Rendezvous with Turkey Rama

Kyle's pad continues to lack Internet access but we're here in one of Newberg, OR's fine coffee shops getting our caffeine and web fixes simultaneously. This has its advantages (tasty Mexican mocha), disadvantages (have to get properly dressed and go there), and vantages that are not obviously ad- or dis- (one of the nattering teenagers sitting directly behind Kyle declaring, "I don't get excited when people I don't know have babies because then I would be excited all the time"), but on balance it's a comfortable enough way to pass a Sunday morning. Or Sunday afternoon if you go by the clock rather than the number of hours that have passed since you woke up.

Anyway, the centerpiece of this weekend was McMinnville's 49th annual Turkey Rama, which boasts the world's largest turkey BBQ. And it must be noted that barbecued turkey is extremely moist and delicious. Kyle and I have been trying to freeze more of our fertile home region's agro-bounty this summer in order to have it around through the rainy drudgery of winter, so our main reason for going was to pick up three barbecued half turkeys which we picked apart and put in eight-ounce increments into freezer baggies once we got home. The event itself, held at a small community park, is a pleasant enough way to spend a little bit of Saturday as well: The turkey meals served with preprocessed sides on paper plates, picnic-style; the community music and entertainment; the work-release prisoners in orange jumpers unloading the Safeway truck behind the BBQ area. The entertainment in particular defined the mood for me. When we got there a mostly gray-haired community band was playing the usual mix of pop / showtune / patriotic song medleys, which given my formative years in marching and concert bands kind of speaks to me; at any rate, compared to Kyle, I have a reasonably well developed ability to recognize the tune of (say) "Strike up the Band" or suss out the melody of "This Land Is Your Land" from a heavily Sousafied arrangement. The band was followed by a short Matrix-themed demonstration by a local children's martial arts group (the kids defeated the black-suited agents pretty handily), then a loose but pretty good jazz trio consisting of two [sic] teenagers ("Due to a miscommunication on my part, our bassist is not here"). Kyle and I ate our turkey meals, we took a stroll past the playground area and through the frisbee golf course, I described a weird dream I had about a hyperintelligent bees' nest communicating through spookily precise geometric arrangements of insects; typical date. Good times. Lots of turkey was had by all.