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the journaling reads:
This is where i lived from the beginning of 1978 til 1980. It is an old farmhouse that sits across from the beach in Charleston, Oregon, a quarter mile back off the road. I think it was built in the very beginning of 1900. It had a greatroom, two bedrooms downstairs, a huge attic and root cellar. There had been a bathroom put in but no plumbing. The kitchen was big and open with a very big farm table and more counter space than you could ever find now. There were enough cubbords to store a store. The owner ran cattle on the land, so quite often there were a number of steers roaming around the house. There was no electricity and no running water. I cooked on a propane stove, unless i was out of propane, then i cooked on the wood heat stove. Our lighting was candles or oil lamps. We walked across to the camp ground to take our showers and we hauled water home in 5 gallon jugs. I made my own bread and we ate alot of goulash and beans. Life was hard but by damn it was good.
I worked in Peterson"s Fishery and quite often would bring home a 5 gallon can of 100 count shrimp... which means there are 100 tiny shrimp to a pound. I would batter handfuls of the little shrimp and deepfry them, and somehow word always got out that i was "doing shrimp" and people would show up by the dozen, which of course would turn into a party. Most of my friends were musicians, so the music was fine and fun. People would bring salads and sweets and breads and all manner of homemade foods to enjoy. This would also happen if someone saw me in the store buying a large amount of chicken wings. Shrimp and chicken wings, invitations to a party. What fun that time was. The music twisted and flowed amoung and through the trees, friends were dancing a swaying inside and outside the house.Candles were glowing in the windows and on the porch and throughout the yard. There was singing and laughing and good conversation. My husband then was a cruel mean very talented musician who i loved and hated at the same time. He was very abusive to me one minute and singing to me the next. What a soft painful net to get caught in. It was a hard mean life with wonderful beautiful moments and i wouldn't change any of it, not even the hard parts.
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