It isn't surprising, what with the world falling apart and all, that the world scarcely noticed that I lost my job as an editor in April 2009. Why should it? I was one of millions of Americans who lost their job that month.

But it mattered to me.

It wasn't all bad. No more early morning commutes. And no more Lisa. Lisa was my boss. My mean boss. My mean and crazy boss. In the long run, I stand to save thousands of dollars on therapy.

“A straight flush always beats a full house” reads the business card of Abe Jones Septic Service, owned by Mark and Gayle Johnson for the last 20 years. Employing seven, including Mark’s son Tim and son-in-law Matt Finnestad, this family’s business is all we would rather flush and forget.

Mark is actually the third Abe Jones, as explained by Matt: “Abe is fictitious. Sherman Jones was the original, and Mark thinks he picked Abe to be first in the phone book.” Though Mark doesn’t advertise, Abe Jones Septic Service is well known, with most business coming from word-of-mouth. They work as far as Summit Lake and all the way south of China Hat. Where there’s a mess, Abe Jones Septic is available.

As of July 1 of this year, 36,380 Oregonians, which is about the equivalent of the entire combined population of Crook and Jefferson counties, had been approved to possess, grow and use marijuana without fear of prosecution. They are members of the state’s ever-growing medical marijuana cardholder community. As it turns out, government sanctioned pot smokers, although not all toke in the traditional sense, are one of the state’s fastest growing populations. More than 23,000 Oregonians applied for a medical marijuana card in the last year and some 5,000 apps were pending as of the start of last month.

As the interest in the program soars, medical marijuana advocates are now pushing for another major relaxing of the state’s laws regarding the drug. Thanks to their efforts, this November voters will decide whether to take pot out of the closet grow room and out into the world of retail storefronts through a state regulated system of “dispensaries” where card holders can shop for pot like they would a new pair of shoes.

When the Rooster Rock fire ballooned from a few acres early last week to more than 3,000 acres in a matter of hours, it threatened more than just homes and trees south of Sisters. The fire, which grew to more than 6,000 acres before firefighters got the upper hand on the blaze, threatened to turn the dream of a community forest outside Bend into a moonscape of smoldering ashes when it started burning into the Bull Springs Tree Farm. The 33,000-acre nursery, known to Central Oregonians as Skyline Forest, is one of the longest running conservation efforts in Bend and one that seemed to be growing closer to realization before flames from the Rooster Rock blaze started licking at the edge of Skyline property, threatening to consume a large portion of the forest as state and federal fire fighters struggled to contain the fast-growing conflagration.