Oregon Coast

I'm sitting in a lovely condo on the coast of Oregon, watching the fishing boats bobbing in the distance, the pelicans skimming the surface of the waves -- apparently in search of breakfast, and the occasional whale blowing a mist into the air before swooping down for . . . what do whales eat, anyway? Whatever it is, it probably fits under the heading of "Seafood", so I pity the poor creatures.

I am with Steve and Julie, and Julie enjoys seafood -- pretty much any make or model, as near as I can tell. Steve and I have no comprehension of this, coming from a childhood on the prairies of Montana where our entire experience with seafood consisted of fish sticks and tartar sauce for hot lunch at school and (much later) the all-you-can-eat-breaded-shrimp deal at Sizzler where they served cocktail sauce in large vats. We prefer our chowder made without clams, and our oysters . . . well, on somebody else's plate, thank you. Poor Julie.

We are here for a lovely break from all things Normal -- deadlines and commitments (name that tune?), work, laundry, bills, drama, planning, thinking, and all the other minutiae that fill the Normal days. Normal bedtimes are cast aside as a matter of principle, as are Normal waking times and meal times. Cooking is done by crockpot or by restaurant, if at all.

'Tis lovely. I don't ever want to go back. 

But I will. Because I'm Responsible. (And because, in one and a half more days, I will be Homeless and Carless if I don't.) Sigh.

Have a lovely day, my dears. I hear some of you can see snow on the mountains now. That'll definitely help the Coming Back! Ciao for now . . .