I stopped using Xanga once I moved back to Colorado Springs. So I would like to take this chance to make an official goodbye. Goodbye.

 A couple days ago, me and Michelle skipped church and went to the Chinese Gardens in downtown Portland's China Town.

It was really nice, and the tour was awesome and informative, there was just one tiny problem. In fact, it was one of my biggest pet peeves. The old people walked too slowly. And it wasn't like I could just pass them. The walkways were tiny, so if the 90-year-old elder in front of me wanted to take 20 minutes trying to remember "The name of that one flower...", they got it. I mean, what could I do? This was the place of peace and zen! I for one, was not going to break the ambiance with the sound of a 90-year-old body breaking the surface of the coy pond. Tksajrpfgiuveugyvoqavrgavgrpiv. No seriously, I would never do that.

Some of Michelle's side of the family came to stay with us after Michelle's older sister Karen finished the race across Oregon. (She got in first, by the way.) Michelle's father, Karen, and Karen's hubby Eric all stayed for a couple of nights, so we had a full house. It was way fun, and we all went shopping! We went to REI and laughed at all the weird freeze-dried meals. (Freeze-dried cheesecake? For real?!) And then we went and looked at furniture. I know what most of you are thinking..."Boooooooriiiiing". But in Portland, it was anything but. We went to all these cool modern chic stores. You know the ones that have the minimalist looks, and all the stuff is made out of bizarre material and outrageously expensive? THOSE places. I love going in there and pretending that I live there. Like "Oh, I'm just going to sit down in my lime-green egg-shaped office chair now, and write at my desk that's made of nothing but driftwood found on the coast of Equatorial Guinea. Now I will laugh like the rich people do. Ha. Ha. Ha." I would have actually bought this one though;

What else. I canned cherries with Michelle today! Well, she canned them. I just stood next to the sink for an hour and a half pitting them. All ten pounds. Pitless. Those better be some damn good cherries, because I think my cuticles are stained purple for life now. Ah. And I am sad to say that today was my last day of work at Ten Thousand Villages. Good times there. *Sigh*...Good times.

Pied Cow was AMAAAZING! Man, what a rad place. I mean really...I don't even want to get into all the reasons why I loved that place. The only thing that would have made it better was if it served mac-n-cheese. Oh yes.

...I know, just bear with me here.

Some little things: I have an annoying pimple on my chin. I have a lot of momentum right now. I have not had my eight glasses of water today. I was touched by the Expeditor's secretary's praise of the 'girls' (the chickens).

Deliveries went smooth as butter. Everything played out like clockwork, one thing after the other. One of the reasons things ran so seamlessly, is because I managed to equalize all of my energy by anticipating the next activity. Morning routine, weeding, deliveries, yoga, PIR, short visit with the grandparents, and then Burgerville. Now, blogging.

Next on the agenda, catching up.Things were a bit crazy around the time of my last post. There was Independence day, my mother's birthday, and I was having a bizarre relationship problem. In the brouhaha, I completely forgot to let everyone know about the delicious new macaroni and cheese that I ate before watching fireworks on July fourth. Me and my guardians were looking for a place that would be open, with decent food [excluding pizza (we had that the night before), Asian (on the fourth of July?!), or anything super weird (creepy punk voodoo lounges)] and we came upon the Stepping Stone Cafe. It was the cutest little diner-turned-indie, with and all sorts of random things hanging around by wires connected to the door. The entrance of a visitor turned the entire ceiling into one of those spinny crib mobiles. I liked it. A lot. What made the mac different from the two others was that it was served just how I liked it; lava hot, with a side of fried garlic bread (No really...that's how I like it). The others were served just kinda warm...which didn't really cut it. Congrats, Stepping Stone. You went between light and heavy, with just the right amount of love and cheese. Truly the stepping stone (haha...punny...) of comfort food.

Next on the Uganda (er...cough), Lance Armstrong. I already talked about this with Steven and Michelle, but I feel as if we might be the only people who realize this; so the rest of the world really needs to know. Bicycling is soon going to drop off the map of sports. Every sport has it's champion. Golf: Toger Woods. Skateboarding: Tony Hawk. Swimming: Michael Phelps. Now, this may just be opinion (I don't want all you sports fanatics freaking out like "Well so-and-so is actually much more talented..."), but I'm speaking as in which-player-is-the-most-popular-to-people-who-regularly-don't-give-a-damn-about-the-sport. I fear that as interesting as I've found the Tour de France to be, it's going to end up like Wimbleton. Everyone knows what it is; but no one really knows when it is or who is in it because it doesn't include anyone famous. Most people I know consider Wimbleton to be a complete waste of a sports channel that could just run BMX or kick-boxing for a few months. It isn't fair. It isn't fair to tennis, and it isn't fair to all those pro players who had to give up their high school social life to be trained by parents who know it wasn't their child's dream...*dramatically* It was theirs. Anyway, cycling. Steven informed me that on the last Tour de France that Lance wasn't in, the race wasn't covered by public television, and hardly covered by television at all. Since this is quite probably (and very hopefully...the guy is like, sixty-what?) Lance Armstrong's last Tour de France, the American media is taking the race as an opportunity to try and erect a new champion. I think the best approach to this, is to make the guy win a couple times, and then put him through some sort of trauma, only to have come back stronger and...whatever. Broken bones? Not good enough. Steriod scandal? Save that for the end of their career. Cancer? Been done before. And then, while watching Animal Planet, I knew. We must infect the next bicycling legend with rabies. It will be unnoticable at first, but as the pedal-pusher goes more and more crazy, people will realize that their nation's hero's life is on the line. And we will act...

By watching more Tour de France!

Goodnight everybody.