MomnDad are visiting, and S & I are keeping them busy. We spent Thursday night at Sam Bond's Garage in a small crowd listening to Mark Ross, the world's most famous unknown folk singer. He does lots of labor songs, lots of romantic train songs. He's been giving S some fiddle lessons lately.

Friday we engaged in a great Oregonian pass-time of driving back and into the National Forest south of nowhere, up up up on steep gravel logging roads, careful with the brakes, watch for the washboard because it'll walk it right over, slow. Cliffs and tree branches and gravel road dust and grasshoppers. Perfectly safe.

We found a suitable secluded spot and practiced target-shooting; S had just gotten Dad a new revolver. It's a big .357 magnum. Mom thought it was so exciting. The first three shots she made it through her repertoire of expletives, and then found the target and the word "YEAH!" to go along with it.

We saw a pair of grouse, and S & Dad discussed upland game bird hunting in the fall.

We walked about 100 yards to the top of the ridge, where S & I had explored a few years before & where we had found some nice high-grade agate and chalcedony. It was lovely, big fir and cedar trees, ferns, salal and huckleberry and not a soul for miles.
Mom found some agate and was very happy.

That evening, Dad opted to go to bed early, but Mom & S & I met up with my girl friend & my aunt at Sam Bond's for Astryd's performance. She wore red, and, as always, dazzled us. S was surrounded by four blonds and seemed quite happy in his corner.

Saturday I dragged Mom to the farmer's market, and she got a tie-dyed tank top, some veggies, and a bbq sandwich.

We ate leftovers and Dad & I stayed up until two in the morning drinking red wine, which we both regretted all day Sunday.

Too much fun.