You know how in Texas there is a Taqueria Jalisco
or
Bandera, or Guadalajara on just about every corner. Here in Oregon there is a
coffee hut of some kind or another on every corner. Not a Starbucks or a Peets
but some little hut with various coffee oriented names such as the Mojo, The
Cup O’ Joe, and Drive by Coffee Hut. There are more of them here than there are
Valeros in San Antonio. Do the cars here also function on coffee?
We ate at a place called the Pig and Pancake last night
because Seamus thought a place with a breakfast name would be a good place to
have dinner. Really????
He orders the seafood platter which consisted of
shrimp, Cod and a Razor Clam. I assumed he had eaten razor clams before. No, it
was his first one and I thought he was going to yak it all over the table. I
thought I was going to yak all over the table watching him attempt to chew it. He
looks at me and asks why, if these clams are so horrible to eat do people eat
them?
In all seriousness I tell him that perhaps it was the way it was cooked.
He looks at me like I am an idiot. I try again. If you wanted a perfect medium
rare piece of Angus prime rib would go to IHOP? Here is the scary part, well,
yes if they are serving a prime rib special that night I would, he says. I
choked on my last bite of over cooked shrimp. I try again. When you want some
juicy tender BBQ ribs do you go to McDonalds for a McRib sandwich? He looks at
me again like I have grown four eyes and says “No, those are not real ribs.”
Implying that if they were real ribs he would consider that an acceptable place
to eat BBQ ribs? I am just not sure…
There we were yesterday happily searching for Geocaches when
viola! We find a rather large one. We are recording and tagging and doing
Geocache stuff when I decide to head back to the vehicle to retrieve a token to
leave in the canister. Off to my right I spy a flash of something
white. Of
course I veer from my course and go to investigate. I am the person who is in the
middle of a conversation and all of a sudden screams look a chicken when I see
one and then scampers off to see it. So it was with the white bone looking
thing I saw. Except, when I got to it I realized it was a bone. My first
thought is that it is a femur of a deer or dog or coyote. Hey, I say as I am
conceiving a brilliant idea. Why don’t we leave the bone in the cache? I kick
it over to Seamus and as I am about to use leaves to pick it up he reaches for
it with his fingers, picks it up and deposits in the canister. UHMMM!!!!! Too
late. It then crosses my mind as I survey the area we are standing in that it
could….wait was is that white thing? Another bone. Cool!! No wait not cool,
maybe. I look around us again and a chill shimmers up my spine. OK! I call, let’s
go! We drive on and a few hours later
Seamus pauses to comment that perhaps he should not have touched the bone as he
picked it up. Ya think?? He then wants to throw me under the bus as he records
the search notes later claiming it is me who put the bone in the canister. NO
YOU ARE NOT!! Well why did you give it to me, he asks. WHAT?? I did not give it
to you - I just mentioned I found a bone and would it be humorous if we put it in the
canister. It is at this point we both burst into a fit or laughter that takes
us about 30 minutes to recover from. But then all either of us have to do is say
the words humerus bone and the laughter starts again. Come to find out that
when we looked up the bone later that evening it actually was a humerus bone
and probably from a deer,
………maybe.
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