Sunday, March 8, 2015

Astoria For Valentine's Day (and we discuss HOT AIR)

Actually, we went several days before Valentine's Day but the romantic thought was there. It was a low budget mini-trip. We stayed in a motel a mile out of town. The Crest Motel is on a bluff and has a great view of the river. (Our lower priced room had a couple of trees in the way but the view was good enough) And we brought food from home to nuke for dinner.

We did buy a couple of excellent lunches. (Astoria Coffee House & Bistro, and Bridgewater Bistro) We toured the Flavel House, (the exterior is very nice, the interior is more ordinary -- it's basically a standard Queen Anne house), we window shopped, and looked at a couple of very good art galleries (neither of them had a single painting of crashing waves -- back lit, sap green -- in sight) 

From the motel we walked three miles to and from town. We looked at and listened to the sea lion dock. (A dock in the harbor that has been abandoned by boats and conceded to the sea lions) The dock provided a fun moment: The sea lions overloaded one side of the dock and it flipped over. There was a great flurry of barking, squawking, and diving into the water until they all realized they panicked about nothing so there was another great round of barking, squawking, pushing and shoving until they were all resettled. (Quit shoving! I'm going to bite you so bad! I was here first! Get your fat ass off me! etc. -- so it goes in the sea lion world)

We watched the tide rotate four anchored ships. We watched one ship weigh anchor and leave for Portland. Another came in and anchored where the one had left. Two entered and headed directly for Portland (one for grain, the other a car carrier)

Low key describes the trip.

During the drive, we somehow came to discuss things fundamental. dw said it can be very annoying when one's pooper doesn't work properly. "What's the problem? It's just a pipe -- you eat, the food gets mushed up, and the residue comes out the other end. Why is that so hard?"
     I pointed out that one's arse is actually talented: "It can tell the difference between a fart and a log, for example."
     "Not always. What about a wet fart, or a fart with a surprise?"
     "OK, it can occasionally make a mistake, but it always does its best."
     "And I guess doing its best is all you can expect from an asshole."

I did say it was a low key, low budget, low inspirational trip.

BOOKS: The Bear -- History Of A Fallen King (Michel Pastoureau) Fairly interesting -- a chronicle of the bear in European myth and legend and how Christianity suppressed pagan worship of the bear. Pastoureau has the habit of literally asking questions and then answering them -- a device that annoys me but the book has some moments: "Archbishop Hincmar of Reims (845-882) vigorously denounced 'vile games with a bear' " --- Alas we don't get any details about the vile games so we must vigorously imagine some, keeping in mind that bear-baiting and other bloody "sports" weren't considered vile.
     And Le Petomane (Jean Nobain and F. Caradec) -- a biography of the Fartiste (a professional farter) Joseph Pujol, whose stage act included farting various sound effects and farting songs such as "O Sole Mio". 

JOKE OF THE DAY: I tried and failed to find a good fart joke, so this will do: (for emergency room nurses and EMTs everywhere) What did the green grape say to the purple grape? "BREATHE DAMMIT, BREATHE"

HISTORY: For punishment of malefactors, Delaware kept the pillory until 1905, and the lash until 1972.

WORD OF THE DAY: "Oojah" -- A thing whose name one cannot remember, does not know, or does not wish to mention. My life is full of oojahs.     And so it goes.   DJA


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