I awoke quite early on Sunday morning and found that the heater in the bathroom could only be activated in conjunction with the most god awful unflattering light that I have ever been illuminated by. Seriously. It was much worse than the dressing rooms at REI which is saying something. My bathroom at home has only a little sliver of mirror, and a single bare light bulb casting a dull glow so seeing what I actually look like in the morning was an unpleasant novelty. I turned that heater/light right off then asked Bagpipe Man if he wanted to go for a walk.

We walked and walked over hill and dale and eventually came upon a giant tower.

It was none other than the Astoria Column and I’ll have you know I went up all 164 steps inside and when I got to the top this was my view:

Bagpipe Man started the ascent with me but then decided he did not wish to be 125 feet up in the air. Indeed it was rather terrifying but I did it anyway because I am very brave.

On the way back to the car we pretended that we were going home to pack up the kids, dogs, cats, and chickens so we could move to Astoria and live here:

I don’t remember it looking like it was about to fall over, but such are the mysteries of Astoria. A big giant Thank You to AngstyNoMore for sitting the house and her siblings and to Bagpipe Man for just being so unfailingly awesome. I had a blast.

On Saturday I woke up in McMinnville. I did not have to let the dogs out or entertain questions about computer games at 6:00 am. In fact I didn’t even have to get up until right before check out time but I did because I wanted a cup of coffee. We ate an unremarkable but filling breakfast at the hotel restaurant, and then hit the road just about the time it started to rain.

Between McMinnville and the coast gully washers and freak hailstorms gave the windshield wipers a good workout. There was so much water on the road and visibility was so poor that it seemed a good time to stop at Spirit Mountain Casino for a little second hand smoke and gambling. Because I only like to win money not lose money I tried to make Bagpipe Man stick to my fool proof method of not losing your shirt. What you do is take $20 (or some such amount, but it doesn’t work well with less) and play quarter slots until you’ve won $20. Then you put those tickets in your pockets and gamble whatever you have left over from your original $20. Anything you win after that you can keep gambling except every 3rd time you win no matter how big or how small, you have to put that ticket in your pocket. I usually win a little bit of money this way and I never leave with less than I came with, but Bagpipe Man had a different idea which was to just lose all the money quickly. Since we were pooling our dough I had to insist that we leave while we were still up $1 and only halfway smelling like ashtrays.

Back on the road we became very hungry for cheese. Neither of us, it turned out had ever visited the Tillamook Cheese Factory, a staple of grade school field trips, so we swung by for a self-guided tour. From on high we watched giant blocks of cheese on conveyor belts become smaller and get packaged in plastic. It wasn’t really that interesting so we bought some cheese curds and left for the storm watching portion of our day.

Drinking ice tea and eating squeaky cheese while the rain beats on the roof of your car and 20 foot waves crash onto the beach in front of you is a nice way to pass the time. It’s hard to take a picture of though. I wanted to take a stroll but it was too cold and windy plus I was afraid a giant wave would wash us away. Here is Bagpipe Man’s I don’t want to go for a walk face:

Once we were good and wet from being out of the car for all of 30 seconds, we decided not to waste any more time lolly gagging and sped off down the road to Astoria and our hotel room with a jacuzzi tub. Astoria is my most favorite city in Oregon, after Portland. It is way up in the tippy top of the state at the mouth of the Columbia River. It’s full of crazy cool architecture from the late 1800’s, much of which is only now being renovated. Best of all, even though there are clear nods to the tourist industry like our fancy hotel, the place feels like a ghost town. We arrived just in time for a break in the weather.

Our crash pad for the night, Hotel Elliot smelled like scented candles and our room came with a great view as well as a freaky bird mask.

It did indeed have a jacuzzi tub, as well as lots of fluffy pillows, wifi , and a TV. Although it was tempting to hunker down in luxury we walked around town for a bit while it was still light out and stopped by Mary Todds Worker’s Bar & Grill because Bagpipe Man loves both bars and workers. It’s his new favorite place. The Pogues were playing on the jukebox, a couple of sauced Astorians were dancing, cheap beer was flowing, and Mary herself was trying to keep from stepping on a pair of pomeranians that had gotten tired of waiting in the car. It was just his kind of place. After a nice cold Busch we had to go though because I wanted to eat dinner at the Fort George Brewery.

The Fort George Brewery is in a big old building a mere 2 blocks from the hotel. We scarfed down their homemade sausage, drank some really good beer and then retired to our room with a mason jar of Quick Wit which they sell to go. Yay! Then I had a nice long soak while Bagpipe Man watched Outlaw Josey Wales. It was pretty much a perfect day.

Is it greedy of me to want such a communique on a monthly basis? I am NOT old and I can pack a bag in under 5 minutes. In fact I’ve got a bag packed RIGHT NOW and just because it’s full of wine dribbled clothes, squeaky cheese, and tiny bottles of shampoo doesn’t mean I’m not ready to go. I’ll be in the car.

Bagpipe Man whisked me away for a fabulous birthday weekend which kicked off right outside of town in the vineyards of Dundee. I’ve heard people speak of this “Wine Country” before but have steadfastly refused to believe it existed in Oregon. Wine Country is in California and also France, while Oregon is where hazelnuts and grass seed come from. Who knew this was a mere half hour from my house?

We went to Sokol Blosser winery and sampled their autumnal flight amidst golden leaves and intermittent rain showers. The tasting room is a cute little angular building halfway up a hill overlooking the vineyard. It has huge bay windows and a deck which I will go out on next time I’m there which will be soon because my bags are still packed.

From Dundee, we traveled down the road a little further to McMinnville and checked into Hotel Oregon.

I LOVE this Hotel! Our room on the fourth floor was slightly larger than a queensize bed and smelled like woodsmoke. It was right downstairs from the conveniently located rooftop bar, but sadly rather far from the bathroom. Even though I spent a bit of time in the middle of the night stumbling around in a scratchy bathrobe looking for the toilet I am still enamored of Hotel Oregon. There’s a bar in the basement too, although that one’s really cold.

McMinnville is rather charming. We checked out Panther Creek Cellars, pet a really cool dog who was hanging out there, and met a woman in town for a cheese making workshop. We ran into her again at the tapas place we went to for dinner and ended up becoming best buds for the next two hours. The bartender told us about a bar where the wine industry people hang out, down an alley past a dumpster, and we were lucky to have our new pal with us because apparently the wine industry people like to drink wine that costs $44 a bottle. It was nice to split that bill 3 ways. Then it was time to head back to our cozy room because all those little sips of wine were making me sleepy even though I am totally NOT OLD.

Stay tuned for Day Two.

Today I learned that I’m exactly the same age as Sesame Street which is a fine thing. To celebrate I’ve been watching classic Bert and Ernie clips on Youtube in my pajamas while eating muesli. Here is one of my my favorites: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NxAV4rkQ6D0

Muesli tastes a lot like grain, and by grain I mean the kind you feed to horses. I like it though. I think I’m going to start eating this fodder all the time. Someday I will look back and say “oh yeah, I started eating muesli when I turned 40. That’s why my jaws are so nice and strong". I love beginnings. This year I’m going to eat muesli, play the piano, beat String(bean) Bell in a race, and grow a watermelon.

I’ve heard a few rumblings about a pumpkin shortage lately, but it seemed that it was mostly a canned pumpkin shortage which didn’t concern me as I’ve had the same 4 cans of pumpkin in my cupboard for the last six years. I like to make pumpkin pie out of fresh pumpkin because taking 2 or 3 hours to do something instead of 30 minutes is a skill of mine and also I can feed all the stringy goop inside to the Pinkertons, after which they worship me like a god. The alleged scarcity didn’t merit much thought until one day I looked outside and saw a pumpkin shortage in MY OWN YARD!!!

That’s right, a thieving nogoodnik has taken my pumpkin. And this was no ordinary pumpkin, but a perfectly round, perfectly orange, exceptionally beautiful pumpkin. It was exactly the size of a regulation basketball and whoever took it has just helped themselves to a giant heaping spoonful of “You’ll Get Yours,” not from me of course because I don’t know who they are and probably wouldn’t do anything about it even if I did, but the universe has a way of righting itself over petty bullshit, like the time I stepped in dog poop right after silently mocking a guy riding a tall bike. Anyway, it’s a crying shame about my pumpkin. If only I had grown one that you needed a wheelbarrow to move.

This one is on the way to my piano lesson. Evidently the neighborhood pumpkin thieves don’t want the trouble of breaching that chain link fence and herniating themselves carrying it away.