Last edited by shawp on August 24, 2008 at 7:00 pm
I have been meaning to write.
I was in Washington earlier this month. My older brother, stepmother and I flew into Portland on a temperate day. My aunt picked us up in her “Canyonero” and we coasted to Woodland.
It’s a nice name: Woodland. Such a Washington name. I picked blackberries nearly every day.
We picked up my brother and then my stepmother flew back with him on the red eye to Florida. It was a kidnapping of sorts. Although, kidnapping is a misleading term as it was her own son that she was taking back. A lot of legal trouble that I will get into when I am old and writing my memoirs.
It was quite hot for the time I was there.
I jumped on the trampoline with my little cousins. One of my little cousins is a lot less little than I remember. She is sixteen and drove me around town. I watched my cousins race motocross. It was loud, hot and dirty.