Lesson learned?

You can never go through too many safety scenarios with your mother. Yesterday, our past conversation about how to deal with sinister dogs on a run became relevant and significant (although became slightly muddled with grizzly tips in the moment).

I was barely out of my house and down the street when an enormous German Shepherd-type dog came running down a driveway, snarling and crouching straight at me. I started running towards a fence and panicked, thinking some thing like,  "I'm going to get mauled. Right now. I don't know what to do. What do I do?" Subconsciously I remembered that dogs like to chase, so I stopped running, turned around, and tried to stop the dog with some type of yelled word, a combination of "stop" and "gah." I don't know if the dog just wanted to scare me or I scared the dog, but he ran back to the house. Also I remember thinking "make yourself look big," and then realized I have no idea how to do that. And really, how do you do that?

I learned two things--it turns out I can slightly control myself in a scary situation, and my bear defense skills are severely lacking.

(When I got home I emailed Jon my dramatic tale of horror, and his response was something like "Sounds scary. While we are on the subject, can you turn in the Netflix?")

punkins

A dog in the lap is worth two in the window

Mia. You are beyond cute. You love to snuggle. You think I'm the jam. You love to play with great danes. But you are gassy. Real, real, gassy. Next time you come over let's work on that, shall we?

Mal

go see

Each night in September, birds called Vaux's Swifts migrate south and roost in a chimney of an old elementary school in downtown Portland (largest known roosting site in the world, ps). They are tiny, black, bat-like birds that gather at sunset, and suddenly enter the chimney, creating swirling formations and attracting predator hawks. If you are in Portland, I highly recommend taking a blanket, snacks, and join the hundreds of people that watch the show each night. It was amazing. We went again last night, and Jon and I were the only ones of the group that had the honor of being pooped on.




Don't forget your swift costume.

And as I mentioned above, sitting close is exciting, but in the poop splash zone, so weigh the risks.

Hall Travel Gallery

Although at sometimes disputed, Jon has great (well, passable) fire-making skills. And is partially transparent here.

"Chateau" can mean many different things to many different people. (Can you find me?)

When in Cave Junction, do as the Cave Junctioners do.

All worthy enormous trees should be named and labeled. A six mile hike, however, may not be the best way to see one. So I might have stretched the truth in my last post, but who cares. It felt like seven.

Great ideas happen after laying awake for hours the night before, worrying about bears. (Thus, s'more pancakes with a touch of maple. Genius!)

Always stop and check out things that have the word "devil" associated with it. Guaranteed good.

Always have a plan B.

Travelling, Hall style

When camping, it is important to loose yourself in nature, but don't get too lost. When you go to set up camp and realize you forgot your tent poles at home, having a store nearby to buy a new shelter is essential.

Estimate at least two hours to make a fire.

Try to stay in remote mountian hotels with minimal frills and comfortable lodges. A seemingly minimum entrance age of 65 is a plus.

If you feel like a seven mile hike, skip it and go with the two miler. Trust me.

Technology love

Niecie Reesie!

Jake, Lindsay, and Reese came to visit this week and it was so good to have them here! Reese walked on sand for the first time and was slightly weirded out at first. Jon and I also had some time to take carefully composed, expertly lighted shots with our new camera. Which really means we hit the shutter button and hoped for the best.

I call this one, "Things Sure Were Great Before We Had Kids." or "Wait...for me...please?"

"Unfortunately, Jon Hates to Be Excluded"

Reese is so cute, smart, and best of all, impressionable. We thought it was important to leave Jake and Lindsay with a way to remember us, so we taught her how to unlock his iTouch. (Sorry Gramps and Grams, your phones are no longer kid proof.) I hope Jake isn't too annoyed with us, but he is generally the best behaved Naylor so I'm not worried. Next up, inappropriate words...

Yessss

Last week: Face in AC unit, sweating, cursing.
Today: Long sleeves, fingers freezing, hot peppermint tea.

The question is not why...

But for $3, who wouldn't? It's a sweater, by the way. And Photobooth does not show that this is a distinct pea-soup green. Also not pictured--a sailor suit, toddler size 5. That was Jon's purchase.

I can't even try this on--the thought makes even my fingernails sweat in this 107?8? degree heat. The past few days I have sat in a completely dark apartment, listening to my so-so AC unit, and staring at my neighbor's central AC fan with pure, unadulterated jealousy.

Don't get me wrong. I love Portland very dearly. But, each season here has had a week of freakishly snowy, or freakishly hot, or freakishly dry weather that others swear "never happens." Other Portlanders seem to have a selective memory when it comes to weather--winters are always 40 degrees and rainy, spring is just plain rainy, and summers are always 80 degrees. Has this paragraph turned into a slight rant? Forgive me Portland! It's just my knee pit sweat talking.

Goodness Gracious, Gracious Goodness.

I happened to stumble upon the greatest of Martha shows today--it was completely devoted to my most secretly favorite of all foods, the hot dog. And this creation left me speechless. I am always talking up the wonders of hot dogs and macaroni and cheese (to Jon's disgust), but I had not thought about combining them on a bun! Man.... oh man.

At least I can laugh about it now. Not that anyone else ever had a problem with that.

I called my orthodontist in Boise last week, asking about getting new retainers sent to me because I am gnawing holes through them at night. The conversation went something like this:

Me: I'm calling to get some new retainers. My name is Malorie Hall, but I might be under...

Receptionist: Oh, we have you here under Malorie Naylor. Let me check with Dr. T. Are you going to be in town soon?

(Pause for the WORST hold music I think I have ever heard. A rendition of a classic orchestral piece by someone who was a huge fan of "Lampchop" and "This is the Song that Never Ends.")

Receptionist: Looks like we need to get a new impression. The front tooth of your model chipped.

Oh, the irony. Plus, can we note that she basically knew me by my first name? The first time I got braces I was called Marjorie for 3 years, so I guess you get braces on twice and you become a celebrity.

Or, everyone remembers you because you were 20 the second time around and you sobbed uncontrollably the whole time they were putting them on. Yeah, maybe that's it.

Before you all think I am consumed by vanity, (but let's not ignore that meeting my future in laws in silver braces was horrifying enough, and probably responsible for a certain family pushing someone to "date other people" that summer) braces were to me a time machine sending me back to 14 years old. And if you knew me at 14...well, you might just understand. I mean, do you want to be 14 again? That's what I thought.

And in the now humorous spirit of remembering that time four years ago, I would like to apologize publicly to my brother, who got home from work and was told by my mother--"Now, it was a surprise, but Malorie had to get braces put on today." I think she tried to give him a look like, "This is not the time to make a joke!" He then promptly made a joke, and I think I gave him a look that would have made the lighting bolt-shaped scar on his forehead burn with evil (if he were to possess such a thing, of course).

26!

Ol' squinty eyes... How come you're so awesome?

Happy 27 to Jon's twin-in-law Tyler too.

Behold.

This is what happens when you leave your hand drawn "self-portraits" around the house. Look how carefully his little axe hands are sketched.

Prius! Double Prius!

With berries like this, who needs grandbabies?

My parents came this weekend, and I wanted them (aka my dad) to get to know our home, as well as find out you don't have to be a registered Democrat to cross the Willamette and we don't bow to the West at noon in salute to Obama. Although they got a kick out of saying "Prius!" every time one drove by, which meant Mom got a little competitive. We crammed a lot of Portland-y stuff into the 4 days, like berry picking, visiting a farmer's market, riding bikes, nature walks, and homeless watching. We even went to the Charthouse, a fancy pants restaurant overlooking the city that we always went to as a family in Boise before it was tragically turned into a Joe's Crab Shack. The only bad thing was the heat wave that accompanied them (96 degrees Friday compared to 70 degrees today!) They pretended not to notice.

Dad picked the most raspberries (I think I was contractually obligated to say that in my blog).

The highlight for me was this moment--

Dad: Did you see that huge creature I pulled out of your shower drain?
Mom: But I thought I already cleaned their shower drain!

There are times when you never question a parent's love.

We made enough delicious jam to last me a year (I hope)

Bet you can't tell this wasn't spontaneous.

This picture has little significance except you can see my bike, and we have no idea why it distorted the way it did.