Yelle

• 1 bomber Stone Brewing Vertical Ale - home
  
• Columbia Crest Two Vines Merlot-Cabernet - home

Tonight was Yelle, and I was the only one who didn't get to go (well, me and London). But I'm so glad that Susan got to go see her because I know it was an awesome concert! Je Veux Te Voir!

Dopplebock

• 1 bomber Full Sail Dopplebock - home

Oh Full Sail, I'm in Liquid Love.

HUMP

• 1 can Miller High Life - Pre-HUMP at home
  
• 1 shot Jack Daniels - HUMP / On The Boards, Queen Anne
• 1 shot Herradura - Post-HUMP in Jeff's car
• 1 shot Conmemortivo - The Jeffs'
• 3 cans Miller High Life - The Jeffs'

Olympic Club

• 2 pints McMenamin's Oktoberfest - Olympic Club, Centralia, WA

The Olympic Club could be one of the best bars I've ever been to in my life. It was opened in 1908, before Prohibition, (there are tunnels underneath the bar where bootleggers would hide their illiegal liquids), but reopened in 1997 by the McMenamin brothers (which I'm sorry about). But the best thing is that it's probably one of the least "McMenamized" of the brother's properties. It has an original potbelly stove that heats the entire bar (and the terrific smell of burning wood), an incredible backbar that dates from the early 20th century and the men's urinals are so big that I could easily fall into them and never return. There is leaded glass, pool tables, secretive balconies, outside seating, traintracks within 50 feet, and genuine swiveley bar stools. If ever there was a place to take a shot of whiskey with a Rainier back, shoot some pool and smoke a pack of Camels, this is it.

Hood River

• 10 ounces Full Sail LTD - Full Sail Brewpub, Hood River, OR
• 10 ounces Full Sail Brewmaster's Reserve - FSB
  
• wine tasting flights - Cathedral Ridge Winery & Phelps Creek Winery
  
• 1 pint IRA - Sixth Street Bistro & Loft

Wine Kicks Ass.


I've always said that if I won the lottery, the first thing I would do is Travel. Keep the House, take care of the Fam, but leave immediately. I could do it. Really. It might be a bit more complicated with a child, but I always believed that with a few clothes, toothbrush, cologne, iPod and a coupla books, I'd be ready to go. This trip confirmed it. I coulda just kept on driving...

Waterfalls

• 1 glass Truchard Pinot - Columbia Gorge Hotel, Oregon
• 1 pint Big Horse - Hop Ale - CGH
  
• 1 Basil Haydens rocks - CGH

many years ago when i was a more active mountain biker, another rider told me that a good rider "rides as if they were water". i took that to mean smoothly flowing over whatever confronts. i think waterfalls are incredibly beautiful, peaceful, yet unbelievably powerful. i love standing/swimming/sitting underneath them. the Historic Columbia River Highway showcases many amazing waterfalls. Multnomah Falls was the most breathtaking, but this is Bridal Veil Falls below; breathtaking in it's own way.

Furthur

• 1 pint Sleepy Hollow Nut Brown on nitro - The Rams Head, Portland, OR
  

Tom Wolfe documented Ken Kesey's drug-induced bus travels in his book "The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test". The bus was named "Furthur" (sic) by Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters. "Furthur" is inscribed on my iPod Shuffle because that's where I want to go. I strive for Furthur. There is always further to see, further to accomplish, further to experience.

Road Trip

• 0% alcoholic content
  

Road Trip seems to be a new-ish phrase. I don't recall ever hearing it before college, and even then, it wasn't like my buddies and I stuffed ourselves in cars to drive across country. Back in the early Barker days, we called it "Driving 'Cross Country in the Back of Our Green '72 Volvo Station Wagon." My dad didn't believe in flying, so anywhere we went, it was by car, or specifically, station wagon (see above). There were five of us: dad (Rene), mom (Yvonne), brother (Ken), sister (Michelle) and I (Jon). Several times we traveled with our pets as well. When we were moving from California to Kansas, we stuffed every living thing we owned in the back of that Volvo: one dog, one cat, and one fish(!). We could kick the Griswald's asses any day.

My dad is kind of a tech-geek and back then there were two things that were HTH (hot-to-have): the 8-track tape and the CB radio ("Breaker One-Nine for a Ten-Forty Six") COOONNNNVOOYY. Needless to say, our Road Trips were real familial gatherings. After the 8-track faded out of existence, my dad installed a Radio Shack cassette tape. This was the shit. Now we could record our favorite vinyl onto cassette and sing to our heart's content (and you wonder why I so love karaoke). Some of our favorite traveling songs were Tom T. Halls's "Sneaky Snake" and the whole album of Marlo Thomas' "Free To Be, You And Me". (I had this whole album memorized.) Sometimes we would just lurk on the various CB radio channels, but it wasn't long before one of us was begging to do some "trucker speak" just to get a response from one of the 18-wheeler rigs. I think they got a kick out of hearing a child's voice over the radio.

Maybe it was because of all of this that I enjoy road trips. I love seeing different parts of the country and I love driving through it. Today I directed the Fam towards Oregon because I found a "Most Awesome Autumn Drives" on the Internets, and you all know how I love autumn.

World Mission Sunday

• 1 bomber Laughing Dog Brewing Dogzilla Black IPA - home

Lately I've been thinking a lot about my Uganda trip from the summer of '06. I keep in touch with a person I met, John Baptist, through email; however, he tends to write me more often than I write him, and I feel bad about this. The day I met him outside of the Mother House is a day I will never forget. I wrote about it last year and it was printed in my church bulletin and I have copy and pasted it below, with pictures following. (The story involves beer (so it's not totally out of place here) and I was getting progressively buzzed as the day went on.) I'm proud of the writing, though as I re-read it now, I realize I lessened the emotion I actually felt during the day, especially at the end as Pedro and I walked home and met the young boys with their water jugs. As we left the boys and made our way back to the road, we both broke down uncontrollably, and walked the remaining distance back to the Mother House, eyes clouded and damp; never saying a word to each other, but knowing exactly how each other felt.

I'm glad today was WMS...it was something I needed to be reminded of.

******************************
Afternoon outside the Mother House

There was 40 minutes before our scheduled lunch time on Wednesday, July 12th and I asked Pedro if he’d like to go down the road for a beer. He almost didn’t agree (and I wonder what the day would have been like if we hadn’t gone) because we needed to be back in time for lunch at 1:00 pm. I assured him we’d be quick, so we began our walk to the local beer-selling hut. We bought our beers, found a comfortable tree root to sit on and began watching the locals. We soon were approached by someone who introduced himself as a teacher at the nearby technical school, so we talked to him a while and promised that we would visit the next day to give out soccer balls and see the school.

Pedro and I were getting several looks; not unfriendly, but more curious. It’s not often two white men are sitting on an exposed tree root drinking beers in the local neighborhood. We were surrounded by a few businesses - a couple of markets, a beauty salon, a barber, and others that I never fully understood. The businesses are huts made out of red clay mud, thatch or rusted metal roofing, and wood or metal doors that are always open and welcoming in the day.
Directly in front of us, two men began unloading fish racks from their bike. The fish were not big, the size of a child’s hand, and they were hung on a rack made out of twigs and twine. There must have been about 70 fish on a rack and the men had a lot of racks. I enjoyed watching them while they shuffled through their fish.

John Baptist was a tall, nice looking man aged 22. He was dressed well; in a clean shirt and long pants. He approached us, introduced himself and asked about the two of us. We bought him a beer and invited him to sit on our root. He shared that he wanted to become a priest, but that he didn’t have enough money to attend school. Pedro told him to write down a short biography about himself and outline his school budget and we’d do what we could for him. We had a good talk and later, John would become our “guide” for the rest of our stay in Masaka.
Either because John was well-known, or because he was the only one talking to us, the three of us began to attract a small crowd. We immediately bought everyone beers (John’s mom sold us the beer on our word because we didn’t have any cash on us. We paid them the next day.) and we began meeting some of the locals, laughing and talking about soccer and other things.
We were introduced to a pig and her piglets in the back, learned that the men’s bathroom was an open corner of red brick behind the huts, made an appointment to have Pedro’s hair braided, met the “chairman” of that area, and many other things.

It was time to go back to the Mother House as lunch time had passed many hours ago and it was the first time we had failed to show up for a scheduled lunch. We also had an appointment to play soccer at the all-boys school, so we had to get equipment. Pedro and I walked back to our room thinking about all the things that had just happened and deciding that it had been a good choice to get some beer.

We packed up some soccer balls and candy, got a ride in our van to the boy’s school – talking frantically the whole time about our exciting afternoon. Arriving at the school Pedro soon split the boys into two lines, gave the students candy, did some tricks and it was during this time that the full extent of the day began to hit me. Seeing a soccer game being organized with the students and teachers by two teachers from across the world is difficult to describe. One of the teachers asked me, “Why are you crying? Are you sad?” and I said, “No, I’m happy. Very happy.” And I sat down with the rest of the students who were there to watch the game. It was the most peaceful time, watching barefooted kids kick a shiny red ball around a dirt field, and being surrounded by curious kids, watching my every move and laughing at my hairy arms, or feeling my wedding ring, or tracing my wristwatch with their fingers or asking me how come I wasn’t playing football (because I’m lousy). I showed them how to thumb wrestle, how to hand-slap, and how to do high fives. I actually had to teach them how to high five because they couldn’t get their aim right.

The game was over, we managed a group picture in front of a church and then said goodbye. It had been an incredible day and Pedro and I decided to stop off once more to share some beer with John and our other acquaintances. At 7:00 pm it was beginning to get dark, so we headed back along the familiar road to the Mother House. Along the way we ran into some barefooted children, wearing tattered clothes saturated with red dirt, who were carrying jugs of water (perfectly balanced on their heads) to their home, so we took it from them and they led us to their house. It seemed like quite a walk, through narrow trails, and uphill a bit. When we arrived, I was concerned to find their parents not home. There was no electricity and so they would have to wait in the dark. Pedro and I said goodbye and found our way back to the main road. But something had happened between that house and the road; the emotional fullness of the day began to settle in me and I walked along the road with Pedro, feeling overwhelmed by sadness and confusion, but fortunate to have experienced what I did.

Pedro in the foreground with pig and John Baptist in the background with beer.

Lining up for teams in our afternoon of soccer.

The boys Pedro and I met retrieving water from the river.

Corn Mazing and Pumpkin Patching

• 3 cans of the High Life - home

Today was an a-maze-ing (hahahaha) fall day - the perfect day for a visit to the pumpkin patch and corn maze!

I got my own lil pumpkin packed up,

and set out for some rural americana.

Stocker Farms was the destination (ripe and ready!),

and after a couple pretend prom portraits,

we set out to lose ourselves amongst the corn.

After a few hours of a-maize-ing (hahahaha!) navigation, we emerged tired and muddy, but our spirits never 'squashed', we continued to the pumpkin patch,

in search of the perfect pumpkin and the perfect picture.

It was a long, but terrific day that left some more tired than others,

but we're all sure to return next year.

TGIF!

• plenty of Pabst pints at the Poggie
• many, many mouthfuls of malbec and merlot at magnificent MnM's
  

Thursday

• 1 bomber Rogue Brewing Chocolate Stout - home
• 1 pint Roger's Pilsner - Earl Harper Studios
• 4 + pints of various beers - Big Al's Brewing
  

Seattle

• 1 bomber Snoqualmie Octoberfest Bier - home
• 2 glasses Foris red wine - home
  

Last Day

• 1 Imperial pint ale - Coopersmith' s Pub, Fort Collins
  

Hidden Treasure

• 1 bottle PBR - Lucky Joe's Sidewalk Saloon, Fort Collins
• 1 bottle Dogfish Punkin Ale - Ken & Laurie's

Being the oldest in my family, I guess I always thought that I would be keeper of my mom's treasures. Today I learned differently. My brother brought out a large scrapbook that contained pictures, calendars, notes, letters, and assorted ephemera that my mom collected and organized from her life. The earliest entries were from 1966, when she met my dad. Captioned pictures of her when she was 21 and my dad 22 (so young!) - "I can't believe we're getting MARRIED!" - with her wide smile and sparking eyes, entranced me with both curiosity and sadness. I handled every page as if it were a $100,000 bill (wasn't there once such a thing?) and slowly discovered things I hadn't seen before. Truly a hidden treasure.

Lost Cousin

• 1 500 ml Pliny the Elder - Ken & Laurie's
• 2 bottles Dogfish Punkin Ale - Ken & Laurie's
  
• 1 pint Odell ale - Ken & Laurie's

My dad's sister's son, Eric, (my cousin) moved to Colorado Springs a few years ago. I met him today for the first time! He's 22 years old and drove up to Fort Collins from the Springs to visit. It was really cool meeting and hanging out with him. We all played cards, drank beer, and talked about fun family things. It's interesting what you learn about your family when you hear it from a new source.

Rocky Mountain High

• 8 4 oz. tasters - Odell Brewing, Fort Collins

Fort Collins is a beautiful little town and my brother loves living here. My dad and his wife are here for the first time as well.

10-10-08

• 1 22 oz. Sapporo - Waji's, Sea-Tac

I've been waiting for this day for six months - it's the day Susan, London and I fly to Fort Collins, Colorado to visit my brother and his wife. It was to be the first visit to Fort Collins, but when he got sick last spring, I flew out for a few days; so now I'm looking forward to seeing him and his wife again.

Miso Thirsty

• 2 pints Sapporo - Kushibar
  
• 1 bomber Rogue Chocolate Stout - home

OMG! The Kushibar is fabulous! (But what does Seattle have against outdoor heaters?)

Night

• 1 pint Rainier - Hooverville
• 1 bomber Stone Brewing Ruination IPA - home
• 1 Wild Turkey bourbon - home
  

*****

I drove into the night, last night.
The dark was there, waiting.
Sky was tranquil.
Sounds were muted, but some; crystal clear.
Streets were my own, really.
Headlights led me.

*****

pebbles wash, pushing
bridge pa-tuts creaks ominous
sound, nighttime surrounds

*****

Gasworks Park ~ 2 am
I wanted a night picture of Seattle from across Lake Union and thought I could get the perfect picture from Gasworks Park. I arrived about 2 am, but the parking lot was closed. I could drive into it, but technically, the sign told me that the park and lot closed at 10 pm. To enforce this was the lack of lamps lighting the area. I could have easily parked there and walked up to the top of the Gasworks hill, however, or to the edge of Lake Union and had a beautiful picture of the skyline. Instead of parking in the lot, I parked across the street further down by new condos. Only the street lamps lit the area and as soon as I ran across the street, determined to get my picture, I realized that it was only the street lamps that were lit. The entire park was blanketed with darkness. And I got scared. I started to imagine people coming out from behind the trees, the bushes, the gasworks. And I didn't want to go into that park alone.

Seattle Arboretum ~ 2:30 am
There are few places in Seattle where you can go and be alone. The Arboretum is one of them. I wasn't about to get out and hit the trails and find bits of Lake Washington, but I did want to drive through the Arboretum to get a little slice of solitude. It was there.

Lake Washington/Madrona/I-90 ~ 2:45 am
Bellevue is beautiful nestled amongst it's greenery at night from across Lake Washington. The I-90 releases some creepy noises at this hour.

Jackson Street/International District ~ 3:00 am
There was a collection of cops and their cars on a corner on Jackson, but when I slowly passed them, they seemed relaxed, even though they were most likely there for a reason. No wonder the air smelled so delicious...Wonder bread was being baked at the factory.

Alki ~ 3:20 am
The seals were talking as I pulled over into one of the grassy areas off of Alki Drive. Further up Alki, I listened to the water shush-shush-shush over the polished rocks.

Home ~ 4:00 am

Bellevue and I-90

King Street Station - International District

Seattle Skyline (wished my camera was steadier)

Shangri-La along Lake Washington Blvd.

Police along Jackson Street

Telephone Poles along the waterfront

I-90 Bridge

Chelan Cafe (not open 24 hours)

Cadillac Hotel - Pioneer Square