An Extra Crispy Weekend

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Because I knew the weather was going to be hot on Saturday, I bought a brand new bottle of sunscreen spray to take with me.  I knew I was going to have to find a beach Saturday in order to be cool even though the place I was staying was right on the water.

Before I left on my quest to find a beach Saturday morning, I sprayed myself all over the place.  Twice.  Then I drove across the long bridge into Washington to find a beach.  And I made the right choice.  I found the perfect place.  It was sunny but the sun wasn’t warm – and the breeze was amazingly cool – and the beach wasn’t too crowded.

I sprayed myself again – then wandered in the water until I found the spot I wanted, then laid out my blanket and sat watching the water.  The breeze was almost too cool – it was wonderful.

I sprayed myself at least 2 more times only because I’m white and burn easily.  Better safe than sorry was my approach.

The approach that failed.  My owl is burned.  My face is burned.  A spot on my leg is burned.  A spot on my cleavage is burned. Ugh.

I went back to the town I was staying – hit up the pub that I love – drank good beer while eating fish and chips and talking to the bartender.  I headed back to where I was staying, took a cold shower, then laid in front of a fan while wondering how the hell I burned.

As the sun was going down, I went out to take photos.  The place I was staying in was located at the end of a pier which was once a cannery.  It was great being on the water – and having a place to eat literally downstairs.  After taking photos, I went to grab a bite.  And got the worst service.  I get it – I went about 30 min before they were closing.  But still.  It’s a Saturday night – hot day – people are eating later.  Plus, the place was still pretty busy.  Then the fucker only gave me enough change to leave him a good tip.  Note to self: next time make sure I have my own change so I don’t have to leave my usual 20% tip if I don’t feel it’s earned.  Don’t worry, wait staff in Oregon earns a regular wage as the state doesn’t have a tip wage.

Today, I tried hard not to just go home.  The fact the temperature there was 62 degrees to Portland’s 100 degrees helped.  I went to an old fort from when the Costal Artillery was stationed on the coast.  It was neat wandering around, but what was better?  Seeing a sign saying the old Guard House was open.

One of the first times I went to Astoria with SB, we found the old fort and base.  And the guard house was one of my favorite buildings to photograph.  They were raising money to keep it open, but it wasn’t open.  Hell, it was unclear if it was even open ever at that point.  Today, it was open.  I got the tour.  Since I was by myself, I got a 1×1 tour by a guy who was happy to hear I had some knowledge of the military.  When he said that, I laughed.  Between my dad, my grandpa, my husband’s grandparents, and others I am close to, I think I have more than “some” knowledge.

 

 

What do you think?