Being High in Weed

We’ve just checked into a Quality Inn in Weed, CA.  Quite the garden spot but after our experience in the 19020s stone cabin, I’m not whining.  Much.

 

 

I’m not sure I adequately described the stone cabin.  It was very old.  No air conditioning.  The bed was in a niche in the kitchen.  The niche had a window at one end and was shaped in a U configuration.  To “board” the bed, I had to step on a step up to get into the U area.  The mattress was without box springs and it fit exactly into the niche.  Rayman refused to sleep there.  The picture over the “bed” is pictured above.  So he relegated himself to the creaky old hide-a-bed in the living room.  The carpet was dirty.  Additionally you had to take two steps up into the kitchen to get to the bathroom.  Without light, you could easily break something as you fell because you missed a step.  On the plus side the kitchen was well stocked with many fabulous utensils but who wanted to cook there?  it was too darn hot.

But I digress.

We’ve spent 4 days in Corvallis and it was fun.  Cute little city.  Did meet a woman on the side of the road (dog walking).  She was holding a sign that read, “Honk of you don’t want Wal-Mart”.  We talked awhile.  She is an army of one trying to roust people from apathy to action.  Hope she is successful.  She appreciated our positive comments re: her endeavor.  But that was yesterday.  Oh, we also drove up Marys Peak (uhm).  Here’s some pictures.

 

Opps.  That’s a picture I snapped while standing at the cash register in Sunnyside Up, a breakfast joint.  Is that a pun?   Thought it was funny.

Father on Sons on Marys Peak

 

We’ve had a quite a day of it today.  After bidding adieu to dear Ryan, we headed south to our new adventure.  Our new home.  Today is Friday and it is the day that the money is to be wired to the title company.  It is also the day to check up on our wood.  Wood flooring was ordered and we wanted it to be delivered to the house so it could acclimate to the new environment.  Phone calls ensued.  By talking with the wood man, it was discovered that our street where the new house is located is under some kind of construction and the wood could not be delivered.  Plus, the wood store owner hadn’t been able to reach the owners to gain entry.  So…here we are zooming down the highway trying to figure out what in the world is going on.  Calls are made.  Messages are left.  Mr. J is not taking to this situation the way I would prefer.  Final, final.  The city of Morro Bay requires a permit for our POD to be delivered and parked.  The street is being dolled up and resurfaced.  They may do the resurface on Friday.  The POD doesn’t leave until Saturday.  Really, people, does this kind of thing happen to you?

 

The other thing is the Beauzer.  I decided that we should stop in the doggie park in Ashland on our way to Weed so that the Beaumeister could stretch his legs and romp a bit.  We had bread, peanut butter, jam with us.  We could eat while there.  But first an iced coffee was in order so as to wash down the sandwich.  As usual, we got lost twice.  Once trying to find the Starbucks.  The other when were trying to find the dog park.  Then as I was making the PP&J sandwiches, Rayman and Beau gained entry into the park and immediately Beau rolled over in a big pile of poop.  Rayman was beside himself.  When I brought the sandwiches, Beau was on the leash.  Rayman was upset and there I was in the middle.  So, I got on the phone, found a place in town that sold pet “wipes” and drove there and bought them.  Then I made a small request.  “COULD YOU PLEASE GET IN A GOOD MOOD?”…the rest of my diatribe is edited for privacy concerns.

 

So, as I sit in our room blogging the status is that it may be okay to move into our house that is located on the exact street the city is working on.  The dog is chewing a bone as he lays on the bed and the Rayman is looking for the closest river access so that we can all just go and “COOL OFF”.

 

One last thing.  When we arrived and loaded our bags onto a trolley for easy transport, I asked the Rayman, “What’s our room number?”  He replied, “They are in the front seat.”  The beat goes on.

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