Welcome, indeed. Every time I check into a hotel/motel, I feel a pressing need to read the Guest Directory. It's always pretty much the same.....yet I maintain the hope that one of these times something unexpected and fabulous will lie before me for my reading pleasure. I've just finished reading "Hotel Laws of Oregon" and I can state in no uncertain terms that there exists absolutely nothing unexpected and fabulous therein.
Paul calmly and uncomplainingly drove about 450 miles today, desert roads laid out like endless zippers on a camel's-hair coat. We did crosswords, where I'd read the clue out loud to Paul, the numbers of letters in the answer, and any existing letters. A great foil for Alzheimer's. We lunched at The Oxbow Cafe, in Bliss, Idaho, a roadside diner straight out of 1965, except that the people next to us at the counter were speaking French and the people in the booth behind us were speaking Japanese. Who says Idaho doesn't support diversity?! (We spoke Seattle , and I think just about everyone understood us except the waitress in Ogden this morning who couldn't get that there was lipstick on Paul's water glass. "LIPSTICK," we both said loudly and clearly, and she finally understood. Must've been the accent.) After lunch we gave-in to pie, REAL PIE, in its own refrigerated pie case. (I want my own pie case.) Apple, cherry, peach, lemon-cream, coconut, cookie-cream, s'mores, baked right there at The Oxbow. We shared a slice of s'mores -- a bargain at $2.69. Ah! The joy of miniature marshmallows! Buttery graham crust! Cream-style whipped topping! It seems we truly had entered Bliss. I must've slipped into a sugar coma immediately after, as I sacked out the minute we resumed our interstate trek, waking only as we ascended into La Grande. (The Big One.) It's time to go home. I miss cooking.
Paul calmly and uncomplainingly drove about 450 miles today, desert roads laid out like endless zippers on a camel's-hair coat. We did crosswords, where I'd read the clue out loud to Paul, the numbers of letters in the answer, and any existing letters. A great foil for Alzheimer's. We lunched at The Oxbow Cafe, in Bliss, Idaho, a roadside diner straight out of 1965, except that the people next to us at the counter were speaking French and the people in the booth behind us were speaking Japanese. Who says Idaho doesn't support diversity?! (We spoke Seattle , and I think just about everyone understood us except the waitress in Ogden this morning who couldn't get that there was lipstick on Paul's water glass. "LIPSTICK," we both said loudly and clearly, and she finally understood. Must've been the accent.) After lunch we gave-in to pie, REAL PIE, in its own refrigerated pie case. (I want my own pie case.) Apple, cherry, peach, lemon-cream, coconut, cookie-cream, s'mores, baked right there at The Oxbow. We shared a slice of s'mores -- a bargain at $2.69. Ah! The joy of miniature marshmallows! Buttery graham crust! Cream-style whipped topping! It seems we truly had entered Bliss. I must've slipped into a sugar coma immediately after, as I sacked out the minute we resumed our interstate trek, waking only as we ascended into La Grande. (The Big One.) It's time to go home. I miss cooking.
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