DaveandkaraUStour2011: Days forty-seven, forty-eight, and forty-nine.
We awoke anew, presumably powered by the vegan pizza power digesting in our bellies as we slept through the night. However, I was dealing with sneeze attacks throughout the day due to being around foreign cats or something. Our top priority for the day was to get copies made of my four zines and have them together to be given away or sold at the Zine Symposium before it was over. Heather was nice enough to wake us up early and drive us to the nearest Staples so we could scam copies from them. Of course, when we got there, they weren't opening until 10. So we sat and waited. Thirty minutes later, we were walking out with enough copies for ten copies of each of the three zines we needed to be made. And Kara shoplifted some cute colored pencils because she's a craft dork. We made it to the Symposium by 11 and Kara and I immediately took over a shady corner by the tater tot truck and porta-potties to start our zine assembly line. We took a box that was being thrown out and used it as a table. It took a little over an hour to cut and fold every single zine, but it was totally worth it in the end. So many people were at this thing that the mere exposure would be enough. Obviously, we didn't have a table inside waiting for us. We were too late and they were sold out pretty early. So we pulled up our cardboard box and a little sign I wrote up right next to the stairs to the entrance door and sat there like a guerrilla zine salesman. A few people stopped by and would ask me a question, only to use my answer as a segue to a story about themselves. It was mostly agitating, but I did enjoy talking to some people; more so, I enjoyed watching people open up my stuff, flipping through black and white pages and digesting the name "Discomfort". No one bought anything, but one woman traded her zine on birth and placentas with me for my first issue. The people who saw it will recognize my zines when they really start becoming established in the zine community a little bit better, which they likely will if I continue to dedicate myself to making them, distributing them, placing free copies in the right places around the country, and attending events such as these.
Tony James, a kid who I have very harshly criticized in this journal before, came and crouched down to say hi to us. He had also tried to say hi to us back in Bloomington, which confused us. Since we were face-to-face this time, I came out and said it: "Ya know, Tony, you were really rude to us the first time we met. So it's a bit confusing that you've been saying hi to us." He seemed confused and uncomfortable, as anyone probably would be in that situation since most people don't just come out and say things like that to people. But I was tired of hating someone who was suddenly trying to say hi to me every time we were in the same place as one another. I didn't want to be just another asshole who avoided confrontation and placated people in public. I reminded him that he had said outright that he, "didn't have any interest in meeting dave and Kara," way back last fall in Bloomington and that he had avoided doing so the entire night we were all bowling together. He said he didn't remember that at all, but apologized. And then he apologized again. And then we were just having a friendly conversation with him and his friend Andrew. Later, he popped back outside and threw a paper airplane at us that was a note he had written while in a letter-writing workshop inside. It said, dear dave & kara: Hello! i am writing to you live from the Portland Zine Symposium Letter-Writing workshop. Listen, i just wanted to say sorry for being a jerk when we met in Bloomington. i don't remember why i was being a butthead, but i had no reason to be. you are wonderful people. I hope you can come hangout in Spokane someday! We looked at each other and instantly felt like total jerks for any mean thing we'd ever said about him. But he had earned all those mean things. And, this time, he had earned our respect and a second chance from us. It was nice.
A half hour later, one of the women who were running the Symposium had come outside and saw our little soapbox zine stand. She had a large, beautiful tattooed chest piece of crows and I had seen her everywhere the day before, mostly behind a microphone announcing raffle winners. She saw us, read our sign, and then offered us a table inside. Apparently, not everyone who had purchased one had shown up and she still had a big, spacious table that we could sit at. So we loaded everything we had into the box and were directed to it. A nice girl next to us at the time asked if she could share a space with us for her friend's zine of letters written by women prisoners and we gladly helped her out. "Pay it forward," if you will. We got to sit there for about the last two hours of the symposium. I got to talk to a lot of people, traded a few zines, and sold four. As always, it was totally awkward trying to make conversation or explain my zines to people without feeling like some sort of dirty used car salesman. It was a fun time. Kara and I took turns browsing the second day's tablers, most of whom were there the day before, and even bought a few. I just wanted to get my zines out there one way or another and I did just that, so I was more than happy with four bucks in two hours. Both days, Heather had put a "DAVE AND KARA HITCHHIKING FUND" jar on her table, too. That day, she only made a dollar for us, but the day before, she made eight! At 4, when the symposium ended, Heather loaded all of her stuff out to the car as Brandon waited for us.
From there, we went straight to the northwestern part of Portland in an area that was mostly industrial and vacant looking to Casa Diablo, the infamous vegan stripclub that I had discovered via CurrentTV almost three years ago. When you first pull up and drive up the steep dirt trail to parking, you wouldn't have any clue it was a stripclub unless you saw the single, bland sign advertising nude dancers. But then you go inside and it's a really professional, beautiful set-up. The stage is right in the middle with plenty of space to keep your distance and sit for drinks or food. And we didn't even get carded, which was a relief since Kara had just another person's ID to use in that situation (the girl on it doesn't really look like her at all). There was a girl already dancing on stage, which was slick and had two poles. Two girls danced at once at each side throughout the afternoon. Kara was mopey and visibly uncomfortable almost the entire time whenever I wasn't doing or saying something to make her laugh. I sat and enjoyed my surroundings. They were laid-back and unintimidatory and almost all the girls who danced were not only naturally gorgeous, but ridiculously talented. You can say what you want about stripclubs, but the things these women do with a ceiling-high pole is unbelievable; enough to cause a guy to completely forget his boner in awe. One of them climbed all the way to the top and basically held herself there with the strength of a single leg, then outstretched her body from it using only her inner thighs to hold her up. Then she'd slide down really quick like she was falling, causing a loud screeching sound as flesh slipped past metal, only to catch herself last-minute and suavely continue being sexy. One old redneck by the stage actually jumped at it, then embarrassingly put his hand over his face like a concerned father. There were your usual unsuspecting creeps sitting around watching: the sophisticated Asian man in casual attire, shirt tucked in and all with glasses on his face; the buff and tough Mexican men who sat close with each other as they watched the girls; the rednecks nearing their late-fifties with plain button-up shirts and wrinkling faces that had long-since forgotten how to actually facially respond to naked, young women; the one lone senior citizen who literally had to lean in to figure out what he was looking at.
The bartender was topless. Her giant boobs just proudly hung over her shirt as she nonchalantly served beers and picked up dirty dishes from the tables. I ordered me and Kara some mac'n'cheese and a thing of nachos. Heather hyped up the nachos there and she definitely wasn't kidding about them; they were probably the best nachos I'd ever eaten. To sit in a bar and eat vegan food while watching girls get naked was like a dream come true. Grace showed up and spent the entire time there throwing tons of ones at each and every dancer. Her and Heather were the only people who went up and sat by the stage to get grinded and seduced by the girls. Brandon and I sat there, far away from any naked ladies. I never understood the concept of throwing money at a pretty girl in exchange for a vicious cock-teasing, so it's not really my thing to begin with. Besides that, I'd rather talk to the girls or cuddle with them than have their naked hips grinding into me for a few seconds. I stared obsessively at one of the dancers there, the prettiest one, a girl named Bailey, who had freckles and pale skin and Nintendo tattoos. Another one, Natalia, had the best legs there, wearing black knee-highs and sporting a perfectly round butt. It was great. We were there for a few hours before leaving. Heather had a few beers and so did Brandon. Brandon mentioned to us having been at another club earlier that morning. So he had been drinking throughout the entire day right after a night of being too drunk to wake up. It became clear pretty quickly that Brandon was an alcoholic, even before he mentioned to me that he couldn't drive for another two years because of a DUI. We went back to Grace's to get all packed up, but not before we made one stop with Heather to this giant, fenced-in field populated by goats right in the middle of the city. It had caught our eye the day before, but we never returned to figure out what it was all about. Apparently, the goats were rented as a sustainable means of "mowing" all the grass in this field. There were about fifty of them ranging from babies to adults and they were all adorable and beautiful. Goats are Heather's favorite animal, so she made sure we spent a decent amount of time there, trying to get their attention and generally just gazing at their natural innocence and beauty.
155 miles.
We lost track of time there, especially after a couple on longboards showed up with carrots in their pockets to feed the goats. They let us share one and Kara and I took turns trying to feed the goats. The older ones got really testy and primal about making sure they got those bites, even threatening babies with their horns. There was a jerk or two in that crowd, but we made sure the patient ones got most of the food. We eventually got to Grace's to get our shit together and soon after left. We definitely stopped by the goats one more time, though. We drove to Bend that night, about three hours southeast of Portland, where Heather and Brandon lived together. I think I may have dozed off in the car before we got there. Heather gave us her little craft room to sleep on the floor in. We got to meet George, their tubby, ten-year old cat, and got a quick tour of their humble abode. It was an apartment that looked more like a one-story house and they had really awesome artwork framed and hung up all over just about every wall in the place.
This is George the cat, looking very sophisticated in his old man glasses.
We slept in comfortably and weren't sure what to do when we woke up. A note above the toilet for us by Heather said we could use their bikes to ride around and she had left a key to get in and out behind for us. Brandon worked until 6 and Heather worked until 9, so we were on our own for the day. We were hungry and the weather was beautiful outside, so the first thing we did was get on their bikes and rode to a Jimmy John's for lunch. We got a little lost, but all it did was afford us a further view at just how beautiful this small town is. Everything was just clean and neat. It made me think of a Pleasantville type of existence, where most businesses were local and in house-like establishments, much like Boise except even nicer and even smaller. Everything down to the smoothness of the roads was well-maintained. After we ate, we didn't know what else to do. So we rode back home. A little later, after Brandon got home, we left again to ride a mile away to a grocery store so we could get some food in Heather's fridge for the week we planned on staying here. The grocery store and the neighborhood and park we rode through to get there was even cuter than what we had previously seen. Again, we got a bit lost, but again it only gave us more to look at. Unlike most of the beautiful parks we'd already seen around the country, people were actually taking advantage of this one. Pageant Park had people of all sorts doing things of all sorts, whether it be tightrope walking, yoga, Frisbee, walking dogs, or just hanging out in a tree. We got to go over a short wooden bridge that went over a beautiful river with tons of feathery duck butts sticking straight up in the air floating around in it. Newport Market had a lot of things we weren't used to seeing in grocery stores, but also lacked a lot of things we were used to seeing in grocery stores. It made me happy when I overheard an older woman with a baby grieving over their lack of Boca nuggets right after I did. We talked to her for a minute after I dug up some other brand of vegan nuggets I'd never seen before called Cluckphrey (get it? "cluck-free"!). She said it wasn't her child, but she will definitely be raising her kids vegan. We ate half a pint of peanut butter chocolate chip cookie dough outside and then rode our bikes back. Kara is a very slow rider. She made dinner that night; stir-fry with veggies, tofu, and noodles. It was really yummy. Before we went to sleep, we watched four episodes of Louie.
A brief, rare moment where Kara was riding ahead of me. I coasted faster than she rode. I loved bike-riding with her for the first time, anyway.
Bridge view in Pageant Park.
Dinner! Frozen veggies kinda suck.
Yesterday, Heather only worked until 6, but that still granted us way too much time on our hands to explore Bend without an educated tour guide and ride to far-off nature expeditions that we knew were abundant around this town. So we mostly hung around the house. We went for a bike ride to the downtown strip of tiny businesses and eateries along Wall Street. We checked out Ranch Records and found out they served vegan pizza at Pizza Mondo. We walked along the entire block of business, turned around and went down another. We stopped in a bookstore cafe called Dudley's that sold Heather's zines as well as tons of used books. It was cute, but the owner was a miserable dickhead. We also stopped in a comic shop called Pegasus; they actually had a really impressive selection for such a tiny spot. We rode back home around 6 because we weren't sure if Heather had a way inside. When we got there, she was already inside. We mentioned getting pizza for dinner and she said she wanted to join. So we left and all walked back to Pizza Mondo. It was perpetually packed in there. We ordered and then went for a stroll to the back alley that lead to a popular hang-out spot for the highschooler punk kids and the very few people of color that seemed to live there. We stopped in Madhappy Lounge a bar/venue that Prayers For Atheists had actually just recently played in. It was small, but really cool. We walked back and waited for our pizzas to come out. Ours looked really good, though each half looked totally different from each other. We walked to the park and sat in the grass by some intense tightrope walkers practicing and ate on the ground. Kara's side tasted really weird and almost too similar to real cheese. So we called the place and told them they had given us real cheese. The manager got on the phone, though, and said they had actually just run out of Follow Your Heart and made the other half with some other brand that I had never heard of. Hm. It was a relief, if it were in fact the truth. I thought both halves were yummy, either way.
Later, back at home, we just hung around. Kara and Heather made a cherry pie together, at first using some crappy recipe in a Twin Peaks book that didn't really work out. Kara was all excited to be baking, since it's her main hobby and is impossible for her to do while on the road. I watched an absurd b-horror film called Hobo With a Shotgun with Brandon and one of his friends.
Kara and I with bad-ass temporary Tofurky tattoos!
A cool old man and seagull statue in the cute downtown area. Someone left a real bag of salsa and avocado potato chips with him that were still pretty tasty upon investigation.
A perfect cherry pie by Heather and Kara.
A giant black feather hung from the ceiling of Refuge where the Zine Symposium was being held.
I couldn't take enough pictures of the goats. That one goat leaning against the fence was scratching herself. And those people in the last picture are their owners; they had a name for each and every one. She told us which one was Woody and which one was Woody's mom.
Awesome sticker.
Probably the only way love survives forever is if it's carved into cement.
On the way to Bend, Heather stopped at a place that sells wooden statues carved with chainsaws. They had a bunch of creepy Bigfoot ones.
Some more stuff from around Bend. It's weird what we actually decide to take pictures of.
Tony James, a kid who I have very harshly criticized in this journal before, came and crouched down to say hi to us. He had also tried to say hi to us back in Bloomington, which confused us. Since we were face-to-face this time, I came out and said it: "Ya know, Tony, you were really rude to us the first time we met. So it's a bit confusing that you've been saying hi to us." He seemed confused and uncomfortable, as anyone probably would be in that situation since most people don't just come out and say things like that to people. But I was tired of hating someone who was suddenly trying to say hi to me every time we were in the same place as one another. I didn't want to be just another asshole who avoided confrontation and placated people in public. I reminded him that he had said outright that he, "didn't have any interest in meeting dave and Kara," way back last fall in Bloomington and that he had avoided doing so the entire night we were all bowling together. He said he didn't remember that at all, but apologized. And then he apologized again. And then we were just having a friendly conversation with him and his friend Andrew. Later, he popped back outside and threw a paper airplane at us that was a note he had written while in a letter-writing workshop inside. It said, dear dave & kara: Hello! i am writing to you live from the Portland Zine Symposium Letter-Writing workshop. Listen, i just wanted to say sorry for being a jerk when we met in Bloomington. i don't remember why i was being a butthead, but i had no reason to be. you are wonderful people. I hope you can come hangout in Spokane someday! We looked at each other and instantly felt like total jerks for any mean thing we'd ever said about him. But he had earned all those mean things. And, this time, he had earned our respect and a second chance from us. It was nice.
A half hour later, one of the women who were running the Symposium had come outside and saw our little soapbox zine stand. She had a large, beautiful tattooed chest piece of crows and I had seen her everywhere the day before, mostly behind a microphone announcing raffle winners. She saw us, read our sign, and then offered us a table inside. Apparently, not everyone who had purchased one had shown up and she still had a big, spacious table that we could sit at. So we loaded everything we had into the box and were directed to it. A nice girl next to us at the time asked if she could share a space with us for her friend's zine of letters written by women prisoners and we gladly helped her out. "Pay it forward," if you will. We got to sit there for about the last two hours of the symposium. I got to talk to a lot of people, traded a few zines, and sold four. As always, it was totally awkward trying to make conversation or explain my zines to people without feeling like some sort of dirty used car salesman. It was a fun time. Kara and I took turns browsing the second day's tablers, most of whom were there the day before, and even bought a few. I just wanted to get my zines out there one way or another and I did just that, so I was more than happy with four bucks in two hours. Both days, Heather had put a "DAVE AND KARA HITCHHIKING FUND" jar on her table, too. That day, she only made a dollar for us, but the day before, she made eight! At 4, when the symposium ended, Heather loaded all of her stuff out to the car as Brandon waited for us.
From there, we went straight to the northwestern part of Portland in an area that was mostly industrial and vacant looking to Casa Diablo, the infamous vegan stripclub that I had discovered via CurrentTV almost three years ago. When you first pull up and drive up the steep dirt trail to parking, you wouldn't have any clue it was a stripclub unless you saw the single, bland sign advertising nude dancers. But then you go inside and it's a really professional, beautiful set-up. The stage is right in the middle with plenty of space to keep your distance and sit for drinks or food. And we didn't even get carded, which was a relief since Kara had just another person's ID to use in that situation (the girl on it doesn't really look like her at all). There was a girl already dancing on stage, which was slick and had two poles. Two girls danced at once at each side throughout the afternoon. Kara was mopey and visibly uncomfortable almost the entire time whenever I wasn't doing or saying something to make her laugh. I sat and enjoyed my surroundings. They were laid-back and unintimidatory and almost all the girls who danced were not only naturally gorgeous, but ridiculously talented. You can say what you want about stripclubs, but the things these women do with a ceiling-high pole is unbelievable; enough to cause a guy to completely forget his boner in awe. One of them climbed all the way to the top and basically held herself there with the strength of a single leg, then outstretched her body from it using only her inner thighs to hold her up. Then she'd slide down really quick like she was falling, causing a loud screeching sound as flesh slipped past metal, only to catch herself last-minute and suavely continue being sexy. One old redneck by the stage actually jumped at it, then embarrassingly put his hand over his face like a concerned father. There were your usual unsuspecting creeps sitting around watching: the sophisticated Asian man in casual attire, shirt tucked in and all with glasses on his face; the buff and tough Mexican men who sat close with each other as they watched the girls; the rednecks nearing their late-fifties with plain button-up shirts and wrinkling faces that had long-since forgotten how to actually facially respond to naked, young women; the one lone senior citizen who literally had to lean in to figure out what he was looking at.
The bartender was topless. Her giant boobs just proudly hung over her shirt as she nonchalantly served beers and picked up dirty dishes from the tables. I ordered me and Kara some mac'n'cheese and a thing of nachos. Heather hyped up the nachos there and she definitely wasn't kidding about them; they were probably the best nachos I'd ever eaten. To sit in a bar and eat vegan food while watching girls get naked was like a dream come true. Grace showed up and spent the entire time there throwing tons of ones at each and every dancer. Her and Heather were the only people who went up and sat by the stage to get grinded and seduced by the girls. Brandon and I sat there, far away from any naked ladies. I never understood the concept of throwing money at a pretty girl in exchange for a vicious cock-teasing, so it's not really my thing to begin with. Besides that, I'd rather talk to the girls or cuddle with them than have their naked hips grinding into me for a few seconds. I stared obsessively at one of the dancers there, the prettiest one, a girl named Bailey, who had freckles and pale skin and Nintendo tattoos. Another one, Natalia, had the best legs there, wearing black knee-highs and sporting a perfectly round butt. It was great. We were there for a few hours before leaving. Heather had a few beers and so did Brandon. Brandon mentioned to us having been at another club earlier that morning. So he had been drinking throughout the entire day right after a night of being too drunk to wake up. It became clear pretty quickly that Brandon was an alcoholic, even before he mentioned to me that he couldn't drive for another two years because of a DUI. We went back to Grace's to get all packed up, but not before we made one stop with Heather to this giant, fenced-in field populated by goats right in the middle of the city. It had caught our eye the day before, but we never returned to figure out what it was all about. Apparently, the goats were rented as a sustainable means of "mowing" all the grass in this field. There were about fifty of them ranging from babies to adults and they were all adorable and beautiful. Goats are Heather's favorite animal, so she made sure we spent a decent amount of time there, trying to get their attention and generally just gazing at their natural innocence and beauty.
155 miles.
We lost track of time there, especially after a couple on longboards showed up with carrots in their pockets to feed the goats. They let us share one and Kara and I took turns trying to feed the goats. The older ones got really testy and primal about making sure they got those bites, even threatening babies with their horns. There was a jerk or two in that crowd, but we made sure the patient ones got most of the food. We eventually got to Grace's to get our shit together and soon after left. We definitely stopped by the goats one more time, though. We drove to Bend that night, about three hours southeast of Portland, where Heather and Brandon lived together. I think I may have dozed off in the car before we got there. Heather gave us her little craft room to sleep on the floor in. We got to meet George, their tubby, ten-year old cat, and got a quick tour of their humble abode. It was an apartment that looked more like a one-story house and they had really awesome artwork framed and hung up all over just about every wall in the place.
This is George the cat, looking very sophisticated in his old man glasses.
We slept in comfortably and weren't sure what to do when we woke up. A note above the toilet for us by Heather said we could use their bikes to ride around and she had left a key to get in and out behind for us. Brandon worked until 6 and Heather worked until 9, so we were on our own for the day. We were hungry and the weather was beautiful outside, so the first thing we did was get on their bikes and rode to a Jimmy John's for lunch. We got a little lost, but all it did was afford us a further view at just how beautiful this small town is. Everything was just clean and neat. It made me think of a Pleasantville type of existence, where most businesses were local and in house-like establishments, much like Boise except even nicer and even smaller. Everything down to the smoothness of the roads was well-maintained. After we ate, we didn't know what else to do. So we rode back home. A little later, after Brandon got home, we left again to ride a mile away to a grocery store so we could get some food in Heather's fridge for the week we planned on staying here. The grocery store and the neighborhood and park we rode through to get there was even cuter than what we had previously seen. Again, we got a bit lost, but again it only gave us more to look at. Unlike most of the beautiful parks we'd already seen around the country, people were actually taking advantage of this one. Pageant Park had people of all sorts doing things of all sorts, whether it be tightrope walking, yoga, Frisbee, walking dogs, or just hanging out in a tree. We got to go over a short wooden bridge that went over a beautiful river with tons of feathery duck butts sticking straight up in the air floating around in it. Newport Market had a lot of things we weren't used to seeing in grocery stores, but also lacked a lot of things we were used to seeing in grocery stores. It made me happy when I overheard an older woman with a baby grieving over their lack of Boca nuggets right after I did. We talked to her for a minute after I dug up some other brand of vegan nuggets I'd never seen before called Cluckphrey (get it? "cluck-free"!). She said it wasn't her child, but she will definitely be raising her kids vegan. We ate half a pint of peanut butter chocolate chip cookie dough outside and then rode our bikes back. Kara is a very slow rider. She made dinner that night; stir-fry with veggies, tofu, and noodles. It was really yummy. Before we went to sleep, we watched four episodes of Louie.
A brief, rare moment where Kara was riding ahead of me. I coasted faster than she rode. I loved bike-riding with her for the first time, anyway.
Bridge view in Pageant Park.
Dinner! Frozen veggies kinda suck.
Yesterday, Heather only worked until 6, but that still granted us way too much time on our hands to explore Bend without an educated tour guide and ride to far-off nature expeditions that we knew were abundant around this town. So we mostly hung around the house. We went for a bike ride to the downtown strip of tiny businesses and eateries along Wall Street. We checked out Ranch Records and found out they served vegan pizza at Pizza Mondo. We walked along the entire block of business, turned around and went down another. We stopped in a bookstore cafe called Dudley's that sold Heather's zines as well as tons of used books. It was cute, but the owner was a miserable dickhead. We also stopped in a comic shop called Pegasus; they actually had a really impressive selection for such a tiny spot. We rode back home around 6 because we weren't sure if Heather had a way inside. When we got there, she was already inside. We mentioned getting pizza for dinner and she said she wanted to join. So we left and all walked back to Pizza Mondo. It was perpetually packed in there. We ordered and then went for a stroll to the back alley that lead to a popular hang-out spot for the highschooler punk kids and the very few people of color that seemed to live there. We stopped in Madhappy Lounge a bar/venue that Prayers For Atheists had actually just recently played in. It was small, but really cool. We walked back and waited for our pizzas to come out. Ours looked really good, though each half looked totally different from each other. We walked to the park and sat in the grass by some intense tightrope walkers practicing and ate on the ground. Kara's side tasted really weird and almost too similar to real cheese. So we called the place and told them they had given us real cheese. The manager got on the phone, though, and said they had actually just run out of Follow Your Heart and made the other half with some other brand that I had never heard of. Hm. It was a relief, if it were in fact the truth. I thought both halves were yummy, either way.
Later, back at home, we just hung around. Kara and Heather made a cherry pie together, at first using some crappy recipe in a Twin Peaks book that didn't really work out. Kara was all excited to be baking, since it's her main hobby and is impossible for her to do while on the road. I watched an absurd b-horror film called Hobo With a Shotgun with Brandon and one of his friends.
Kara and I with bad-ass temporary Tofurky tattoos!
A cool old man and seagull statue in the cute downtown area. Someone left a real bag of salsa and avocado potato chips with him that were still pretty tasty upon investigation.
A perfect cherry pie by Heather and Kara.
A giant black feather hung from the ceiling of Refuge where the Zine Symposium was being held.
I couldn't take enough pictures of the goats. That one goat leaning against the fence was scratching herself. And those people in the last picture are their owners; they had a name for each and every one. She told us which one was Woody and which one was Woody's mom.
Awesome sticker.
Probably the only way love survives forever is if it's carved into cement.
On the way to Bend, Heather stopped at a place that sells wooden statues carved with chainsaws. They had a bunch of creepy Bigfoot ones.
Some more stuff from around Bend. It's weird what we actually decide to take pictures of.