Basically everyone was so crazy exhausted from the weekends events that by Sunday the only thing that any of us could do was lay on the couch all day watching episode after episode of ‘Deadliest Catch’. I love that show so watching hour after hour of crab fishing was just what the doctor ordered. I also watched my first episode of ‘Extreme Home Makeover’ wow! That was touching… and yes, I cried like a baby.

Day 4

Homeward bound! My last day in Oregon and I still needed enough caffeine to jump start Vegas just open my eyes. I met up with friends, survived North Portland and flew home. Thank goodness for the warm shower and soft bed that awaited my arrival.

So I had never been to a Catholic Wedding before so this was a new experience for me. Most wedding ceremonies I’ve been to usually take about 15-20 minutes. Usually after the wedding party walks in, the priest says something wonderful and meaningful and the couple might light a candle. After that, or something along the lines of that, the couple will exchange vows and then rings, bing bang boom I know pronounce you man and wife you may now kiss the bride. At a Catholic Wedding, the wedding party comes in, the priest says something then the bride and groom sit down while the priest keeps talking. After almost an hour of the priest talking and a lot of standing and sitting there was the vows and then ring exchanging. About 5 minutes after THAT, there was the ‘you may now kiss the bride’. At that point my friend Kevin military dipped his new wife and laid a big fat juicy kiss on her. A job well done man!

After the ceremony, we weren’t even 30 steps out of the church when Mel and I went to go save our friend Jon who was being hit on by a random homeless guy. ‘Hey there studly!’ He exclaimed ‘you look dashing! It must be your lucky day! I have this for you… (The man pulls out a very used zippo lighter and puts it in Jon’s face) This is my pride and joy, and I’ll sell it to you for 50 cents!’ My friend Jon looks very uncomfortably at Mel and then I ‘Oh that’s ok, I couldn’t take away you’re prized possession’. ‘Ok’ says the man ‘but only because you’re so dashing!’ Awwkward!

After the wedding, and after saving Jon, Mel and I drove to the reception. We wandered around until we finally found the location, only to find out that the two of us were at least an hour and a half early for the much awaited shin-dig. Being the ‘fashionably late people that we are, we decided to leave and hold up in a more appropriate environment. After walking down the streets of Portland and realizing that we were in the middle of the raucous and havoc that would soon be one of the many parades paying tribute to the Rose festival, we found a local coffee house and watched in awe as some of Portland’s more colorful inhabitants walked, danced and sometimes moon walked in front of us. After gazing on stuff that you’d only see in movies (unless you’ve lived in Oregon for any stretch of time) we realized that we had finally wasted enough time and hurried back to the hotel where the reception was now taking place.

While walking back to the reception, Mel and I kept our heads up and alert while trying not to look directly at anyone. Suddenly we heard a voice over a loud speaker. ‘The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!’ Only out of morbid curiosity did we look at the individual. After we gazed upon the situation we quickly realized that this ‘concerned’ citizen was performing an exorcism on the city of Portland… I hate to break it to you pal but you’re going to need a lot more ‘holy water’ then you’ve got. It didn’t help that the rent-a-cop next to him was trying to take care of the situation by taunting the poor man as he looked upon Mel and I and instantly started proclaiming that we needed to be saved immediately! It was a nice gesture I guess that some random Portland crazy felt the need for the saving of my soul. Thanks man but I’ve already been saved… but have a nice day!

After dodging a few other interesting people, we made it safely inside the hotel and made a b-line for the crackers, breads and blue cheese. Finally we got a chance to sit down and relax from the day’s events. At this point I realized that I had tried in vain to keep myself up with mass quantities of caffeine. I may or may not have hit a wall at that point and needed a big pole (or a very cute catholic boy) to hold me up. I did manage to make it through though. After a crazy reception and a whole lot of drunken dancing (my personal favorite) my partner in crime and I made our way down to the car and back to Salem. We got home with enough energy to take off our shoes fall on our beds and pass out.

It all started while I was packing my suitcase early Friday morning. I noticed that I had become one of those girls that now require a million beauty products, none of which are expendable. This was not always the case. I used to be able to pack a week’s worth of stuff in my backpack and call it good… nowadays is an entirely different story. I was going home for the wedding of a good friend so of course the essentials were necessary.

After hauling my bag to work and receiving a bout of razzing from my co-workers for its size, I waited impatiently for the hour that would allow me to leave and venture to the airport ready to start my weekend. I arrived at the airport and then to security. Oy! I know all these precautions are for our own good, but mostly I was just glad that the man with the rubber glove was surprisingly gentle. I don’t fly very often but I’m pretty sure that security has increased since the last time I was in the air. You have to all but strip down to your underwear to enter through the security checkpoint (thank goodness granny panties weren’t an issue). Meanwhile while I was stripping off anything that would set the metal detector off, people with full bottles of gel and hairspray I know for a fact were making it through. So I guess you have the extremes… the ‘Half-assed I’m almost doing my job’ and the ‘Mr. Rubber gloves’ type that stiff you on the happy ending. Of course after you leave security you have to be aware of the rent-a-cops wandering through the airport giving you the ‘eye’, like you’re some crazy delinquent teenager… I’ve got news for you buddy… you’re about 10 years too late! At least I made it back to Oregon safely due in large part to the anal retentiveness of the airlines. I may complain but I am thankful.

After arriving safely in Portland, I made my way down to the drop off/ pick up zone where my friend Jon was waiting to take me back to my home town of Salem. I know I’ve been in Utah to long when Provo starts looking green, and then I come home… and then I see what green REALLY looks like! It’s so unbelievably beautiful here in the Willamette Valley. I don’t know how I don’t make it home more often. Especially when stories just happen being around my friends. Stories like almost getting the cops called on us for ‘casing out a house’ that we had accidentally mistaken for our friends.

After arriving in Salem we were given directions to a house where our friends were at, but our friends had gone to get food and we arrived at a house that was next door to the house we actually needed. We weren’t sure if it was the right house so instead of ringing the door bell and risking the chance of getting shot, we took the ‘looking suspiciously in the window’ approach in dark clothing…. Smart I know but by that point the two of us were ready to kill over from exhaustion. It’s amazing what seems like a good idea when you’re over stressed and dead tired and your friends are over stressed, dead tired and still relatively hung over from the bachelor party the night before. Thank you Salem police for not catching us so we could get frisked in front of a house and be denied yet another happy ending.

I’ve recently been preparing for my journey back to the mother land of Oregon… Oh beautiful Oregon, how I love thee and miss thee. I miss your lush greenery and ever flowing rivers. Mostly I miss my friends and family that I haven’t seen in quite some time.

Right now I’m just counting down the minutes until I get to hop on a plane and get the heck out of this place. Don’t get me wrong I enjoy my current environment but I’m over the moon about going back to my hippie-infested Oregon. You see I’ve been awfully home sick since my 2-day venture of picking up my car clear back in November. Usually signs of my homesick emerge a little more subtlety then they’ve recently been appearing. I was completely content belting out Carly Simon’s ‘Nobody does it better’ at the top of my lungs without any regard to who was watching. This actually isn’t that out of character for me but the tearing up while singing most definitely is. So is tearing up when I was reading some ‘You know you’re from the NorthWest if…’ jokes. So, in less then 24 hours I will be safely back home for a brief but much needed visit.

I was reading a fellow blogger today. She had posted something about making herself cute when she was a little girl so that someone would see her and adopt her from her large family. I thought this was hysterical, not only because I had felt like that when I was younger, but also because I’m the oldest so there was no way I was going to give up my territory for some little runt that happened to come after me. I was the golden child and I wanted it to stay that way!

I tried for months and months when ‘the boy’ was born to have my mom take him back. ‘No! Take him back’ I would scream. This would usually happen after ‘the boy’ would come and knock over my blocks. Such an event would send my 2-year-old self into an all-star hissy fit. After it was abundantly clear that this constant pain in my butt wasn’t going anywhere, I began to devise other plans. Plans that happened with the mind set of ‘well if it’s here, it might as well be useful’. My brother turned very quickly into a doll I could dress up and whose hair I could put clips in. Yes, he was the perfect doll until he decided that he wasn’t having it anymore. I had to devise a new plan. I’ll sell him! Yes, that should do the trick! I tried to pawn him off on the neighbors and other family members, but that didn’t work either. He was there to stay no matter how I felt about the matter.

It’s funny. I’ll be talking to friends and they’ll be talking about how they grew up best friends with their siblings… this was not the case in the Jarvis house. We’re friends NOW, but growing up was very interesting. There was some serious sibling rivalry going on there. He was the baby so basically he got spoiled, and a lot of the attention. He was smarter and funnier…at least I had sarcasm. Being the experiment child (as older children usually are) I didn’t understand why there was a crack down on the shenanigans coming from me. I guess flooding the school bathroom in the third grade didn’t exactly help my case, but still! After I started getting in trouble for playing poker and winning lunch money (Thank you dad and Mr. Grassman for teaching us young and impressionable children how to play poker on our 3rd grade field trip to the zoo…) as well as various other acts of destruction, the boy decided to use this to his advantage by starting fights and then yelling something along the lines of ‘Erin stop’…. Guess who got in trouble?

Both of us were criminal masterminds, my brother being much more so (Friggin little genius). Luckily I was also quite the little Con Artist, so when we did get along, it was amazing what we could get done and the things we could accomplish. My poor mother… I think she deserves more then a mansion in heaven. For years our number was on the school’s speed dial as well as us being banned from houses for being ‘bad examples’ whatever! Your children were just as bad as we were! We were just better at not getting caught… tee hee hee.

All the sibling rivalry aside, I must admit that with my ever-growing jealousy of his ability to pull better pranks then me as well as being able to TP full blown mansions in a matter of minutes. It wasn’t until after I graduated High School when my jealousy turned into full-blown admiration. It was right after he climbed the roof of our school and painted the bell tower a brilliant plaid. That moment on, I realized that it was pointless. I’ve pulled some good pranks in my time and have done some seriously stupid stunts but it didn’t matter anymore. We both had way to many ‘black mail’ stories for our own good. I think the reason for that was we would always try to ‘one up’ the other and through that we’ve managed to accomplish some great things. So Jake, here’s to you buddy! Thank you for giving me endless fodder for my blog and novel as well as help developing my sarcasm and wit… There had to be something I was better at. Thank you mom for not sending him back when I pleaded with you… and for not getting mad when I told him that you found him under a rock and took pity.

As I look out at the window at work, all I can see is the dismal, grey, and generally crappy weather we’ve been having… That and the back of Red Lobster, isn’t my view envious.

I’m from Oregon so you’d think I’d be used to never seeing the sun. Well thanks to the wonderful invention of the anti-depressant, I can mildly endure the wrath of our crappy weather. The only bad part about this is when my medication stops working and my SAD takes over, and the weather is still less than desirable… This is usually not good but at least I have Dr. Pepper calming my nerves.

Since it looks like the Willamette Valley of Oregon outside I thought I‘d put in some North West Humor in for all to enjoy. It’s ok if you don’t get the jokes, just leave a comment and I’d love to explain… being a native and all.

You might be from the North West if…

1. You know the state flower is mildew.
2. You have a T-shirt that says, “200 Billion Slugs Can’t Be Wrong!”
3. You use the term “sun break” and know what it means.
4. You feel guilty throwing out paper or aluminum cans.
5. You know more people who own a boat than own an air conditioner.
6. You will stand on a deserted corner in the rain and wait for the “Walk” signal.
7. You feel overdressed if you wear a suit to a fancy restaurant.
8. You can order coffee 10 different ways.
9. You can taste the difference between Seattle’s Best, Tully’s and Starbucks.
10. To you, swimming is an indoor sport.
11. You never go camping without a poncho and waterproof matches.
12. You know the difference between Coho, Chinook, and Sockeye salmon.
13. You know how to pronounce Puyallup, Sequim, Issaquah, Mukilteo, Yakima, Oregon, and Willamette.
14. You know that Boring is not a state of mind, but a town in Oregon.
15. You have no concept of humidity without precipitation.
16. You know the difference between mist, drizzle, rain, and showers.
17. You are not fazed by the weather forecast, “Today: Showers followed by rain. Tomorrow: Rain followed by showers.”
18. You rejoice at a forecast of “rain with sun breaks.”
19. You know what “The Mountain is out” means.
20. You can point out at least two volcanoes, even if you can’t see through the cloud cover.
21. You think people who use umbrellas are either tourists or wimps (or both).
22. You have actually used your mountain bike on a mountain.
23. You knew immediately that the view out of Frazier’s window was fake.
24. You use a down comforter and wear flannel pajamas in the summer.
25. Your kid’s Halloween costumes fit under a raincoat.
26. You know all the seasons: Almost Winter, Winter, Still Raining (Spring), Road Construction (Summer), Deer and Elk season (Fall).
27. Every year you have to buy new sunglasses because you can’t find the old ones after such a long time.
28. You’re only about 10 minute from any given river or lake.

29. You can drive through several inches of standing water on the road, surrounded by fog, going anywhere from 45-65 miles an hour without flinching!

Enjoy! I know I just did! I miss Oregon’s beauty, but I don’t miss not seeing the sun for 9 months out of the year.

In my 25 years on the planet, I have been ‘one of the guys’ to my guy friends back home for about 21 of them. This has been interesting especially when I went through puberty and had the audacity to developed boobs and hips. All of a sudden I wasn’t a ‘guy’ anymore. The black balling and stripping of my ‘guy’ status only lasted for about a year and then I was welcomed back into the fold. Since then I’ve kept pretty good friends with ‘my boys’ as I call them and I enjoy still being a part of their lives. This leads to my story.

About a year ago my friend Kevin called me with some exciting news. Knowing my friend I figured it had something to do with the military or one of our other friends. I was wrong, but I was very excited to hear that he was getting married. I didn’t think anything of it because they weren’t getting married until the following May, so I put it in the back of my head.

Today I get an e-mail from my good friend Jon who is one of Kevin’s best friends, telling me about the wedding and asking me if I was available to go home to Oregon and be apart of the Bachelor party? Up until now I was reading and thinking ‘oh yeah, I need to get time off to go home and go to the wedding, what the? I’m invited to the bachelor party???’ at this point I was shaking my head because I couldn’t believe what I had just read. As if this wasn’t odd enough, he then continued on to say that it was ok, because they didn’t want me there to be the stripper, (like this was even close to being an option) glad we got that clarified.

On one hand I feel honored to be apart of a time honored and women banned tradition. But then on the other hand I don’t know if I want to witness all my guy friends from back home getting trashed and putting dollar bills down the stripper’s thong… or even worse, mistaking me for the entertainment. Trust me; no good would come from that.

I must admit, and aside from the invite, I love that I’m so ingrained as being ‘one of the guys’ to my boys back home that they don’t even think twice about inviting me to a bachelor party. To them I’m just Jarvis who looks oddly female-like. Booyah!

I was sitting at work bored off my rocker today. It’s was an unusually slow Friday, so in my boredom I went to the Google homepage to see if there might be something to help my current condition. I was looking at my options as far as images, news, maps etc. when maps caught my eye.

It’s not very often that I look things up on Google maps, but being as homesick as I’ve been, I thought I’d look a few things up. I started with my apartment here in Utah, and gradually grazed over to my home in Oregon. From my house in Oregon I drove using the arrows to friend’s houses and finally found my self at my old high school.

I was looking at the aerial view of Good Old North Salem High School (if you click on the link, it should send you to the roof of the building) when I realized due to my adolescent negligence, I probably know the ‘aerial’ view a lot better then the actual ‘standing in front of the building’ view.

I zoomed (a better look at rooftop) in a little bit closer and got a really good view of the roof that I had spent so much time climbing. When you’re up there at night, there is a spot on the roof that looks like an old time dance floor and with the lights on it, it looks like you’re in an old ballroom. There are windows that cover one side and at night they act as mirrors…. Very cool!

If you go up a level (usually by taking a sturdy sweatshirt to help hoist yourself up) you have two options, you can 1. Climb a little further to the black top roof and go paint the bell tower base or play paintball of the roof. 2. Stay on the white top and go over to the turtle back looking cover, bust the lock using bolt cutters and shimmy/repel down the 40 feet of cable and voila! You’re in the auditorium.

I remember finely tuning my lock picking techniques on the doors of that old school. We’d break in, and as long as you kept to the left, the sensors couldn’t reach you. I should add a disclaimer about any property damage that was done. We were respectful.

There was this one rumor about my school that was built circa 1910 ish. During the wars supposedly our building had a bomb shelter, Rumor has it that a student was playing around and was trapped inside there and ether died or was seriously hurt. Shortly after this incident, they expanded the grounds and added the cafeteria; the cafeteria was supposedly where our ‘bomb shelter’ was located. This is not true, in fact the cafeteria can be used as a fall out shelter but the actual bomb shelter is located near by and after finding the enterance during one of our excursions one night, one of my friends decided to break into it. It was somthing he ‘had to do’ before we graduated.  My friend found papers from the 1940’s and 1950’s. It’s pretty crazy.

So many good memories of that place…mostly after-hour ‘good times’ but what’s a little adventure here and there?