More beach pics

Till a few weeks ago, I hadn't been to the beach since September. Now I've gone twice, and I'm probably going again tomorrow. On the last trip, we drove to the Surfrider south of Lincoln City, then drove back up the coast to Tillamook on the way home the next day. Here are a few pics:

Jerry jonesing for coffee (yeah, they start young here in the Northwest):


Cape Meares lighthouse and one of the clearest, bluest skies I've ever seen on the Oregon coast:


This was a throwaway shot through the lens of the lighthouse, but it turned out sort of cool with my shadow and the view of the coast through the lens.


Ah, to be 10 again...


Chowin' down on some shellfish:


Next up: some pics from the trip to Seattle this week, then whatever pics I take at the beach tomorrow. Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I even bother unpacking my suitcase in the summer.

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Beach pics

Last week I posted some pics of funny signs I saw on the way to Seaside and Cannon Beach, and I promised I'd post some pretty stuff later. Well, now it's later, so here we go:

Series of wave pics, all taken on Indian Beach in Ecola State Park:










Heart in the sand:


Cannon Beach and Haystack Rock from a viewpoint in Ecola State Park:


View from overlook above Sea Lion Rocks:

Interestingly, there wasn't a sea lion in sight.

Plaque at the overlook with a beautiful quote:

In case you can't read it in the pic, the quote says: "I dropped a tear in the ocean. When it's found, is when I'll stop loving you." It might be sappy if it weren't on a memorial plaque.

That's about it for that trip. I'm heading back to the beach tonight, this time to Depoe Bay, so I should have some new pics to post soon.

8:00 in Boise, Idaho

OK, it isn't 8:00, but I've been dying to work that Lynyrd Skynyrd lyric into a blog post ever since I touched down in Boise. Let's just call it journalistic license. Oh, and I had to look up the spelling of Lynyrd Skynyrd. Let's just call that pathetic.

I'm here for a library meeting on the next generation of integrated library systems (that's library catalogs to those of you who didn't get your library school indoctrination). It's been a good meeting, a nice mix of presentations and group discussions. I've been impressed with the energy and ideas of the attendees, all of whom seem ready to make some big changes to deliver better services. I'll be interested to see if the momentum generated at this meeting translates into anything real. I think it just might.

Interesting though the meeting has been, two days of butt planted in chair makes me restless, so I'll be glad to get off the airplane in Portland and get moving. At least I got out of the hotel last night. It turns out that there are a few graduates of my high school here in Boise (interesting since I went to high school in Northern California). Last night I had dinner with one of them and his family. I hadn't seen this guy since about 1983, so it was a lot of fun to chat and share old stories. I love reconnecting with old friends, and I always come away with new insights on life, growing up, aging, adolescence, and how we all got to where we are now. It's funny how a bunch of small-town kids have traveled some twisted roads in life. There's fodder for at least two books in the lives of my friends and me, though I have no talent for writing fiction, so someone else will have to do the honors or let these stories go untold.

I've spent two days in a meeting devoted to the effects of technological change in libraries. That, along with getting reacquainted with a bunch of old friends over the last couple years, has me reflecting on the connections that are possible through today's technology that were virtually unthinkable 20 years ago. Twenty years ago, I would have kept in touch with two or three old friends, and my only option for reconnecting with the others would have been a high school reunion. We would have sat around the table, drinking and reminiscing and promising to keep in touch. Then we would go back to our lives and forget to call, write, or visit. Then 10 years later we'd repeat the process at the next reunion. Now, each time I find someone online (or he/she finds me), we can keep in touch easily and connect each other with other people we know from back in the day. There are very few people I hung out with in high school that I haven't had some contact with over the last few years -- and I live 700 miles away from my hometown. Sure, Classmates has tacky web ads and makes you pay to contact someone -- but they also provide a valuable service for millions of users. Yes, MySpace and Facebook are in the news regularly, portrayed by blow-dried local newscasters as havens for pedophiles and cyberbullies. But they also provide a way for us to be part of our friends' lives, even when those friends are far away. Now we can share the kind information we used to share while dashing to our lockers or hanging out at lunch: the movie we just saw, the latest news about our families, what we're reading or listening to. Trivial? Sure. But that kind of smalltalk builds connections between people, whether face-to-face or online, separated by a few city blocks or a few states.

As I write this, people are talking about how libraries can build communities--and use technology to do it. I suppose that's the theme of my trip: building community through technology. Lately I've been griping about how my generation was sold a bill of goods, with movies, TV shows, and magazine articles promising us the ultimate in futuristic technology: hover cars, teleportation, and time machines. I'm still waiting for those--especially the time machine and teleportation. Boy, I could get in trouble with those! But I have to admit, no one predicted a global computing network that would link us together across space and time, enabling me to hang out in person with an old friend I could never have found otherwise. I still want my time machine and transporter, but I don't think I'd trade away the internet to get 'em.

Today's funny spam subject line is...

"Reality porn"

An oxymoron if ever I heard one.

There's funny stuff everywhere

Now that I have either a camera or a camera phone on me most of the time, I notice my surroundings more--especially when they're funny. Check out the latest oddities to cross my path:

You'll remember a couple posts ago I was laughing at the AC/DC and Metallica lullaby CDs? I suspect this baby bib, seen in Spencer's (where else?) is aimed at the same audience:

They had a couple others that were even more obnoxious, but the sales clerk told me I couldn't take any more pictures. Oh, well, then they won't get any more free advertising in my blog. Nyah nyah nyah!

Friday afternoon Tony and I decided to go to the beach for a few hours. Beach trips always seem to include some absurdities, and this one was no different. Here's one along hwy 26 outside of North Plains:

I never knew North Plains had an elephant garlic festival. North Plains to Gilroy: Our garlic is bigger and smells better! Nyah nyah nyah!

Further down hwy 26, we encountered this fine dining establishment:

It was actually a roadside stand with jerky, fruit, and pop. We got some excellent buffalo jerky there, along with some raspberries that were infested with some sort of bugs. Since said bugs were hiding inside the berries where the stem goes, I'm pretty sure I became an inadvertent insectivore Friday afternoon till I finally noticed the little, um, buggers. I wonder... Would the Inadvertent Insectivores be a good name for a punk band?

When we finally got to Seaside, we encountered a car dealer with a sense of humor:


There's a longer, funnier version of this joke, which I heard for the first time last winter, courtesy of my husband's somewhat-manic anesthesiologist:

Q. What did the bra say to the hat?
A. I've got these two covered. You go on ahead.

Hey, don't blame me. Blame the guy with access to the good drugs!

That's about it for now. I'm typing this from gate B2 of the Portland airport, and my flight is due to start boarding in a few minutes. When I have some time I'll post more pictures from the beach trip. The next batch will actually be pretty instead of ridiculous.

Librarian innuendos

A Librarian's Guide to Etiquette posted something about library-related innuendos, which led to a long list of comments suggesting more innuendos and dreadful library-related pickup lines. We librarians may be nerdy, but we aren't dead!

Summeritis and Life in 2008

I've been suffering from a severe case of writer's block lately, which I'm pretty sure is secondary to my severe case of summeritis. Summeritis is a bit like senioritis was back in high school, except it isn't quite as much fun (less partying, more sleeping). Symptoms of summeritis include:

• A complete lack of motivation to do anything productive. Even favorite hobbies seem like too much work.
  
• Staying up way too late
  
• Sleeping way too late
  
• An overwhelming desire to lie in a lounge chair with a cold drink and a good book for hours at a time
  
• Unwillingness to wear anything more substantial or dressy than shorts, a tank top, and flip flops
  
• Basking in memories of summers past, when each summer day seemed filled with endless possibilities involving the pool, the park, or a cute member of the gender of your choice (often found at the pool or the park). Dang. Where's my time machine?
  
• Moving to a tropical island and making a living selling tchotchkes to tourists starts sounding like a good career plan
  
• It almost seems worth it to go back to teaching so you can have summers off. Note: The operative word in this sentence is, "almost."
  

In my sun-induced lethargy, I'm finding it difficult to think of anything to say, creative or not, so I've turned to my inbox for inspiration. I haven't gotten any amusing spam lately, so I'm having to dig a little deeper. Fortunately, my pal Gunnar came to the rescue today, forwarding along a funny bit that's been making the e-mail rounds since at least the late 90s. Here it is, with my not-so-witty responses interspersed. I know it isn't up to my usual (low) standards, but it's the best I can do. Once I sell my house and move to Belize, I should have something more interesting to write about. Anyone wanna buy a lovely tiki god? I'll throw in the grass skirt free.

YOU KNOW YOU ARE LIVING IN 2008 when...

1. You accidentally enter your PIN on the microwave.
Haven't done that yet, but give me time.

2. You haven't played solitaire with real cards in years.
Sad but true. I would also add that I have trouble playing backgammon with a real backgammon set. I can't quite remember how to set it up, because my PDA's backgammon game sets up for me. Pathetic.

3. You have a list of 15 phone numbers to reach your family of three.
Not quite, but if you throw in email addresses, I think we're there.

4. You e-mail the person who works at the desk next to you.
All the time! And I've also IMed with someone a few offices away.

5. Your reason for not staying in touch with friends and family is that they don't have e-mail addresses.
Yes yes yes! Don't make me find an envelope and a stamp to communicate with you, and phones are so 1988. Actually, email is so 2005. Doesn't everyone text now?

6. You pull up in your own driveway and use your cell phone to see if anyone is home to help you carry in the groceries.
I refuse to do this, but my husband calls me from the driveway, usually to tell me he's home. Well, duh... I may not be Sherlock Holmes, but I'm pretty sure I would have noticed when you walked in the door--in about the time it took you to dial the damn phone.

7. Every commercial on television has a web site at the bottom of the screen
Yes, in tiny print way too small for normal humans to read. I first noticed this phenomenon in about 1995, when I was watching a baseball game at a friend's house. ESPN had their web address in the corner of the screen. Both it and the score were way too small to see, and I still had OK eyesight back then. Shortly thereafter, it became impossible for me to watch cable news. The talking head reading the news was in a little box, surrounded by at least three other boxes that flashed and scrolled stuff. It was worse than frames on web sites! I have the attention span of a gnat--I can't deal with that much distraction.

8. Leaving the house without your cell phone, which you didn't even have the first 20 or 30 (or 60) years of your life, is now a cause for panic and you turn around to go and get it.
LOL. I'm not usually guilty of this one, but the hubster goes into hysterics if he can't find his phone. Heaven forbid he might miss a call from some member of his family, wanting to borrow money. And heaven forbid I don't have my phone at hand in case he wants to call me to tell me that someone in his family wants to borrow money.

10. You get up in the morning and go on line before getting your coffee.
Nah, I drink my caffeine of choice while online. Multitasking, baby!

11. You start tilting your head sideways to smile. : )
Not yet, and if I start doing that, please shoot me.

12. You're reading this and nodding and laughing.
Guilty. Throw in a sheepish look or two also.

13. Even worse, you know exactly to whom you are going to forward this message.
I'm still contemplating that, as well as whether or not to include my inane comments. Worse still, I think I'll post it on my blog. Email forwarding is so 2002.

14. You are too busy to notice there was no #9 on this list.
More like too oblivious.

15. You actually scrolled back up to check that there wasn't a #9 on this list.
*Sigh* Guilty.


~~~~~~~~~~~AND FINALLY~~~~~~~~~~~~

NOW U R LAUGHING at yourself.
I laugh at myself every day! It seems to the be the trendy thing to do, judging by how many other people laugh at me.

Go on, forward this to your friends. You know you want to!
Maybe, but the blog post would be more efficient.

I am at here

Awhile back I posted a fine lecture on punctuation and usage, populated by our friendly neighborhood zombies. Today we continue that tradition by taking on one of my all-time pet peeves:

[Two hapless victims are running down a dark alley, pursued by a hungry zombie]
Hapless Victim: Hey Bubba! Where are you at?
Hapless Victim #2: I'm over here! But don't end a sentence with a preposition.
Zombie: [chomps into Victim #2, who clearly has the juicier brain]

OK, so George Romero has nothing to fear from me.

Getting back to the point: Knowing how to use prepositions correctly will make you more appealing to zombies. No, wait. I mean, Using prepositions correctly will make you sound more educated and make me less likely to roll my eyes and grit my teeth when you talk. For example:

Well-Spoken Hapless Victim #1: Where are the zombies?
Well-Spoken Hapless Victim #2: They're right behind you!
Zombie #1: [Chomp]

Victim #1 doesn't need to add "at" to the end of the sentence! You wouldn't respond, "I am at here," would you? Repeat after me:

"Where are you?" is a complete sentence!

p.s. Did you notice that there's a second error in the first example above? "Hungry zombie" is redundant. They're always hungry.

Funny sight on the playground

We decided to enjoy the gorgeous summer evening tonight, so we picked up some sandwiches and headed for Commonwealth Lake, a local park with a couple playgrounds and, of course, a lake. While walking along the path to the playground, I got another jarring reminder that things have changed since I was a kid. Lying on the grass in a pile were three kids, probably between about 7 and 10 years old. They were all jostling for position so they could see the screen of some laptop-like contraption, possibly a portable DVD player. A few feet away, there was a swing set and various other playground attractions, but they were happy with their little screen. *Sigh* I think I'll just curl up in my rocking chair with my Geritol now...

Let's visit the CD store to see what we can see

For the latest chapter in my life of non-stop excitement, I'll take you along as I visit Everyday Music, one of our local new-and-used CD stores. Oh, stop yawning... you might be entertained... a little.

First, in the Best News I've Heard All Week category, we have this beautiful sight a couple doors up from the CD store:


What? It's just a sign, you say? No, no, no! It is the coming of my favorite fast food place from back home in California, El Pollo Loco! I've been whining since I left in 1989 about missing that place, and I drag my poor family all over the place to go to one every time we go back to CA. Soon I'll be able to get my fix anytime. Now if I could just get all my friends to move up here, I'd never have to go home again.

Back to the CD store. While waiting for Husband to search every nook and cranny for Night of the Living Dead 3 (yes, they have DVDs at Everyday Music too), I amused myself by browsing the soundtracks. Check out this gem:

Yes, folks, zombie chickens. It's Colonel Sanders' worst nightmare. And I thought Black Sheep was bad.

Now here are a couple for those of you who buy your infant rompers at Hot Topic:


All together now:

And you
Will sleep all night long

ROTFLMAO.

And of course:

I always did think "Enter Sandman" would make a great lullaby. (That's Lullaby Metallica in case the lettering is too small to read)

So there ya go. Other people just go shopping in suburbia. I shop in Absurdia (where I also live and work, but we'll cover those in other posts).

p.s. Didn't I tell you I was going to cheer up?

Time to cheer up

For those who don't know, it's been a difficult few months here at Camp Crum. We've dealt with illnesses and injuries, as well as family and friends with various problems. Through it all, I've managed to keep my sense of humor and, for the most part, enjoy myself. The last week or so, though, has been tough. I've felt a little like a one-woman Whack-A-Mole game. Something happens to knock me down, I pop back up as usual, and something else hits me. Rinse. Repeat. Or, as one of my friends who's also having a difficult time put it, "Why does life always have to give us lemons? Enough with the damn lemons already!" It's not that any one thing has been devastating--it's just that there have been quite a few things. But after spending a week being moody, brooding, and depressed, I'm tired of it. I believe Abraham Lincoln was right when he said that most folks are just about as happy as they make up their minds to be. Or that famous philosopher, Mike Brady, who once declared, "We've had enough worse. It's time for some better." Yes, it is.

The problems will still be there. Hubby is still injured, Mom is still hurting, several of my friends are still going through some difficult times, and I still have some personal drama to sort through. But in the midst of all that, I'm going to look for joy and laughter wherever I can find it. Just writing this has lifted my mood, probably because this blog is one of the ways I reach out to others. If there's an upside to being depressed, it's realizing how many friends I have and how much they mean to me. If you're reading this--especially if you made it this far--you're probably one of those friends, so thank you. And be warned: I intend to return to my usual silliness very soon. You might want to check your chair before you sit down. I think I found a Whoopee cushion while cleaning house yesterday.

Early morning travel complaints

OK, it's not quite 5 AM, I've been up since 2:30 (!!!), and I've had no caffeine, so I'm a little cranky. To blow off some virtual steam, I'll share a few pointed observations from the last 20 hours or so:

1. When you're sitting in the gate area, surrounded by groggy travelers at 4:50 AM, do NOT put your cell phone voicemail on speaker so everyone is forced to listed to the recorded inanities of your friends and family. It makes us want to throw you in front of an oncoming aircraft. I'm talking to you, Mrs. Unbelievably-Tacky-Orange-and-Yellow-Hawaiian-Shirt. I don't care if you wanted to share those voicemails with Mr. Unbelievably-Tacky-Red-and-White-Hawaiian-Shirt next to you. Listen to your own damn voicemail and tell him anything important, preferably in a soft voice befitting this ungodly hour.

2. To Ms. Unbelievably-Rude-TSA-Agent: I'm sorry you have to be at work at 4:00 AM. It sucks. I know, because I'm here at 4 AM too. In order to reduce the suckage ever so slightly, I offer you a friendly good morning. In return, you don't look at me, don't talk to me, put your gloves on at a pace befitting the banana slugs in my garden, and bark some orders at the bedraggled line of travelers behind me. Finally you condescend to take my ID and boarding pass, still neither looking at me nor speaking to me. If you hate your government job with a reliable salary and full benefits that much, quit and find something else to do. I'd suggest fast food, but I doubt you'd meet even their standards.

3. While we're on the subject of the TSA... All your instructions tell us to be at the airport 2 hours early for domestic flights. Even though that's rarely necessary, I hauled my sorry carcass out of bed at 2:30 to be here 2 hours before my 6:15 AM flight (What the hell was I thinking??), only to be told that security doesn't open till 4:30. If you want us here 2 hours early, have the checkpoint open! Standing around holding my laptop and bag o' liquids and gels at o'dark thirty isn't my idea of a good time.

4. To the proprietors of the fine establishment in which I spent last night (or at least the part of last night preceding 2:30 AM--did I mention that's when I got up?): Fix your key card system. When I get back from a late meeting at 10 PM (the night before I have to get up at 2:30), I expect my key card to work. When I schlep back to the office to tell you it doesn't work, don't just verify that it's programmed for the correct room and send me back down that looonnnngggg hallway to try again. It still didn't work. If reprogramming the card fixes the problem, as your maintenance person told me, then you should have done that in the first place. I admit I need more exercise, but not at 10 PM the night before I have to get up at 2:30.

5. To the operators of LAX: When flights leave at ungodly hours, and we aren't allowed to take more than 3.5 oz of liquid through security, have the coffee stands and breakfast concessionaires open. It was like a tomb when I got here, and even now there are no vendors open in my gate area. Does anyone wonder why there's so much air rage, when people have to get up at 2:30 to catch flights and are then deprived of caffeine? I think Homeland Security should work on that problem.

6. The managers of the nationwide airport shuttle company I used on my visit (rhymes with Pooper Puddle, sort of): If I make a reservation for a specific time, there's a good chance that's the time I'll want airport transportation. There's an equally good chance that I won't want to wait on your charming little concrete island for nearly an hour for a van. And there's a *really* good chance I won't enjoy arriving at my hotel with about 15 minutes to spare before setting off for my first meeting. If your passengers make reservations, can't you plan ahead a little?

Don't get me wrong--my trip has actually gone fairly well. But the fact that I can describe it that way in spite of the above issues tells you how inured we've all become to the misery of the modern travel experience.

And finally, lest you dismiss me as just another whiner, I'd like to give many kudos to Portland International Airport, my beloved home airport, and especially its OUTSTANDING TSA staff. Yes, I used "outstanding" and "TSA" next to each other in the same sentence, and sarcasm wasn't involved. PDX TSA staff are friendly, helpful, and incredibly efficient. They all deserve bonuses, as well as the gratitude of weary travelers like me. Thanks for getting my trip off to a great start.

Garden pics...

Just posted on my garden blog. Come and see!

Today's spam subject line is...

Update your Penis

So is that a hardware or software update???

Gives a whole new meaning to a "pileup"

Need a cheaper way to travel? BBSpot has a solution for you--the trebuchet! I wonder if they could extend the range a bit with some well-placed trampolines, like the ones in my son's video games.

Signs You're on a Summer Vacation with a Geek
Microsoft Purchases Evil from Satan

And the ever-popular, How White and Nerdy are You? And for all you people who tormented me in high school, here are my results:

How White and Nerdy Are You?

The sad thing is, I'm a little disappointed at such a low score. I've learned to embrace my nerdiness. I think I should have gotten bonus points for a) being a librarian, b) being a librarian with a background in cataloging and systems, c) writing my blog posts in raw HTML (Editor? I don't need no stinkin' editor!), and d) being able to perform several basic functions from a Unix command line. Oh, yeah, and e) disputing my nerdiness test results by f) coming up with several additional examples of nerdiness, and g) assigning each one a letter. Viva la nerd!

Dateline Washington Part 5: Arlington National Cemetery

I just finished helping my son create a PowerPoint presentation about our trip to Washington, which reminded me that I never finished my travelogue. We spent an extra day in Washington after my conference ended, so I could have one more full day to explore. To save time and avoid blistered feet, we bought Tourmobile tickets so we could ride around to the various attractions. We spent about half the day in Arlington National Cemetery. If you truly want to understand that freedom isn't free, go to Arlington. Symbols of sacrifice surround you: row after row of headstones, monuments to various people and events, and a solemness that one finds in few places these days. Let me take you on a virtual tour...





A crowd gathers at the eternal flame, which marks the resting place of JFK and his wife:


Nearby lies the grave of Robert Kennedy:


The tomb of the unknowns:


Guard at the tomb of the unknowns:

There are marks worn into the stone showing the path the guard follows. The guard changes every half hour in a ceremony that takes about ten minutes. In the photo above, you can see the resting places of the three unknowns, one each from World War I, World War II, and the Korean War. There used to be one from the Vietnam War too, but his remains were identified with DNA testing. His remains were then exhumed and reburied in a cemetery in his home town.

There's a small room below the tomb that's used as the guard quarters. Their creed is posted where you see it as you enter:


In addition to the Kennedys, many famous people are interred at Arlington. Here are just a few:

Audie Murphy:


Joe Louis:


General George C. Marshall:


The cemetery includes several memorials, including the sinking of the USS Maine, the Challenger, and of course 9-11.

The land belonged to the family of Robert E. Lee and was forfeited to the US government when Lee didn't return to pay taxes on it. I suppose it would have been a bit awkward for him to return, since he was by then the leader of the Confederacy, and taxes had to be paid in person. The Lee family home remains at Arlington and is open for tours. It includes the main house, a garden, and the slave quarters, plus a museum devoted to Lee.

In addition to Lee, there are many Confederate soldiers buried at Arlington. I find our nation's treatment of the Confederates, especially Lee, interesting. They were traitors by most definitions, taking up arms against their country. Yet Lee was not hanged when he surrendered, nor were his soldiers. Union generals even forbade their troops to celebrate openly when the war ended, lest it look like gloating. The seeds of reconciliation were sown immediately. Somehow I don't see that happening today.

Finally, I'd like to end this post with some eloquent prose about the meaning of Arlington and the feelings it evokes, but even a month's reflection hasn't helped me come up with anything to do it justice. So I'll end, not with my words but with the words of one of the Tourmobile guides. A former military man with the eloquence and cadence of Barack Obama, he spoke of the shared sacrifice of generations of soldiers buried there. Then he made a comment that I didn't expect: Indicating the many memorials to the terrible cost of war, he commented that war is sometimes necessary but should always be the last resort. Amen, brother.

Sunset in scenic Boardman, OR

Here are those sunset pics I promised a couple of posts ago. These were taken at a park on the Columbia River in Boardman, OR. It was a beautiful night, as you can see, but the wind was so strong, it made my eyes water every time I looked up. Needless to say, that made photography a bit challenging.









Beach bums:


And a big barge:

You can see these huge Tidewater barges cruising down the Columbia all the time.

The times they are a changin'?

Parked outside my motel room in Boardman, OR: a huge pickup truck with Texas plates... and a wind energy sticker on the back window.

Its owner is probably here in connection with the wind farm just downriver from here, but... Texas? Big pickup truck? And wind power?????

Greetings from Boardman, OR

I'm on the road again, this time en route to Eastern Oregon University in La Grande for a meeting Friday and Saturday. I decided to bring the family and leave a little early. We didn't leave Portland till almost 5 pm, so we didn't make it all the way to La Grande tonight -- which is why I'm typing this from a motel room in Boardman, OR. Boardman is a town of a little over 2000 people, positioned in the northwest quadrant of The Middle of Nowhere. It's sandwiched between the Boardman Bombing Range (which apparently isn't used anymore, so we might actually get some sleep) and the Umatilla Ordnance Depot, a/k/a Oregon's very own chemical weapons dump. If you follow the link, you'll see that the description of the place is under the header Weapons of Mass Destruction. That's why they couldn't find any WMD in Iraq--they're all over here in Oregon, probably upwind from my motel room.

Lest you think Boardman has nothing to offer except military targets, we did discover a lovely beach on the Columbia River tonight. I got some great pictures of the sunset over the river, but you'll have to wait till I get home to see them, since I forgot to pack my card reader. There's a great paved trail along the river too, which would have been very inviting if a) I weren't still sick, and b) the wind didn't make my eyes water within about 15 seconds. Yeah, I'm pathetic.

Tomorrow we're heading for La Grande, but I think we'll take the scenic route and stop by Lehman Hot Springs for a dip in the mineral pools. That should be a pleasant change from bombing ranges and chemical weapons.