Kyle's faithful dog, Willow.
Running around in one of Kyle's bulletproof vests was AWESOME. Come at me, Willow.
Kyle's very own Adventure Chariot.
My trip to Oregon started by driving to the wrong airport. I'm sure this happens to
But that just shows how wrong preconceived notions are. This is North Omaha Airport:
I plugged in my ancient GPS and it rewarded my distrust by slowly acquiring satellites. This process takes ten minutes on a good day, so I decided to speed up the process by doing some footwork. I walked into the small hangar and met the sole occupant: an octogenarian reclining leisurely in an armchair, watching the Iowa football game on a small television. I liked him immediately.
"Excuse me, sir. You have a beautiful airport here, but it's the wrong one. Where's the main Omaha airport?"
He eyeballed me for a moment. What he saw no doubt confirmed his suspicion about my entire generation; a group of strangely-dressed kids with money to travel but not enough brains to know where they're traveling.
"Eh, ah, well..." He scratched his chin, totally unaware that my flight was an hour away and I was panicking a wee bit. "You just need to head East on the nearest boulevard, then eventually you'll see some signs."
I envisioned driving for 12 hours and seeing signs, alright.
The ones that say "Welcome to Ohio".
"I can't quite remember the name of the street." The old man said. "But you just turn East and eventually there will be signs for the airport."
His directions proved true and I quickly rushed to the airFIELD. Finding the correct destination was only the first hurdle. I then had to find adequate parking that wouldn't cost me my life savings while the car awaited pickup by Kyle and his wife. I turned into a "Convenient Outdoor Parking Ramp" and texted the location of the car to Kyle. I unloaded my two check-in bags (Thank you, O Benevolent Southwest Airlines!) and immediately recognized my next hurdle: carrying all of my worldly possessions from the outskirts of the airport complex to the terminal. I then began to question why I had so much luggage for a 10-day trip. As a Mennonite, I felt full responsibility to make good on the Two Free Checked Bags policy that Southwest offers. Mom filled a cardboard box with goodies for her daughters in Oregon and I loaded a steamer trunk the approximate size of Rhode Island for myself. With precious few hands to manage the luggage, I wore my coat and backpack despite the temperature soaring past 75 degrees. So by the time I threw my check-in bags at the nice Southwest attendant, I was all sweaty and pretty much a nervous wreck.
Mom's cardboard box was bursting at the seams, partially because she packed so much, and also partially because the slippery cardboard box visited the parking garage cement a few times on the way to the terminal. The Southwest attendant brought me a roll of packing tape and I stitched the box back together. It eventually made its way to Oregon all in one piece.
My flights were uneventful but very pleasant because Southwest is the coolest airline in the entire US. No assigned seats! How cool is that. On my way to Denver, I sat in the front row by an elderly lady and her husband. She had flown countless times, but this flight was her husband's first, so she talked him through each step, and comforted him during each spot of turbulence.
My flight to Portland was shared with a nice young Christian lady that I never caught the name of but wished I had. She was reading "Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?" and I was reading "One Second After". The majority of the flight was fairly uneventful but our concentration was interrupted frequently by a small clique of giggly teenaged girls a few rows back. They laughed about everything, including how silly their laughs sounded. The male flight attendant stopped by their aisle roughly 36 times on his own volition. The girls were too short to press the Attendant Button, which made me thankful. They giggled and cooed at the middle-aged flight attendant. Christian Girl and I smiled and postulated on the vast emptiness of their craniums.
Near the very end of the flight, we soared over a large mountain range and hit our very first serious turbulence of the day. I've been given worse spankings than that turbulence, but obviously the Clique had never experienced anything so terrifying in their life. They immediately began wailing that we were most assuredly going to perish. Christian Girl and I laughed. The "bumpy air" subsided and we landed safely.
As we exited the plane and headed toward baggage claim, I meant to ask Christian Girl what her name was. Instead, I caught sight of my sister Shannon and several of her children, so I ended up running over to them instead.
I spent many awesome days with my sisters Shannon and Shelley, who had joint custody of me. I stayed at Shannon's to begin, then Shelley's until Pastor Floyd's family arrived, then I moved back to Shannon's, with occasional stops at Shelley's. I was constantly making the 15-minute trip between the two homes and quickly had half my luggage at either place. I spent a lot of time with my nieces, nephews, Shelby, and even a little time with Jamison. My days were filled primarily with recovering from the shock of how much my nieces and nephews have grown in my 10-month absence. Charlotte and Carita are nearly walking while Jocelyn has a decent grasp of at least two languages, English and Gibberish.
Benson had his 8th birthday when I was out there.
Annika and Elissa
Carson, reloading his rubber band gun after an intense skirmish.
Jocelyn, getting some office work done.
Charlotte, pondering her life's decisions while using a walker.
Jamison, the dapper groom.
Shield your eyes, Shelby's dessert is strong enough to cause
cardiac arrests just from one glance.
October 5th, 2013.
Oregon is beautiful. There's a slight breeze pushing the morning fog away and the sun is breaking through the ever-present rainclouds. Today's weather is going to be fantastic.
Jamison organized a breakfast at Pioneer Villa this morning, and around 20 people came. Friends, relatives, and siblings. Because of the healthy dose of Iowans present, there was a decent amount of noise being produced by our group. We ordered breakfast and jokingly tried to talk Jamison out of getting married.
"What would it take to get you to walk away from the wedding?" Pastor Floyd shouted over the not-so-dull roar.
"Not much." Said Jamison.
I was shocked, but realized Jamie had thought we asked "What could stop you from getting married?"
We reworded it and he replied, "Oh, I don't think you'd be able to keep me from getting married. I love Ciara." So we laughed and congratulated him for his big day.
This is the newest Instagram shading option. It's called "Mortuary", for when
you want your healthy, handsome friend to look sickly and pale.
Stephanie declared that her waffle was inedible. Shelby started munching
on it because hey, free waffle.
A booth full of Jamie's charming sisters.
Solly told us about that one time when his fantastic girlfriend Christina caught a four-foot shark.
In the back of my mind, I remembered that my sisters were planning a giant brunch. So I didn't order much food. A slice of grilled ham, two eggs, some hash browns, and orange juice. As a side note, the food out here in Oregon is great (and there are way more Gluten-Free options) but the staff is definitely more, uh, East-coast? I can't really put my finger on it, but they're not as friendly as humans are in the Midwest. Except for the girl who works at Subway. She definitely had a Midwest sense of humor.
We had a wonderful time with Jamie, who sat there like this was any other Saturday. Just hours away from his marriage to a beautiful Oregonian, he's extremely calm.
After breakfast we ran back to Shelley's for a monstrous brunch. Floyd Yutzy is assisting in the marriage ceremony, so he and Elaine, Christopher, and Michelle are staying at Shelley's. Konrad and Shannon's family joined, and we had a grand brunch.
Uncle Shelby with Charlotte.
My sister Shelley and her husband Randy. In the background is Randy's brother, Justin.
My sister Shannon and her husband Konrad
Michelle and Christopher
There was a snafu on the wedding brochures that labeled Solomon as a "Friend of the Groom" instead of his rightful title, "Brother of the Groom." But aside from that tiny detail, the wedding went incredibly well.
I already said this once, but seriously. DAPPER.
Jamison, his bride Ciara, and her mother Juanita.
We snatched up Jamie for a pre-wedding prayer meeting in the nursery/Groom Changing Room.
Ciara threw her bouquet to a mass of energetic bachelorettes, and Jamison tossed a garter a distance of 8 inches, which caught everyone except me off-guard. I full-out tackled the garter. The bachelors standing there empty-handed cried for a re-throw, but Jamie declared that his botched toss was final.
[For those of you counting at home, this marks my third garter. I've also gotten a wedding pickle thrown in lieu of a garter, but I didn't catch that one, technically. Wrestled it from a girl, who wasn't supposed to have it in the first place. It was the bachelor's pickle, after all.]
After the reception, we staged a marriage ceremony for myself and Becca, the poor girl that caught the wedding bouquet. Because that's the logical next step.
Mom, I'm sorry you couldn't make it to my wedding. It happened so fast.
We cleaned up the church and gym before heading home for a few hours of sleep. On Sunday, my good friend Kyle (not to be confused with my cousin Kyle) picked me up and took me to church. My pastor Floyd spoke and it was a fantastic message about what true Church looks like, and it's still rocking my little world. More on that in a future post.
After the service, we headed out to the coast. "We" included Shannon's, Shelley's, Floyd's, Shelby, Myron & Alissa, and myself. We took three vehicles and blasted out to Newport, OR for the afternoon. It was beautiful.
I just now decided that The Coast is going to get a post of its very own. Seriously, I have so many photos to share it would possibly wreck the internet. Those of you whining "Are we THERE yet?" may now relax. We are "there", and "there" is the end of this post.
Congratulations, Jamie and Ciara!
After the service, we headed out to the coast. "We" included Shannon's, Shelley's, Floyd's, Shelby, Myron & Alissa, and myself. We took three vehicles and blasted out to Newport, OR for the afternoon. It was beautiful.
I just now decided that The Coast is going to get a post of its very own. Seriously, I have so many photos to share it would possibly wreck the internet. Those of you whining "Are we THERE yet?" may now relax. We are "there", and "there" is the end of this post.
Congratulations, Jamie and Ciara!
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