"I was gonna take you girls to a fancy restaurant... "

I'm having a blast lately exploring the internet. It surprises me that I am the person sitting in front of a computer screen, mesmerized, blogging, chatting, posting or just relaxing with a game of Triple Yahtzee, but, alas, it is me... and I am--mesmerized, that is.

This post is inspired by two recent events. Last month a childhood friend found me on Facebook. Considering I have not seen her in over 20 years and I have not "known" her since I was 13 years old, I was thrilled at the prospects. Her recall is phenomenal and sharing stories from the few short, yet memorable, years that we lived right across the street from each other on NE Royal Court in Laurelhurst has been, well, great. Memories are amazing. The other inspiration is a new blog Joey introduced me to that I am excited to read. Even though the author is only two entries in, her pictures are beautiful and her stories compelling. I am inspired to add stories back to my blog. Every day's a new day has gotten a little picture heavy of late and I have lots of memories to spill so, here goes.

"I was gonna take you girls to a fancy restaurant... "

It was going to be a beautiful day. Early on this July morning in 1973 it was still comfortably cool, but promised to be a scorcher. The weather had finally turned warm in Portland and that's why Grandpa wanted to get an early start. Me and Kelly were thrilled. We jumped into the back of Grandpa's Mustang hardtop. I was ten, Kelly was a month shy of that. We were going strawberry picking. We weren't sure what to expect, but we were game for anything. The drive out to the strawberry farm in Hillsboro seemed to take forever. One of my Grandpa's sisters owned the farm with the strawberry patch, so before the picking could begin, there was some socializing amongst the adults. When we finally reached the patch, we each started with a large empty container. Grandpa was a strawberry-picking maniac. He was frantically picking berries as if his life depended on it. Grandpa quickly picked his way down the row of delicious strawberries and we were left to fend for ourselves. Kelly and I stood wondering what we were supposed to do now. Eventually we took Grandpa's lead, bent down and started picking big, red, ripe, juicy berries. There was just no way we could pick these berries without eating at least a few... quite a few actually. Kelly and I quickly realized berry picking is really boring and it was getting hot. Grandpa was no where in sight.

I'm not sure who threw the first berry, but throwing berries was pretty fun and soon it was an all out berry fight. Berries don't really hurt much, especially thrown by young girls, but they do stain, a lot. We really got into our berry fight and didn't even notice Grandpa approach. We were throwing and giggling and squealing and then there was Grandpa with his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. He had filled multiple containers with the delicious berries and probably hadn't eaten but a couple and certainly he hadn't thrown any and he was upset. He acted terribly disappointed that we hadn't done our share by filling our containers. I'm sure when he was 10 years old he worked very hard, every day and was not allowed such silly indiscretions as a strawberry fight. He looked at our messy strawberry stained clothes and with great consternation said "I was gonna take you girls to a fancy restaurant, but now we will just have to go to Burgerville". Woo hoo! Burgerville... awesome. We excitedly helped Grandpa carry the berries to the car and load them into the trunk where they would bake to extra delicious sweetness on the drive home. And as we headed back into Beaverton I thought who needs a fancy restaurant when you've got Burgerville (Burgerville, USA - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia). We went inside and ate at the Burgerville on Canyon Road which is still there, in all its original glory. With no drive through and a bathroom out and around the back, it is the coolest burger joint I have ever had the pleasure of patronizing and we still go there, quite often, especially on the drive home from the boys' school.

Well, now I am hungry for strawberries and Burgerville.... see ya....