Bend/Redmond: A Love Story

Disclaimer:  If you are my mother, you will love the obnoxious amount of pictures.  If not, I apologize in advance.

We’d been looking forward to our Bend/Redmond getaway since Reisha had suggested that we join them a few months ago. I counted down the weeks until Memorial Day weekend like a kid rips off links from a paper chain announcing Christmas. We talked plans over wagon rides, BBQ’s, and Bravo TV until finally the weekend came.

Not packing a minute too soon and almost a minute too late we loaded up the van with the whole family, including Hank-a-rooni, and headed “Over the river and through the woods” to the high desert of central Oregon.

It took about a nanosecond for me to fall in love with the place. Seriously perfect.

“You’re a desert person, huh?” Ryan said to me.

“I think I just might be. 300 days of sunshine!”

After Ryan stopped laughing, “Newport do that to you?” Probably.

We ate at Diego’s Spirited Kitchen for dinner while Scott, Reisha, and Kaylyn headed to a concert. We went back the next day for lunch because one can never have too much tableside-prepared guacamole and pork carnitas tacos. (Reisha, Scott, and Kaylyn went back again after we left on Tuesday to complete a trifecta of fine Mexican meals.)

We hiked around Smith Rock Park, alternatingly carrying the girls in their packs, letting them walk, and laughing as the guys had to tough it out back up the trail. I didn’t even think about cougars or the introduction of rattlesnakes to the mix. The sky was blue, the mood and elevation at an all time high.

Rattlesnakes, schmattlesnakes…might have freaked out a little at this point.  It was okay.  We had a doctor with us.

We made the mistake of thinking we could check out some of the scenery along the Cascade Lakes Highway, but it turns out we would have needed a snowmobile. Whoops. The views of Mt. Bachelor were amazing regardless and every good trip needs a travel story involving flying sea bands, anxiety over a potential car sick toddler, and a round of Baby Beluga.

Truth be told. We’ve had a lot thrown at us in the past couple of weeks and it was good to leave — to do something where there was nothing to think about except what kind of beer was the best at Deschutes or which pool would be the best for swimming.

Ryan, beyond proud.  Girl loves a growler…uh oh.

And as much as I love going home to see our family, I must admit I loved this, too. There weren’t time zones to cross and TSA approved ziplocs to worry about. The company was easy and enjoyable: shared excitment over locating illusive Amstel Lights, sweet sounds of toddler friends enjoying almost sleep overs, cooking thrown together meals prepared with meager condo supplies.

So it was good, really good — a breath of fresh air, if you will.

I can’t say the same for the air in the Market of Choice grocery store that Abigail chose as a great place for throwing up on the way home.

And our covered wagon, er, minivan, rolled on home to fevers and coughing and snot – and most importantly sweet dreams where the memories from a fantastic trip played on.

Yeah, I’d marry the place, but I’m already taken.