04.16.26
You might be a millennial if … You are triggered by the sight of logging trucks and unconsciously drop back four or five car lengths when you see one. #iykyk (and you have good taste in campy 00s horror)
Something I hadn’t considered when moving to the PNW was the logging industry.
Why?
Great question.
I don’t know.
I’d like to think that I researched literally EVERYTHING ELSE prior to this move, but for some reason I overlooked this deep seated collective millennial trauma.
At least 2x a week I encounter a logging truck on my commute and at least 2x a week wee baby teen Ames is triggered and white-knuckles the steering wheel until I can safely go around or drop back. Really the preference is to be AHEAD of the truck but I’m also not trying to go 80mph on the I-5 if I can help it.
Other than that, it’s been great. Ish. Honestly everyone and everything have been amazing. Even the humans at the DMV were great — the lady who helped me with my Oregon license (YEAH, THATS RIGHT, YA BOI HAS THEIR TEMPORARY OREGON ID!!!) encouraged me to put “unspecified” for my gender. Which, yasssss queen. We stan an ally in local beauacracy. But I chickened out at the last minute because there’s still a sitch for at least, what, 2.5 more years unless a cheeseburger intervenes (because fuck all knows when congress is going to get around to it).
I just don’t want to end up on a list. Which I said aloud. And she gave me a knowing smile.
Unlike the person behind me in line to do the picture stuff who snorted at my they/them and other assorted pride pins.
Whatever. Haters gonna hate.
I look like a serial killer in my license photo though. A point of pride maybe? Now? At least it matches my passport photo which, incidentally, also paints me as a serial killer.
It’s fiiiiiiiiine.
I DIGRESS.
So yeah. I’ve been spiraling out on the daily about all this address change nonsense. It’s a nightmare, as many of you probably know. It’s an even bigger nightmare when you’re not just changing towns but also states. The lady on the phone from Geico hipped me to all the hoops both Oregon and Maryland require when transferring your registration, etc. Which, fine. Whatever. Just, you know, the worst thing ever for someone who is routinely plagued by executive dysfunction and exhaustion. Nbd.
But I’m doing it.
I have a list.
In other news, I’ve been gathering names for the cats. These are names I’m told they have as opposed to names I’ve been giving them such as Chonk #1 and Chonk #2 and Striped Chonk and Void Kitty #1. There are 4 gray cats, 2 of which I can’t tell apart. When all 4 are together I can sort of tell them apart, ish. But if I see them individually or 2 at a time, I’m at a loss.
I also got to meet a new one – a handsome one-eyed gentleman named Bubba who loves pets and twice now as preferred pets to food. So help me I might end up adopting him before this is all over with. If I can’t fully domesticate Potato, I will 100% bring Bubba home. And who knows? Maybe I’ll aim high and try to adopt them both.
Other things I aim to do in the near future:
- Find a reasonable beginner hike and buy some sturdy hiking shoes to investigate said hike
- Visit a Dutch Bros. (Oregon is VERY obsessed with these tiny garden-shed sized coffee and beverage drive-thrus which I don’t understand but I am very curious to try. Also, Dutch Bros. seems to be THE place for beverages. Like, people around these parts love Dutch Bros. like Boston loves their Dunks.)
- Buy more laundromat tamales (the kid isn’t here tonight and I was expressly looking forward to them)
- Find a solid, inclusive barber shop that can take care of this mop I’ve been steady working on
- Get more spam musubi from the Hawaiian food truck down the street from my work
That seems ambitious enough for the next 7 days, right?
Forever rootin’ but never tootin’,
Ames
Oregon Trail: Ames Edition 
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