I forgot Canada (I am sure I am not the first)

I forgot to mention that I spent a very wet couple days on two wheels (both motorized and pedalized) in Vancouver with some Henna Gaijin from my Kyoto-Fu days. And, except for having my thumb nearly torn off by Ben and getting absolutely drenched on the Kawi, I had a great time. Gavin and Lana put me up and Gav. showed me why people say Vancouver is prettier than Seattle (people are right, by the way; it's not even a contest). Anyway, the Canadians treated me nice, and I escaped with ten fingers and toes (they were taken from me at the border) and a fancy bright yellow motorbike rain suit, in which I look uber-sexy. It was a rocking good time, eh? So good I blocked it out of my memory.

Canuck kisses,
FPP

Sven's co-ed Drinking-Intense Baby Shower and Crown Hill Invention: Chili Fever

So much to discuss...

After a successfull and fairly far-reaching hillbillie adventure that took me to Grangeville, Cottonwood and Keuterville Idahos and Colville and Chewelah Washinton, I tripped back to the "west" for various adventures including a Mariner's Game and Weathe and Kristen's co-ed baby (Sven) shower, the focus of which was drinking games.



After that I hung about in the general Seattle area for a couple days, where I saw Crown Hill Invention at the Nectar bar, the scene of my first Seattle debauch earlier in June. Full-circle, I guess.



Anyway, I am back in BQ, where I belong, I guess. My apartment is filled with sunflowers, streamers and balloons courtesy of La Flaca. I am tired. My luggage is still in Miami, but I am not distressed, It's too damn hot for that.

Willie and the Reichlin boys

Okay. So I guess there is no other way to say it: for father’s day, I purchased tickets and took my dad and brother to see Willie Nelson at the Gorge Amphitheater on the 4^th of July. It was great. Willie, of course, came on last after Son Volt, The Old 97’s, Drive by Truckers.

Regardless how you shake it, it came up Willie. The event info said no “professional cameras” and no “digital cameras” so FPPInternational, ever the rule-following gaggle of cowardice, went to the event armed only with a small golf pencil, a piece of paper on loan from the beer-selling lady and a Kodak disposable camera (FPPInternational’s journalistic integrity and historic pursuance of greatness helped me to choose the zoom model disposable Kodak film camera) I entered the gates to the gorge and waited in the sun for a 74-year-old nasally singing Texan. Willie played for over two hours and at midnight declined to be interviewed, preferring to smoke some sagebrush.

My super cake

On my 22nd birthday, fifteen damned years ago, Melissa of Don and Melissa fame, made me a wonderful birthday cake. But damn did I have a hard time eating it, as I had just had my wisdom teeth pulled a scant three days before. So, through teary eyes and yelps of pain, I told Melissa I appreciated that she had made me a cake, but couldn't eat my piece. She got really really pissed off. Actually, she understood and has made me a birthday cake whenever I am nearby when late June rolls around. This year she went crazy and made me a beach-themed birthday cake with gummy sharks eating bikini-clad teddy grahams. Thank you, Melissa. All my snack-food fantasies have come to fruition.

Lake Chelan Hike, Nature’s Revenge.

Bees, Barbeques and Bowels Teach the Boys Who’s Boss

The annual boys against nature hike-o-rama was an exercise in humility, with six bee-stings, one scorched leg and at least one emergency forest-poo contributing to an otherwise successful and eventful weekend in eastern Washington. Next year, I predict Weathe and Strando will have the dramatic adventures, but this year it was pure FPP and Chili.

BEE Trouble

This one I really do not understand. I took my bike out this morning for a short ride up the hill past crown point. It is all uphill. On the way back, a nice leisurely downhill run in the highest gear, I got hit in the face, specifically in the right side of my upper lip, with a bee, who, being malicious, decided with dying breath, to sting me. Damn. My upper right lip is now puffy and funny looking, to match the rest of face, I suppose. Fine. Semi-normal summer occurance. I do not die or even get sick from beestings. But goddamnit, I got bit in exactly the same spot on Friday, the first day of the Chelan hike. A bee, unbeknownst to me, flew into my handful of gorp and stung my damned lip as I tossed it in my mouth.

Later, also on that Friday, I was looking for firewood for our first camp (wood that would later contribute to a scorched chili-leg) I got into a bee’s nest and was stung on my hands, feet and, you guessed it, right side of my lip. However, this time it was the lower lip. But regardless, this bee-lip connection is becoming a real pain in the ass, or lip, actually.

Puffily yours,

FPP