May 9, 2004


Whoa. I just got back from the Coast, and by no stretch of the imagination this has been one of the best weekends of my whopperjawed life. A highlights reel? Really? Ahh shucks, ya shouldn’t have:

A free map of California.

A morning trip to the 7-11 (including 2-inch long fingernails).

Free Bags of Manure.

Bags of Manure: $20.

“I locked myself out of my room.”

“You’ve only been here ten minutes.”

“It’s been a productive ten minutes.”

Hotel rooms with fireplaces.

The taste of salt hanging in the air.

Crashing ocean waves that remind me of Lake Superior.

Catching the magical talking crab.

Learning how to pronounce “Yachats.”

Riding my bike uphill.

Pushing my bike uphill.

Riding my bike downhill.

Riding my bike down hills that make riding down stairs seem like eating a delicious piece of cake.

Emerging from the woods a new man.

Emerging from the woods with aching muscles caked in mud.

Once again feeling the interaction of muscle, skin and sinew.

Chocolate covered granola bars with a whopping 210 calories each.

Driving down a road until I reach the sign that says PAVEMENT ENDS.

Tormenting giant slugs because I find them utterly fascinating. Shouting at them to see if they can hear.

The yellow “Pedestrian Crossing” sign in Yachats, where someone has removed the fellow’s head and put it in his hand.

“There’s a telephone in the bathroom.”

Running through sea gulls on the beach.

The Drift Inn Pub.

Continental breakfasts with grapefruit juice.

The pathetic old man in the hotel lobby: “Well, time to get back to real life. It was fun to leave for awhile.” My barely masked desire to grab him by the collar, shout DON’T YOU SEE, OLD MAN?! in his ear, and make him understand.

Making fun of giant black beetles cuz they’ve got purple on them. “Ha, ha! You’re purple!”

Talking to squirrels and then not talking to squirrels, and then watching them get really mad at me because I’m not talking to them, anymore.

A bandanna soaked in a cool stream.

Spending two full days on trail and never seeing another soul.

“I win!”

The Funeral Procession to Eugene

Soaking in the Terwilliger Hot Springs after a long day of hiking.

“My broken what?”

Taking delicious slurps of life.

You know it. I tried to keep from flinching when she handed me my change, but I was hardly successful.
On that same 7-11 trip I saw a Volkswagen Golf with a smouldering dashboard and a crazy fellow wearing a pair of goggles exactly like some I had picked up two years ago for Geek Prom.
Central Oregon is a kooky place, let me tell ya.