So the promised vegan fast-food showdown is being postponed until tomorrow because I’ve been in a funk all day that I can’t quite shake, and I don’t want to be trying to explain food to you when I’m in a bad mood. Food deserves better than that, and so do you. It’s taken an entire bottle of chocolate wine for me to force myself to even sit down and write this dinky little post. (By the way, we all need to sit down and have a serious conversation about chocolate wine at some point because (a) I think it’s turning me into an alcoholic, and I’m probably going to need you guys to intervention my ass before it’s too late, and (b) it’s seriously fucking delicious, and you guys need to try it. Perhaps at the intervention.)
Today’s backup post is Silver Falls photos.
But first a couple of quick notes:
1. Changed the theme again. Not sure if I’m going to keep it or not. I like the font, but the paragraph symbols are a little too precious and in love with themselves for my taste. What do you guys think? I really need your feedback on this, because I have exactly zero aesthetic sense.
Those of you with Tumblr accounts, you get way more freedom in designing your background and whatnot, yeah? Can you migrate old posts from another site? Cause if you can, I might just switch. Too many of the WordPress themes have white backgrounds, which I hate — and the ones that don’t have some other element that I just can’t put up with.
2. So it turns out that Daylight Savings Time ended this morning! Why the hell didn’t anyone tell me? We observe this as a major holiday here at Mills Manor. I hate DST, especially because no one has ever been able to definitively tell me why we do it.
Silver Falls State Park is in the Cascade foothills, a little bit east of lovely, vibrant Silverton. It gets fall color early in the season because of its elevation. The upper areas have a wonderful cedar smell, an olfactory treat in generally odorless Western Oregon. It’s a nice Sunday morning excursion, for sure.
Here’s my Sunday morning driving song for you to listen to while you look at the photos:
Rickie Lee Jones does all of these pretty little jazzy vignettes about rough-around-the-edges L.A. people, and I’m not always in the mood for them, but every once in a while (Sunday mornings in particular), they just hit the spot. “She speaks fluently in blonde/from her legs to her cigarette” is one of my favorite lyrics of all time. Enjoy.