More Oregon

Oregon is a great state, because it's A) beautiful, B) was the birthplace of my hero, James A. Beard, and C) has a really cool history. Pioneers endured countless hardships to get there by slow and cumbersome covered wagons. That's what I kept telling myself when my toothpaste was confiscated by airport security and I had to sit behind someone in the cramped and dirty airplane who was not only coughing up buckets of green slime (which of course I'm now doing, too, though politely, in the privacy of my own home), but who extended his seat so far back it was in my lap. The whole 4 hour trip to Seattle. And then, on the toy plane we caught down to Portland, liquids flew everywhere as we hit pocket after pocket of "turbulence." Still, it was all better than dying of thirst or having one's scalp hacked off by righteously pissed off Natives. Marginally. The oysters at the end of the tunnel more than made up for the sufferings of the journey, though. Wow, were they delicious. Every meal I had there was outstanding. Beard's ghost floats through the city, possessing the chefs in a marvelous way. That takes care of picture #1. Picture #2 is of the hat I crocheted during a 1 hour hotel room respite when I realized the weather wasn't going to clear up and become the balmy 60° it was meant to be at this time of year. It's done in Noro Iro. A little garish, but garish is necessary in grey weather. (I would dress very gaudily indeed if I lived in the NW.) I don't know why I crochet so much faster than I knit. The I-cord I made later to thread through the bottom spirals took me longer to craft than the whole hat. ??? And lastly, we come to #3, my little blue chihuahua, Bridget. She had a gay old time eating steak at my folks' house, but is happy to get back to her own bed. As am I.