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In the heat of the day, we found relief standing in shallow water. Seven of us remained after a tour of the farm and the forested edge of the McKenzie River. Parent conversation roamed across trade-offs between herbicide use and the spread of invasive weeds, climate change and personal change, how to be a good father, how to be a good neighbor. Meanwhile the kids swished scoop nets in the ponded side channel, wowing over tadpoles, boatmen, mosquito fish and dragonfly larva. The air continued to warm, and with it the number of adult dragonflies zig-zagging around us increased as well.

I’m a little nervous here, a little distracted. But don’t worry, I’ll cover the slug-like inactivity of the Oregon Legislature in a moment. 

Frankly, a bigger issue looms at the moment. We may be headed for a global theological/scientific Mongolian clusterfluck — not to be confused with climate change or global warming or the Sixth Great Extinction. This is much seriouser! I can see the donnybrook coming.

I am a male grad student who is technically engaged to a female grad student. She has numerous positive qualities, but she is repulsed by sex. She is very sensitive about her repulsion and becomes distraught when I broach the subject. She says that even the thought of doing anything sexual with me elicits a panic attack. She also insists that she is “broken” because, in the hopes of preventing me from leaving her, she forced herself to go further than she felt comfortable. We are both virgins, and the furthest that we ever went sexually was cunnilingus.

Noah Michael DeWitt was a shining example of how to be. His sparkling brown eyes would absorb pain from yours when you were sad. He’d listen to you talk about what makes you happy with rapt attention.

June is a tough month for Oregon legislators for a variety of reasons. There’s pressure to get out of the building by the 4th of July. Since it is a citizen Legislature, many of the members are missing work, and employers want their employees back. And, five months into session, members have listened to their colleagues’ positions and those of the other three caucuses ad infinitem and ad nauseum.

My boyfriend and I both spent a lot of time masturbating when we were young, and pretty much trained our brains to come only one way. He can only come from masturbating furiously, or sometimes from a marathon of jackhammer sex. A few years before I met him, I toned down the masturbating to retrain my brain and pussy and tried a bunch of new things, and I can now come from different acts and positions. It wasn’t easy, but I am so happy with this versatility. I’m starting to get annoyed that he isn’t working harder to overcome this jackhammering reliance.

Earthquake day in Nepal minus one — 2 pm Friday, April 24, I’m in a coffee shop in Berkeley. I hit the “send” button on a newsletter to my fellow Nepal 7 RPCV’s (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers) for our 50th reunion in August. My husband, Tom, and I are visiting here from Eugene to attend a dinner for retired Berkeley cops (my husband’s career) and to visit our son’s family. An hour later, 46 out of 76 have opened the newsletter. Success!

This first week of retirement has been pretty uneventful so far … except for my new top-secret assignment from Gov. Kate Brown. But more about that later. 

Note to the Lane Board of County Commissioners: Refusing to enforce laws because we don’t like them is flirting with anarchy. Before going anarchy all the way, I wish you would paint a center stripe on the street in front of my house.

Nesting season is coming to a close this month, easily noticed with geese and turkey nestlings that leave their nests and swim or run right after hatching. One of the enjoyable sights of early summer is watching a troop of goslings or chicks paddling or scurrying around after their parents. They are out feeding for themselves, learning how to find and handle their food by following their parents. Most songbird babies stay in the nest until they are ready to fly. After they fledge and leave the nest, they are pretty much on their own.

I strongly urge Eugene’s leaders to ban tobacco smoking in public areas. As a longtime resident of Eugene and outdoor enthusiast, I appreciate our many opportunities for recreation.  As I cycle along the Willamette River bike trail, I also love to see how many other people enjoy our parks and public places. Having safe places for people to exercise or have family picnics while their children run and play are essential to our community’s well-being and liveability. By making downtown and city parks smoke-free, Eugene will once again be in the forefront of communities working together to protect residents from the harms of secondhand smoke. 

Recently there has been some confusion regarding proposals associated with “riverkeepers” and “river guardians” in Eugene. Willamette Riverkeeper (WR) is a nonprofit organization dedicated to the protection and restoration of the Willamette River. We accomplish this mission through four key initiatives: clean river, monitoring, river discovery education and habitat restoration. 

I’m a 35-year-old divorced man. I’ve been on plenty of dates since my marriage ended, but I invariably get asked this question on or before date #2: “Why did you get divorced?” This is where everything goes to shit. I’m honest: “We got divorced because I cheated on my wife.

On April 26 The Register-Guard ran a story about efforts to re-invent the Lane Metro Partnership as the South Lane Economic Development Corp. The article claims the Lane Metro Partnership had to go away because its director, Jack Roberts, was “not producing meaningful results,” and his board of directors had become “disenchanted” with him because he was not “doing enough to bring new business to the region.” None of that is true. Job performance had nothing to do with why Roberts had to go or why Metro is being replaced.

Memorial Day has its roots in the aftermath of the Civil War when Americans searched for a way to honor and remember the three-quarters of a million people who died in that horrific conflict. The original declaration in 1868 called for “strewing of flowers or otherwise decorating the graves” of the war dead, hence its original name, Decoration Day.

No, unfortunately for you, dear readers, it’s not “Last Writes.” Yes, sports fans, the geezer moment has come. If you open your May 28 EW and read this after 5 pm, I will officially be free at last! 

You often mention asexual people. I believe I may be one. I’m a 51-year-old woman. I’ve been separated from my opposite-sex partner for nearly nine years. I’ve been approached by a variety of men, each one interested in becoming “more than friends.” I haunt Craigslist’s “platonic m4w” section, but each time I reach out to someone, he turns out to want a FWB or NSA relationship. It’s frustrating! That part of my life—the sex part—is really and truly over!

I’m worried about the future of one of our local newspapers. Granted we all have our obsessions and addictions, some healthy, some not. My parents, tough Catholic conservatives that they were, forced me to read our local newspaper early on. As I’ve told my young nieces and nephews: Third grade was the hardest four years of my life! Anyway, for the last 50 years, because of my parents’ unrelenting insistence on literacy, I resorted to newspapers — a total junkie. I was especially drawn to crossword puzzles and still blame them as the “gateway drug” for my preoccupation with cross words during my legislative career — as a minority whip — but that’s another story. 

Yesterday, I found my 5-year-old son putting things up his butt in the bath. This isn’t the first time—and it’s not just a “Hey! There’s a hole here! Let’s put things in there!” kind of thing. The little dude was rocking quite the stiffy while he did it. I’m well aware of how sexual kids can be (I freaking was!), although I wasn’t quite expecting to be catching him exploring anal at this young age.

On Saturday, May 23, Lane County residents will participate in the worldwide March Against Monsanto for World Food Day (see details below). Over 600 cities around the world are scheduling events on that day. The UN has named this the “Year of the Soils” and in Eugene we will hold a march to declare our right to protect and restore the soils upon which our food, the climate, and all life ultimately depends.

The plaza at Broadway and Willamette (Kesey Square) has been around since urban renewal in the late 1960s. An old drugstore building was on the site and was condemned because of its unsafe condition. Located at what was then the “100 percent corner” of downtown, the planners of the now long-gone downtown mall decided to put a plaza there. 

During the last six regular sessions of the Oregon Legislature, I have had the honor and privilege of serving with Marla Rae and Jon Chandler — two of the most profanely funny bipartisan lobbyists in the business — as a judge in the Golden Gobbler Awards honoring the worst bills introduced each session. This party has been around forever, hosted by Pamela Jones, Mark Nelson and his lobby firm, Public Affairs Counsel, at their beautiful home on the Willamette. Mark invites legislators, staff and lobbyists, and the price of admission is a sense of humor and a bill that should not be. Four frozen rock Cornish game hens and a frozen turkey were the prizes. And yes, the lobbyists have to report themselves to the Oregon Ethics Commission.

Shortly after a Eugene School Board member declared at a recent meeting, "We deeply regret [the] appearance of a lack of transparency" [in the past], the board went into a nonpublic session to discuss whether to dismiss a moot lawsuit against the local paper. Would someone send a dictionary over to the board?

My wife is one of those women who need manual stimulation of her clit during sex to climax. Before meeting her, I had several long-term girlfriends, and not one needed to do this in order to climax. Before we got married, I explained that I wanted to explore and push the boundaries, and she promised me that would happen. But she has no fantasies, kinks, or fetishes, and she’s not into any of the things I’ve proposed.