Singing auditions will be held starting at 6:30 PM on May 29 th & June 5 th , 2008 at the
Moose Family Center , 57317 Old Portland Rd., Warren, OR 97053
Columbia County Fair was a great success! Check out the videos and pictures, add your comments and tell us about your experiences at the fair and what was YOUR favorite, the animals, the rodeo, 4H or the food. What would you like to see at next years fair.
Saturday was a terriffic day at the fair. A huge crowd, all kinds of demonstrations by CEPA (tasers, fires and attack dogs!), more 4H activities and horses. And it was another beautiful day of sunshine! The evening brought the NPRA rodeo and Dancin' in the Dirt with the Concrete Cowboys. What a day. We posted more videos and photos including the Mutton Busting (sheep riding for 4 to 8 year olds), the Bucaneer Babay Gala, the Buccaneer Pre-School Party and Fair Talent Show Finals for all three levels. If you like kids and animals, the videos are for you.
Today is the last day. The weather is gonna be perfect again, the ATV/MX rodeo begins at 11:00 and the carniaval rides open at noon. See you there, Matey.
Yesterday was a spectacular day at the fair with great food, music, 4H events, exhibits, the plant sale, the Pirate shows and more. Check out the videos and photos in "Today at the Fair & Rodeo. And come back often because we will be adding more all the time.
Today is a big day at the fair & rodeo with perfect fair weather and a terriffic schedule of events. The CEPA Expo, the Pirate Stage and the magic show open the fair at 10:00. The talent Show finals are at 11:00 and the carnival rides open at noon. There is a Chilli Cook-off at 2:00 and the High Pilots Band plays at 2:00. The NPRA Rodeo begins at 7:00 with Dancin' in the Dirt beginning 9:30ish while the exhibits, bands and rides are open till closing time.
Only today and tomorrow left so make plans to take your family or meet your friends at the fair.
The word soft …is a warm and fuzzy feeling, it exalts visions of a large fluffy down bed that you get lost in, the smoothness of a baby’s bottom, a new kitten, puppy or bunny and yes even grandma or auntie’s full bosom pressed against your face in one of her wonderful warm hugs.
But there are times when you don’t want to be soft….in a dare, crying in front of your friends and when you husband tells you your body is getting soft. Yup…it happened a few weeks ago, we were discussing our goals in weight loss which has not been too effective, we are not obese just need to lose 15 lbs or so and our age is now a factor with hormones and lower metabolism and of course the not so good habits we have developed over the years contribute; we are to say the least losing the battle of the bulge. Notice I say WE, it is not I nor ME it is WE, but it seems Me get discussed more than WE. Ok, so maybe I am being soft but unbeknownst to him the arrow pierced none the less and maybe it was an unknown motivator in disguise.
Soft…yup it has its negative side and YUP I fess up, I am soft as mush inside, but hard as armor on the outside careful not to let the mush seep though. You see this weekend the armor had to work overtime! Let’s go back a year ago…it was Saturday …a very special day… It started out as a beautiful sunny crisp fall day, a day filled with excitement, love and family. Magic was in the air as the sun set over the water we said our vows and sealed them with a kiss, and the celebration began with family and friends, truly a magical day!
A year later…this year…this past Sunday…a very special day... It was a beautiful sunny crisp fall day that began with excitement and love….and morning turned into afternoon… and afternoon turned into an ordinary day…a very ordinary day. Washing clothes for the work week, working on the computer, and to get out of the house to enjoy the beautiful day…a trip to the dog park.
YUP…a very ordinary day….should have left him there…he’s in the Dog House!
Hey, everyone, the videos from the Thursday night auditions are finally posted! Sorry for the delay.
Be sure to come in person tot he first round of the competition next Thursday night at the 13 Nights on the River. Tell all your friends.
Haven’t you always heard that the shortest distance between Point A and Point B is a straight line? From ancient seafarers to westward pioneers, this was commonsense knowledge. Modern-day airline pilots and my teenaged kids know this. On-line direction providers claim to know this – but I believe my experience is proof to the contrary.
This last Saturday, the Lady Lions varsity volleyball team was scheduled to play at a tournament in Dallas, a town that I had not yet had the pleasure of visiting. Before I go any further, let me just say it – I always get lost. I have directional disability. Maps for me are worse than story problems what with all their little hieroglyphics and folding origami-ness. So in the interests of self-preservation and timeliness, I placed all my straight line trust in an on-line direction provider, which I will call M.Q. I entered Point A, St. Helens, and Point B, Dallas, and waited with baited breath for my easy-to-follow step-by-step driving directions to spit out of the printer.
So once the car was loaded with snacks, the dog, and the directions, it was down (or up?) the highway and over Cornelius Pass – gotcha. Take a left onto the Tualatin Valley highway – fine. Then turn right onto a 2-lane country road – unexpected but okay… And then the adventure began. Over the river, through the woods, past the orchards, and around the cyclists we went. We drove past vineyards, fields, and farmers markets. We drove up some small town main streets and down others. 11 left turns, 13 right turns, 4 straight aheads, and 2 ½ hours later, Dallas appeared on the horizon.
Never once did I deviate from the route suggested and no matter how rural or gravelly the road, the M.Q. directions were spot on. All of those twists and turns though… What happened to the straight line approach? Coming back, following other volleyball families, it was a quick trip back along I-5 to Highway 30 to home. Yep, we came straight home.
There is no snooze button on a cat who wants breakfast – and that is an eternal truth. For years scientists and nutritionists have decreed breakfast to be the most important meal of the day, and my cats completely agree. When the alarm clock rings, the “Feed the Felines” opera begins in earnest. The meowing starts gently enough, but soon the volume builds, more strident tones develop, the volume continues to increase, and finally a howling crescendo. Who can sleep through that?
I’m the proud owner of a herd of cats. And they all adore breakfast. Two cans of fishy stinky gravy delight fairly divided into 8 starving-kitty servings really does equal utter breakfast bliss.
Breakfast is always served in the same ceremonial order. The baby boys, Dust and Don Diego, are fed first at the east end of the kitchen, far away from everyone else because they are such rude and sloppy eaters. The girlies get theirs next at the south end of the kitchen. Dixie is always so excited that she does her “Breakfast Belly Dance” on her hind legs, just like a circus act, before settling down to eat. Dottie, on the other paw, is all business and tucks into her food like a champion competitive eater. The elder statesmen cats are served next at the north end. Douglas Fur and Doodlebug start breakfast from their own servings but always wind up eating from each other’s plate in the end. The boy-boys are fed last at the kitchen equator. Domino and Daniel have, by far, the most finicky gourmet palates. Both sit and somberly consider breakfast before delicately sniffing it unique aroma. A cautious taste is followed with more consideration. They may eat or they may snub. The rest of the herd fervently hopes for “snubbage” because that means a few extra bites of squishy goodness.
Just as the cat herd finishes breakfast, another herd comes stampeding around the corner. “Hiya Mom. What’s for breakfast?”
Nothing brings on a bad case of baby talk like a new puppy – it’s practically instamatic and completely overwhelming. A mere moment in the presence of an adorably fuzzy canine tyke with bright black eyes and tiny pink tongue can make the baby talk start to percolate, bubbling up words like “teef” and “fwuffy.”
Be forewarned. This phenomenon isn’t limited to puppies only. It spreads like wildfire upon contact with sleepy kittens, downy chicks, and uncoordinated colts. Baby talk-itis can strike anyone, anywhere, anytime there is uncontained baby cuteness of any species. For me, baby animals bring on a far worse case than human babies ever could. I think it has something to do with the fact that my “furwy widdle wuvies” won’t ever need braces or college tuition.
I’ve always struggled with chronic baby talk-itis because I’ve always had pets and it is one of the hazards of pet ownership. The current kitty herd is used to my sing-song cooing conversations with them, and they actually seem to understand what I’m saying. But then again, maybe they don’t. There was a commercial on TV recently for some kind of pet product. The woman of the house was baby-talking about it to her cats. The cats looked at each other and one of them “said” to the others, “Oh boy. She’s at it again. Ok, looks like three words and the first word sounds like…”
So now there’s a puppy in the house and baby talk-itis has claimed three new victims who had believed themselves to be immune. From the wrench-wielding husband, “Go pu-ppy, go pu-ppy, go pu-ppy. Dat’s my tater!” Or from the home-again college student, “Where’s my poopy puppy-tater?” Or even from the wish-I-was-outta here senior, “Tater tisses! Tater tisses!” It is so nice to not be the only baby-talker. But I sure do hope this isn’t the beginning of Baby Talk Plague… Wook out!
We were recently given a cat. I have sworn forever that I would never have a cat. It's been over a month now and I can say without reservation that he's cute, but he's no dog.
He doesn't fetch and his cat food smells bad. He doesn't "sit" or "shake" and he doesn't come when he's called or respond when I whistle. He sits on my head at night in bed... what's that about? You can't teach him tricks... as a matter of fact, he's a very slow learner. My wife tells him he's cute and he purrs. I tell him to do anything and he seems to not hear my voice. Doesn't even turn his head.
He doesn't like to go for a ride and when I put him on a leash to go for a run, he looked at me like I must be kidding!
It's embarassing to go out in public with a cat. He doesn't get excited when I say "Wanna go for a ride?" He doesn't know what a park is. He doesn't know how to play with other cats much less with kids. He's not interested in frisbees or tennis balls.
He doesn't meet me at the door at the end of the day panting and excited to see me.
I loved my dog. I miss having a dog. I need a dog.
Cat? Why bother!
Twenty two individuals and dance teams performed at the 2008 Columbia County Fair today. Video has been posted and photos are coming soon. The audience was very attentive and gracious for all the dances.
I recently read an interview given by Stephenie Meyer, author of the very successful Twilight series, and she said the whole story started with a dream of a sparkly vampire arguing with a dark-haired girl as they stood together in a mountain meadow. Really? Wow! I can say that I’ve had my share of weirdo dreams and even the occasional nightmare, but I can’t say that I’ve dreamed a best-seller.
Dreams are interesting things, aren’t they? Some people dream in color while others dream in black and white. Some folks are active participants in the dream while others are spectators only. Any topic under the sun (or moon) can be dreamed about in endless combinations. I’ve dreamed about showing up to work wearing only my underwear and no one notices it but me. I’ve dreamed about flying, being lost, and eating – all in glorious Technicolor with exaggerated super-hero-type hearing.
I know that everyone in my family dreams – and they all talk in their sleep, which is actually quite entertaining in and of itself. Our two teenaged daughters used to share a room, and every morning brought some kind sleep-talk tattle-tale. From the youngest, “Mom, you need to talk to her. She kept sayin’ stuff all night about Sydney. I don’t know if it’s some new dude or if she’s gonna run away to Australia.” From the oldest, “Mom, you’ve got to talk to her. She was sayin’ stuff about herding cats – like with lassos and horses. No way she’s ever gonna lasso a cat.”
Sometimes the sleep-talk is an emphatic one-liner. “No more bran flakes!” and “Heave-ho on the trumpet!” and “Lights bulbs don’t go there!” are three of my all-time favorites overheard in the dead of night. These one-liners, while great all by themselves, are often punctuated by a leg twitch, an elbow throw, or even a full-body spasm. The sit-straight-up-in-bed special effect is thankfully a rare event because it comes with rare four-letter-word one-liner. “$#!@!” is uttered by both the dreamer and the rudely-awakened alike.
I don’t think there is any best-seller inspiration lurking in my dreams or sleep-talk. Unless… “Sydney! Lasso the cats! They’re eating all the bran flakes!” Hey, it’s the start of a beautiful plot! But maybe I’d better sleep on it…
The fairgrounds have been a flurry of activity since Sunday when the 4H'ers took their places in the barns and in the arenas. Monday the static exhibiters began arriving and setting up and the midway rides are almost set up as well. It's beginning to look like a fair! This week's weather is going to be beautiful. Sunny and about 80 every day. Plan on spending the day at the fair... rides, exhibits, demonstrations, performances, bands, rodeos and every kind of food! See you at the fair!
Last night's concert at 13 Nights on the River was terriffic. The night was warm and beautiful and Sonny Hess and Rae Gordon rocked! Or, "Blued" since they play blues.
The competing Idol contestants included Jessie Davee, AJ Hendricks, Megan Pruitt, Lisa Hanson and Lynn Brigham. Lynn Brigham was runner-up and Jessie Davee won the night singing the Temptation's "Ain't No Mountain High Enough". Acapella!
Next week, 6 more semi-finalists sing for thier ticket to the finals. Joni Roi clifford, Marilyn Yarbor, Tim Brooks, Mike McBride, Arielle Sullivan and Margaret Fraze compete. Great line-up and will be a tough competition.
Come join the crowd for the Hollywood Knights great rock and round 2 of the CC Idol competition.
CRhighway - People's Choice Award : CRhighway will donate $100 to Relay for Life in the name of the contestant with the most total views at the end of the contest. Each contestant will have two video's and the finalists will have three: audition, their official gazebo performance and the finals.
The CRhighway People's Choice winner will receive a nice night out on the town or other prize. Details will vary depending on whether the winner is an adult or under 18.
Please invite your friends and family to vote and vote often! Click on "Groups" and choose "CC Idol".
I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a commercial break. No, not the kind where you book it to the fridge for a cold diet soda before your favorite show is back on. I’m talking about a political commercial break. This election season has prompted some of the most negative commercials and dirty dog politics I’ve ever seen on the small screen. Every vote, every decision, every trip, and every purchase has been called into question. Every thing from frozen peas to office furniture has been flung before the voters in the hope of victory on election night. Candidates and committees have been flinging it as us for months now and it’s almost over. Tomorrow I can stop ducking.
I never thought I’d say it, but all of these commercials have made me realize how much I’ve missed all the other awful commercials I used to see. Like the pipe people who advertise bladder control medicine. Or the do-it-yourself DNA kit “conveniently located right next to the pregnancy tests.” Or the low-budget used car salesman superhero who can get you “the car of your dreams regardless of your past credit history.” Or toilet cleaning tools called “wands.” Political advertising has made even these clunkers look like the best thing on T.V., ranking right up there with foreclosure infomercials.
It’s important to be an informed voter, but after all of these political commercials… I’m a stressed and irritated voter. I’m a cranky and cantankerous voter. I’m a voter who just can’t wait until the voting is over. I’m a voter who’s ready for a commercial break.
PB and J on white, grilled cheese on sourdough, and tuna salad on wheat are the sandwiches of my life, go-to comfort foods. That is a somewhat limited list, isn’t it, considering the wondrous variety of sandwiches out there in the world. From the far reaches of sandwich-dom come the gyro, the falafel, the stromboli, the muffaletta, the panini, and the French dip. There are grinders, hoagies, clubs, and poor boys. A sandwich can have a sweet or a savory or a meaty or a cheesy or a veggie filling. Everyone has at least one favorite of the infinite combinations out there, but when it comes right down to it, a sandwich is just a sandwich. Unless it’s a Good Samaritan sandwich…
Yesterday my college kid and I realized our schedules would allow us to have lunch together. Being a mom who misses her daughter and both of us being in dire need of some true comfort food, we took advantage of the opportunity and drove to a local sandwich franchise. We were hungry so we were quick and decisive in our choices of bread, cheese, meat, veggies and condiments. For one large deluxe sandwich with all the fixings, two bags of chips and one big drink the grand total was $10.78. I reached into my bag, but my coin purse was gone. Bummer. No cash. But I had my debit card – and plastic moola is just as good as the green folded kind. Yes it is. As long as it’s not expired. Double bummer.
At the very moment my dead-beat debit card was handed back to me, I felt a hand on my shoulder and saw a twenty dollar bill drop onto the counter. Right behind us in line was a friendly young man who politely and promptly paid for our lunch. “Just pass the favor along,” he said “and enjoy your sandwich.”
The Good Samaritan Sandwich – I highly recommend it. And when I pay this favor forward, I hope you’re in front of me.
So my sweet teenager kindly informed me that I have "rustic" hair. Huh? Rustic? Like a log cabin in the wilderness rustic? She continued with "Mom, really, why don't you color your hair?" Okay, now I understand. Rustic as in due for a paint job. Rustic as in g-r-a-y. Just for the record, my hair isn't completely gray. It is salt and pepper. And I've been salty for quite some time.
Going gray early has been a long-standing tradition in my family. The first truly lighter strands usually show up in time for that all-important 18th birthday. Grandma often said "If you're old enough to vote, you're old enough to go gray." (That's not to say voting gives one gray hair, but I hear that running for office just might!) Those bright silver highlights are anticipated and accepted. In the family, it's a sign of true maturity and pride to let your true colors show.
I caught myself peering more closely in the mirror. Rustic? The handyman and Miss Clairol both have the same advice -- any old barn looks better with a fresh coat of paint. At the store, the selection of hair colorings I found was astonishing! There was color after color, box after box, and shelf after shelf. But standard blonde, ordinary brunette, and regular redhead weren't even options. Insteand there was Golden Toasted Pecan with Caramel Essence, Chocolate Truffle with Fudge Accent, and Sweet Raspberry Plum Surprise. I was confused. Was I looking at hair color or ice cream? Ultimately, nothing looked right or sounded good.
Back home again, I found myself standing in front of the mirror. What was so bad about being gray? Nothing. "I'm not painting this old barn!" I huffed. Now that the issue has been settled, how about some ice cream. Plain rustic vanilla please!
After two weeks of couch-potato Olympic coverage, I can definitely say I’m not moving swifter, higher or stronger. But I am in awe of the athletes who can! It’s amazing what the human body can be trained and prepared to do.
I’ll be the first one to admit that I’m not much of an athlete and have never been good at sports. Kickball was the bane of my elementary existence. Dressing down was the misery of my high school life. I’ve tried Jazzercise and believe you me, jumping around in front of a mirror while wearing a leotard is not a jazzy thing. Treadmills are ok, but I don’t like that distinct hamster-on-a-wheel feeling and I have a terrible time sticking the dismount. Oh sure, the dog and I go for walks, but they are more of the sniff-and-stroll variety. So in the meantime, I’m trying to crochet my way to fitness. Aerobically, it leaves something to be desired, but the doilies are great!
Maybe I can petition the International Olympic Committee to add crochet as a sanctioned event. Just imagine the commentary: “Simple, elegant, neat and tidy. That’s the best triple crochet stitch I’ve seen in the competition so far. If she manages to stick the tie-off, she’ll be in contention for a medal…”
So to athletes, non-athletes, and crocheters everywhere, best of luck in your efforts to be citius, altius, and fortius!