Sorry I'm a little late in sharing the fun of Cannon Beach. We got back and I immediately fell into what I called "Vacation Paralysis." I missed everyone already, and I'd spent so many months before that doing stuff that I HAD to do that I couldn't bring myself to do anything but eat and read and lie around. Plus, the one or two times I got on blogger to write about our trip, I was totally overwhlemed by the new interface, closed the computer and picked up a book. Nowadays, I still read and eat and lie around, but I also buy groceries, clean the living room, attach a basket to my bicycle, and write blog entries.
To make up for my lack of timeliness, I've included, like, 69 pictures in this blog entry.*
So we stayed in Cannon Beach, Oregon for the weekend. In a cottage. A block away from the beach. Near "Haystack Rock." Here's the rock:
Our cottage was delightful. There was an IN-ROOM JACUZZI, which was awesome, even though Sarah was the only one who brought her bathing suit. We used the jacuzzi one night, but the rest of us just sat around the edges with our feet in the tub while Sarah sat inside it. (Which for the record, she says, is a really weird experience.) Here's our cottage:
We also fell in love with the little touristy town of Cannon Beach itself. It was, in places, VERY touristy. But come on, they had a creperie. Where we ate at least once a day. They also had fancy restaurants like "The Irish Table" with things on the menu that included phrases like "reduction sauce" and "apple-parsnip puree." Oh, and the "Pig 'n Pancake," where I ordered "pancakes" but thinking it wouldn't be enough, added eggs to my order. They brought me an oval plate with no less than 10 regular sized pancakes spread artistically in overlapping layers. And eggs. (I couldn't eat it all.) But most charming of all were the little residential areas we explored. Picture: little cottages, with sea-weather-worn shingles, nestled into pine trees, with flower-dotted moss surrounding each front porch and flowering trees dropping their petals onto the grass-cracked pavement. It felt like Disneyland or a movie set...too idyllic to be real.
We were all at the coast (Jacob, me, my sister Beckah, and close friends Allison, Sarah, and Annie) for about two and a half days, eating delicious food, playing on the beach, playing Banana-grams, etc.
Our playing on the beach included...
Attempting to get the noble vessel HMS Cannonshire to float, either in the ocean or in little estuaries (I like Sarah's apparent skepticism in the bottom picture...and also how Annie and I look like the parents of a young toddler learning to walk...):
Attempting to fly a $2.95 kite, which proved unworthy of flight:
Digging a giant hole (mostly Jacob's accomplishment):
And failing at dance dares. There's no real record of our attempts, because it was something we turned out be really bad at. It comes from Ellen Degeneres, and a good introduction to the concept can be found here, but the basic concept is to dance behind people (preferably strangers) without them noticing. We kept attempting it but not really succeeding. In fact, our most successful attempt turned out to also be one of our most memorable failures...Beckah and I stood behind a nice married couple in their 50's who were watching the sunset on the beach and danced for about 3 seconds while Allison tried to videotape. Then the man turned to say something to his wife, and noticed us. Beckah and I froze, then sort of tried to walk away, but our sheepishness was pretty apparent. "Don't mind us, folks. We're just watching the sunset over the ocean too...while standing directly behind you..."
The other thing we did a lot is sing variations of a little song called...well, I don't know what it's called. "Crepe Babies"? A few months ago, I was telling Jacob that we should go home and eat, and at some point, I used the term "crepe babies." Jacob replied by singing a little ditty that went "Crepe babies - the babies made of crepe!" When we told the others, they caught on to the game, and every 3-syllable word or phrase was sung to the tune and format of Jacob's ditty. "Duane Johnson - the Johnson made of Duane." "Haystack Rock - the stack rock made of hay." "Thunderstorm - the derstorm made of thun." (The ones where you have to split words into syllables are the best.)
One of the other funny things about this trip was the fact that it was evident that we're all getting older. Annie and Sarah and I were roommates starting in 2005, Allison joined the gang in 2007, and Beckah I've known my whole life. It's been nearly two years since we've all been together in one room, and now we're all closer to 30 years old than we are to 20. Something we probably wouldn't have noticed much, but for the aching backs from unfamiliar beds and all of us being more aware of how healthy we were eating (or not eating) and the fact that around 9:30 pm, most of us were ready for bed.
When we returned from the beach, we spent a day in Portland, where Jacob and I spent $150 on books at Powell's and where we discovered the greatest and most authentic (I'm told) fish 'n chips this side of the pond.
Fish 'n chips. From a food stand called "The Frying Scotsman." Sarah (who served a mission in Scotland) chatted with the cook for a good 15 minutes while he prepared her food. She also got an Irn Bru, which is a European soda that is...an acquired taste. Sarah was in heaven, but the rest of us declined. Kathleen once said it tastes like "metal and bubble gum" and she was right.
Anyway, the rest of this adventure is best told in pictures. So here ya go.
The "Classic Photos":
Jacob's shirt matched the guy on the hot sauce label. We lamented that he didn't still have his own huge mustache to add to the serendipity.
The "Shenanigans Photos":
And finally, the "Beautiful is This Life" Photos:
Miss you lots. The you lots made of miss.
* Just kidding. 26 pictures.