Greyhound or Fisher Price

Three weeks ago I was at a Roseburg service station waiting for a Greyhound bus.  I had purchased my ticket several hours earlier, but the bus was running late – so I was told by the worker who was frantically trying to wait on everyone.  He had us stand in two lines – those who were purchasing tickets for Greyhound and those who were patrons of the convenient store.

Fortunately for him there was another employee working the pumps.  Whoever had been assigned to be in the store with him had called in sick, had been fired, or quit without notice.  I guess he handled himself rather well.  Poor guy couldn’t wait until ten when he’d finally be able to turn off the lights and call it a night.

        There were probably about 15 people or so waiting for the bus going to Portland.  The man who had sold us our tickets said that the rumor was that the bus driver had had a nervous breakdown and had decided to walk out on whatever passengers happened to be on his bus.  I looked at it as kind of a good thing – after all I wouldn’t want to be stuck on a bus with a driver who was having a nervous breakdown.

        The time stamped on my ticket said June 5th @ 5:58 pm.  I was told the bus would be 4-5 hours late. Fortunately I had brought with me a book that Tony and Rochelle had given me for my birthday just the week before.  I had plenty of time to finish it.  Fortunately for me, I also had light.

        Most of the passengers had moved to one side of the building where they enjoyed their smokes – I don’t know how many or if they were all smoking.  I was waiting on the opposite side and so was a guy named Jake Wood (real name) In between reading, we talked for a bit.  I really enjoyed our conversation.

Jake lived in a different part of Roseburg (or so I had assumed) and had taken a taxi to the station and had purchased a ticket as far as Eugene.  He had planned to see a concert in Eugene with some of his buddies – and as the clock made its way around, Jake would say that there would still be time to see the second act if the bus would come right now.  Soon the concert was over, but he could still hang with his friends.  After 11:00 he decided to call it a night and announced that he decided just to walk home and shook my hand and excused himself.

I had seen other potential passengers come and go throughout the night.  There had been some fair or carnival going on across the street.  But it had even shut down by the time a bus pulled in at 12:20.  It was going to Los Angeles.  I had to wait another 2 hours and 10 minutes before the one to Portland finally showed.  I felt rather blessed that I had noticed it at all.  It had pulled up to the side where the smokers had been waiting.  I guess that’s why they had been waiting there.  Somebody in the group knew that it came on the side.

So I boarded the bus at 2:30 Saturday morning.  According to my ticket I’d be arriving in Salt Lake that same night.  I asked the driver about correcting the dates and times which he assured me I could do once I arrived in Portland.  Nobody else was there to catch the bus.  I wondered how long after Jake left had I been by myself – well, maybe not totally.  There was another man asleep on the benches when I left.  He said he was waiting for the store to open.

The bus was nice.  The seats were comfortable.  Most of the passengers were asleep.  It was about 4:30 when the sun started to peek in the sky.  It was almost 8:00 when we pulled into Portland.

I took my tickets to the counter to have a new agenda issued with the correct dates and times.  I was told I’d have another four hour wait.  At least the Portland station was nice.  It was an actual bus terminal.  I ventured outside and walked around the area – but not too far.  I did want something to eat, but my sense of direction is not that keen.  Plus my backpack felt like it weighed 80 pounds.  I should have not brought the amount of stuff that I did.

I called Beth to tell her I’d be in Portland until noon.  She felt bad that I hadn’t called sooner.  I didn’t know.  Until after I arrived, I had no idea how long I would be.  

I wish the bus I had ridden from Roseburg was the same one that would take me to Salt Lake.  It was actually going from Portland to Denver.  Its outward appearance didn’t seem different from any other bus, but the interior was definitely smaller.  Even a person with anorexia would not be able to walk down the aisle without touching the two aisle seats.  Not a sweet deal for anyone even slightly overweight.  I can guarantee you that.  It was awful.  It was worse than waiting 8 ½ hours at a service station in an unfamiliar city.  

  

I did not get back to Salt Lake until after 6:30 Sunday morning (keep in mind that Denise had dropped me off at the station on a Friday when there was still enough light in the sky to get her to Newport) and Roland and Jenna met me there and took me home – where I slept for about four hours before getting ready for church (one of the few times when the 1:00 – 4:00 block is not so bad)

I thought it would be my last day at that ward, and got up to express my good-byes.  I thought I’d be going to a family reunion the following week.  But that’s also for another post.

Fresh Blueberries: One Dollar per Pound

          Blueberries are one of Jenna’s absolute favorite things to eat.  There was a time when Biff had purchased twelve cartons of blueberries.  She ate eleven of them.  She would have eaten all twelve, but as Biff had made the purchase, I thought it was only fair that he get at least one carton.

This morning we had the experience of picking blueberries from the DelEv blueberry patch at the end of Myrtle Creek – or so we believe.  The area didn’t seem to have service for cell phones or other such electronics.

Evelyn introduced herself to us and showed us where to pick the blueberries.  It took only 20 minutes to pick 5 pounds.  I think she was disappointed that we had not picked more – but we are not canners or freezers.  Perhaps in time – but we still haven’t unpacked everything for Heaven’s sake!  

Roland mentioned my blog to her and said I would help advertise her product – though I don’t know how many followers I have in Myrtle Creek.  I would guess zero.  I don’t know that I have followers in the entire state of Oregon.  But here is my plug.  And here is her flyer:

They are also looking for pickers (or a picker) to work for 75 cents a pound.  Roland and I tried to talk Jenna into doing it for the summer. Pocket change, we figured.  I could drive her there each morning.  She didn’t appear to be too interested.  I called our employment specialist after we returned home.

It was a fun experience.  Both Roland and I enjoyed getting to know Evelyn.  Maybe I’ll facebook the flyer I scanned.  I am fb friends with at least two friends who live in Oregon – only three to four hours from Myrtle Creek.  At least one of those two enjoys canning and preserving food.  I will post it to her wall.

It was a positive experience.  We’ll be back.

Back Up to June 4 & 5

         Denise and I didn’t always communicate.  She likes to use the map.  I like the GPS.  She had issues about trusting the GPS.  I can no longer navigate from a map without becoming nauseous.  I’ve just never seemed to be able to move forward while looking down. I don’t know why. The exception was when I was on my mission and did the navigation as my companions drove around.  But that was over 30 years ago.

         Anyway, Denise and I had moments of oddities, but we never got on each other’s nerves to the point that we became emotionally upset about it.  I suppose she had every reason not to trust Siri.  After several hours on Highway 140, Siri seemed to be getting bored as she directed us to take the “unpaved road” First of all, really?  Second of all, there are no roads – unpaved or other except for Highway 140.  But the Garmin took our car off the path and stuck it on the side in the middle of the black screen and Siri kept advising us to get on the main road.  I shut off the Garmin.

         Garmin reset once I plugged back in, and we were on the road.  As mentioned in this post our plan was to go to the Medford Temple to do a few names that she brought.  She had wanted to go Thursday night.  Again, I misunderstood her.  We were both so tired.  I sensed she was in pain after having driven all day.  She took a nap for longer than she had hoped and so we did not make the temple until the following morning.

         Unfortunately for us, the Medford Temple does not open on Friday until 3:00.  We were hoping that she would have had me in Roseburg by then and on her way to Newport.  Friday turned out to be a sensationally LONG day – but that’s for another post – or maybe four.

        

         The main draw for Denise to drive that route in the first place was to go through the Medford Temple.  She handled it well.  Took lots of pictures.  There was a sister working in the garden who took pictures of Denise and me in front of the temple – so that was nice.

         So here are some pictures that were taken days 1-3.  All before Denise and I parted company:

Salt Lake Bountiful Flats under water

the salt sticking out reminded me of glaciers

Lucky Reservoir

falls at Lucky Reservoir

Highway 140 had some very sharp curves

Medford Temple

More To Come

It's been eleven days since I was able to post.  Since that time I have packed my life into several boxes and have made the move to Oregon.  What appeared to be a quaint little house is all the sudden feeling miles long as I unpack and move items from room to room and exhaust myself and poor Roland.  He brought his job with him and that is nice.  We are hooked up to the internet and cable.  I have several posts in my head.  Some ideas jotted on paper.  There is so much to write about and the work ahead seems so endless.

Funny, before we moved into our rental, Roland wished to continue to look for a place to purchase.  But I want to experience Mayberry for a while.  I love the house.  I am pleased with all the shelfing space and number of outlets.  I can breathe.  But I am quite pooped.  And Jenna has been of little help.  She still has the attitude of life revolving around her.  She should be the center of attention at all times.  Right now I am so tired and unfocused that I have not lived up to any expectations of being a fun mom.  But there's so much to do - so many things we still need to find.  So many chocolates.  So little time . . .

I don't know when my next post will be.  May not be until July.

Stand By Until Further Notice

I have at least four more
post ideas.  But I need to
continue packing.

We will be moving in
two weeks.  I hope I don't
forget what it is I need/want to
post.

Any breaks I take will
not be long enough - especially
now that Jenna is
off for the summer.

Highway 140 has lots of names

     Denise and I have taken pictures and some could very well go with my road trip posts, but I have to wait until I return home in order to retrieve them from the camera.

     Denise likes to sleep in and stay until checkout.  Never in my life have I stayed at a hotel/motel/inn that long.  Get me back on the road as soon as there is enough light.

Denise thought she woke me up when I was certain it was the other way around.  Roland called before she was dressed and she asked if he was asking us to get back on the road.  Well, yes.  And fortunately we did.

We had breakfast in Winnamucca – which was very fortunate, as we did not hit the next town until four hours later.  The diner was crowded and it was a while before somebody had even taken our order.  I noticed the group (in the booth next to ours) left before their order even made it to the kitchen.  We probably weren’t even there for an hour though it felt like we had.  I think it was the earliest Denise had ever left her apartment (or in this case motel room)

It was just shortly before or after ten when we left Winnamucca.  Our main road companion was Highway 140 – which was pretty – even with the scary curves at one point.  The Highway changed names (and it felt like direction) several times as Siri would lead us to this road or that. 

For the first four hours, though the name changed, it felt like an endless drive.  There was nothing to stop for.  I think only two rest stops between Winnemucca and Lakeview.  Lakeview actually offered two motels – I can’t imagine that there is enough money there to create a livelihood for ones self.  Population of less than 3,000.

At that point we didn’t even know if Lakeview was in Nevada or Oregon. Denise was quite frustrated with the lack of signs welcoming us into each state or even letting us know where we were.  The Garmin would just give directions and map out streets (well, when there were streets) that we would pass or come to.  Garmin never let me know what city we were in, but changed the name of Highway 104 to Denio and Freemont.

It was in Freemont that we stopped to take pictures of Lucky Reservoir.  I can’t remember if that came up before or after the dangerous curves (which were actually not so bad for travelers going north, but it certainly gave me good reason not to be driving that thing by myself while traveling south)

After we passed the town of Lakeview, Highway 140 became Klamath Falls-Lakeview Highway and then finally to route 62 which is called Crater Lake Highway. 

It appears that the Highway is being straightened out in some areas – but that always accounts for construction.  We got held up a few times.  White City looked like a booming town when we finally arrived – as there had been little signs of life during our entire journey.  What we had both anticipated might take six hours ended up taking us almost eight.  Denise’s back hurt from driving all that way and we were both exhausted.  Still exhausted.

I actually got up because the alarm clock had started going off.  I finally unplugged the dang thing as I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off.  And Denise still continues to sleep.  That actually fascinates me because I am such a light sleeper.  Evidently she is not.

She says she has always wanted to go to the Medford Temple (well, since she converted to Mormonism 18 months ago) and finally has the opportunity to do so as we are ten minutes away.   So our plans now are to get up early (though I think my definition of early and her definition or early are two different times) and come back to the room and pack and then she will take me to Roseburg where I need to meet the individual who has the key to the property where Roland and I would like to live – even if only temporary.

Denise has planned everything.  She likes to know exactly where she’s going, and have a specified destination.  She’ll call ahead to book a room.  Today she and I will part ways.  She will continue on to Newport to visit her grandkids, and I will hopefully get to see a house that hopefully we’ll be moving to in just a few weeks.

I did have a room booked in Roseburg – for last night.  I also had a car.  Right now I don’t have either.  Nor do I have a way of getting home.  I’m hoping to take the bus from Roseburg to Salt Lake.  I am hoping to leave this weekend. 

I’m going to dress and get something to eat before Denise gets up and we head for the temple.

Road Trip

The story of Noah teaches us that we need to be prepared.  It is drilled into us as boy scouts or members of the church – to always be prepared.  Sometimes we are.  Often we’re not.  And sometimes we think we are and then life takes us in a completely different direction – or else the answer doesn’t come as soon as we had hoped.

My sister-in-law, Sunny, had had a calling to serve in the primary presidency at one point.  Once a month, each member of the presidency was asked to create a sharing time.  Now this was back before Pinterest or SugarDoodle.  Each month she would read and pray and study and pour out her heart and soul.  It always seemed to me that she wouldn’t receive revelation for her sharing time until Saturday night or the Sunday morning in which she needed to present the activity.  I thought that would drive me nuts.  And it does, but my last minute revelation or movement seems to be more about my life than presenting lesson.

My dad was a very organized individual.  He would always plan things out.  When we took family vacations, he always made arrangements on how far we would travel from one point to the next and in which town we’d stay and what activities we’d do – with some leisure.  I don’t recall having ever made motel reservations, as we would look for vacant signs and something hopefully with a pool.  Mom and I seemed to use more spontaneity after his passing.  More times than not we had a plan in place, but I remember taking road trips in which we would drive to nowhere in particular – or else we would start out with one destination in mind (the arches in Moab for example) 

and change our minds at the drop of the hat (why not go to Bryce and Zions instead.   

And hey, while we’re at it, why not hit the north rim of the Grand Canyon.  How far can it be?)

The problem with not having planned or made reservations is that we had her mother (my 70 plus year old grandmother) whose bladder wasn’t used to such fullness from one area to the next.  We had to stop – we had to get a room with a toilet.  We had to get a bed.  And there was nothing between the Jacob's ladder and Fredonia, Arizona.  It was a long drive in the dark before we finally found a bed and breakfast.  Two more miles and we would have been in Kanab – which we were the next morning.  But I don’t think we were even using a map at that point.  GPS was a foreign myth.  And mom had a lousy sense of direction besides – but hey, we got some excellent pictures (whatever happened to those?)

Some things need to be planned for:  scheduling appointments, attending graduations, weddings – even funerals – though many of those don’t seem to come with as much notice as does a wedding or baby blessing. 

Sunny would always plan for family members to attend baptisms, priesthood ordaining, and so forth.  She contacted family members weeks in advance.  And it was always an eventful occasion.  My boys were, “Oh, by the way, I’m being ordained this morning” and then wondered why so many family members didn’t attend.  Not that I ever set a great example.

As mentioned in an earlier post, Roland and I wished to be married in the temple – to start life on the eternal path (so to speak) and would make a date and change the date and change the date again – hoping that we’d have a clearance and would be able to go through the house of the Lord.  Ah, but God’s plans didn’t seem to exactly mirror our own.  Until finally I was fed up with the “celestial red tape” and decided to ask my bishop to marry us right away.  Everyone in attendance (including the groom) was given an eight hours notice or less.

That seems to occur A LOT in my life.  Take this road trip for example.  Roland and I had both known that when/if we went to Oregon to secure a rental, it would be at the drop of a hat, and it was.  Corey had initially agreed to go with me and had made arrangements – and though we had an address, we didn’t have a key nor signed the final papers.

Denise, who recently moved from Newport, Oregon, lives in my ward and told me that she would be driving to Oregon tomorrow.  Roland called on the rental yesterday and we looked into options on getting me to Roseburg first to take a look at the house and then to seal the deal so that we can move in ASAP – I decided to call Denise and ask her to change her plans to leaving earlier and a different route and I would pay for the gas (which I would have had to do on my own anyway)

Denise and I actually share the same first name (which is neither Denise nor LaTiesha) and today she drove us from West Valley, Utah to Winnamucca, Nevada.  Tomorrow we will go as far as Medford.  And then I may have to go all the way to Roseburg to meet with the property manage rep, or perhaps she’ll agree to meet me at the address where I wish to live.  We've taken a few pics, but I won't be loading them from the camera until after I return home.

I had reservations in Roseburg for tomorrow night, but they have been cancelled – along with my car rental.  Tomorrow Denise and I will try going through Medford Temple – or perhaps we’ll have to wait until Friday morning.  And then I will look for a rental car there (hopefully one I’ll be able to drive one way to Salt Lake) and a room in who-knows-what-town I’ll end up in?  Don’t know how I’m getting home at this point.  Denise and I will be parting company on Friday.  And then I guess I’ll play it by ear. What is up with that?

Fix Or Repair Daily

         My mom had a Ford Escort – which seemed to be a good little car overall.  I don’t remember having had to take it to the mechanic on a regular basis.  It did have its little quirks, but nothing major.  Not that I’m aware of anyway.

         Not that we ever wanted to, but we couldn’t drive over 70.  The car would shake and vibrate as if ready to explode. We learned that by accident when on a stretch of highway that seemed to have no traffic. I was often surprised when it didn’t fall apart on us.

         When going to get gas, mom wanted someone with her. The small door that closes over the gas cap had to be opened from the car – but it would stick.  Having someone push open the door while someone pulled the lever behind the steering wheel made it easier than stretching one’s body while pulling the lever by hand and trying to unstick the door with the foot – or finally asking some stranger for assistance.

         Mom would often leave the door open just in case she was ever caught without companionship.  Without fail, some “good Samaritan” would come along and push it closed.  Mom was annoyed by it – and though I understood why, I seemed somewhat grateful that others felt concerned enough to “look out for us”.

          

I never realized how unattractive this is

         Shortly after I was married, mom sold the car to Roland and me.  At that time he was driving a Dodge Caravan and gas was outrageous (or so I thought; 20.00 won’t fill a small car at present; I thought it disgraceful that we were spending that much to fill the Dodge.)  I told Roland under no circumstances was he allowed to drive the van unless all five us were in it (seems uncomprehend able that I thought it was such an outrageous sum at the time.  Can you imagine filling up a minivan on just 20.00 right now?)

         Roland would complain that the Escort windshield was so low to the ground that he couldn’t see anything ahead of him on the road.  And then one day he made a U-turn in the middle of our neighborhood street – thrilled with having the ability.  He also thought it was great that he could park in spaces where the van wouldn’t fit.

Mom and I took a lot of trips in that car.  Though I have a lot of memories of the car, I don’t miss having the car anymore.  I do miss my mom quite a bit.

Today we drive the Saturn that she drove.  It also has its quirks.  The one that drives me up the wall is when the heater/vent/AC unit goes on all by itself.  It will do it randomly – long after it’s been driven and just sitting in the driveway or parking lot or wherever – sounding like it’s possessed. 

It’s led a good life, but I think it may be time for something new.  Something that has more get up and go and doesn’t make me feel like I’m driving in neutral.  Funny I’d say that when I don’t even like to drive.  Perhaps Oregon will change that.