How the $%! do you get into the Target parking lot?

No seriously, this is a problem, particularly for newcomers like me. We need to replace the plastics and household goods that we abandoned before we left.

The sole Target in Deschutes County is located on the north side of Bend in a strip mall district where roads wind nonsensically like wet noodles, as if they were the inspiration and blueprint for the traffic patterns.

I like to compare the area to the Bermuda Triangle; unless you approach it from just the right angle, you’re screwed. At every logical entry point, there are concrete medians or no turn signs preventing entry. Roads seem to circumvent it, as if Target itself were a large concrete median.

From Bend there are two major highways, 20 and 97, that will take you *near* the Target. If you are on Highway 97, you have a 75% chance of getting in the parking lot. If you’re on Highway 20, I don’t know what the #$*! to tell you, it might just be easier to drive a couple hours to the Target in Salem.

Leaving Target is just as indirect as the approach into the parking lot. No left turns at the exit. Seriously? Why prevent shoppers from returning to highway 97? It’s the biggest road in the county. We need to go home, use all this new $&#, and return for more.

Target, we like your bath accessories and eager employees. We have gift certificates we need to redeem. Please let us park.

Correction nobody stole the dog food

Just our payment. Igh.

Robbed. Again. This time they were after the dog food.

Yes even the monthly delivery of dog food is not safe in Redmond. This would have been our second 40 lbs. bag of Orion’s Choice, a kick-ass, affordable dog food. They are based somewhere nearby, and offer a convenient delivery service so your dog food is theoretically on your front porch when you return home after work.

No such luck today. Payment was picked up, Orion’s business card was in the door, but there was no kibble. I’m fairly distraught about having something stolen, again, from our residence. This is the second time in about a month. At least they didn’t come inside this time, or maybe they knew they’d already picked us dry from the December break-in.

I’m just puzzled. Who steals dog food, especially that quickly? Are they eating it or are they feeding it to their dogs? Is there a black market for dog food in Redmond? And if so, do they use ebay lingo to market their products? Would the bag they stole from us be marked “new,” or “like new without tags”?

Redmond why do you refuse to let me love you?  How can I appease the current unrest and stop the thievery? As a peace offering, I will acknowledge that I like the luminescent blue snowflakes and strands of Christmas lights downtown. And I think it’s bold that you’ve left them up until nearly February. That takes balls. And the Redmond ice skating poster is badass.

A Regular Mid-Atlantic Winter

Central Oregon has been fully prepared for heaps of snow since our arrival last fall. Cars scrape through town with noisy studded tires and the locals are anxious for peak conditions on the mountain. The snowfall however, has been meager. One of our favorite breweries, 10 Barrel, has an aptly named seasonal, “Pray for Snow,” which is delicious and hopefully will continue as a  mainstay on the menu.

Eddie ventured up to Mt. Bachelor one day in December and reports that there was excellent snow pack on the slopes. Ski mountains on the east coast aren’t known for powder, so even a light start to snow season here is comparably better than what we are accustomed to. Everyone tells us Central Oregon is experiencing usually mild weather, but it feels to me like a regular Mid-Atlantic winter: snowdrifts a couple times a month, a stretch of 55 degree days, and freezing nights.

While snow is in the forecast for this week, I took advantage of the warmth last weekend to ride through the bike trails of the dry canyon and bike lanes downtown. I  snapped some photos of Redmond; including shots of the controversial Juniper tree, a disc golf course and the arch downtown.

Look for Bound for Bend Gin in the Redmond liquor store this spring.

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The Anti-Sightseeing Tour of America

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We drove more than 3,400 miles on our move west, and because we were sure everyday would be our last, we limited our merges on and off the highway whenever possible. Stopping for photos of natural wonders we passed such as Arches National Park, or of southern icons like Talladega Superspeedway, was out of the question. I did get Eddie to pull over at Georgia O’Keefe’s Ghost Ranch outside Santa Fe. We didn’t spend much time there, due to our searing nerves and worries of making it through the Rockies, but I did get a few still shots.  Here are the sights we did see, most of which we documented through the windows of the truck.

What smells like cat piss?

A hush fell over us as we turned into the driveway of our rental home for the first time. We must have been in shock, realizing that we will live spitting distance from a Super Walmart for 6 months. If that sight didn’t alarm us enough, the awful, pungent aroma that greeted us when we opened our car doors sure did. We couldn’t figure out if the neighborhood had a stray cat problem or if they were breeding cougars in the open field behind our house.

It was a thick, glandular smell, and I struggled to identify where it was coming from. Could I hose down the front yard and get rid of it? Did we run over something between here and Boise? Oh my god, my life can’t smell like this. We went out to lunch downtown and the scent followed. Shortly thereafter I received a text from a concerned friend:

Friend: ya’ll make it there yet?

Me: Yup, arrived an hour ago. It’ll do for 6 mons but Redmond spells like pee.

Friend: Yikes slash weird…

Over the next month the odor hung around us like the clouds that cover the cascades; they are always there, some days thicker than others. We started to accept that this is how the high desert smells, and this is how our lives are going to smell. A week or so after we moved in, a breeze was kicking and the smell flared up, and we began to notice a slight sweetness in the air, like the sap of a pine tree.

I can’t remember who it was that finally told us the cat piss smell that polluted our community was from the Juniper tree, which is practically the county symbol. These incursive evergreens look as awful as they smell, and according to the Oregon Department of Forestry, they are reproducing like rabbits. Keep in mind I am a tree lover.

They do have some redeeming qualities, no wait just one. They are covered in berries, which can be distilled into gin. I haven’t tried making gin yet, but if this whole employment thing doesn’t work out, I’ll be in the canyon harvesting buckets of those stinking berries.

Don’t Get all Gussied Up

Alright I’m from the south and as a whole, we are fairly snappy dressers. Like our accents however, we are a little slow when it comes to making great leaps in fashion. I prided myself on the fact that I was part of my city’s first wave of skinny jean adopters a few years ago, but by then, hipsters in Brooklyn had been rocking the tapered-leg look for so long they were over it. Little did I know, the south is style years ahead of places like Central Oregon.

Not that I should be knocking it; I don’t even know what’s hip now so I’m still wearing the skinny jeans. Since I’ve been in Bend, I’ve occasionally ventured into my throwback jeans collection, testing the waters with a bootcut pair. But after studying folks hanging at the library and walking the streets downtown, it seems Bendites are wearing a middle-of-the-road, straight leg look.

Back to my point, we’ve been invited out a few times, to Christmas potlucks and friend’s houses for parties, where I have learned a valuable new lesson on dressing. In the south, if you invited me to a party, watch out. I’d arrive decked out in a designer dress, hot heels or boots and rattle with the sounds of clinking bangles and necklaces. Well I’ve realized my typical party look is a bit off-putting to the locals, and it does feels a bit ostentatious in this casual ski town. Plus, people in Central Oregon seem generally less interested in fashion and more interested in keeping warm. So I’m toning down my wardrobe, even intentionally sabotaging perfectly good outfits so I don’t seem too out of place.

Forget the advice my southern college education gave me on dressing up for job interviews, “Always wear a suit. Always dress better than you have to.” When I plan an outfit for an interview in Central Oregon, I start with my most professional look, tone it down three notches, add something that clashes and remove all accessories except my wedding ring.

I don’t want to come across as non-native, like a noxious weed that keeps popping up and threatening the balance of this environment.