Sylvia's...ain't it a beach

So I promised I would report on our stay at the Sylvia Beach Hotel in Newport. This well-known Bed and Breakfast is located right smack on the beach in Central Oregon. It is a historic building…an old, old hotel that has been transformed into a retreat for book lovers and those who can lose themselves for hours and hours reading……

Every room in the hotel is named after a famous author, food is served in the “Tables of Content” dining room, and there is a resident cat. There are no televisions, no radios, no, phones, no pool, no pets…they ain’t got no cigarettes………..I kid you not. The idea is to get away from all the noise and stress of everyday life and just relax, read, eat, do puzzles, play board games, read, walk on the beach, read, and then read.

We thought it sounded really interesting, especially since we were booked into the F. Scott Fitzgerald room. Did I mention that reading is the popular pastime at this particular B & B? That, and being really earthy and environmental and stuff. Now, I love to read. I could read for hours on end. I also like to work crossword puzzles, so this sounded like just the ticket for us.

What we didn’t count on was the fact that the hotel hasn’t been updated in probably 20 or 30 years. We also didn’t count on the fact that our hosts didn’t seem to care that the place was really not so much charming as it was……….well, just shabby.

We opened the door to our room and walked smack into a room that smelled like the linen closet at a nursing home….and that was just the beginning! The furniture in the big reading room was a bunch of old mismatched chairs with lumpy cushions and couches with broken backs and smelly upholstery…lots of lamps, but the ratty old lampshades were pretty scary…

You know how when you go away for a romantic getaway the bed can play an important part in the festivities? Well, this bed had an old spring mattress that “sproinged” every time we touched it…and get this! The footboard had been nailed to a big old board which was attached to the mattress frame….and the headboard was just sitting against the wall!!!! Think of every joke/gag you have ever seen or heard in the movies about noises in a hotel room (especially having to do with headboards). Add to that image the idea that the walls were so paper thin we could hear the woman next door reading her book aloud to her roomie! Did I mention that reading is very popular at this place? Anyway, she did voices and everything, but we couldn’t quite make out the book….Now, in spite of these downsides, we actually enjoyed our stay. We began to imagine how we would redo the place. I mean, think of it. If the only thing about the room that conjured up F. Scott Fitzgerald was a shelf with 3 bottles of gin and a bunch of his books and letters, there’s nowhere to go but up, right? Although, the wall sink in the middle of the room was quite an interesting touch, I must say….

The good news is that breakfast was included with the room. The bad news is that meals are served “family style” so you can get to know the other guests. If you choose to have dinner at the hotel, you will find yourself seated with 6 other guests playing games like “Two Truths and a Lie.” It may surprise you to learn that Mark and I don’t exactly jump at the chance to participate in that sort of social activity. But we don’t. So we ate breakfast in the dining room but took our meals at some other wonderful restaurants….we had great food and even greater company…each other.

The weather was gloriously warm and clear on Saturday and Sunday. During Sunday night a squall came up with winds that shook the old building and rattled the windows. A few shingles even blew off the roof…and the rain poured. It was fantastic!!! We could see the ocean waves from our bed and we were able to watch the storm rage…it was awesome!

Turns out my boss, Nader and his wife Martha spent their honeymoon there some 15 years ago and they go back every year on their anniversary………..but if you ever decide to spend a weekend in Newport, Oregon, be sure you know what you’re getting into before you rent a room at the Sylvia Beach Hotel….OR just win some money on your way there and you won’t care a bit about anything else!!! Trust me…

What happens at the beach stays at the beach...

So Mark and I went to the Coast for the weekend. Not the beach, the Coast. North Oregon is the beach. Central Oregon is the Coast. We haven't gone away together by our ownselves in almost ten years. Hard to believe, I know, but true. Because we don't share weekends off work, its a scheduling thing. One, or the other, or both of us have to take vacation days...this time Mark took Saturday and I took Monday and we were off like Bally Riddle's hair!
Mark made meticulous...and that is the word I want to emphasize..Meticulous...arrangements for the entire weekend. Several days I ago the thought came to me that I wanted to visit one of the Tribal Casinos so newly popular in Oregon. As soon as I said the words aloud, Mark was all over a plan to visit Chinook Winds Casino in Lincoln City...but when I didn't pursue the idea, he didn't think I really wanted to go until Monday when I asked him what we were doing for our beach weekend..with just four days to put together the perfect romantic weekend, he really outdid himself....damn near gave himself an anal retentive ulcer, but boy, did he make it happen...

Like most lounges around the country, the casino showroom "headlines" the circuit of B-list performers and acts still making the rounds and this particular weekend featured a favorite comedian, Bill Engvall...apparently we weren't the only Oregonians who wanted "Our Sign." Turns out, the show had been sold out for months, so we didn't get to see him, but we didn't care because we were booked into a room at the Sylvia Beach Hotel in Newport...but wait...I'm getting ahead of myself.

WELL! Even though he had everything planned to down to the minute, Mark spent a sleepless night before we left...he worried that if things didn't go exactly according the his schedule, he might not be able to flex...and more than anything, he wanted to be flexible this weekend...

Flexible he was, and it was a DEE-lightful time! The highlight reel will show us driving through some of the most beautiful scenery in the Northwest with a Saturday morning breakfast stop at Alice's Country Restaurant just outside Tillamook (yes, the cheese)...you know, one of those "side of the road" places you see when you are hurrying to McDonald's....greatest breakfast ever!! Ever..no kidding.

Now, I didn't realize Mark's carefully detailed itinerary put our stop at the casino on Monday during our return trip. After a quick look-see at the Chinook Winds golf course, I insisted that we stop NOW at the gambling hall. Taking a deep breath, Mark decided to be flexible...we stopped.
Now, this could be a very long story...and it is...but the short version simply tells of a dufus middle aged couple who had never been into a gaming establishment...What, never? No, never...is there anything more awkward than a couple of old rubes?? I'm thinking not....but a very nice floor attendant patiently explained exactly what we needed to do to quickly lose our money...and with $7 (yes, exactly seven dollars) in quarters, we were ready to rumble! Since we had to exchange our quarters for dollar bills in order to feed the video poker machines, we went all out and got an even $10....Clutching the bills, we searched the rows and rows of nickel machines until we found the most secluded, loneliest machine in the place. I didn't want a bunch of seasoned players eyeing us with disdain and whispering "Rookies!" under their breath...We fed our first dollar and right off the bat, when the first game ended we were up thirty cents!! Woohoo...Flush with winnings, we fed another dollar bill and went "all in." We played all 20 lines with 5 credits per line..if you understand what that means, glory go with ya, cuz it was Greek to us....we just pushed random buttons, sat back, and watched as the lights, sounds, and glory of a JACKPOT flashed before our eyes...Yes, folks...we hit a jackpot! One dollar + one machine + no clue = WINNER! No one, and I mean NO ONE has ever been more stunned than we were...dumb, dumb beginner's luck!!! We were open mouthed idiots staring at the message on the screen to "Please call the attendant." Two nice ladies came and verified, certified, and legitimized our win...brought us cash..CASH! They congratulated us and commented that we were, indeed, lucky...and all we could think was......"We're outta here!!"

Of course, since we literally had nothing to lose, we played the remaining eight dollars, came up with $3 more in winings and immediatly cashed out and walked out!

We decided right then and there that the theme of our trip was not "Flexiblity is the Key" but was instead, "Thank you Chinook Winds." Even though we couldn't get into the Bill Engvall show, we still had a good time at the Casino..................

Now, lest you think that's the only thing to tell you about our weekend....stay tuned. Tomorrow I will tell you about the Sylvia Beach Bed and Breakfast........it's gonna take awhile..............

I have a dream....

"I had the weirdest dream last night..." Whenever I say that, Geoff puts his fingers in his ears and loudly sings LA LA LA. He won't even listen to me describe my dreams anymore because he says they are too long and boring...and besides........"It's a DREAM!"

So, close your ears Geoff, cuz I had the weirdest dream last night. My dreams are always clear and vivid and very realistic in a very surrealistic way. When the radio alarm went off this morning, I needed it turned OFF (not just snooze) so I could re-conjure the thing. Most of the time I can't remember details of my dreams, but today was total recall.

How weird is this? The whole dream took place in the 30's or 40's....I was young and had long hair..............aren't dreams supposed to be in real time??

Anyway...I won't tell you the whole lengthy, involved and highly interesting scenario excepy to say it ended while I was skinny dipping in a public pool with a George Lucas look-alike who was my cousin "not by blood, but by marriage." This is the weird part. I don't like the way George Lucas looks. Nothing personal. I think he's a nice enough man to just sit and chat with ...I just don't care for his looks. Weird, right?

There was much, much more that transpired prior to the actual swimming pool business but that was the part I wanted to remember after I woke up...

Clearly, the only logical interepretation of this dream: I NEED a pool...or a pond....a pool would be nice, for me....I think...

Quick! Call 911!

Today the City of Portland Fire Chief came to our office. He blew in with an entourage of four fabulous looking firefighters.....wow! They look reeaallly good!

So, apparently The Department of Homeland Security has tons of bucks to disperse in the form of grants to the nation's Police and Fire Departments. Weather stations, especially vehicle mounted or portable (which we specialize in) are high on the "wish lists" for these grants. Only problem with a grant is that you are required to spend the money in an allotted amount of time or the gov'mint takes it back.....so today Portland Fire and Rescue is here to hurry and spend money. Never mind the fact that we've been trying to finalize this order for nearly a year, running into bureaucratic nightmares at every turn....now they want their weather stations immediately...like we have them sitting on the shelf, or somethin'. And they want us to install them. We don't install. And they keep changing their minds about the exact configurations they want for their HazMat vehicles, their Command Vehicles, their Fire Apparatus Vehicles, and the Chief's pretty red Expedition...vehicle. But frankly, I don't mind, cuz Man, them fireboys do look handsome in their uniforms...the longer it takes them to decide on the "logistics and specifications" (apparenly that's firefighter lingo) the longer they stay here, and the longer I can eyeball them through the conference room window.
The cutest one of all (did I really use the word "cute")even asked me for some sugar...........well, technically he asked if I would mind if he ate a piece of Kandy Korn from my festive litte jack o'lantern candy dish.........but I think we both know what he really meant...(eh?....eh????? wink, wink)!

All I can say is, Good thing we have our fire extinguishers displayed in prominent places.......

The light comes on

I think I have discerned why blogging is so popular. It gives people a way to say things to each other without actually having to talk or engage in a real dialogue..........anyway, that's my idea...........

I have a laundry fetish. I wrote about it.

This morning I found 3 pink dish towels sitting in a soggy pile on top of my washing machine............yes, they were originally white.

And I shook it at her...

And I said...............Chanel, dis blog's fa yuu!

Apparently, one must blog long and often to stay in the good graces of those who lovingly search for updated writings.

It's Friday afternoon. As my work week ends, my work weekend at home quickly fills with just one item on the old skedoolie.....Laundry.

Now, some might say I have a laundry fetish...and they might be right.My family has slowly come to realize that I have a genuine "thing" about my clothes and how they are laundered. And yes, it might border on psychotic, but I prefer to think of it as careful and meticulous in the care and upkeep of my wardrobe. I subscribe to the theory that it is not quantity, it is truly quality when it comes to the wash.

Now I've heard every story and disdainful comment from those who claim to do their wash in just two loads...lights and darks....the cliched "pink" load of whites.......blah, blah, blah.....the fact of the matter is, you MUST (and this is the part I want to emphasize) MUST separate your articles of clothing into . Some claim to quickly empty their hamper without so much as a thought to water temperature, tub load size, the correct wash/rinse cycle or the exact amount of detergent for the specific load...and believe me, there is a science to all of that! My rantings have finally sunk in..........no one touches my laundry but me....

Lest you think I don't put as much thought into how I dry my wash, don't worry. I concentrate even more on properly drying than washing, I'll wager. Not everything goes into the dryer...and when you hang things to dry, there is a delicate art to shaping the garment just so as to maximize it's life and appearance....I'm a master, but it's taken me years to pefect my craft. it's too detailed and complicated to go into here, but suffice to say, I never vary, I never stray, I never shorttcut, and I never fail to bitch and moan if someone else in my family "does it wrong."

The way I figure it, I've got about twelve to fourteen loads of wash to do this weekend...I'll start tonight and see how far I get. I never panic if I don't have an empty laundry basket by Sunday night...like I said, it's quality, not quantity.So many clothes, so little time............................Besides,there's always next weekend...

Going postal...

So today I had a classic, stereotypical moment at the dang USPS...that would be the post office, slangily. I encountered the WORST(and YES, I could know that) POSTAL WORKER ever. I was sending two packages to South Africa...don't ask...just know that it does not involve Nigerians or money transfers and is one of the worst tasks assigned me in my otherwise "that's why they call it work" job.

I found out today that, even though I have received numerous email messages from the US Postmaster hisself extoling the virtues of "click and ship" (No, that's not a typo, its "ship") along with tutorials on both clicking and shipping parcels, apparently no one actually employed by USPS is privy to any of the information on their own website. None of the employees know anything more than what the customers tell them. Of course, I take partial blame as I foolishly went to a different branch of the PO as it was closer to home. The WORST POSTAL WORKER EVER announced that the labels I had prepared using the UPSP's own "click and ship" program were, in her words, "Not valid." She repeated this over and over and even held up one of my carefully prepared labels and asked the clerk next to her if "didn't he think it was invalid?" From six feet away, he squinted and agreed with the WORST POSTAL WORKER EVER that the label was, as far has he could tell.....invalid...Rather than argue with them, rather than explain that I had mailed to this customer a bajillion times, I simply gathered my paperwork and quietly announced that I would take my packages to the Hillsboro Post Office where Ben, my postal guy, works. He never tells me my labels are invalid. He always tells me that my scales need calibration, as my package weights always differ from his by at least 2 ounces....sometimes as much as 6 ounces, but he still puts labels and stickers and lots and lots of rubber stamps on the parcels. Somehow they always end up in the right place...Halfway House, South Africa even though the WORST POSTAL WORKER EVER said Hafway House doesn't accept Express Mail. O YES THEY DO, you dumb......WORST POSTAL WORKER EVER!

I drove to my regular PO and Ben accepted my packages with a smile and sly wink when I told him that I wouldn't be surprised if my package weight was off by an ounce or two! Oh...postal humor! In and out...zip, zap, take a crap!
I only mention all of this as I believe it may well be the Aloha Post Office where I possibly...and I emphasize POSSIBLY...may have left my very best, most cherished pair of reading glassses. I don't look good in glasses...loathe and despise them, frankly, but I like my little tiny Microvision Pen readers. I couldn't find them anywhere when I arrived at work today. I searched my car three times, emptied the duffle I call a purse twice..........no glasses............they are gone. I loved those glasses.....and that's why I hate the PO.