Janel and Rock participated in a collaborative effort with their friends the Bakers; one each, Eric and Patty. Patty, cute, sparkly, and an intelligent conversationalist. Eric, hairy is the best way to describe Eric. Just hairy, in every way (not unlike a well-fertilized shrub in a "sprouting-uncontrollably" way), except the part where hair gives way to massive (and undoubtedly housing an equally massive glob of cranial goo) cranium. Not cute, even around the edges and from a distance, more bridge troll-ish if you ask me, and you are asking me. As to conversation: one bulb short of a small bag of bulbs. Just sayin'.
Since this was not their first rodeo, nor even the 9th time that they had ventured into the unknown, together, without a care, even though they certainly should have had a care given the fact that some in their group have been photographed leading the rest into temptation and all sorts of rather sordid occasions. But I digress, again. What? You want details? That'll be five bucks, paid in advance. No checks, cheques, or Czechs.
View the HDR gallery here and in a classic interpretation, Rock whacked some them into shape. "What shape?" you may ask. Well, this one.
Their Primary Mission: let Rock loose with his camera, keep fingers crossed and 911 on speed-dial. Secondary mission: dine on fine victuals, consume delightful beverages, and enjoy the fact that they were all gathered together, grooving like in the old days. You know, like "Several Species of Small Furry Animals Gathered Together in a Cave and Grooving with a Pict." Yeah, just like that. (BTW - these are "click to enlarge" pics)
Eric is signaling for a left. Nobody has a clue as to why; he just is. Sometimes he signals things like "Hey! My pants are on fire!" to which we signal in return "Hey! We know, we set them on fire!" And other times he's all flopping around like a skinny rodent on a hot pike about something or other, to which we signal using the universal posture for "Hey Eric, can you detect, even with the finest of instruments, even a hint of concern in our collective eyes?" At that point he just starts to pout so we have to gather 'round and console him with words of comfort and support, OR slam another tasty brew into his sweaty palm.
Janel tilts, Patty supports, Eric waves; a curious synergy there, don'tcha think?
13 played a prominent role in the middle stage of their adventure. Despite their trip to the 13th floor (Gasp! Choke! Sputter! Yes, Virginia, there is a 13th floor!) the intrepid foursome gathered up the remaining shreds of their strength and sailed into an unknown Portlandic Future.
Sometimes I wish that Rock would just step aside and let me smooch on his wife! Once or twice a month might sustain me. Oh, Crap! Was that my out-loud voice! DO'OH!
The discerning reader will note that Janel sported blindingly white legs on this adventure. Her companions, on the other vestigial appendage, chose to hide their equally devoid-of-color legs by draping them in things like………pants! Except of course for Eric, who on this day found himself with just the one clean pair of big boy drawers and had to wear them or else have to operate in a pants-free environment, and nobody wishes that on any self-aware being.
Janel and Rock standing without fear in front of a seriously dangerous number. Silly humans!
While there have been adventure that won't go down in the annuls of history, this wasn't one of them. There were many moments when they collectively stopped, looked around, and everybody looked at what was going down; those happened mostly as they mingled in the fast-paced crowds, hyped on Portland java and groovin' to the collective consciousness. And then there were other moments when doing so made them dizzy, so they stopped and calmly went about their mission, muttering about age-related deficits and something about lunch.
Now, back to the adventure: It wasn't without a great deal of consideration, pondering and industrial strength mentation that the gang allowed Rock to wander around Portland without his shock collar, built-in GPS unit and Emergency Location Beacon. To say that they might have been a tad concerned about his welfare vis-ŕ-vis getting lost and generally smooshed by the odd TriMet bus, would be like calling the poison arrow frog "something bad to put in your mouth and chew."
Turned out that his wandering simply and inexorably led him back to his starting point, at which time they collected him up using a cleverly designed and crafted "rock netting device." Yep, at no less than 35 miles-per-hour they scooped him up and went boldly into the day, silly grins upon their faces and a promise of good fortunes ahead.