Out my window

Okay. Today is gonna be a bit off topic. This is the view out my front window at dusk. I love it. Every once in a while I take a step back and take it all in... We are here in NC. How did this all happen? I really enjoy it. The journey, that is. Seems like once a month, Heather and I are always having one form of this conversation or another. Stick with me on this.

Today, I emailed a guy that I used to work with in the Marines at 7th Motors. His name... Paul Rodgers. You old timers out there are thinking (the guy from Bad Company?) No. Not the guy from Bad Company. Paul and I used to work together in Pendleton. We were 2 of the 4-5 Hazmat guys at the Batallion. Paul and I ended up becoming friends. He got promoted to Sgt and I was still a Cpl. Yet, he wasn't even old enought to buy beer. Pretty funny. We used to work in the "shack" literally, at the end of the Motor Pool. Best part about he shack... It had A/C and Heat. No other building on MAINSIDE had A/C except the General. Apparently, as the story goes, a guy that I worked for when I first got there (Eckels) had fixed this A/C unit that had been broken for YEARS and never told anyone. Deal was, you put it on heat to have the A/C work. That way, no one was privy to our secret. IF someone wanted to test it out.. it didn't work. See, we weren't suppposed to have A/C. I'm not sure why, all I know is that we used to get threatened that if it ever worked they'd take it out and put it in the Col's office. So, we didn't want it to "work." It used to get so cold in there, that in the summer, we'd have to go outside to warm up. TOO FUNNY!!! I used to love that. What a scam!!

Anyway, I was flooded with a lot of GREAT memories about the Marines. Pendleton had to be the best duty station I ever went to. Hell, it's how I met Heather. In fact, Paul and I were the instigators on how I ever became interested in Heather. Long story, but a good one. Some day, that one will be told. All I can tell you is there was questions about how many tatoos there were, Capt. Bars, Taco Bell in a Mustang, and damn near a kegger on my deck of the barracks. Needless to say, I had been infatuated with Heather for MONTHS prior to that, and all the guys at work knew it. And as the story goes, so was she about me. Neither one of us knew it about the other. SO, with a little help from the boys, all became the history as we know it, now. Told Heather I wrote Paul, she thought that was pretty cool.

I really like hearing what the guys are up to. I miss them all. Hell, even Pecor, and Cannon. They weren't bad guys, any of them. We were all in the same hole together. That's the one thing that people who have never worn the uniform will never understand. I haven't talked to Paul in 7 years, but writing him felt like I had just talked to him yesterday. These are lasting friendships. SO, Paul, Pecor, Cannon, Radaker, Nick, Perlman, Neylon(s), Lund, Devine, and a ton more... From Heather and I, we miss you guys. Write when you can. We will do the same. By the way Paul, we still talk to Liz and Pat. They're in Arizona, now.

Later, Skaters...

Back in the Saddle, again...

Yep... It's back.

Harley forgot to tighten a bolt when I brought it in for a warranty issue, and consequently, 2 weeks ago while I was riding, my rear half of my bike was covered in OIL. Needless to day, hot oil baked onto everything; brand new exhaust, swingarm, tire, rear brake, belt, and other parts. They had given me a call the next day and said sorry... our fault. So, after a while, they decided to step up to the plate and replace everything damaged with brand new parts. Not bad. They stepped up to the plate and took care of it. Had a few hiccups here and there, but it all got worked out.

Took it for a ride this weekend and it runs great. I was having issues with popping on decel, but not anymore. Can't figure that out. Doesn't matter. Doesn't do it anymore. By the way, it was kind of cold out yesterday. Made for an iteresting ride. Started out sort of warm and ended up giving me numb legs.

The irony is, bikes seem to run better while being introduced to COLD air. I however, don't want to ride in COLD air. Now, if they could just make a motor that loves hot air. I'd be first in line.

Yeah, Yeah...

I know. Where have I been? Well, here and there, I suppose. Had a semi-interesting weekend. All starting with Harley Davidson and their finishing of my bike. That accomplished... I was able to bring it home and take it out for a ride a few times this weekend. Went to Morehead City near the outer banks. That place is Bitchin'. Did I bring the camera with me? What do you think? Hell, no. I am horrible at remembering that crap. I'm workin' on it though.

Update. Heather seems to be kickin' ass and takin' names at Staff Academy, so far. Except, I guess during their "war," I guess her platoon lost. Whatever. Still, she's doing good, and that's all that counts. She's pretty smart.

It's cold here today. BBBrrrrr..

Dork Night

I bowl.

I bowl on Tuesday Nights on a league comprised of 5 of us. Myself, and 4 others from Heather's work. We bowl alright. Last league we took 1st place. This league (2nd half,) we got stomped last night. I mean, we got our asses handed to us. Wow. I haven't taken a beating like that since since the days on the quarterdeck.

When I lived in the barracks and Heather and I were dating, I had a roommate named Larry. He used to watch "pro wrestling." Any and all of it. WWF, RAW, and all the other crap that comes on. We christened this night, "white trash night." Each night wrestling was on, my room was full of dudes watching wrestling. There were a lot of high fives going on, some hooping and hollering, and some immitation of their favorite wrestlers "move." Basically all the latent homosexual fantasies were fulfilled on these nights. See, it was my TV, but Larry bought cable. So, in order for me watch Hockey and stuff, there had to be a comprimise. Perhaps this is what started Heather and I having a tradition of going to Applebee's twice a week. Anyhow, white trash night has been replaced with dork night. Now, I am on the end that gets ridiculed.

Highway 53

You know, there's something about this road that always reminds me of home. We have a road almost identical to this. It's Barlow Road. From Hwy 211 near Woodburn, you turn right and it goes almost into Wilsonville, and it's perfectly straight. I once heard that Barlow Rd. is the longest, perfectly straight road in the entire state of Oregon. That stretch is like 10 miles. I used to travel Barlow Rd nearly every day when I was 19-21, when I used to work for Sysco in Wilsonville. I'm sure it was shorter to take I-5, but, who cares. I was always fascinated that there was a road this straight in Oregon of all places.

My first day of work at Sysco was on Feb. 14th. Well, I worked the Swing shift so my day didn't start till about 4:30 p.m. Well, I woke up that morning, and looked outside and it was snowing. I couldn't believe it. Snow. Go figure. By the way, Wilsonville is about a 45 minute drive from Molalla, in the summer, with no traffic. So, here we go, it's about 18 degrees and it's snowing. All day, all I could do was look at the snow coming down. It's wouldn't slow down. It' just kept on coming. Great!! I can't call in on my first day!! So, i toughen up, leave at 2:00 sharp and I'm on my way. (I couldn't show up late because, my Aunt worked there, and my Grandfather was good friends with the CEO and used to give him golf lessons) So as I get on Barlow Rd., I'm doing okay. No cars, really. I mean, who would be out in this weather? Me. Apparently, I would. So, I truckin at about 25 mph, cause the snow is thick, and the road is straight. Next thing I know, I'm facing the other way, and the car is backwards, and I'm sliding. I just decide I'm gonna ride this out and damn the torpedoes. Well, at about that point, the car hits another ice patch and I turn around and I'm headed to work, again. Man, I got to work and had to change my boxers. That was my first day. Oh, and 1/2 the crew called in, so my 1st day ended up being almost a 12 hr day. I got out of there at 4 a.m.

Anyway, there's nothing really straight about NC except for the freeway, except this stretch of the Hwy 53. I travel this road quite frequently. However, I'm only on it for about a 1/4 mile before I turn off to another road, but I have taken it all the way before and it is long, and beautiful. It pretty much looks like this the entire 20 miles of this Hwy that I have traveled. Trees on one side and a couple of homes on the other. It's just kind of speratic, the number of homes you'll see, even on the highway. It'ss pretty neat. As I see more and more of North Carolina, I am always having some sort of flashbacks of parts of Oregon. The Onslow County area, here, looks like Silverton, Or., in my opinion. You know, most of this area of NC looks like this, once you get out of Jacksonville.

Anyway, I ran across this picture that I took last weekend and thought I would post it. I ride every Sunday, and I have never taken a picture of this road till this day. About time I suppose.

Which cost more?

If you said the Diet Lipton Iced Tea.... You were wrong. Believe it or not, the orange cost me the most out of all of this. Pathetic. You know, I have a real problem with this. It seems that the healthier something is for you, the more expensive it is. The stuff that'll kill you the quickest is generally the cheapest. There seems to be something wrong with this equation, if you ask me. Seems to me that what we need to really tax in this country is grease or cooking oil. I bet you could make more revenue taxing cooking grease or cooking oil and drop property taxes all together. Sounds like a win/win to me.

While I'm on it, I'm looking at my picture and I'm just wondering... When did this all happen? When did I start buying only diet drinks? I'm looking in my fridge, and all I see is diet. I can't remember the last time I bought regular pop. I tried a regular Dr. Pepper the other day and thought I was drinking syrup. So, it's finally happened. I've turned not into my parents, but my grandparents. Every time I'd go to my Nana's house, she had in mass quantities; Diet Coke, Pepsi Free, and occasionally Tab. Now, I've atleast got SOME standards... I'm not buying the TAB. But, when did I become aged?

Hell, even our beer is "light." Well, that one is mostly Heather's doing. I really have no say on the beer thing. We're not allowed to buy anything that might endanger the volume of her belches. This is why we don't dust. No need. The shock waves from Heather's belches usually knocks any and all particulates off our furniture. Lucky us.

Fight the power, and plant a fruit tree.

Here It Sits

There it is. My bike. I like my bike. I like to ride my bike. Each time I get on it, I think of the Queen lyric, "I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike."

I like my Motorcycle, too. I love to ride. There really is no other feeling like it. Again, each time I am on it, I am reminded of another lyric by Arlo Guthrie about how he doesn't wanna pickle... He just wants to ride his motorcycle (cycle being pronounced like pickle.) See, where I'm from we pronounce motorcycle like motorsickle. I'm not really sure why, I guess that's just part of our accent up in the northwest. Another one I am CONSTANLY reminded of by my wife is Antenna. Where I'm from we pronounce it ANN-TAN-NUH. We don't say it like ANN-TEN-NUH. Oh well, right?

Now that I'm moving on, my motorcycle is in the shop. It's sunday, and I ride every sunday. Not today... So, I went to ride my bike... Wow, I got one block and had to turn around. It was 37 degrees. Didn't seem that bad standing still. However, while you are moving at 12-15 mph, the wind and cold hits your face like a MACK truck. So, I had to turn around. It's a shame, really. I could use the exercise. So, I guess I'm home bound. Deal is... It's not supposed to break 42 today. That's what really sucks. Maybe I'll just go for a walk. Or, maybe not. Heather's studying, so she's not in the mood to go exploring. Kids are on lockdown, I guess. Rooms are a pig stye and they don't feel like going outside. Too cold.

So, I suppose it's just a good day to listen to some Queen, Arlo Guthrie and maybe a little Frank Black. Thanks Chris!!

There's Something About Rain

I'm not really sure what it is, but I really enjoy the rain. I love what it does. I love the sound of it. I have fond memories of growing up in Gresham, on a Saturday afternoon, with the only light in the house coming from the open blinds, the windows 1/4 of the way open, no tv, no radio, my mom usually on the couch reading a book, me bored going through some of our old encyclopedias, laying on the bed, listening to the rain fall outside. Hearing the pulses of heavy to sprinkles to just regular rain. The smell that comes through the house is so "clean." It's like, the rainy breeze that would draft through the house would take out all of the aromas in the house and replace them with the smell of wet pine trees, yesterdays cut grass, and the unaturally clean smell of rain. Ocean breeze rain. It doesn't get any cleaner than that, does it? About the only thing that can trump that is to hear it at night while falling asleep. Each time, I am always reminded of Poe's citation of Longfellow's "Waif." I'm not going to spoil this post with poems from Poe and Longfellow, but the first line is brilliant;

The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an Eagle in his flight.

Anyway, it rained all day yesterday. It's been raining today. I remember when we lived in Oceanside, and on our way to Jim and Sue's, you could always tell when it rained... You could see Big Bear from our house. That's usually not so odd, in most other parts of the country, but it was odd in Southern California, and on a clear, day after rain day, you could see Catalina (barely.)

On our way to the bus stop yesterday, Hayden and Maisy said, "Dad, why can't we just drive to the bus stop? It's too cold and it's raining." Seems reasonable doesn't it? However, we live 500 feet from the bus stop. We walked, got a "little" wet, not too bad, and we all survived. Mason, each and every time we come to a "puddle" he has to stomp in it. It's pretty cute, and you know what? I don't care. Shoes dry, and sometimes you just need to stomp in the puddles, get wet, get cold, laugh a little, giggle a lot, and when you get home... curl up with a blanket, hot cocoa, and your favorite stuffed lion and watch some looney tunes. Kids... what a life.

Now, that's a memory that I want.

Damn you, Girl Scouts!

Girl Scouts have Cookies.

I mean, when I say they have cookies, I mean, WE have cookies. One of Heather's many Junk Food Vices. The ever immortal "Thin Mint." Yes, the thin mint holds a very special place in our household. It's usually the precursor to the other more volaltile, fought after, and hoarded Cadbury Egg. Jesus, it never ends. So, yes. Cookies, Cadbury Eggs, going door to door, store to store, and then... you soon realize that your Freezer is literaly HALF FULL (not half empty, cause once the supply looks like its diminishing, it's soon restocked Ricky-Tick!) with BOXES of Cookies, and BOXES of Cadbury Eggs.

For someone like myself, this is a challenging time. See, I'm not Slender by any means. So, usually at this point in the year, my bike seems to get fewer and fewer miles. The running shoes seem to collect a little dust, and my fingers usually get that familiar glint of residual chocolate on them. It's a very trying time. That's just me. You ought to see Heather. It's Horrilbe. She often says that when it came to those two items, Girl Scout Cookies and Cadbury Eggs, they were usually something you'd draw blood over, growing up. She also says that she has no control when it comes to these things. There may be some credence to that satement. I've actually witnessed her polish off an entire box of thin mints just to see her hit the freezer a 1/2 hour later for a Cadbury Egg. It's truly an amazing sight. I can only imagine how the other Heuers manage during this season.

So why can't the Girl Scouts offer a truly healty cookie? Because it has the word "cookie" in it. It presupposes that it's NOT going to be healthy, and that if you DO own a bike, you best get your ass on there and ride. In my case, I suppose I'll stop pedaling somewhere near Topeka, Kansas. I'm not asking they create some Tofu Thin Mint. Though, I'd probably eat it, I just can't support an idea like that.

So... It's that time of year to create a budget. Clean out the freezer and I suppose, tighten up the laces and just suck it up.

It's That Time Of Year

You see... In Cub Scouts / Boy Scouts... We have the Holy Grail of early adolescent adrenaline and sport and skill. It's a little New Yankee Workshop, a little Futuristic Concept Design, and a lot of hooping and hollering. Basically teaches young boys about what to expect when they get older. Competition, craft, sharp tools, and other impliments of destruction just to create something that can't weigh over 5 oz.

That right... The Pinewood Derby. Yes, this is where fathers often help out WAY TOO MUCH!! I can only imagine what it's gonna be like out here in North Carolina. I am actually looking forward to see how many Earnhardt replica cars there are. Maybe a few Tony Stewarts, Kyle Busch, and of course, just how many fathers decide to paint their son's car in Budweiser colors and put a number 8 on it in recognition of Dale Jr. Yes, racing and North Carolina go together like stink on... well, let's just say that it's pretty popular out here.

Hayden and I have taken a different approach. He tells me what he wants it to look like, I try to draw it (this took about 24 attempts and 2 pencils) and I have been slowly carving it. He tried to carve and about lost a thumb. I guess we just wait till he's a bit older. But no decisions are made without his approval. This is his project. I'm about to go to the Hobby Shop and use the power tools there. But, overall, it's fun. I'm having a great time. So is Hayden, and that's really all that matters.

Quick Kerouac

Jack Kerouac... Well, this is a deep seeded issue with me, and I'll go over it some other time. It's memories carry overtones of when I joined the Marines, the months before leaving to boot camp, and traveling over 3/4 of the world by the ripe old age of 22. Basically, the beatnik dream, in a controlled lifestyle.

My first Kerouac I finished, "On The Road," was at 2 in the morning, in Okinawa, while Cobra helicopters, C-130's, 141's, and the occasional F-18 flew overhead doing touch and goes, while sitting on the footsteps of Brig. General Hagee's building. Homesick, young, tired, doing whatever I could to hang onto what little piece of home I had in a place that couldn't have been any further away from home or normalcy. Back then, it was the best book I had ever read. It's still up there on my short list of great books.

The book is basically about living by the seat of your pants, hopping into your car, getting out, seeing the country, work your way through it, traveling Route 66 with your best friend. Letting the chips fall where they may. Goods, bads, and everything in between. Taking a chance, giving up what you knew to be normal, just for a chance to create your own "normal." It fit perfectly for me back then. Rough times for me personally back then. Mostly why I joined the Marines in the first place.

It was a great time. Time for reflection. A lot was happening in my life at that time. I like to refer to these times as Pre-Heuer. Everything after July of 1998 has become Post-Heuer.

...Less Traveled

This may be the more introverted side of me. I love to read. I think I get it from my Mom, and my Nana. Both avid readers. I also love to write. You will soon learn this. I believe that I, too, get this from my Mom. One of the larger problems I feel that I am going to have blogging, is keeping it short and readable. If given enough time and space, I could just go off about anything and everything.

There's a famous story of me waiting to pick up my brother, Greg, from the airport at PDX. He was coming in from Alaska, having spent the summer there with his friend, Eric and his Dad. Greg ended up voluntarily bumping himself to another flight that left later. Think he told anyone? NOPE. So, his original flight was supposed to come in EARLY. Well, I got to the airport early (Midnight, and just decided that I would do some reading and sleep a bit and wait at the Airport rather than gettin up at 2 am, to get ready to drive over an hour to get there to pick him up. Anyway, 8 hours later he shows up. I was a bit steamed, but happy to see him. I got over it. We got home, and I was telling everyone this story about what had happened, and Greg says in perfect timing, "Shit Mark, this story is taking longer than the damn flight, itself!!" Hilarious. We all laughed for a long time. To this day, we all laugh when we bring it up. Basically, I can talk. Again... a sickness that I am almost sure that I got from my Mom. That being said... here's one more.

Robert Frost... 9 years old, Powell Valley Elementary School. There was a "Teacher" side to the library. In this section were books that seemed to be much more advanced reading. Mr. Hansen was a great teacher. He let us, once a month go to the teacher section to pick out a book. I picked up this rather cumbersome book that ended up being poems by Robert Frost. He showed me a famous poem by Robert Frost. He read it, then I read it. He explained it to me the best that he could, and all I could remember was the last two lines "... I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." Sometimes I think it could have been a metaphor for my life at times. Especially growing up and making some of the decisions that I did.

Some just know me as Heather's husband, and that's fine, too. But, believe it or not, I do actually have parents, a brother, an entire family in Oregon, whom I am very close to. I miss Oregon, and suppose that once Heather is retired out of the Marines, that we will more than likely be living there. I'm excited cause it sounds like they will be coming out to NC to see us. We are overdue for some great family time. May and June should be interesting.

Off The Trail

Off The Trail

Refers to the origin of myself being from Oregon, and within Oregon is the Oregon Trail. Off the Trail.. Well, that would be me, now wouldn't it? I used to have a blog years ago that was named "Chasing Oregon." However, I have a sister-in-law who has inspired me to start blogging again, and in doing so, after reading her brilliant works, it has further inspired me to not take on my previous blog title. Chasing Oregon was at times too simple and at most time an homage to my home that I missed. This is my attempt to change all of that.

Next is the "...less traveled" part and my facination with Robert Frost, Jack Kerouac, and the constant new travels and explorations that began with the Marines and still moves in more challenging, and amazing directions.