Say CHEESE!

One thing on our “must do” list when we go to the Oregon Coast is the Tillamook Cheese Factory.

I’m surprised they let us back in.

3 years ago (Nathan was almost 3, Evan was almost 1), we were enjoying ice cream. It must have been Evan’s first one. Because I'm a good mom and would never ever feed him an ice cream cone before he turned one....

We JUST sat down with our four ice creams in the overly crowded ice cream cafeteria. The brain freeze effect apparently numbs the signal the bladder sends to the brain that says, “Get to the bathroom NOW”. Nathan peed EV.RY.WHERE. One of those messes that waterfalls off the chair and forms a nasty puddle on the floor.

[this is the second time I’ve mentioned pee waterfalls on my blog. I must have boys]

Did I mention we were each holding an ice cream cone?

I don’t remember how we wiggled our way out of that intensely embarrassing situation. It did involve a roll of paper towels and me having to hold 4 dripping ice cream cones though.

They let us back in last year and this year, so our slates must be clean.

I like people watching there. You get to observe people on their assembly line job. Woo hoo, sounds FASCINATING! I wonder if they get paid extra for that little perk.

There are 4 basic types of people who work there. I’m sure they jump from one to the other, depending on the day.

My observations:

The 15-Minutes-Of-Fame Employees:

These workers are perma-smiling, waving at the tourists. They like to be on display and in the spotlight. They would be the people who should be in customer service: the ones who wouldn’t rip the faces off annoying customers. They think, “Wow, my job is so important that people take their holiday time to come and watch me!”.  

I like those people. I tried to be a perma-smiler a month or so ago. Within minutes, a friend asked me if I was pregnant. When I said no she asked what the good news was. Apparently I need to smile more.

The Make-The-Most-Of-It employees:

So your job is boring? So what! Lets try and have fun at work anyway. These fun-loving people are joking with each other and ignoring the onlookers.

The Brain-Teleporters:

They are clearly bored out of their tree. These people seem to be able to separate themselves from their task: their hands are feverishly keeping up with the conveyor belt while they stare off into space.

Like me when I’m blogging.

Lastly, the Wrong-Side-Of-The-Bed Employees:

Maybe they don’t find cheese packing fulfilling, or loathe the tourists who are enjoying a holiday while they’re being displayed working in a cheese-coloured fish bowl. Maybe they woke up on the wrong side of the bed, or are just having one of those days.For whatever reason, they are grumpy, and have a perma-scowl. I especially like smiling at these people. [Evil laugh…]

Evan was fascinated at the machines. I have no doubts that he’s going to be an engineer. Even in our own house, he’ll look in cupboards and at our unfinished walls and will show me what pipes the water from the sink travels through on it’s way out of the house. He was staring at the machines with fascination, trying to determine what each one did and how it worked.

It took a long time to pry him away, but I HAD to. I knew what was next…

 

I love cheese. I love free. I love the free cheese samples. I load those toothpicks full, and make sure to grab samples for the kids, knowing full well they won’t want to eat half of them. Sure, cheese causes the body to block up but vacation constipation is never a bad thing ;-)

 

Let’s be honest though. The main reason we go there is for the ice cream. DROOL. There must be 40+ different flavours to choose from. Fruit ones, coffee ones, chocolatey ones. Bubble-gum, cotton candy, pumpkin. Brightly coloured ones, swirled ones, chunky ones, smooth ones (surprisingly, no CHEESE ones). SO many choices, how does one choose??

Know what flavour BOTH my kids chose?

Vanilla.

Are you joking? We drive 597 kilometers for an ice cream cone and you’re having VANILLA?!?!

I almost didn’t let them get it, but white doesn’t stain shirts. Plus, they were already making a scene because I got them a junior cone instead of a whopping 2 scoop cone even bigger than the one Daddy had. They were lucky I even got them a junior one at that point. Any good mom would have denied the ice cream and ate it herself.

Apparently, mom (aka, ME) is always right, because I ended up finishing one of the cones. “Mommy, I’m too full to finish. Can you finish for me?”. [Why I oughta…] 

I am a bit of a germophobe (aka Mysophobe. There. You’ve learned something today). Hand sanitizer is my friend. Interac machines and public toilets are not (that is a blog post all in itself).

However, when it comes to half eaten ice cream cones, my mysophobia goes into remission and I don’t care who has licked it. I’ll finish the sucker off.

As I ate the cone, I also ate my words. The vanilla was a good choice after all.