Negative influence

A couple of weeks ago, Rob and I celebrated our 34^th wedding anniversary. Although jewelers would tell you that’s the Amber or Opal anniversary, my experience suggests it’s the Spoon Chocolate anniversary. I inhaled 3 delectable demitasse cups of the thick, warm, chocolatey magic over the course of our trip. Wedded bliss!

Spoon Chocolate - thicker than mousse,
thinner than pudding, warm and creamy.
SOOOO GOOD!!

I anticipate our anniversary trip to the Oregon Coast every year. It is always a quiet, relaxing, slow-paced deep breath punctuated by ocean sounds and footprinted walks on the beach. We pad around the hotel in slippers that I pretend look like shoes. We put puzzles together. We sip wine. We read. We eat well. We bask in the dumb luck of choosing to get married between Thanksgiving and Christmas when few people think to travel. It is an annual reset and respite that I have come to depend on.

The hotel we stay at caters to couples. Kids under 12 are not allowed, which is good because they would be utterly bored by the spa and Wine Hour and chatter about destination travel. The property is a lovely coastal hideaway that apparently is no longer much of a secret. It has won some recent awards that inspired a new niche of guests this year: Influencers. UGH.

The camera-ready 30-somethings were easy to spot. They were younger, they were foofed and coiffed, and they came toting cameras and light rings and photographers (usually a much less foofed and coiffed boyfriend or husband). They also were singularly focused on creating a moment while forgetting to actually experience it.

Influencer in the wild, a private moment contemplating
the parking lot in between sips of her morning coffee -- with
a camera capturing every sip and hair toss

It was bizarre and sad to watch these young women and their audiovisual valets set up photos to project an image of romance and connectedness. Sit here, turn there, put your wine glass near the Christmas tree, lean out of the way, now look wistfully at the beach. Casually walk in front of the Christmas tree. Toss your hair in the breeze; whoops, no, try that again. All the while completely oblivious or indifferent to the impact their curation might be having on other guests who actually wanted to sit by the Christmas tree with a glass of wine and watch the sunset without any proof of having done so.

On our anniversary itself, Rob and I had dinner in the casually elegant restaurant associated with the hotel. I dressed up a little, meaning I wore shoes instead of my slippers and put on some sparkly earrings.

As we were enjoying our amuse-bouches, an influencer made a grand entrance in a red velvet dress. Her hair was even foofier and her makeup was likely replicable via TikTok. She looked stunning. And camera ready.

Meanwhile, her husband was in jeans and a sweatshirt and looked like he had just woken up from a nap. They immediately reminded me of so many young couples I saw on my last visit to Las Vegas, where all the women got gussied up in sparkly dresses and tottering heels while the guys trailed them looking like slobby extras from the movie “The Hangover.”

The mismatch in dining attire was striking, but it was clear why she was all fancy and he was all schleppy: they were in their work clothes.

Yep, out came the camera with a long lens and clicking shuttery noises. Pose here, hand there, wistful glance, doe-eyed smile, raise a glass, pretend to clink, position the food, move the plate to get better lighting. The couple ate dinner but I’m not sure they really experienced it. They sure did document it, though.

The next day, Rob and I were sitting on our room’s balcony, stunned by the uncharacteristically gorgeous weather. As we listened to the crashing waves and watched vacationers stroll the wet sand, we heard a strange whirring motor above us. It almost sounded like a helicopter or a very proximate stink bug. Suddenly coming into very close view was a drone, its pilot seemingly on the floor above us a couple of rooms over.

I was a bit incredulous as I watched this buzzing chunk of intrusive technology hover just past our balcony, with a full view of us and what I had assumed was our private room. As the drone moved back and forth a bit, we identified its cameras and waved very enthusiastically, both to indicate we knew it was there and to perhaps ruin their shot. Yeah, snark meet snark.

The drone swooped up and down the beach and back and forth between the hotel and the ocean. It finally disappeared as I was contemplating whether it was more effective to inquire at the front desk about the wisdom of allowing guests to bring their drones, or to make some pointed comments on the After Stay survey which I knew was imminent. Having had a career in marketing research, I strategically opted for the management-driven survey.

Eager to see what all this photographing, posing, droning, and hard work would yield, I started following the hotel on social media. A week later, a highly produced video with lots of cuts and edits and camera angles and zooming was posted. Apparently the red velvet gal – who also inexplicably sported a white ski suit during our mid-50-degrees stay – has quite a following. She also was fawned over by the hotel’s management in some comments, huzzah to the drone. Fabulous.

Screenshot from the fancy video. Apparently the white ski
suit was so you could see her from the drone. Rob and I are
sadly not waving in her video. But if you zoom in, we do
look rather surprised by the goings on.

Watching the influencer’s travel video of our stay makes it look like she and her husband had an incredibly relaxing getaway, just the two of them. The picnic, the bonfire, the spa treatments, the gourmet dinner, the romantic kiss on the balcony. It looks so real and inviting and an absolutely perfect escape. And for us – who didn’t have a lightbox or a zoom lens or a wardrobe change (well, ok, the slipper shoes) – it was.

But for Em and Bryan, as viewed out of camera range, it was work and imagery and cultivation. It was putting on a show for the cameras and followers. It was creating a reality the way they wanted it to be, whether or not it was true or real. The Millennial couple might have had some relaxing moments sprinkled in. But I’d bet a spoon chocolate it was when the cameras and phones and drones were out of sight. If indeed they ever were.

Therapeutic deletions

After nearly 4 years of steady, mostly trouble-free service, Rob and I nonetheless recently decided it was time to upgrade our cell phones. When I mentioned our plans to a fellow Gen Xer, she gave the most appropriate response possible: “I’m sorry.”

What a hassle! I am not a technophobe, but I also don’t particularly enjoy trying to hunt down that one deeply buried setting that must be toggled in just the right direction to suddenly get my handheld answer box to behave the way I want it to. I am the Geek Squad of Woodhaven and it’s a job I dread and try to avoid. Hence the 4-year-old phones that still have touch id and headphone jacks.

Among the tasks I assigned myself to get ready for The Upgrade was to winnow down my phone’s photo album. While I thought my nearly 3,000 photos were a lot, an unscientific poll of my Facebook friends suggests I’ve done a very impressive job keeping my cellular album manageable over the years (the average number of photos among my friends who replied was 13,394).

So over the course of about a week, I sifted through my many photos of vacations and fairs and sunsets and a particularly photogenic black cat. Downloading the images to organized files on my laptop, I am pleased to announce I got it down to just 702 photos that I want to keep at my fingertips.

Among the photos I pulled off and put in a new album were various scenes of Pandemic Life. I had photos of grocery stores with arrows on the floor, parking lots with hastily spray-painted numbers, lines of people 6 feet apart waiting outside a restaurant that deftly pivoted to “To Go” orders, church services with pews removed in place of “family groups” of chairs, screenshots of Zoom chats and meetings, Band-Aids over vaccinated arms, a positive Covid test, and so many selfies that featured face masks.

It was an unexpected relief to delete those Covid-era photos from my phone. I am no longer reminded of those surreal, fear-laden moments as I scroll through my collection looking for a specific non-pandemic photo. I didn’t realize the baggage-y impact seeing those images on a pretty regular basis was having on me until they were gone. While I don’t necessarily want to erase the past, I don’t need to frequently revisit it either. Especially that past.

The photo release inspired me to make another Covid clean sweep. Although I don’t remember the date, I do clearly remember putting up two rows of hooks in our laundry room so I could better organize our growing collection of Pandemic Masks. One row was for Rob, the other for me. For a seeming eternity, we were using those hooks daily. Thankfully, though, for the past couple of years, the hanging masks have evolved into odd décor as we have replaced any masking needs with higher-quality disposable ones.

Top row is Rob's. I clearly
decided to view masks as accessories.

When I installed the hooks, I recall wondering how long we would be living in masked times. It was with great hope and optimism that I attached the units to the wall with temporary tape and Velcro, desperate for the day we didn’t need them anymore.

I was filled with relief, gratitude, and a confused sense of “Did that time really happen??” as I removed the masks and hooks a few days ago. I looked at the masks that I made, remembering how frustrating and incredibly bloggable that little DIY adventure was. I looked at the masks that I bought as utterly bizarre souvenirs when we finally dared to venture out into the world again. I looked at the masks that I bought at a great price when the manufacturer had more confidence than I did that the height of the insane times was behind us. It was a very strange trip down a very strange lane of memories.

No pictured: an array of odd supplements like
metal bendy nose pieces, foam nose bridges,
and pipe cleaners. Masks + glasses = so much
annoying fog.

Deciding that the mask collection is a fascinating snapshot of all that was unprecedented (remember that overused word?!), I resisted throwing the masks away. Instead, I pondered a place I could store them that I wouldn’t visit often, a place that wouldn’t catch my eye as I wander about Woodhaven, a place I could forget even existed.

With a surge of inspiration, I trotted upstairs to a largely unused bathroom, heading for the storage cabinet under the sink. I opened the wooden door, ready to toss in my plastic bags of masks, and laughed out loud at how me I am.

Greeting me in the cabinet was my hair coloring kit circa 2016 – the last time I dyed my hair that dark brown Truffle #50 color.  

I wondered where that bell pepper
timer went! And the blue tape? I put
it on my face around my hairline to
minimize the post-coloring scrubbing
I had to do.

Yep, I indeed found the perfect spot. Out of the way and forgotten, where artifacts of Times That Were can collect and be visited…or not. I think I’ll move our tower of at-home Covid tests in there next.

That blank wall just breathes peace now.

Howdy, Folks!

Back in December 2019, Rob and I mapped out plans to visit two massive state fairs that are universal “Must Do’s” amongst the Fair Fan set. We hadn’t made any reservations but we had the dates set aside in our calendar and planned to start accumulating confirmation numbers sometime in the Spring of 2020. We all know how that ended up. 

Four years later, we FINALLY put half of those pandemically hijacked plans into action!! Yep, last week we moseyed down to Dallas to experience the State Fair of Texas! YEE HAW!!

Photo taken on Day 2, after I had gotten
myself all swagged up with a Fair-themed 
t-shirt and baseball hat. My popcorn earrings
were from my personal collection and quite a hit!

Yes, the official name is the "State Fair of Texas" as opposed to “The Texas State Fair.” Google tells me that back in the late 1800s, there were two fairs in the general Dallas area that merged. They came up with the elevated moniker to signal a new fair was underway. Plus it sounded fancier. Or more important. Or at least bigger. Which is very Texan.

After spending a few days with family in the exceedingly humid and mosquitoed southern part of Texas, Rob and I arrived at the Dallas Fairgrounds about 45 minutes early on Opening Day. A fellow Fair Fan had clued me in that the first several thousand fairgoers receive a commemorative, brag-worthy button on Opening Day at the State Fair of Texas. We didn’t fly over 1,600 miles to sleep in! Plus, Fair Swag! For free! Off we went!

The coveted Opening Day buttons were something of a secret. I expected to be ceremoniously handed one as my entry ticket was scanned. Instead, we had to ask the nice ladies at the Hospitality Center for our sleep-deprived bounty. Apparently the collectable buttons were all gone by 2:00pm. So not that big of a secret, but still something you are invited to oooh and ahhh over.

OOOH!  AHHH!

We spent 3 full days at the State Fair of Texas, walking nearly 20 miles on asphalt and cement, and putting a dent in our upset-tummy and body aches medications. We probably spent $50 on bottled water – because I only found one operational water fountain on the entire fairgrounds; the rest were either broken or turned off to help induce beverage sales. Sneaky and not very friendly-like. Boo! We lounged in air conditioning a few times, but we didn’t really sit very much because, well, my back is still not super happy in that position after the Dangerous Pants Extrication of late August (see September 9 blog). Nevertheless, despite bodies that seemed to have aged a little faster this year, we faired well!

The weather was perfect by Texas standards, which is to say it was sunny and high-80s – both heat and humidity. We mostly melted. The mid-70s, dry, crisp Fall air when we landed back at PDX a few days ago was heavenly and an instant reaffirmation of my love for the Pacific Northwest. Ahhhhh.

We didn’t arrive in Dallas with much of a plan. A quick scan of the fair’s concert lineup was as familiar and captivating as this season’s cast of “Dancing with the Stars.”  In other words, meh. There weren’t any events like demolition derby or monster trucks to plan around. We did catch part of a daily rodeo – in a blessedly air-conditioned arena with supportive chairs. I would have stayed for the entire show except for my screaming back. Sigh.

Not too bad a photo for a circa 2020
cell phone!

We did have one appointment, though! On Opening Day, we rendezvoused in front of Big Tex with my friend Don. Don is a HUGE fair fan, attending a dozen or more fairs EACH YEAR. Although Don lives in the Midwest, he is able to travel about and swing through quite a few fairs throughout the United States. Don was alerted to my fair blogging by my other Fair Fan Friend, John, probably 8ish years ago. Until this year, Don and I had only been in email contact. But a quick in-person meeting about a month ago in Washington led to another super fun commiseration meet-up in Texas. It’s entirely feasible our paths will cross again on some other fairgrounds! YAY FAIR FRIENDS!

Don was decked out in his New York
State Fair t-shirt and Alaska State Fair
hat decorated with his assorted state
fairs pins. He is serious about fairing! I 
love his enthusiasm and recommendations!
Great seeing you again, Don!

So Big Tex. He’s A Thing. The 55-foot statue wearing a 95 gallon hat is the icon of the State Fair of Texas and appears on soooo much merchandise. He doesn’t live at the fairgrounds year ‘round; despite several information plaques we never learned where he spends the off-season. But, Big Tex’s arrival every year is something of a celebration, as is the unveiling of this year’s belt buckle (Shiner Beer for 2024. I tried some. Not recommended, unless you have a hankerin' for college.). Big Tex has a slow, easy drawl and reads through a loud-speakered script several times per day. His catchphrase is “Howwwww-deeeee, folks!” It appears to be a Texan requirement to snap a photo of yourself and your loved ones eating a Fletcher’s Corny Dog with Big Tex in the background. Since we are not Texan, we enjoyed our pretty-good-but-not-epic Corny Dogs elsewhere on the fairgrounds. We did, however, pose with Big Tex several times throughout our visit. So, not Texan but hopefully at least respectful tourist.

When Big Tex talked, his mouth moved!
Also, the plaque said he started out
as a Santa Claus in a nearby town
and was repurposed as a cowboy in 1952.
Rob and I agreed he looked a lot like
Roy Rogers.

The apparently iconic Fletcher's 
Corny Dog was pretty good! The dog
was a little small; I probably should
have ordered the all-beef version. The
corn batter was thick and indeed corny.

I was surprised – and disappointed – by a distinct lack of animals at the State Fair of Texas. I expected there to at least be a barnful of cows and steers throughout the entire 24-day run of the fair. I mean, it's TEXAS! The land of beef! 

Instead, there were just a couple of large barns that rotated through animals, no more than three different types each day (except for a momentous 3-day weekend in the middle of the fair during which 4 – FOUR! – types of animals share the barn space.) By total luck, we were there on the one and only day that llamas attended the fair. YAY! But it seemed like less than 6 kids were showing llamas. BOO! Otherwise, we saw sheep, goats, and pigs. The handy Septober schedule revealed the bovine arrived on Day 5 and stayed onsite for the rest of the fair. Guess our timing was bad for cow viewing.

How about building another barn to allow
for a wider array of animals each day??
There's enough room on the fairgrounds.
Trust me (and my feet).

Llama Obstacle Course! And one of the boldest
footwear choices I've ever seen a judge make
in a show ring. Fashion boots?! With heels?!

The dearth of llamas came from 5 states, one of which
is the enormity of Texas. Meanwhile, I have walked in 
many parades with the Southwest Washington Llama
Association. Yeah, LOTS more llamas here in the 
Pacific Northwest. I had no idea!

I was also confused by the lack of food and agriculture contests. We went into every single building on the fairgrounds – except the Cotton Bowl (which sits smack dab in the middle of the fairgrounds) since we didn’t really care about Grambling State nor Prairie View A&M. Nowhere in our venturing did we find entries of homegrown tomatoes or bluebonnets or cookies or moonshine. I was so bummed! I love seeing the regional differences in what is grown and consumed.

There was one wall of canning entries, and an adequate number of quilts and interesting arts and crafty creations. We only found a smattering of photos, and the kids’ entries were tucked in a small corner, with a few intermingled with the adult entries. Although I quite enjoyed looking at all the creative ways Texans spend their indoor time, I was disappointed it was all contained in one moderately small – albeit air conditioned – room.

The room was about three times the
size of what is visible in this photo.
Pretty small by Texas standards.

I took a gander. Surprisingly nothing terribly
unusual is canned in Texas. 

Literally a corner for the kid entries.
And not terribly populated. SO SAD!
Kid Art is my favorite.

The pun game in Texas is pretty 
impressive. As is the crocheting.

My favorite piece of Kid Art! I'm still astounded
this was painted by a kid under the age of 9.
I love how Texan it is!

So without animals or events or agricultural exhibits, what DID the State Fair of Texas offer as entertainment?

Three words: cars, shopping, and food.

Don had warned me but I didn’t totally absorb the impact until I saw it for myself. Part of the State Fair of Texas is a full-blown car show. Like multiple buildings, all the brands, with test drives and huge turntables and hopeful dealers wanting your email address. It was bigger than the Portland Auto Show by far.

With a 20-year-old SUV creeping towards 300,000 miles, Rob and I decided to take advantage of the two-fer and chatted up some Honda and Toyota folks while I tested the height and comfort of various passenger seats. We also quite enjoyed the air conditioning and took daily advantage of the cell phone charging kiosk at Honda (much faster and cooler than the outdoor one at Chevrolet). So while a very weird fair offering, the Texas Auto Show at the fair was somewhat helpful given our circumstances.

Rob and the salesman chatted about
the Honda Passport and the unexpected
expenses of hybrid cars. Apparently 
heavy electric batteries wear out 
tires at an impre$$ive rate?

I suppose I could look at a fairgrounds map to report the actual number, but my best guess is that there were 487 different buildings housing things to buy at the State Fair of Texas. Mattresses, scented candles, massage chairs, energy-efficient windows, cowboy hats, beverage accessories, farm equipment. There was also an entire building dedicated to products made in Texas. Most of them were edible – like cookies and honey and ice cream and pickle juice – and many provided free samples. Score!

These massage chairs were quite
popular. And only available for
 test lounging by those 21 years old
and older. I never did see a cocktail
waitress, so I'm not sure why the age
restriction. Out of camera range:
two kids relegated to playing on the floor.

This booth smelled better than the
candle booths. Mmmm, leather.

Fuzzy, cowhide bottle coozies.
I managed to resist.

Truth be told, Rob and I kinda got swept up in the consumer excitement. In addition to the two hats, one t-shirt, commemorative drink cup, and Big Tex Bobblehead souvenirs, we also somewhat impulsively bought something else super practical (in my world, Bobbleheads are a completely reasonable and justified acquisition). Our purchase was “somewhat” impulsive because we told Amanda we needed to think about the product overnight, and then we returned the next day to take advantage of Amanda’s promised Fair Deal. Although she hid it well, I’m sure she was stunned to actually see us again. 

Although it was terribly bizarre to buy a heater in Texas, we are nonetheless pretty stoked to give our new Veito® Blade 1500W Infrared Heater with Telescopic Base a whirl on our front porch (the base and free shipping was the deal part). You know, so we can sit in our comfy outdoor chairs and watch it snow when we get tired of looking at the snow in our backyard. Because front yard snow is very different than backyard snow.

Amanda had just finished working
the Washington State Fair! Not surprisingly,
she sold quite a few heaters over its 3-week run.
Hope Texas treats you well, Amanda!
Thanks for the warmth!

So FOOD! In all honesty, the reputation of the Food Scene at the State Fair of Texas was what put it at the top of my FAIRS TO GO TO list (yes, I have one). Texas’s fair is known to have really creative, over-the-top culinary creations. And it is often the birthplace of treats that other fairs eventually adopt (fried Coke anyone?). In the couple months prior to Opening Day, I was getting almost daily updates on Big Tex’s Instagram account about the various gastro-concoctions making their debut at this year’s Fair. Contests were being held and entries judged, photographed, and hyped. I was duly salivating for weeks!

The list of winners, honorable mentions, and new foods was quite long. I ended up trying 5 of the 10 winners/runners-up by the time we said "see ya" to the fairgrounds. When we arrived on site, the fair food was definitely highlighted. There were 6 pages of the 20-page Fair Visitor's Guide dedicated to food finds. Winners proudly displayed award plaques at their booths from this and prior years. News stories both written and on TV featured, reviewed, and debated the various entries. It was totally my scene and I could not wait to dig in!

As I do, I started slow with a Fletcher's Corny Dog on Day 1. By the late night after Day 3, I was sprawled out on our hotel room’s bed, somewhat patiently waiting for the 4 Tums and 1 Gas-X to mitigate the Fat Bacon Pickle Fry Nachos, Candied Pork Belly Bacon Bites, Fresh Pickle Pizza, and Biscoff Delight Cheesecake I had consumed all on the same day because time was running out.

Although my tummy eventually survived, I do think I owe it a championship plaque. And I will admit I am starting to wonder how many more years I can do this sort of gastronomy adventuring without prolonged regret. Oy.

This pickle pizza was pretty good!
Enough so that I plan to try a version 
at home. My biggest gripe was the sauce
was a white alfredo sauce. I would have
preferred a red sauce. And colder pickles.
 

INCREDIBLE tender pork belly chunks
wrapped in thick, sweet candied bacon.
It was the best pork I've had since the 
Iowa State Fair, and I did not mind
tasting it for several hours after. 
Nevertheless, eventually, Tums.

Super cold (but not frozen)
cheesecake rolled in crushed Biscoff
cookies. If you have been on an airplane
in the past few years, yes, THOSE cookies.
Rob and I shared this and made happy
eating noises the entire time.

The best foods I tried at the State Fair of Texas were the “Drowning Taquitos,” the “Fried Burnt Ends Bombs,” and the “Cotton Candy Bacon on a Stick.” The Biscoff Delight cheesecake should be on that list, too. OH! And Rob’s “The Nephew” sandwich was amazing enough that I am going to try to replicate it with two fresh raised donuts housing juicy beef brisket topped with melted mozzarella. If you like chicken and waffles, brisket and donuts is a natural next step. Trust me.

Drowning Taquitos! 
Three deep fried taquitos filled with
chicken served with a cup of Mexican Heaven.
It was like a Mexican salad with greens, guacamole,
 jalapenos, tomatoes, sour cream, cotija cheese,
and a tangy salsa verde. As good as the taquitos were,
I would order the Mexican salad just by itself. Super tangy
and fresh and all the flavors melded together really well.
  

Fried Burnt Ends Bombs!
The burnt ends were a little mushy, but they
were rolled in hashbrown potatoes and cheese
and fried and dipped in BBQ sauce.
REALLY TASTY!

The Nephew Sandwich!
Juicy brisket topped with melted mozzarella
cheese, some honey, a token leaf of spinach, and
some powdered sugar sandwiched between two
raised donuts. Rob let me have a bite. OMG.
 It was SO GOOD! A perfect sweet savory mouthful.

Some of the worst stuff I tried was Texas wine and beer. It all tasted cheap and novice-y. Blech. I also was disappointed with the Fat Bacon Pickle Fry Nachos – the hot pickles fried up like French fries and then topped with nacho cheese sauce, sour cream, jalapenos, and thick bacon bits sounded like they would blow my mind and tastebuds. Instead, it was a bunch of ingredients that just didn’t blend together well. Yes, I know you aren't surprised, but I was.

The tiny cup was more than enough
to sample this Texan Tempranillo.  

The Pickle Fries looked exactly like
French Fries except for being warm
pickles instead of potatoes. I so 
desperately wanted to love this!
Instead, I threw a lot of it away.

I intended to try the super-hyped and officially Most Creative “Texas Sugar Rush Pickles” – pickles coated in cotton candy and then placed in a cup of fruity cereal, ice cream, and lollipops. But the Day 1 review in the Dallas newspaper said something similar to my Pickle Nachos review – a bunch of ingredients were thrown together without a lot of thought about how they might interact. So I skipped the “Sugar Rush.” I'm not really a fan of sugary cereals anyway.  

Not the "Sugar Rush" and not something
I ordered. We stopped this gal as she was
sipping on this blendered mess of a drink.
She claimed it tasted good, although she
hadn't yet had any of the gummy worms 
topping the concoction, nor the bottles'
worth of Tajin spices rimming the top
two inches of the blender. It had a fair
amount of alcohol in it, which explained
quite a lot.

Overall, I would say the State Fair of Texas is a pretty dang good fair, but not the legendary great fair I was expecting. 

I appreciated the sense of place and tradition with Big Tex and the Corny Dogs and the daily rodeo and the simply enormous footprint of the fair itself. But I missed grass and dirt and hay and any vague sense of outdoorsy nature.

I loved the emphasis on creative food and the hype and culinary anticipation. But it felt like a lot of food creation folks were trying too hard to be shocking instead of delicious. I ate some really tasty stuff, but I also ate some things that really missed the tastebud mark big time.

I loved the silly "Glue A Shoe" contest in the Creative Arts entries (you had to feature a shoe in your creation), but I was so sad not to see any Texas agricultural or homemade food entries. I feel like there's a whole part of Texas and Texan culture that wasn't shared.

The Shoe Chef made from a white
casual loafer was my favorite. I would
have bought one for our kitchen if allowed.

And I was shocked to find such a limited array of animals at the State Fair of Texas. Granted, there was a petting zoo that we elected to skip, but that is just not the same as wandering barns and chatting up 4-H and FFA kids about their animal projects. Texas is a big ag state, but you couldn't tell it by its fair.

Since Rob and I have been to a few state fairs now, I think it’s time to share how they stack up in my Fair World. In order of my favoriteness:

1.   Iowa
2.   Wisconsin
3.   Texas
4.   Indiana
5.   Washington
6.   Oregon

There are 8 state fairs remaining on my GO TO list. Of course, the list seems to get longer, not shorter. Especially when I chat with Don. Rob and I have our eyes on a supposedly monumental Get-Together in the Land of Many Lakes in 2025 – five years after we originally promised ourselves to check it out. Just 11 months to go! In the meantime, I invite you to check out my dedicated @its_the_fair Instagram account for lots more photos and videos of the 3rd best state fair I've been to so far!

Thank you, State Fair of Texas!
You exhausted us and made our
bodies and tummies ache with joy.

 

Painful reminders

Two weeks ago, I was sweaty from being outside so I wanted to take a mid-afternoon shower. How decadent! With apparently too much enthusiasm, I lifted one leg to extricate it from my pair of lightweight yoga pants (which have never seen even one minute of yoga in their lives). In an instant, I regretted living on the edge like that, recklessly taking off pants. Because the muscles in my lower back – specifically on the right side – seized up in a bad and familiar way.

I pleaded, “No! No! Nooooo!” as the rest of the clothes in my closet stared at me unflinchingly, seemingly telling me I should have known better than to take off pants without holding onto something. In the background of my pleas was a horrifying sound. In the immediate vicinity of my right lumbar region, it sounded like Velcro was ripping apart. That was not a sound I had ever heard my back make. It thankfully wasn’t that horrible popping sound my ACL made when I tore it 9 years ago. But super-duper terrifying nonetheless.

Naturally, I was home alone when my back betrayed me yet again. And I would be for the next 6 hours (Rob was flying home from an extremely quick trip to California). I tried to remember to breathe, I hobbled around, I convinced myself I wasn’t going to die in the short term, I applied my favorite ice pack, and I made spaghetti (my comfort food) as I waited to see what my body would do next.

Over the following days – gratefully with Rob’s help – my trusty walker was retrieved from the garage, plans were canceled, visits and church services were experienced from a reclining position, and I groggily greeted each morning in the after-fog of nightly muscle relaxants. I focused on ice and anti-inflammatories for the first 2 days, then switched to heat and pain relievers with the knowledge of far too much experience. I also repeatedly reminded myself that – like always – I would be pretty much back to my version of normal in just 7 to 10 days.

Except I wasn’t. I’m not. Not yet. And it’s been really deflating.

Don’t get me wrong – I am WORLDS better than where I was when the searing pain radiated throughout my lower back two weeks ago. My walker is back in the garage, I can dress myself, I can drive. So I am definitely getting there.

But I’m still not a fan of sitting for more than about 15 minutes, I can only stare at soap when I drop it in the shower (twice now; it’s a frequent occurrence when my pain is ramped up), and I am not ready to wear jeans yet. Determined not to develop an irrational fear of pants (the last time my back seized up like this, I was putting pants ON), I’ve forced myself to at least wear shorts. While I am enjoying rediscovering the dresses in my closet, the 80+ temps are only going to last for a few more weeks. I’m going to have to be courageous and wear pants eventually.

Yes, I could use body wash -- and I do
have some as back-up. But it comes
with its own challenges which make
bar soap a better option for me.
Usually.

Well, actually, I HAVE worn pants! After several nights of waking up every time I wanted to switch positions in bed and being sort of stuck by the friction of the sheets and my pjs, inspiration directed me to Amazon.  A Prime Day later, I had some surprisingly cheap but effective satiny pajama bottoms that have revolutionized my sleep. Apparently, now anytime I want to roll over to my other side, I just slip and slide over there. I don’t know for sure because…I am blissfully asleep! Why has it taken me over 25 years to figure out this sleep hack?!? Not to mention, I feel sort of girly and slinky wearing satin pajamas! Ah, the (eventual) wisdom of 56.

Beyond the satin jammies, the past two weeks have brought other revelations. Like, I hadn’t really appreciated how GOOD my back has been doing lately, given its standard state of titaniummed fusion. Yes, I live my life with lots of modifications and accommodations. But I am still able to do quite a lot. And I have mostly accepted the stuff I can’t do. The past two weeks have been filled with new and seemingly endless can’ts and it was hard to not wallow a bit.

I am now mostly at the point of being OK as long as I don’t want to sit for more than a quick drive to the store. I made the mistake a few days ago of sitting at my computer desk, tapping away at the keyboard with frustration as I discovered some shortcomings with a local credit union. I sat at a desk and got stressed – and paid for it dearly as soon as I tried to stand up. As I clung to the railing to get downstairs one slow step at a time, I suddenly remembered…this is why I don’t have a job. I’ll be honest, there are days when I desperately wish I could work and wonder if maybe I could handle having a job after all. At unfortunate times like these – these days of being a daredevil by wearing pants – I am smacked back to the reality of my life and the gratitude that I can take the time I need to recover without impacting an employer or coworkers.

Friends have kindly been checking on me, as I’ve not really had the energy to try to hide the pain. Or…I’ve been uncharacteristically quiet. Either way, I’ve been touched by the concern and sort of confused how best to answer. Overall, I’m doing ok. I’m getting better. I’m reinfused with appreciation for my usual daily existence. And I’m working up the courage to wear pants.

Oh, and that Velcro ripping noise? The one I thought was a back muscle tearing? Yeah, pretty sure it was actually my knee. The knee that makes crackling noises going down stairs – and has done so for enough years that I don’t really listen to it anymore. Ah, 56.

 

 

Ode to PDX…and its unofficial mascots

I’m pretty sure the first time I ever flew through Portland International Airport (known as PDX) was the Summer of 1990. My mom’s side of the family was having a reunion on the Oregon Coast to celebrate my grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary.

I remember parts of the trip VERY well, as it was when I introduced my new boyfriend to the family as my fiancé. As the room erupted in stunned and excited congratulations, my grandma exclaimed, “Well, TONI!” followed by a hopeful, “Your kids are going to have GREAT hair!” With dark, thick waves in common, she was probably right.

Fresh from shocking my extended family.
They didn't even know Rob and I were dating.
We continued to shock them when there were
no other announcements in the following months.
When you know, why wait?? 

Eleven years later, PDX was my first airport destination after 9/11 as Rob and I flew north to visit friends. The short flight from Oakland was edgily long, as I tried not to stare at the cockpit door. I instead focused on the new Fallish sweater I was wearing, excited that the Pacific Northwest promised cooler, crisper, moister October weather compared to the endless summer temps of the San Francisco Bay Area. It was that trip when I first started to fall in love with the PNW and gave myself permission to imagine moving there some day.

Some day ended up coming very quickly. Our official "We Busted Out of California" date – as sworn to the IRS – was June 1, 2004. One of the key factors in choosing Woodhaven as our new home was its proximity to PDX. With hopes for an early retirement doused with travel, Rob and I deemed 1 hour from a major international airport the most we would consider. Woodhaven checked that box – and many others – so PDX was officially our new Home Airport.

As Rob and I made good on our promise to travel a fair bit, I grew to love coming home to the Portland Airport. The open, airy concourses with tall, peaked ceilings; the quirky shops and restaurants that by requirement reflected local businesses; and of course, the carpet.

There was something about that dark teal industrial flooring speckled with purple, red, and navy dots that just breathed “HOME!” every time it greeted me after disembarking. Imagine my surprise, delight, and relief when I discovered in 2014 that there was a whole tribe of us PDX Carpet Superfans. It would have remained an unknown shared obsession if the PDX Powers That Be hadn’t decided it was time to replace and update the secretly iconic carpeting. A benign announcement set off a storm of cries and pleadings and banding together in weirdness that pretty much defines Portland. As a sign of love, honor, and solidarity, the PDX Carpet Foot Selfie soon became A Thing. I participated with wild enthusiasm. As I do.

Traditional Foot Selfie
circa 2015

This family portrait is proudly framed in 
our guest bedroom

My dear friend Joyce Anne came to visit all
the way from Virginia. We both have bad backs
so we thought this was a most appropriate pose.

Soon the carpet’s untrademarked design was splashed all over hats and mugs and socks and cat collars and luggage tags and earrings and coasters and water bottles and (eventually) pandemic face masks (I’m just naming the PDX carpet swag I have). And serviceable segments of the old carpet were culled and put up for sale, in large swaths as well as bound as doormats or squared off for wall art. Yes, of course I did! Duh!

Doormat in use heading to our back patio.
Second, never-to-be-used doormat in closet.

Hanging in our powderless powder room.

Array of available swag for purchase at the airport
aka Toni's Wish List

With all of this PDX excitement and adoration as a backdrop, you might sense my utter coming-out-of-my-skin THRILL when this happened in April 2022.

Yep, I already had the mask! Ok, fine
I had a few carpet-themed ones to
choose from.

While the world was getting swooped up in Portland Airport Carpet Mania, the intended PDX story got lost in the unexpected flooring hype. Off to the side, largely unnoticed or commented on, a new concourse was being built. Like, brand new and from scratch. Big and gleaming. With lots of windows.

Yeah, the carpet hubbub had been super distracting.

I don’t know exactly how it happened that my llama friends got invited to help celebrate the opening of Concourse D. I just know that Llama Mama Shannon – well aware of my PDX obsession – understood our friendship might be on the line if I wasn't at least offered the chance to join in the Llama/PDX collab. Two of my most favorite worlds were colliding!! IT WAS A BLAST!! And the beginning of what is becoming a super fun relationship between my favorite llamas and my favorite airport.

Just strolling through the ticketing 
area with an alpaca...

Some of the most excited folks
are flight attendants. It might have
something to do with their stressful jobs.

EPIC!

During the Christmas holidays last year, as a way to bring lightness and fun and cheer to weary travelers, the llamas were invited back to PDX to mingle and jingle. They were a huge hit. I mean, like with travelers and gate agents and TSA folks and pilots and flight attendants and restaurant workers and construction crews (because even bigger stuff was in the midst of being built).

Rob has one llama t-shirt.
I have a week's worth of Christmas
llama sweaters.

The smiles and laughter and double takes were addicting. Passengers whose flights were delayed suddenly didn’t care. A crowd who had been diverted due to weather was now grateful for the rerouting. Toddlers who were tired and cranky suddenly had smiles and new attitudes. Visitors new to Portland got the fastest initiation imaginable to the quirky vibe of The Rose City. A woman on her way to see her dying father for the last time expressed quiet gratitude through tears for the fluffy, therapeutic hug. Being able to be a part of those moments that shifted mood and attitude was amazing and humbling. These animals are incredible.

Strolling through the retail area
post-security

I love this photo of Kristy and Lori
helping folks enjoy the llamas!

Another excited flight attendant!

Somewhere in the midst of this, the story and photos and videos went viral. “Therapy llamas at PDX” headlined newspapers and television “feel good” stories all over the world. Yes, world. The Llama Mamas were interviewed (in the wee hours our time) on BBC. A story popped up in a Ukraine newspaper as well as some in Europe and Asia. Glimpses of Rob and me were spotted in the Washington Post, the New York Times, and numerous television newscasts who picked up the fun, colorful, merry story of llamas and alpacas struttin’ through an airport. And then there was social media.

Yeah. Trust me when I say, lots of people learned about the Portland Airport and its unique greeters last December.

Since the wildly popular Christmas appearances, Rob and I have been thrilled to join Lori and Shannon on more visits to PDX. We have a blast casually walking into the terminal from the parking area, waving to stunned drivers in the Departures lanes. We wish we could go slower through the revolving doors so folks had more time to get their cell phones into Video mode, because nobody would believe it without seeing it. We totally snap folks out of their rushed “I’m Traveling” mindset as we meander our way toward Security. We are greeted with uninhibited smiles from TSA Agents as we show our badges to pass through the “Employee” line, with queued travelers hoping the line moves fast enough for them to catch up with us. We take our time on the concourses as bewildered passengers hug and feed and take photos with our fluffy and calming buddies, bringing a peace and distraction the travelers didn’t realize they needed.

This is truly the BEST volunteer gig I never imagined existed.

(Click here to watch the llamas navigate a revolving door like the pros they are!)

Going through security. It was a bit
hectic so it was hard to get a good photo!

Past security and helping people make memories.
Also note the new carpet. Greener, more 
geometric, still means "Home!"

I love when kids walk with us!

Last week, PDX unveiled its brand-new main terminal to the world. It has been under construction for four years. It’s been noisy and confusing but also a case study in how to clearly communicate and provide signage to an ever-changing audience. The airport folks truly did an outstanding job helping travelers manage construction chaos. And it was all worth it because they have created a Pacific Northwest Welcome like no other. It is utterly astounding.

Rob and I got a sneak peek a few days before the Grand Opening, attending a “housewarming party” for folks who worked on the terminal. We arrived with two llamas and stood in awe of what supposedly is an airport terminal but is more like an indoor forest of calm and welcoming.

The ceiling is waves of wood. There are huge windows allowing a flood of natural light. There are live trees – tall ones! – planted in little groves. There are stairs inviting you to sit and pause. There’s a large bar upstairs, allowing great views of either the terminal or the airfield. There’s a large sitting area decorated with a fresh run of the Vintage Carpet, a proper ode to what birthed the community of PDX Superfans. The entire space invites you to breathe. To take a moment. To regroup and recharge. In an airport.

(Click here for a video I took during the sneak peek party. I was near a speaker so I changed the music to something less thumpy.)

All of the materials -- including the wood
for the ceiling -- were locally sourced.

Area to chill and reflect on the 1980s
when the original carpet was designed.

Lots of great media coverage celebrating the 
Grand Opening! The llamas are totally unphased
by being in the spotlight. I do my best to hide
behind them.

There’s a very cool Midwest/PNW/Soulfood restaurant in the new terminal pre-security (think fried chicken with a kale salad). I have every intention of suggesting it for dinner soon despite not having a flight for another month. Yes, I want to go the airport just to hang out. We will need to allow for lots of time to check out the new shops, and maybe have a pre-dinner glass of wine while listening to the live music from the grand piano. 

Or, maybe we will get to join Lori soon. Maybe we will wander the airport with some llamas, inviting snuggles and carrot kisses and photos and bringing some levity and deep breaths to travelers and the folks that support them. Because that’s how PDX rolls.

U.S. Senator Jeff Merkley from Oregon
We don't have proof, but I am here
to tell you he totally did the carrot kiss!

(Senator Merkley was not part of the festivities.
He happened to have just arrived in Oregon
and was off to a meeting of some sort when
he saw the llamas. He and his group were pretty
excited to meet them!)