The beach

Judybat said I'd tell you about the beach, and I do what the nice lady says because I know what's good for me. Or rather, I'll tell you about the coast. That's what we call it here. The Coast. Because even in summer, it's really not the sand that's the attraction. Too cold, friends.

We went to lovely Newport, which is on the central Oregon coast, about two-and-a-half hours from home. That's our longest car trip with the kids, and we managed to make it down there with only a few minutes of screaming from TheGirl, who decided right at the end that the car is no longer the automatic sleeping pill it has been, and a new developmental milestone for TheBoy: Asking "Are we there yet?" every 10 miles or so.

Yes, I screwed up and got us a room rather than a suite. No, we did not get the sleep we needed. That is, however, becoming par for the course as TheGirl has decided to get all of her teeth at once. Last week, she was working on the top row. Now she's got a couple coming in on the bottom. How do we know? She started vomiting again as soon as the new ones began cutting through. It's going to be a loooong few months, I fear.

Except for the exhaustion, the trip was great. The weather forecast was supposed to be rain, wind and cold. Instead, it was perfect fall weather here in Oregon: Rain off and on, temps in the 50s, the occasional glimpse of Mr. Sun.

Our favorite parts of the trip boiled down like this:

AnnaRay and Judybat: Walking among the fishing boats in Yaquina Bay, watching the seals lounge around barking at each other, climbing the state's tallest lighthouse.
TheGirl: Being held constantly. Observing this strange, loud, big room that seems to have a lot of water and sand. (That's Judybat and TheBoy off in the distance.)
TheBoy: Going through the Ripley's Believe It Or Not museum. Twice. "Playing" video games at the arcade. "Mommy! Mommy! I played two games that didn't need any cash."


Please note that our budding genius man-child is in fact playing the high score screen. Happily. We will miss these days when they're gone.