Dateline: Wednesday, September 24, 2008 - Klamath River RV Park, Klamath CA
Bob's Blah Blog:
“Old Man River!” I don’t know the rest of the song and Corinne is sick of my singing those words over and over and over. “Old Man River!” “Old Man River!” “Old Ma…
Today we are at the beautifully flowing Klamath River in Northern California. We arrived at the Klamath River RV Park in space number 78, but we are registered in space 82 just in case anyone comes looking for us. Reminds me of when we were in Munich, GE a couple of days after 9/11/2001. At the hotel we were staying in we saw a lot of mid-eastern looking males congregating outside on the sidewalk. We asked our friend Barbara to speak with the hotel management and see if we could change the name and address on our registration to a German name and address in case terrorists came crashing into the hotel looking for Americans. The management was sympathetic to our plight and agreed to change our names. My name became Heir Bobben and the girls were Frau Corinnen and Fraulein Maurianen. I guess it worked because we survived. It was a scary time in our lives because our passports didn’t match our new identities.
On Sunday we moved from Neskowin Creek RV Park to head south. On Saturday we were supposed to get our Little House on Wheels washed but the guy never came back after checking in with us. Just as well because it rained most of the night and would have gotten the coach dirty all over, again. Leaving the park, the rain was barely falling, a really light mist that looked more like snowflakes falling from the sky than rain. We both remarked how much it looked like snow falling. It rained on us off and on most of our trip south, but it was enjoyable. We passed through several small towns that looked quaint but we didn’t stop because of the rain.
We arrived at South Jetty RV Park, Florence, OR in mid afternoon, got the coach parked and set up and decided to take a little tour of the town of Florence. They were having some kind of festival in the old downtown part of the town so we drove through the area. “No big dill pickle” as we used to say as kids when it wasn’t anything outstanding. We did get propane at a gas station, tho. We also made out first visit, in our memory, to a Fred Meyer store. It’s kinda like a Wally-World to a nicer scale. They did have the store arranged in a different manner with the grocery part in the middle and the rest of the store surrounding it. Even had a fine jewelry section where someone (and I mean Corinne) kept gravitating towards. She said the shopping cart kept pulling her that way. Funny, the cart always pulled me towards the fried chicken.
The next day we decided to take a drive back up the coast to see the Sea Lion caves and other touristy sights. The Sea Lion Cave is one of the world’s largest sea caves and is where sea lions live when not at sea. The place has several overlooks to the sea and an elevator to take you 200 feet down through the rock into the sea cave. Visiting the sea cave is at your own risk, as the sign read, because there might be earthquakes, falling rocks, water seepage, Sea Lion attacks, bad smells, elevator stoppage, pesky little girls, and other unnamed hazards. We “cowboy-ed up” and paid our twenty bucks and looked death straight in the eye and spit.
The cave was pretty neat and we didn’t experience any of the hazards named above, except for the pesky little girls. The cave is darkly lighted and the sea flows in and out from two different opening, one large and one small. No sea lions were inside as they were outside shading themselves from the sun. You would think they would want to lie in the sun and get a tan, but all but two were in the shade sleeping, I suppose. Those who weren’t asleep were jostling for a piece of softer rock to lie on. With all that blubber, do you think they even felt the rock underneath them? I don’t. We could hear them bellowing and belching and mooing and barking and whatever other sound they make to talk to each other. One of the two we saw way up on the rock actually in the sun looked like he/she wanted to get down, but it was a really steep rock and short of having to jump over everyone else to get to the water, I really saw no way down. I think he got himself into what I like to call “a rock and a high spot.” Well, he/she finally figured out how to get out of the situation by going down the face of the rock backwards, just like I would if I were in the same predicament. Keep the blubber close to the surface…I mean keep a low center of gravity.
Leaving the cave area, we went on to visit what is called the most photographed Lighthouse in America. It was a half mile walk almost straight up the trail from the parking lot, having to use toe holds and ropes dangling from the cliff. No, not really…do you think anyone could get Corinne to scale the side of a cliff on a rope? Ya, me neither. It was a nice gradual1/4 mile path to the lighthouse keeper’s residence and another 1/4 mile to the actual lighthouse. What a view from that point. We got a tour of the lighthouse and the docent was able to answer all my important questions, like where did the lightkeeper eat lunch, and what TV channels did they get?
After the lighthouse tour, we wanted to drive further north by 7 miles to see “Bob Creek” and “Bob Creek Wayside” which we passed on our way south. WOW, another Bob something to photograph. Heading to Bob Creek, Corinne spotted a whale “bobbing” and spouting exactly 300.215 yards off shore so we found a place to safely pull over and sure enough, there were a couple of whales frolicking in the surf as well as any whale can frolic in the surf, I guess. Every once in awhile, we could see them surface and were able to get a couple of photos, so be sure to check out our photo album which we hope to update later today or tomorrow or next week or whenever Corinne gets time to organize it all.
At Bob Creek Wayside we saw more whales, this time not being so frolicky (if there is such a word) and just swimming Southbound and spouting out thru their blowholes. It was pretty cool to actually see real live whales in the open seas. Now, we just need to see some bears in the wild.
Florence, OR is on the edge of a National Recreation Area called the Dunes. It is a huge assortment of sand dunes between Highway 101 and the ocean. Miles and miles of sand and pine trees and other trees, which seems to be an odd combination to me. You can ride your ATV and sand rails in parts of the preserve, but we didn’t because we don’t have an ATV or sand rail with us on this particular trip…not that we ever have either on any trip we take. The sand is soft and blows with the wind. I don’t know why it is here or how it got here. My guess it was sandstone that deteriorated over the eon of time.
We ate lunch in Florence on Monday at what was billed as the “best fish and chips on the coast.” The restaurant is named “Seafood Station.” The fish was Alaskan Cod and the fries were, well, French. The crispy batter-fried fish was cooked just right. A man in the restaurant, not related to the owners we are told, advised us to order the fish. He said the former owners open businesses, build up a cliental and then sell the business, moving on to repeat the process in another place.
You ask why is the place called the Seafood Station? I thought you would never ask. It’s because the restaurant is an old gas station re-made into a restaurant. If this was my restaurant, here’s what I would do: Give patrons extra tartar sauce and cocktail sauce for their fish right out of a gas pump nozzle. Skewered shrimp would come on oil dip sticks. Napkins would be the blue kind you wash your windows with. And if you wanted to use the restroom, the key would be on a stick with a chain so you wouldn’t forget to give it back to the hostess. “Yes siree, that be my idea.” If any of you want to take the idea and run with it, just remember you heard it right here first and I should get a free fish stick now and then.
Bob-servation:
While visiting the beach at Neskowin Beach, we happened upon an old rusted out Datsun pickup with an unusual hood ornament to hold the hood down. A wing nut - threaded onto a bolt. So simple. So elegant.
You can’t buy hard liquor like tequila at grocery stores. You can buy beer and wine at stores but you have to go to a liquor store to buy hard liquor, like tequila. Regrettably, I am out of tequila and not a liquor store in sight, (hic).
For those of you wanting to know, Megan’s beau friend, “Scrumptilicious” is coming home next week for a one week R&R before being sent overseas to Kuwait or someplace like that on Oct. 8th. Megan is so excited she can’t contain herself and will probably smother him with kisses. Shane-O, you better bring some lip balm! You DO NOT wanna go overseas with chapped puffy lips. Listen to the voice of experience.
Okay, enough of that for now. We head further south tomorrow with stops in Leggett, CA for one night, then to Cloverdale, CA for two nights, then to Isleton, CA for 14 nights. After that, we make our way down the coast to a few odds and ends places then home on or around the 20th of October. We are following HWY 101 down the coast to see all the beautiful sights. That’s why it’s taking us so long to get anywhere.
Oh, by the way, I gotta give a couple of shout-outs to birthday boys and girls. My eldest sister, Mary, turned the BIG “6 OH NO” yesterday. My third youngest brother, James, shares the same birthday and turned 48. No, they are not twins but are often mistaken of being so. My third oldest sister, “Carolina Moon” celebrates her 56th birthday on Friday the 26th. Ya, that’s her real name…NOT. It’s Carolyn with a C.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU. HAPPY BIRTHDAY SISTERS AND BROTHER, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOOUUUU!!!!!
And many Mooooooorrrrrrrreeeeee!!!!
Spank me, thank me, just don’t call me Shirley.
Bobo
See Ya! ~ No 1a B Ya - Road Dogs Ride Again
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008 - NESKOWIN CREEK RV RESORT, NESKOWIN, OR
Dateline: Thursday, September 18, 2008 – NESKOWIN CREEK RV RESORT, NESKOWIN OR
Bobo's Blah Blog:
Here we are at Neskowin Creek RV Resort on the outskirts of beautiful Neskowin OR. Not a bad little resort. Sites are level, wide and have a good southern exposure for satellite TV reception. Does anyone think we might watch too much TV? I do.
Unbeknownst t o me, we are on the 45th parallel, which as everyone knows is half way between the North Pole and the Equator. How about that - half way from nowhere to nowhere else. Now, I can say I’ve been there. Yes siree, that’d be me.
Yesterday we visited the Tillamook Cheese Factory in the town named for or after the cheese factory. Which came first, the town or the cheese? When we arrived and got out of the dually, I said to Corinne, “Whew! Smells like someone cut the cheese!” Corinne said that was just the smell of one of the 85 dairies they have in the milk co-op supplying the milk for making cheese and other products. Ahhh, yes, fresh dairy-aire.
I know it well.
Once inside the factory, they had a self guided tour where we could stand above the work floor and watch how cheese was made, processed and packaged. I discovered I was right about someone cutting the cheese as I saw several positions on the cheese production line where workers, primarily women, stood and cut the cheese as they worked. I also noticed a male supervisor, I suppose, just walking around on the floor and talking to women when he noticed the cheese wasn’t cut just right. He must have worked there for many years to gain the experience to just “nose” a mistake when the cheese was cut. I also noticed most of the workers didn’t talk much as they cut cheese. I dislike it when cheese cutter workers do so silently. I think it can get very serious when no verbal communication is present when cheese gets cut. As I like to say about cheese cutting…save yourself!
Anyways, we got to sample different varieties of cut cheese and we both liked the Extra Sharp Cheddar Cheese. We also got to taste curds which have a rubbery texture to them when eaten. The sign said they are best when eaten fresh. They also had a gift shop with everything cheese in it. I wrote a cheesy little poem for you.
CHEESE
Cheese for this,
Cheese for that
Cheese from whole milk,
Cheese that’s low fat.
Cheese on a stick,
Cheese with a cracker.
Cheese mixed in with garlic,
Cheese cube for snackers.
Cheese by the ounce
Cheese by the pound
Cheese sliced from a wheel
Cheese at every meal
Cheese is for me
Cheese is for you
Cheese between your toes?
How do I know? I have a nose!
Okay, enough of that. After the tour, we had Tillamook Ice Cream. If you get a chance to have some Tillamook ice cream, don’t miss the opportunity. It is very, very good. We also ate lunch at the factory in their little Farm Café as they called it. I had a crispy fish sammich and Corinne had half a turkey-butt sammich and a cup of clam chowdah soup. The fish sammish was pretty good. I guess the turkey-butt sammich was good, too. “I din’t gets no chowdah.”
Tillamook Cheese has been around since 1909 and they have formed a co-op to ensure the cheese spread (profit, that is) is fairly distributed amongst the dairymen and women. Cheese is a very interesting product.
Back at the Paradise Cove campground we saw some folks crabbing off one of the piers, so we went down to “scheck it out.” We couldn’t see the crab pots, but they were there, evidenced by the rope tied to the dock and leading into the water. We later saw a man pull up one of his pots and dump the crab back into the water. Another man told us the crabs were too small to keep. I think they need to measure better than 5 inches across. I would have tried my luck, but you gotta have a license to catch crabs.
The fog was in along the coastline at Paradise Cove. It was thick as pea soup as the old mariners used to say. So thick, it could be cut with a knife. We did venture out and bought diesel fuel for 4.09 9/10 at a service station. Now get this, the attendant even pumped the fuel for me. Now, how long has it been since you’ve had that kind of service at a gas bar? I found out the guy pumping my fuel also worked at the cheese factory. I wonder what he did there: Cheesemaker? Cheesepacker? Cheesecutter? Probably the latter as he worked outside and it smelled like a “gas station” if you know what I mean.
On Tuesday, I awoke with a killer headache. I took aspirin, I took Tylenol, I had a cup or two of coffee, I drank water, I took a nap, as difficult as it was with my head pounding, pounding, pounding, like the surf upon the rocky shoreline of the coast. I think only the nap helped because when I woke up, most of the pain in my head had moved and was now a pain in my “arse,” as they say. Sharp, biting pain that neither lessened nor relented. Funny, I had lain in bed before my nap wondering if having pain somewhere “arse” would be a bothersome to me as it is in my head. I am here to say, Yes! I got up and went and sat down for awhile and the pain subsided. Don’t want that to happen, again. I’m sorry you had to read the above, but its best that it came from me and not hearing it at some inopportune time in the future.
Yesterday we visited the Cape Meares Lighthouse. It was cold and windy...the weather, not the lighthouse. The waves were pounding against the shoreline and into the mostly submerged rock formations still standing in the ocean. We think we saw a sea lion’s head bobbing in the water, but it was too far away to be sure. (I know some of you were expecting me to write, Sea Lions, tigers and bears, oh, my! at this point, but see how disciplined I am and didn’t do it?) There was also a sign directing us to follow a path to the Octopus Tree but we declined the offer. I was once fooled at the Spaghetti Company in PHX into thinking spaghetti grew on trees, so I am not going to be fooled by some tourist trap propaganda proclaiming a tree growing octopi. I’m no hayseed, ya know. I’ve been to New York City.
Bob-servation:
I found a takeout menu for a local pizza parlour with what must be the best pizza in all of America. The smallest pizza is 8 inches round and the largest is 27 inches round. A Plain Cheese 8” pizza at is $6.50 and the 27” pizza is $44.95. The most expensive pizzas on the menu are the 27” pizzas with toppings which cost $76.95. There are six varieties of these 27” pizzas, none of which include diamonds rings or gold coins on them. Oh, did I mention the 27” pizzas will feed 14 adults? Whoop “Dee” Doo. (Okay, Dee S. there’s your name in the Blog liked you asked.) Not for my money, no siree! And, if you want the pizza to go, it costs 30 cents more for the box. If you want to “take it and bake it” yourself, you will save 10% on the cost. For my money, bring your own box and cook the pizza on the hood of your car going home. By the way, I have purchased 36” pizzas in Las Vegas and Imperial Beach for around $30, box and baking included.
Moe said she saw two large foxes in our backyard last night around dusk. I called Game and Fish and kind of felt like I was getting the brush-off. They will take the info and give it to a game manager who will make a decision. I called our State Senator and neighbor, Debbie McCune Davis with the info and she said she would have her office give G&F a follow-up call. That's why I vote for Debbie, even tho I am Republican...she gets things done!
That’s all for now. Somebody (and I mean Corinne) was up at 5 o’clock this morning and is taking a short 2.5 hour nap. I guess I should go wake her up so she “don’t get no” pain in the “arse” like I did. But, then again, if I wake her, aren’t I being a pain in her “arse?” Either way, she’s a winner.
Bobo Butto
Bobo's Blah Blog:
Here we are at Neskowin Creek RV Resort on the outskirts of beautiful Neskowin OR. Not a bad little resort. Sites are level, wide and have a good southern exposure for satellite TV reception. Does anyone think we might watch too much TV? I do.
Unbeknownst t o me, we are on the 45th parallel, which as everyone knows is half way between the North Pole and the Equator. How about that - half way from nowhere to nowhere else. Now, I can say I’ve been there. Yes siree, that’d be me.
Yesterday we visited the Tillamook Cheese Factory in the town named for or after the cheese factory. Which came first, the town or the cheese? When we arrived and got out of the dually, I said to Corinne, “Whew! Smells like someone cut the cheese!” Corinne said that was just the smell of one of the 85 dairies they have in the milk co-op supplying the milk for making cheese and other products. Ahhh, yes, fresh dairy-aire.
I know it well.
Once inside the factory, they had a self guided tour where we could stand above the work floor and watch how cheese was made, processed and packaged. I discovered I was right about someone cutting the cheese as I saw several positions on the cheese production line where workers, primarily women, stood and cut the cheese as they worked. I also noticed a male supervisor, I suppose, just walking around on the floor and talking to women when he noticed the cheese wasn’t cut just right. He must have worked there for many years to gain the experience to just “nose” a mistake when the cheese was cut. I also noticed most of the workers didn’t talk much as they cut cheese. I dislike it when cheese cutter workers do so silently. I think it can get very serious when no verbal communication is present when cheese gets cut. As I like to say about cheese cutting…save yourself!
Anyways, we got to sample different varieties of cut cheese and we both liked the Extra Sharp Cheddar Cheese. We also got to taste curds which have a rubbery texture to them when eaten. The sign said they are best when eaten fresh. They also had a gift shop with everything cheese in it. I wrote a cheesy little poem for you.
CHEESE
Cheese for this,
Cheese for that
Cheese from whole milk,
Cheese that’s low fat.
Cheese on a stick,
Cheese with a cracker.
Cheese mixed in with garlic,
Cheese cube for snackers.
Cheese by the ounce
Cheese by the pound
Cheese sliced from a wheel
Cheese at every meal
Cheese is for me
Cheese is for you
Cheese between your toes?
How do I know? I have a nose!
Okay, enough of that. After the tour, we had Tillamook Ice Cream. If you get a chance to have some Tillamook ice cream, don’t miss the opportunity. It is very, very good. We also ate lunch at the factory in their little Farm Café as they called it. I had a crispy fish sammich and Corinne had half a turkey-butt sammich and a cup of clam chowdah soup. The fish sammish was pretty good. I guess the turkey-butt sammich was good, too. “I din’t gets no chowdah.”
Tillamook Cheese has been around since 1909 and they have formed a co-op to ensure the cheese spread (profit, that is) is fairly distributed amongst the dairymen and women. Cheese is a very interesting product.
Back at the Paradise Cove campground we saw some folks crabbing off one of the piers, so we went down to “scheck it out.” We couldn’t see the crab pots, but they were there, evidenced by the rope tied to the dock and leading into the water. We later saw a man pull up one of his pots and dump the crab back into the water. Another man told us the crabs were too small to keep. I think they need to measure better than 5 inches across. I would have tried my luck, but you gotta have a license to catch crabs.
The fog was in along the coastline at Paradise Cove. It was thick as pea soup as the old mariners used to say. So thick, it could be cut with a knife. We did venture out and bought diesel fuel for 4.09 9/10 at a service station. Now get this, the attendant even pumped the fuel for me. Now, how long has it been since you’ve had that kind of service at a gas bar? I found out the guy pumping my fuel also worked at the cheese factory. I wonder what he did there: Cheesemaker? Cheesepacker? Cheesecutter? Probably the latter as he worked outside and it smelled like a “gas station” if you know what I mean.
On Tuesday, I awoke with a killer headache. I took aspirin, I took Tylenol, I had a cup or two of coffee, I drank water, I took a nap, as difficult as it was with my head pounding, pounding, pounding, like the surf upon the rocky shoreline of the coast. I think only the nap helped because when I woke up, most of the pain in my head had moved and was now a pain in my “arse,” as they say. Sharp, biting pain that neither lessened nor relented. Funny, I had lain in bed before my nap wondering if having pain somewhere “arse” would be a bothersome to me as it is in my head. I am here to say, Yes! I got up and went and sat down for awhile and the pain subsided. Don’t want that to happen, again. I’m sorry you had to read the above, but its best that it came from me and not hearing it at some inopportune time in the future.
Yesterday we visited the Cape Meares Lighthouse. It was cold and windy...the weather, not the lighthouse. The waves were pounding against the shoreline and into the mostly submerged rock formations still standing in the ocean. We think we saw a sea lion’s head bobbing in the water, but it was too far away to be sure. (I know some of you were expecting me to write, Sea Lions, tigers and bears, oh, my! at this point, but see how disciplined I am and didn’t do it?) There was also a sign directing us to follow a path to the Octopus Tree but we declined the offer. I was once fooled at the Spaghetti Company in PHX into thinking spaghetti grew on trees, so I am not going to be fooled by some tourist trap propaganda proclaiming a tree growing octopi. I’m no hayseed, ya know. I’ve been to New York City.
Bob-servation:
I found a takeout menu for a local pizza parlour with what must be the best pizza in all of America. The smallest pizza is 8 inches round and the largest is 27 inches round. A Plain Cheese 8” pizza at is $6.50 and the 27” pizza is $44.95. The most expensive pizzas on the menu are the 27” pizzas with toppings which cost $76.95. There are six varieties of these 27” pizzas, none of which include diamonds rings or gold coins on them. Oh, did I mention the 27” pizzas will feed 14 adults? Whoop “Dee” Doo. (Okay, Dee S. there’s your name in the Blog liked you asked.) Not for my money, no siree! And, if you want the pizza to go, it costs 30 cents more for the box. If you want to “take it and bake it” yourself, you will save 10% on the cost. For my money, bring your own box and cook the pizza on the hood of your car going home. By the way, I have purchased 36” pizzas in Las Vegas and Imperial Beach for around $30, box and baking included.
Moe said she saw two large foxes in our backyard last night around dusk. I called Game and Fish and kind of felt like I was getting the brush-off. They will take the info and give it to a game manager who will make a decision. I called our State Senator and neighbor, Debbie McCune Davis with the info and she said she would have her office give G&F a follow-up call. That's why I vote for Debbie, even tho I am Republican...she gets things done!
That’s all for now. Somebody (and I mean Corinne) was up at 5 o’clock this morning and is taking a short 2.5 hour nap. I guess I should go wake her up so she “don’t get no” pain in the “arse” like I did. But, then again, if I wake her, aren’t I being a pain in her “arse?” Either way, she’s a winner.
Bobo Butto
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
September 15, 2008, - PARADISE COVE RESORT AND MARINA, ROCKAWAY BEACH, OR
Dateline: September 15, 2008 - Rockaway Beach Resort & Marina
Bob's Blah Blog:
New day - New state. New state - New campground. New campground - New view.
Today, we moved from Cascade Peaks RV Resort to the above noted location. It took us like 6.5 hours to get here for some reason. I guess we spent about an hour shopping at Target and getting some lunch in Vancouver, Oregon or was is in WA? I don’t know, they all begin to look the same after awhile. What I do know is that it was like 94 degrees when we crossed the Columbia River into Oregon.
Some catching up. While in Sequim, we didn’t visit John Wayne Marina, but we could have if we had the time. Yes, that John Wayne, the Duke. Apparently he had a big yacht he motored up the ocean and Straits to Sequim in. He or his family donated the land and marina to Sequim, so they named the marina after him. Just like Boboland, where I live.
While in Cascade Peaks, we visited Mr. Rainier. We drove up there but highway 123 was closed for some reason, so we only got to see the south side of the mountain. It was pretty nice, tho. At the entrance to the park, where we had to buy our entrance pass, I told Mr. Ranger Sir we wanted to get in for free. He didn’t even crack a smile or have anything to say back. So, I said, “well, I guess the last free entrance was given out just a bit ago.” Still, no smile or nothing. Mr. Business, I guess. So, we ended up just getting an annual pass and went on our way. Mr. Ranger Sir had no personality, even somebody (and I mean Corinne) made mention of it, so it’s not just me who thinks he was a Mr. Ranger Dud Sir.
We saw the glaciers on the mountain, of which there were several…glaciers, that is, not mountains. We visited the visitor center, watched a movie about the park and had chili to wash it all down. Saltines, included. By the way, I came up with a new name for packaging saltine crackers. Put them into packs of 10 and call them “Saltens.”
We had a good time visiting the park. We took lots of pictures, saw lots of peoples and no animals. Not until we were actually outside the park did we see a deer. We thought we would have seen plenty of elk and deer and all kinds of critters, but noooo. They had signs that read “Do not feed the wildlife” but we didn’t see any to feed. We did see some park workers who must have been “bear bait” because they were walking alongside the road where the “Do not feed the wildlife” signs were posted. We guessed they wanted to be eaten since they weren’t heeding the warning. We didn’t see anything on the news that night to indicate what happened to them, but they had larger signs up the very next day.
Bob-servation:
I had opportunity to visit a restroom in the park. What was different about this place was the urinals where like four feet off the floor. Any higher and I would have had to make a basketball “shot from way downtown” if you know what I mean – “plenty of arc… he drains it!!”
In places where the glaciers had once been and then melted away leaving rock exposed, the interpretive signs told of how the rocks left behind had been scratched by other rock in the glacier ice. I found it odd that many of the scratches left behind spelled words like Bill, Ricky, Mary Lou, 2008, and so on.
In another spot, the interpretive signage told how the glacier had removed the dirt top layer and just left solid bare rock behind. While examining this fascinating freak of nature I realized some of the exposed rock was actually asphalt. “Very interestink” as Henry Gibson would say while peering out from a plant while wearing a Nazi army helmet on Laugh-In.
We also visited Mr. St. Helens, or at least got as close to it as they would let us drive. The main road to Windy Ridge was washed out this past winter and they still haven’t fixed it. We had to stop at Bear Meadows (no relation to the bears at Mr. Rainier, I suppose) where we could walk the next 11 miles to Windy Ridge if we wanted. We didn’t “wanted.” Fortunately for us, seismic activity ceased last January after about 3 or 4 years of activity. We did see steam venting from a crack, and a heart-shaped crevice with a waterfall flowing over the top. That was cool. Since nobody else at the overlook was talking about it, I think we were the discoverers of this landmark. We proudly proclaimed it’s named as “Heart-shaped crevice with a waterfall” in honor of the urinals at one of the Mt. Rainier rest stops. Watch for it in future editions of the Rand-McNally atlases.
We then drove and drove to Ape Cave, a mile and a half lava tube you can explore, if so inclined. We didn’t have the proper gear like, flashlights, long pants, extra food, bat repellant, closed-toe shoes, etc. that would have made the adventure less adventurous. Besides, it was like 42 degrees in the cave. Apparently, way back in the 1950s, some guy almost drove his tractor into the sink hole opening of the cave. He told some other guy and the next year, the second man and his sons explored the cave. It is called Ape Cave because the kids belonged to some adventure club named the Apes, so it was named after them, not the man who almost drove his tractor into the sink hole entrance to the cave. Had it been named after him, the cave would have been called “Oh Shit!”
Along the way, we came across what may have been a road rally of some sort. A mess of cars and people were stopped at an overlook, “Porsches, and Beemers and Audis. Oh my.”
The road around Mr. St. Helens is pretty curvy. Corinne was getting sick from all the corners I was taking on two wheels at 55 mph. Gotta keep my skills up, ya know. Around 4 pm finally got back to civilization in a town named Woodland or something like that. They had a food joint called Burgerville, so you know we had to eat there. I had a burger and Corinne had the “dead chicken strips.” We also had Walla Walla sweet onion rings which were touted as being semi huge or huge, depending on how much you wanted to pay. We got the semi huge order of 5 plus they threw in one free one for some reason. My guess is the lady taking our order felt sorry for us and gave us the “kinda huge” order? They also had Blackberry shakes and blackberry lemonade and blackberry smoothies, but we didn’t want “no strange food” to eat, other than the dead chicken, of course. Corinne’s dad, Courtney, would like the fruit-flavored shakes.
One night, back at camp, I heard an Elk bugling for his harem of cows. Earlier in the evening, on our way back to camp, we stopped at an open field and eyed a herd of elk, numbering in the 20’s. The bull elk was running around trying to keep his “girls” together and safe from rival beaus. He was doing a pretty good job of it. It’s not like he was herding cats or anything.
That’s about all I have to report on for tonight. We will be spending three nights here and then moving south to around Lincoln, WA for three nights, then onto someplace near Florence. No, not Florence AZ, Florence OR. Then, continuing south to California and the Sacramento area for a couple of weeks. That should make everybody (and I mean Corinne, her aunt Marion and me) happy.
Oh, almost forgot. We found a live mouse or mole in the Little House on Wheels this morning. We are thinking it was a stowaway in Megan’s luggage when she came up here from Phoenix last month. Why did she leave it here, you ask? We don’t know. We cannot think of any rational, logical, reasonable, biological answer of how it got in our Little House other than that little scenario. Strangely, I had a dream last night about my feet and legs being sucked into a quicksand type of turf bog and something was touching my feet in the quagmire. I just wonder….was it real or a dream?
All for now; the glacier is melting and scratching my name in the rock.
--\>(__-=
(Bobo)
Bob's Blah Blog:
New day - New state. New state - New campground. New campground - New view.
Today, we moved from Cascade Peaks RV Resort to the above noted location. It took us like 6.5 hours to get here for some reason. I guess we spent about an hour shopping at Target and getting some lunch in Vancouver, Oregon or was is in WA? I don’t know, they all begin to look the same after awhile. What I do know is that it was like 94 degrees when we crossed the Columbia River into Oregon.
Some catching up. While in Sequim, we didn’t visit John Wayne Marina, but we could have if we had the time. Yes, that John Wayne, the Duke. Apparently he had a big yacht he motored up the ocean and Straits to Sequim in. He or his family donated the land and marina to Sequim, so they named the marina after him. Just like Boboland, where I live.
While in Cascade Peaks, we visited Mr. Rainier. We drove up there but highway 123 was closed for some reason, so we only got to see the south side of the mountain. It was pretty nice, tho. At the entrance to the park, where we had to buy our entrance pass, I told Mr. Ranger Sir we wanted to get in for free. He didn’t even crack a smile or have anything to say back. So, I said, “well, I guess the last free entrance was given out just a bit ago.” Still, no smile or nothing. Mr. Business, I guess. So, we ended up just getting an annual pass and went on our way. Mr. Ranger Sir had no personality, even somebody (and I mean Corinne) made mention of it, so it’s not just me who thinks he was a Mr. Ranger Dud Sir.
We saw the glaciers on the mountain, of which there were several…glaciers, that is, not mountains. We visited the visitor center, watched a movie about the park and had chili to wash it all down. Saltines, included. By the way, I came up with a new name for packaging saltine crackers. Put them into packs of 10 and call them “Saltens.”
We had a good time visiting the park. We took lots of pictures, saw lots of peoples and no animals. Not until we were actually outside the park did we see a deer. We thought we would have seen plenty of elk and deer and all kinds of critters, but noooo. They had signs that read “Do not feed the wildlife” but we didn’t see any to feed. We did see some park workers who must have been “bear bait” because they were walking alongside the road where the “Do not feed the wildlife” signs were posted. We guessed they wanted to be eaten since they weren’t heeding the warning. We didn’t see anything on the news that night to indicate what happened to them, but they had larger signs up the very next day.
Bob-servation:
I had opportunity to visit a restroom in the park. What was different about this place was the urinals where like four feet off the floor. Any higher and I would have had to make a basketball “shot from way downtown” if you know what I mean – “plenty of arc… he drains it!!”
In places where the glaciers had once been and then melted away leaving rock exposed, the interpretive signs told of how the rocks left behind had been scratched by other rock in the glacier ice. I found it odd that many of the scratches left behind spelled words like Bill, Ricky, Mary Lou, 2008, and so on.
In another spot, the interpretive signage told how the glacier had removed the dirt top layer and just left solid bare rock behind. While examining this fascinating freak of nature I realized some of the exposed rock was actually asphalt. “Very interestink” as Henry Gibson would say while peering out from a plant while wearing a Nazi army helmet on Laugh-In.
We also visited Mr. St. Helens, or at least got as close to it as they would let us drive. The main road to Windy Ridge was washed out this past winter and they still haven’t fixed it. We had to stop at Bear Meadows (no relation to the bears at Mr. Rainier, I suppose) where we could walk the next 11 miles to Windy Ridge if we wanted. We didn’t “wanted.” Fortunately for us, seismic activity ceased last January after about 3 or 4 years of activity. We did see steam venting from a crack, and a heart-shaped crevice with a waterfall flowing over the top. That was cool. Since nobody else at the overlook was talking about it, I think we were the discoverers of this landmark. We proudly proclaimed it’s named as “Heart-shaped crevice with a waterfall” in honor of the urinals at one of the Mt. Rainier rest stops. Watch for it in future editions of the Rand-McNally atlases.
We then drove and drove to Ape Cave, a mile and a half lava tube you can explore, if so inclined. We didn’t have the proper gear like, flashlights, long pants, extra food, bat repellant, closed-toe shoes, etc. that would have made the adventure less adventurous. Besides, it was like 42 degrees in the cave. Apparently, way back in the 1950s, some guy almost drove his tractor into the sink hole opening of the cave. He told some other guy and the next year, the second man and his sons explored the cave. It is called Ape Cave because the kids belonged to some adventure club named the Apes, so it was named after them, not the man who almost drove his tractor into the sink hole entrance to the cave. Had it been named after him, the cave would have been called “Oh Shit!”
Along the way, we came across what may have been a road rally of some sort. A mess of cars and people were stopped at an overlook, “Porsches, and Beemers and Audis. Oh my.”
The road around Mr. St. Helens is pretty curvy. Corinne was getting sick from all the corners I was taking on two wheels at 55 mph. Gotta keep my skills up, ya know. Around 4 pm finally got back to civilization in a town named Woodland or something like that. They had a food joint called Burgerville, so you know we had to eat there. I had a burger and Corinne had the “dead chicken strips.” We also had Walla Walla sweet onion rings which were touted as being semi huge or huge, depending on how much you wanted to pay. We got the semi huge order of 5 plus they threw in one free one for some reason. My guess is the lady taking our order felt sorry for us and gave us the “kinda huge” order? They also had Blackberry shakes and blackberry lemonade and blackberry smoothies, but we didn’t want “no strange food” to eat, other than the dead chicken, of course. Corinne’s dad, Courtney, would like the fruit-flavored shakes.
One night, back at camp, I heard an Elk bugling for his harem of cows. Earlier in the evening, on our way back to camp, we stopped at an open field and eyed a herd of elk, numbering in the 20’s. The bull elk was running around trying to keep his “girls” together and safe from rival beaus. He was doing a pretty good job of it. It’s not like he was herding cats or anything.
That’s about all I have to report on for tonight. We will be spending three nights here and then moving south to around Lincoln, WA for three nights, then onto someplace near Florence. No, not Florence AZ, Florence OR. Then, continuing south to California and the Sacramento area for a couple of weeks. That should make everybody (and I mean Corinne, her aunt Marion and me) happy.
Oh, almost forgot. We found a live mouse or mole in the Little House on Wheels this morning. We are thinking it was a stowaway in Megan’s luggage when she came up here from Phoenix last month. Why did she leave it here, you ask? We don’t know. We cannot think of any rational, logical, reasonable, biological answer of how it got in our Little House other than that little scenario. Strangely, I had a dream last night about my feet and legs being sucked into a quicksand type of turf bog and something was touching my feet in the quagmire. I just wonder….was it real or a dream?
All for now; the glacier is melting and scratching my name in the rock.
--\>(__-=
(Bobo)
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Sunday, September 7, 2008 - DIAMOND POINT RV RESORT - SEQUIM, WA
Dateline: Sunday, September 7, 2008 - Diamond Point RVResort, Sequim, WA
Bob's Blah Blog:
As the Howdy Doody theme song went: “Its Blogging Duty time, Bobo’s thoughts aren’t worth a dime, so turn to channel nine, and we’ll watch Frankenstein.”
Okay, here it is, the scoop, the 411, the news, the word on the street, the old what for, the what everyone’s been waiting for, the what the heck has Bobo’s been doing for the past week…sorta.
We moved from Ocean City to Sequim, WA last Monday and landed in at Diamond Point RV. Now, you if took Latin in school, or maybe were once and altar boy in church, then you would probably pronounce Sequim as See-quay-um. Well, it’s not that. It’s pronounced S-Kwim, like swim with a Q. Kind of like Pierre, South Dakota that’s pronounced “Peer.” I know, don’t blame me, I speak plain English and try to pro-nun-ti-ci-fy the words as I sees them.
But first, I gotta tell you about eating fresh crab from the ocean. We heard they were selling live crabs for $10 each at the harbor so we drove down and got us two. They really put up a real fight too. Then we stopped at the recommended seafood market in Ocean Shores and got some scallops and shrimps. We went home and made scampi and sauteed scallops and boiled the crab in seasoning. man oh man, that was some good eatin'. A little clarified butter to wash it all down with and you know, that's livin in the low lands.
Diamond Point RV is a nice park. We hardly spend enough time here to think otherwise about it. Its East of Sequim proper, up on a peninsula. It’s set back in the woods, near a private aero-port with houses and hangers all around it. Cool.
Last Tuesday morning, sharply at 9 am, a very loud voice was heard coming from the forest advising the message to follow was a test of the Emergency Fire / Tsunami Warning System. It was one loud voice and it echoed clear over to Victoria and Vancouver, Canada and back. It also had tones and pitches like Beep, Boop, Bleep. If anyone was asleep, they weren’t after that nonsense.
We did laundry at the mat in Sequim. What a nice place. Lots of washers, dryers, a couple of TV’s, a nice table to sit at and read or place a laptop computer, a couple of cozy sofa-style chairs to relax in, and three doors to get in / out of in case of someone going postal over a stain that didn't come out. They also had a car wash for cars and taller vehicles. Full service laundry attendant on site, too: $1.00 a pound which included everything like soap, softener, water and wash ‘n dry.
While at Costco in Sequim, I saw a lady wearing a long red moo-moo type dress with big flowers printed on. She also had big ol’ red flowers in her hair to accent the Hawai’ian look she was seeking, and I must say, certainly found.
Then, as I was getting up from my seat at the food court there, a cute young lady started walking toward me and as I approached her I heard: Ding, Ding, Ding! coming from her mouth. I guess she had some kind of Hott Guy meter that sounded whenever a Hott Guy walked by. Or, maybe, she was signaling to her two girlfriends that the fat-assed old bald guy got up from his seat and they could sit there. Nah….it’s gotta be her Hott Guy meter. Sometimes, just like the “creepy dude” on the bow-flex muscle building machine, I get that “little wink” from Corinne every once in awhile. Actually, she’s blinking both eyes in a dead stare like she cannot believe her own eyes and what she’s seeing. Yeah, I find it hard to believe, too. If I’m lying, I’m dying.
We sure have seen a lot of wildlife here. One day we say seven deer at different times and another time we saw three raccoons down by the Ediz Hook in Port Angeles. I don’t think I ever saw raccoons in the wild before. I think they were raccoons, but since they had little black masks over their eyes to hide their faces, I’m not really sure. They were wearing raccoon skin coats, tho, so they had that whole outfit thing going on.
We are visiting with Corinne’s second cousin Kenny (I don’t know who her first cousin is) and Sharon, his lovely wife. They live up here in the forest (not in the forest itself, but in a house in the forest). Corinne has been discussing family genealogy with Kenny and sharing family records and deep dark hidden, untold until know, family secrets and stuff. Kenny is retired from law enforcement in California and on occasion had to escort Charles Manson to court and other appointments. Because Manson had such a “likeable disposition” the house rule was a Sergeant had to escort him, so the job fell to Kenny. Manson asked Kenny for his name and badge number every time he escorted him.
Kenny flew a *MASH* type helicopter for his agency and had to crash land twice in different “birds” due to mechanical malfunction. The last crash really screwed up his spine and he traded jobs with his brother, who also flew helo’s. Ken went to Detectives where he finished out his 22 year career.
Sharon is an accomplished artist and I believe paints portraits and landscapes. She teaches art and volunteers at the local museum. Next year she will have the honor of creating a painting for the museum’s major fundraiser.
Ken and Sharon took us up the Hurricane Ridge in Olympia National Park. What a nice trip up the mountain. We stopped along the way and ate grapes and snack chips and just talked. The sky was a bit overcast, but the clouds did finally clear enough to get a fairly good photo of “Mt. Ollie” as I like to call it. There was even some snow left of the North side of the ridge. For those of you keeping score at home, I was wearing shorts in the sub-sixty degree weather.
Bob-servation:
It seems that whenever I take a shower in the coach, the smoke alarm starts beeping. It doesn’t do that when Corinne is showering, just when I am. The only thing I can think is different is I am taking cold showers and the cold water on my “smokin’ hot bod” causes steam which “confucius” the alarm. Anyone have any ideas better than mine? Ya, I thought not.
They have some funny names for places up here. There is a creek named Jimmy-Come-Latey. A road named Kitchen-Dick and another called Chicken Coop.
The State Patrol office has a lighted sign which reports how long it’s been since their last serious collision. When we saw it, the time was 10 days ago.
On Thursday we took the ferry boat trip from Port Angeles to Victoria. The boat left at 8:15 and we were about the two last folks to get on board. There was fog driving to the ferry and to about half way across the channel. The boats big fog horn kept sounding every 20 or 30 or 60 seconds as it plowed the coastal waters. Anyways, it cost $12.50 per person, one way to ride the ferry. Now here’s the killer part. We took our fold up bikes so we could ride them in Victoria and they charged us $6.25 each, 25 damn dollars round-trip for the honor of putting them on the bike rake on the bow of the boat. Heck, for $25 dollars, I should have been able to ride my bike on the deck of the boat. I got to thinking, since our bikes folded up, I wonder if I just carried the bike onto the boat like a suitcase would they have charged me? Think about it for awhile, because I’ve been thinking about it since Friday.
In Victoria, we toured the British Columbia Museum and the Parliament building. Both were very cool to see, and we saw a lot. The museum was so big that someone (and I mean Corinne) and I got separated from each other and without my keen sense for search and rescue to find her…well, you know the rest of the story…ya, she yelled at me for getting lost, again.
At the Parliament building, there was one goofball (no, not me) who kept asking the Docent stoopid political questions which were not really appropriate for the Docent to answer, much less interesting to anyone else on the tour. I think he had an axe to grind with the Canadian Gov’ment but was too “ignant” to ask the right officials.
Did you know they have Seven – 11’s in Victoria? Well, they do and we visited one two times. Speaking of 7-11’s, when I was standing outside one, some homeless type lady walking up the street (or down the street depending on your perspective) was asking people if they had a dollar. No explanation for why she needed a dollar, just do you have a dollar. When she asked me, I said “NO.” She then just stood there, took a long drag on her cancer stick, threw it on the ground and squashed it out. She then moved on to some other folks asking for a dollar. I told Corinne about it when she came out of the 7-11 after our third trip in (ooopps, we actually went to the Seventy-Eleventy three times…I forgot). We later saw the same lady on the opposite side of the street still trying to find a dollar. She walked up to a group of ladies standing on the corner and proceeded to ask each one of them for a dollar. Persistent little bugger…she must have been American. I wish I had said "yes" to her request and then wait to see what see would do next while waiting for me to give her the dollar I had but had no intention of giving to her. Now that's real entertainment.
On our return trip from Victoria we were like the third and fourth persons into the waiting room at the ferry boat place. We made our way to the departure door and sat ourselves down to be first in line. Shortly thereafter, the two folks who were in the room before us came over and sat next to us. The man had a disability and used a motorized scooter and two walking canes to get around with. He had apparently blown his knees out skiing. When we began to talk about our folding bikes, the conversation graduated to our personal lives and such. The man’s lineage was Black and Cherokee Indian, the woman was Chino-Pilipino. Corinne told them she had Indian blood in her line, too, either Cherokee or Creek. Nobody cared what I was.
After awhile the Customs Agent came out the “in” door and told the man she would take him first due to his disabled status. He asked if his wife could go with him and the agent said yes. Seeing a golden opportunity, I said “he’s my dad, can I come too?” Even though we both had gray beards on our faces, I think the agent could see we weren’t closely related and just laughed and closed the door in my face. Hmmmm. Anyways, when we were called into the office, the man and wife were still there so we laughed a bit. When we were all cleared to pass, I said, “C’mon dad.” He said “Okay son” and rolled along behind us. When we got to the gangway onto the boat, I said “I think they fell for it” and we laughed.
We met up with the man and wife on the boat after we parked our bikes and learned he was a Marine and his business card indicated he was a Retired Esquire (Attorney). His name was Robert and Joy was his wife. They were also traveling with her sister, and a lady friend named Silvy (sp), which is sorta like Corinne’s first name. We all talked and joked, laughed and told “lies” all the way across the channel back to the States. It was lots of fun and made the 1.5 hour journey go by quickly. We really do meet the nicest and most interesting folks while travelling and I think we felt like family when we parted ways.
By the way, Robert went to get some Clam Chowdah at the boat snack bar but they were out. He then decided to get a candy bar out of the machine and got two for the price of on. We thought it was time for Robert to head for the casinos before his string of luck ran out.
Yesterday, we took a drive to Port Townsend which is northeast of our present location. Unfortunately, they had a Wooden Boat Foundation Festival that day and the place was packed to the Poop Deck, to use a common nautical term. We were able to drive from one end of town to the other and then try to find our way back. It sure would have been nice to have had my pvc pipe and hook to dragged behind the dually to mark our way, like I did on the sandy beaches of Ocean City where doing this saved our lives (and possibly others who may have become lost).
We did eat at a little bayside restaurant named the Bayside Restaurant. I had fish and chips and Corinne had “Clam Chowdah.” We were supposed to share our meals but someone (and I mean Corinne) didn’t live up to her end of the bargain and I only got to scrape the chowdah bowl with a stale ol’ saltine for my little taste of it. I, on the other fork, being the honorable sort that I am, shared my fish and chips. I thought something “smelled fishy” when the deal was struck so easily.
Anyways, we made our way to Fort Worden in Port Townsend where the movie An Officer and a Gentleman was filmed. The grounds had a military cemetery and old, well maintained houses. It is now a State park.
Tomorrow, we leave for Randle, WA for a week. Randle is south and east of Tacoma if you are trying to find it on the map. It is between Mt. Rainy, Mt. Rainy-er, Mt. Rainiest, and Mt. St. Helens, which as we all know, blew her top back in the 80’s. After that, we are southbound and down into Oregon, California and home on or about the 20th of October or later, but before NASCAR comes to Phx in November.
It’s not pronounced “Bob-O.” It’s…
Beau Beaux
Bob's Blah Blog:
As the Howdy Doody theme song went: “Its Blogging Duty time, Bobo’s thoughts aren’t worth a dime, so turn to channel nine, and we’ll watch Frankenstein.”
Okay, here it is, the scoop, the 411, the news, the word on the street, the old what for, the what everyone’s been waiting for, the what the heck has Bobo’s been doing for the past week…sorta.
We moved from Ocean City to Sequim, WA last Monday and landed in at Diamond Point RV. Now, you if took Latin in school, or maybe were once and altar boy in church, then you would probably pronounce Sequim as See-quay-um. Well, it’s not that. It’s pronounced S-Kwim, like swim with a Q. Kind of like Pierre, South Dakota that’s pronounced “Peer.” I know, don’t blame me, I speak plain English and try to pro-nun-ti-ci-fy the words as I sees them.
But first, I gotta tell you about eating fresh crab from the ocean. We heard they were selling live crabs for $10 each at the harbor so we drove down and got us two. They really put up a real fight too. Then we stopped at the recommended seafood market in Ocean Shores and got some scallops and shrimps. We went home and made scampi and sauteed scallops and boiled the crab in seasoning. man oh man, that was some good eatin'. A little clarified butter to wash it all down with and you know, that's livin in the low lands.
Diamond Point RV is a nice park. We hardly spend enough time here to think otherwise about it. Its East of Sequim proper, up on a peninsula. It’s set back in the woods, near a private aero-port with houses and hangers all around it. Cool.
Last Tuesday morning, sharply at 9 am, a very loud voice was heard coming from the forest advising the message to follow was a test of the Emergency Fire / Tsunami Warning System. It was one loud voice and it echoed clear over to Victoria and Vancouver, Canada and back. It also had tones and pitches like Beep, Boop, Bleep. If anyone was asleep, they weren’t after that nonsense.
We did laundry at the mat in Sequim. What a nice place. Lots of washers, dryers, a couple of TV’s, a nice table to sit at and read or place a laptop computer, a couple of cozy sofa-style chairs to relax in, and three doors to get in / out of in case of someone going postal over a stain that didn't come out. They also had a car wash for cars and taller vehicles. Full service laundry attendant on site, too: $1.00 a pound which included everything like soap, softener, water and wash ‘n dry.
While at Costco in Sequim, I saw a lady wearing a long red moo-moo type dress with big flowers printed on. She also had big ol’ red flowers in her hair to accent the Hawai’ian look she was seeking, and I must say, certainly found.
Then, as I was getting up from my seat at the food court there, a cute young lady started walking toward me and as I approached her I heard: Ding, Ding, Ding! coming from her mouth. I guess she had some kind of Hott Guy meter that sounded whenever a Hott Guy walked by. Or, maybe, she was signaling to her two girlfriends that the fat-assed old bald guy got up from his seat and they could sit there. Nah….it’s gotta be her Hott Guy meter. Sometimes, just like the “creepy dude” on the bow-flex muscle building machine, I get that “little wink” from Corinne every once in awhile. Actually, she’s blinking both eyes in a dead stare like she cannot believe her own eyes and what she’s seeing. Yeah, I find it hard to believe, too. If I’m lying, I’m dying.
We sure have seen a lot of wildlife here. One day we say seven deer at different times and another time we saw three raccoons down by the Ediz Hook in Port Angeles. I don’t think I ever saw raccoons in the wild before. I think they were raccoons, but since they had little black masks over their eyes to hide their faces, I’m not really sure. They were wearing raccoon skin coats, tho, so they had that whole outfit thing going on.
We are visiting with Corinne’s second cousin Kenny (I don’t know who her first cousin is) and Sharon, his lovely wife. They live up here in the forest (not in the forest itself, but in a house in the forest). Corinne has been discussing family genealogy with Kenny and sharing family records and deep dark hidden, untold until know, family secrets and stuff. Kenny is retired from law enforcement in California and on occasion had to escort Charles Manson to court and other appointments. Because Manson had such a “likeable disposition” the house rule was a Sergeant had to escort him, so the job fell to Kenny. Manson asked Kenny for his name and badge number every time he escorted him.
Kenny flew a *MASH* type helicopter for his agency and had to crash land twice in different “birds” due to mechanical malfunction. The last crash really screwed up his spine and he traded jobs with his brother, who also flew helo’s. Ken went to Detectives where he finished out his 22 year career.
Sharon is an accomplished artist and I believe paints portraits and landscapes. She teaches art and volunteers at the local museum. Next year she will have the honor of creating a painting for the museum’s major fundraiser.
Ken and Sharon took us up the Hurricane Ridge in Olympia National Park. What a nice trip up the mountain. We stopped along the way and ate grapes and snack chips and just talked. The sky was a bit overcast, but the clouds did finally clear enough to get a fairly good photo of “Mt. Ollie” as I like to call it. There was even some snow left of the North side of the ridge. For those of you keeping score at home, I was wearing shorts in the sub-sixty degree weather.
Bob-servation:
It seems that whenever I take a shower in the coach, the smoke alarm starts beeping. It doesn’t do that when Corinne is showering, just when I am. The only thing I can think is different is I am taking cold showers and the cold water on my “smokin’ hot bod” causes steam which “confucius” the alarm. Anyone have any ideas better than mine? Ya, I thought not.
They have some funny names for places up here. There is a creek named Jimmy-Come-Latey. A road named Kitchen-Dick and another called Chicken Coop.
The State Patrol office has a lighted sign which reports how long it’s been since their last serious collision. When we saw it, the time was 10 days ago.
On Thursday we took the ferry boat trip from Port Angeles to Victoria. The boat left at 8:15 and we were about the two last folks to get on board. There was fog driving to the ferry and to about half way across the channel. The boats big fog horn kept sounding every 20 or 30 or 60 seconds as it plowed the coastal waters. Anyways, it cost $12.50 per person, one way to ride the ferry. Now here’s the killer part. We took our fold up bikes so we could ride them in Victoria and they charged us $6.25 each, 25 damn dollars round-trip for the honor of putting them on the bike rake on the bow of the boat. Heck, for $25 dollars, I should have been able to ride my bike on the deck of the boat. I got to thinking, since our bikes folded up, I wonder if I just carried the bike onto the boat like a suitcase would they have charged me? Think about it for awhile, because I’ve been thinking about it since Friday.
In Victoria, we toured the British Columbia Museum and the Parliament building. Both were very cool to see, and we saw a lot. The museum was so big that someone (and I mean Corinne) and I got separated from each other and without my keen sense for search and rescue to find her…well, you know the rest of the story…ya, she yelled at me for getting lost, again.
At the Parliament building, there was one goofball (no, not me) who kept asking the Docent stoopid political questions which were not really appropriate for the Docent to answer, much less interesting to anyone else on the tour. I think he had an axe to grind with the Canadian Gov’ment but was too “ignant” to ask the right officials.
Did you know they have Seven – 11’s in Victoria? Well, they do and we visited one two times. Speaking of 7-11’s, when I was standing outside one, some homeless type lady walking up the street (or down the street depending on your perspective) was asking people if they had a dollar. No explanation for why she needed a dollar, just do you have a dollar. When she asked me, I said “NO.” She then just stood there, took a long drag on her cancer stick, threw it on the ground and squashed it out. She then moved on to some other folks asking for a dollar. I told Corinne about it when she came out of the 7-11 after our third trip in (ooopps, we actually went to the Seventy-Eleventy three times…I forgot). We later saw the same lady on the opposite side of the street still trying to find a dollar. She walked up to a group of ladies standing on the corner and proceeded to ask each one of them for a dollar. Persistent little bugger…she must have been American. I wish I had said "yes" to her request and then wait to see what see would do next while waiting for me to give her the dollar I had but had no intention of giving to her. Now that's real entertainment.
On our return trip from Victoria we were like the third and fourth persons into the waiting room at the ferry boat place. We made our way to the departure door and sat ourselves down to be first in line. Shortly thereafter, the two folks who were in the room before us came over and sat next to us. The man had a disability and used a motorized scooter and two walking canes to get around with. He had apparently blown his knees out skiing. When we began to talk about our folding bikes, the conversation graduated to our personal lives and such. The man’s lineage was Black and Cherokee Indian, the woman was Chino-Pilipino. Corinne told them she had Indian blood in her line, too, either Cherokee or Creek. Nobody cared what I was.
After awhile the Customs Agent came out the “in” door and told the man she would take him first due to his disabled status. He asked if his wife could go with him and the agent said yes. Seeing a golden opportunity, I said “he’s my dad, can I come too?” Even though we both had gray beards on our faces, I think the agent could see we weren’t closely related and just laughed and closed the door in my face. Hmmmm. Anyways, when we were called into the office, the man and wife were still there so we laughed a bit. When we were all cleared to pass, I said, “C’mon dad.” He said “Okay son” and rolled along behind us. When we got to the gangway onto the boat, I said “I think they fell for it” and we laughed.
We met up with the man and wife on the boat after we parked our bikes and learned he was a Marine and his business card indicated he was a Retired Esquire (Attorney). His name was Robert and Joy was his wife. They were also traveling with her sister, and a lady friend named Silvy (sp), which is sorta like Corinne’s first name. We all talked and joked, laughed and told “lies” all the way across the channel back to the States. It was lots of fun and made the 1.5 hour journey go by quickly. We really do meet the nicest and most interesting folks while travelling and I think we felt like family when we parted ways.
By the way, Robert went to get some Clam Chowdah at the boat snack bar but they were out. He then decided to get a candy bar out of the machine and got two for the price of on. We thought it was time for Robert to head for the casinos before his string of luck ran out.
Yesterday, we took a drive to Port Townsend which is northeast of our present location. Unfortunately, they had a Wooden Boat Foundation Festival that day and the place was packed to the Poop Deck, to use a common nautical term. We were able to drive from one end of town to the other and then try to find our way back. It sure would have been nice to have had my pvc pipe and hook to dragged behind the dually to mark our way, like I did on the sandy beaches of Ocean City where doing this saved our lives (and possibly others who may have become lost).
We did eat at a little bayside restaurant named the Bayside Restaurant. I had fish and chips and Corinne had “Clam Chowdah.” We were supposed to share our meals but someone (and I mean Corinne) didn’t live up to her end of the bargain and I only got to scrape the chowdah bowl with a stale ol’ saltine for my little taste of it. I, on the other fork, being the honorable sort that I am, shared my fish and chips. I thought something “smelled fishy” when the deal was struck so easily.
Anyways, we made our way to Fort Worden in Port Townsend where the movie An Officer and a Gentleman was filmed. The grounds had a military cemetery and old, well maintained houses. It is now a State park.
Tomorrow, we leave for Randle, WA for a week. Randle is south and east of Tacoma if you are trying to find it on the map. It is between Mt. Rainy, Mt. Rainy-er, Mt. Rainiest, and Mt. St. Helens, which as we all know, blew her top back in the 80’s. After that, we are southbound and down into Oregon, California and home on or about the 20th of October or later, but before NASCAR comes to Phx in November.
It’s not pronounced “Bob-O.” It’s…
Beau Beaux
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008 - OCEANA RV RESORT, OCEAN CITY, WA
Dateline: Wednesday, August 27, 2008 – Ocean City, WA
Bob's Blah Blog:
“If you missed me, here I am” as Rene Zellweger kinda said in some civil war movie a couple of years back, only she used different words. It’s been like 11 days since my last blog. Hard to blog when you really don’t have Blah to Blog about. We moved to Oceana RV Resort about a week ago and decided to put down some roots for 13 days which will get us through the long Labor Day Weekend. It was difficult to find a park that would accept a reservation over the holiday, but this place did and we like it here.
It’s not an “all fancy and stuff” RV Resort. The numbered spaces goe up to 100 but we don’t think they have that many. We are in space number 98, I repeat, space 98. It’s about a 100 yard walk to the west to reach the ocean and we can hear the surf pounding, pounding, pounding relentlessly against the shoreline which is nothing but fine sand, dead crab shells, some seashells and a few logs washed up on the beach. We haven’t been swimming…too cold. I have waded in the surf because I am super macho unlike other peeps I know.
We have found a lot of sand dollar shells which are pretty nice. Most of the shells on the beach are broken, but once in a while we find a treasure. They will make nice gifts to little kids we know in our neighborhood, and a few bigger kids we know. We have taken several walks on the beach for miles and miles and miles so it seems. I take my PVC pipe with the hook on it so I can drag it behind us as we walk and leave a trail in the sand. Unfortunately, sometimes the line gets washed away and we have to walk 30 or 40 feet more to find it again. I tell you, without that line we would be lost because the beach, sand and surf all look the same most of the time. I also draw a picture or two in the sand, maybe an arrow to show what direction to go and sometimes just a circle for no particular reason at all other than it’s pretty awesome to do so.
It has been fairly cool here for our stay. It seems like it has rained at least half of the time we have been here but we don’t mind the rain because we sure need it in Arizona. Last night it rained most of the night and I had to get up 3 times to check on the awning which I had failed to put up before the rain came. Finally, at around 2 am, I had enough of getting up and going outside to look at the awning so I just toughed it out and put it up in the rain. That’ll learn it not to mess with me. I couldn’t sleep last night anyways so when I said I had to get up I mean I had to get out of a nice warm bed with an electric blanket on it, put on some clothes, a raincoat and find my flip-flops at the foot of the stairs into the coach. The water was pooling around the coach because the ground saturation point was reached about 3 days ago and was like an inch deep in some holes. Fortunately I know how to swim.
This morning we were up at 6 am to take the dually into Aberdeen for its 30K service. Aberdeen in like 25 miles away and on Monday I made a reservation to get it serviced on Wednesday since I had been told in Canada it would be like an eight hour job. It took only 2.5 hours to complete in the States. I forgot the Canadians are on Metric time and we are on Pacific Standard Time here in Washington (metric to standard time conversion must be 3.2:1. Wow…big difference in time. No wonder the Canadians don’t win any medals at the Olympics.
While leaving Kent, WA more than a week ago, we stopped at a little greasy-spoon hamburger joint called the Quick Pick. We had driven by it and I noticed a long line of customers at the window ordering. We decided they must have good food there so we stopped. Yes, they had good food but what a wait there was to be served. First off, the shop was about 8 feet x 10 feet for the work space and six, count em, 6 girls were working inside preparing the food. Burgers, dogs, shakes, fries, rings, chili burgers, chili fries, floats. They had quite the menu centering on burgers and dogs. Their shakes were to be “to die for” as someone (and I mean Corinne) likes to say if something is really good. Personally, I don’t think anything is worth dying over, but I might get a little ill at times from eating too much of something good. But I cut it off at being ill…no dying!! We also got to meet the owner of the place as he stopped at our pic-a-nic table to check on us. He is Swiss, like the cheese.
Bob-servation:
We stopped into the Ocean Shores Lie-berry to get Wifi access and saw they had cats in the main part of the lie-berry. Who brings cats to the lie-berry? I have allergies to cats and certainly don’t want to expose myself to their dander or fur or whatever it is they have that I am allergic to. Yesterday, we were in the room they have set aside for laptop users and at 5:45 pm they came and told us we had to vacate the room so they could hold a meeting it in. They said we could relocate to the main lie-berry area. I told them I was allergic to cats and they have cats in the main area. Ms. Lie-berry Ma’am said she would put the cats in the back. I told her that wouldn’t do any good as the cats have been all over the place in there. She just walked away. Hmmm...Guess cats read more books than I, so they get preference over me...
Have you noticed how much noise there is in the lie-berries now? Nobody tells the kids to be quiet anymore, so they just run and jump and shout and yell. Well, Corinne was quietly reading an obituary to me and some old guy at the next table turned to us and said “this is a lie-berry, could you not read out loud as it disturbs my reading.” I bit my tongue, as did Corinne (ouch) and said “sure.” Anyways, a short while later, when I was reading, he cleared his throat so I schushed him, hoping to draw his attention. He didn’t respond. Then Corinne made sure to type loudly on her computer and click her mouse loudly just to gain his attention. Unfortunately, he was more mature than us and didn’t respond. Then, every once in a while, he would readjust his chair and it squeaked like a “ban chi” and I was oh so tempted to say: “honestly, do you think you could make any more noise with that chair?” but I didn’t. Danged meds working, again, even though I’ve been cutting back on the dosage. I was sure hoping he would say something when he picked up his crap and left the room at 6pm, but he just walked out. Double-dog danged. I had some really good comebacks if he would have. Like: “Oh, yeah?” and “So?”
I guess I owe Sandy O an apology for writing she was 57 years old on her most recent birthday. Seems my bi-focals must have been messing with me and I must have mistakenly read the year she was born for her age. She was born in 1957 and is not 57 although sometimes….well, never mind. . It’s a mistake anyone could make, isn’t it???
We ate lunch one afternoon at a place called the Dog House. It featured hot dogs, of course. The sign read “Ask for serving suggestions” so I did. The lady dog-meister or is that dog-mistress, showed me a paper with a dozen or so serving suggestions, each one better than the one before. I opted for suggestion number 3 which was the Southern Dog, which basically starts with the Chicago Dog and adds to it. I also wanted it in the super dog (10 inches) size. Let me list the ingredients for you. Bun, hot dog, mustard, relish, onions, chili, coleslaw, sauerkraut, pickles, cheese, antacid tablet and ketchup. Well not really, NO ketchup!!…that’s just wrong on a hot dog. It was a pretty darn good hot dog, too. (Ms. Lynda, you would have liked the décor at this stand. Nothing but Coke product stuff.) The stand even had a big ol’ hot dog in a bun on the roof and a 6-foot hot dog character squirting ketchup on his forehead (if a hot dog can have a forehead) and holding the mustard squirt bottle in the other hand. I think I’ll buy one of those on E-dog and put it in my front yard so all my neighbors can enjoy it, too.
We saw a huge drawbridge up in the air while in Aberdeen. We didn’t see any boat going under it, so maybe it was a submarine passing through. Speaking of ships, we toured the decommissioned USS Destroyer Turner Joy somewhere near Bremerton, WA. It was a self guided tour so we got to pretty much go wherever we wanted to on the ship. We went from fore and aft, top to bottom. I even sat in the Captain’s chair on the bridge and gave the order to fire the torpedoes which the First Mate (and I mean Corinne) refused to follow and mutinied. I then ordered her to lock herself in the brig, but she wouldn’t do that either. This new Navy is something else.
Visiting Ocean Shores, we found it is basically two roads in and the same two roads out. All the business opportunities seem to be on one of the roads in and out. That road is the one with the big fancy-schmancy sign welcoming everyone to Ocean Shores, WA. After about a 1/2 mile of business opportunity in this summer resort hide-away, you are into the residential area, or so it looks to me. They have a grocery store, Popo Station, Post Office, Teriyaki Eatee-Outee, and some other places. We ate at the Teriyaki Eatee-Outee because it was next to a laundry mat. The food was good and reasonably priced for being so far from China.
Speaking of the Post Office, Moe sent us a package of mail via General Delivery in my name. When I went to pick up the mail, I had to show ID. Well, you know how AZ driver licenses are good for like 20 years and I got my last one in 1996 or something, my photo is not quite like I look now. I showed the ID to the post mistress and we all laughed at how young and handsome I still am. However, when I got back to the Little House on Wheels and opened the mail, I had received a letter from AZMVD telling me I had until November 1, 2008 to come in and have my picture retaken, since it has been 12 years since my last portrait session with them. How weird is that? The same day we are joking about what a stud I look like on my driver’s license, I get a letter telling me I gotta get another picture taken in my current condition. That’s pure BS, plus I will probably have to pay them 8 damn dollars or something.
And speaking of the laundry, we ended up there one afternoon doing laundry. NO, wait, let me rephrase that. I ended up at the Laundromat doing laundry while Corinne was getting her nails filed into shiny barbed points of steel. Lots of women came into the laundry and not one of them tried to hit on me. What the heck is going on?? What woman wouldn’t want a man who can do his own laundry? Not to let someone (and I mean Corinne) think I am undesirable on the open market, I told her several really, really HOTT women walked past me and “accidently” dropped some of their unmentionables for me to pickup for them. She just laughed at me, but I think it was that nervous kind of laugh, you know?
We purchased fuel at the Safeway Gas Station after shopping. We got a 10 cent a gallon discount which brought the price of fuel to $4.49 per gallon. Anyways, as we were getting parked at the pump, some gas jockey told Corinne he needed to keep the lane and pump open because he had received a phone call from somebody coming in to buy like 700 gallons worth of diesel fuel. When Corinne told me this I told her what I tell other people who think they should have preference in line over me: “I guess you should have gotten here before me then.” Anyways, some lady driving a car and pulling a small pop-up camp trailer parks behind me and she is the one whom the gas station attendant believes wants to buy 700 gallons of diesel fuel for her gas-burning mini-van. I wanted so much to ask to borrow her cell phone and call her husband and tell him her car only took 20 gallons of diesel fuel before it was full. I bet that would have sent him through the roof to think she really did put diesel in the tank. Now that’s funny. But I didn’t do that and she didn’t get in line ahead of me either.
Today we visited the Capitol Building in Olympia, WA. We got a nice tour of the House and Senate and then got a tour of the Governor’s Mansion which is actually occupied by the sitting governor of Washington. Of course, she is in Colorado at the Dumocrats Convention right now so we didn’t see her. Nice place. 4 stories, including the basement. We got to see the first and second floors which included the family room, state reception room, two guest bedrooms and baths, the dining room and the ball room. Like I said, pretty nice place. Oh yeah, Vote Republican and Vote Often. Vote Dan Sabin for Sheriff of Maricopa County, too. Now repeat after me: “Hell NO, no more Joe! Hell NO, no more Joe!....Arpaio that is.
Okay, that seems like enough for you to read for now. It certainly is enough for me to write about and make peeps angry over. But you know, I’m in Washington State and the daytime temperature is like 67 degrees.
Give me a hot dog with everything, please.
Bobo Dogo
Bob's Blah Blog:
“If you missed me, here I am” as Rene Zellweger kinda said in some civil war movie a couple of years back, only she used different words. It’s been like 11 days since my last blog. Hard to blog when you really don’t have Blah to Blog about. We moved to Oceana RV Resort about a week ago and decided to put down some roots for 13 days which will get us through the long Labor Day Weekend. It was difficult to find a park that would accept a reservation over the holiday, but this place did and we like it here.
It’s not an “all fancy and stuff” RV Resort. The numbered spaces goe up to 100 but we don’t think they have that many. We are in space number 98, I repeat, space 98. It’s about a 100 yard walk to the west to reach the ocean and we can hear the surf pounding, pounding, pounding relentlessly against the shoreline which is nothing but fine sand, dead crab shells, some seashells and a few logs washed up on the beach. We haven’t been swimming…too cold. I have waded in the surf because I am super macho unlike other peeps I know.
We have found a lot of sand dollar shells which are pretty nice. Most of the shells on the beach are broken, but once in a while we find a treasure. They will make nice gifts to little kids we know in our neighborhood, and a few bigger kids we know. We have taken several walks on the beach for miles and miles and miles so it seems. I take my PVC pipe with the hook on it so I can drag it behind us as we walk and leave a trail in the sand. Unfortunately, sometimes the line gets washed away and we have to walk 30 or 40 feet more to find it again. I tell you, without that line we would be lost because the beach, sand and surf all look the same most of the time. I also draw a picture or two in the sand, maybe an arrow to show what direction to go and sometimes just a circle for no particular reason at all other than it’s pretty awesome to do so.
It has been fairly cool here for our stay. It seems like it has rained at least half of the time we have been here but we don’t mind the rain because we sure need it in Arizona. Last night it rained most of the night and I had to get up 3 times to check on the awning which I had failed to put up before the rain came. Finally, at around 2 am, I had enough of getting up and going outside to look at the awning so I just toughed it out and put it up in the rain. That’ll learn it not to mess with me. I couldn’t sleep last night anyways so when I said I had to get up I mean I had to get out of a nice warm bed with an electric blanket on it, put on some clothes, a raincoat and find my flip-flops at the foot of the stairs into the coach. The water was pooling around the coach because the ground saturation point was reached about 3 days ago and was like an inch deep in some holes. Fortunately I know how to swim.
This morning we were up at 6 am to take the dually into Aberdeen for its 30K service. Aberdeen in like 25 miles away and on Monday I made a reservation to get it serviced on Wednesday since I had been told in Canada it would be like an eight hour job. It took only 2.5 hours to complete in the States. I forgot the Canadians are on Metric time and we are on Pacific Standard Time here in Washington (metric to standard time conversion must be 3.2:1. Wow…big difference in time. No wonder the Canadians don’t win any medals at the Olympics.
While leaving Kent, WA more than a week ago, we stopped at a little greasy-spoon hamburger joint called the Quick Pick. We had driven by it and I noticed a long line of customers at the window ordering. We decided they must have good food there so we stopped. Yes, they had good food but what a wait there was to be served. First off, the shop was about 8 feet x 10 feet for the work space and six, count em, 6 girls were working inside preparing the food. Burgers, dogs, shakes, fries, rings, chili burgers, chili fries, floats. They had quite the menu centering on burgers and dogs. Their shakes were to be “to die for” as someone (and I mean Corinne) likes to say if something is really good. Personally, I don’t think anything is worth dying over, but I might get a little ill at times from eating too much of something good. But I cut it off at being ill…no dying!! We also got to meet the owner of the place as he stopped at our pic-a-nic table to check on us. He is Swiss, like the cheese.
Bob-servation:
We stopped into the Ocean Shores Lie-berry to get Wifi access and saw they had cats in the main part of the lie-berry. Who brings cats to the lie-berry? I have allergies to cats and certainly don’t want to expose myself to their dander or fur or whatever it is they have that I am allergic to. Yesterday, we were in the room they have set aside for laptop users and at 5:45 pm they came and told us we had to vacate the room so they could hold a meeting it in. They said we could relocate to the main lie-berry area. I told them I was allergic to cats and they have cats in the main area. Ms. Lie-berry Ma’am said she would put the cats in the back. I told her that wouldn’t do any good as the cats have been all over the place in there. She just walked away. Hmmm...Guess cats read more books than I, so they get preference over me...
Have you noticed how much noise there is in the lie-berries now? Nobody tells the kids to be quiet anymore, so they just run and jump and shout and yell. Well, Corinne was quietly reading an obituary to me and some old guy at the next table turned to us and said “this is a lie-berry, could you not read out loud as it disturbs my reading.” I bit my tongue, as did Corinne (ouch) and said “sure.” Anyways, a short while later, when I was reading, he cleared his throat so I schushed him, hoping to draw his attention. He didn’t respond. Then Corinne made sure to type loudly on her computer and click her mouse loudly just to gain his attention. Unfortunately, he was more mature than us and didn’t respond. Then, every once in a while, he would readjust his chair and it squeaked like a “ban chi” and I was oh so tempted to say: “honestly, do you think you could make any more noise with that chair?” but I didn’t. Danged meds working, again, even though I’ve been cutting back on the dosage. I was sure hoping he would say something when he picked up his crap and left the room at 6pm, but he just walked out. Double-dog danged. I had some really good comebacks if he would have. Like: “Oh, yeah?” and “So?”
I guess I owe Sandy O an apology for writing she was 57 years old on her most recent birthday. Seems my bi-focals must have been messing with me and I must have mistakenly read the year she was born for her age. She was born in 1957 and is not 57 although sometimes….well, never mind. . It’s a mistake anyone could make, isn’t it???
We ate lunch one afternoon at a place called the Dog House. It featured hot dogs, of course. The sign read “Ask for serving suggestions” so I did. The lady dog-meister or is that dog-mistress, showed me a paper with a dozen or so serving suggestions, each one better than the one before. I opted for suggestion number 3 which was the Southern Dog, which basically starts with the Chicago Dog and adds to it. I also wanted it in the super dog (10 inches) size. Let me list the ingredients for you. Bun, hot dog, mustard, relish, onions, chili, coleslaw, sauerkraut, pickles, cheese, antacid tablet and ketchup. Well not really, NO ketchup!!…that’s just wrong on a hot dog. It was a pretty darn good hot dog, too. (Ms. Lynda, you would have liked the décor at this stand. Nothing but Coke product stuff.) The stand even had a big ol’ hot dog in a bun on the roof and a 6-foot hot dog character squirting ketchup on his forehead (if a hot dog can have a forehead) and holding the mustard squirt bottle in the other hand. I think I’ll buy one of those on E-dog and put it in my front yard so all my neighbors can enjoy it, too.
We saw a huge drawbridge up in the air while in Aberdeen. We didn’t see any boat going under it, so maybe it was a submarine passing through. Speaking of ships, we toured the decommissioned USS Destroyer Turner Joy somewhere near Bremerton, WA. It was a self guided tour so we got to pretty much go wherever we wanted to on the ship. We went from fore and aft, top to bottom. I even sat in the Captain’s chair on the bridge and gave the order to fire the torpedoes which the First Mate (and I mean Corinne) refused to follow and mutinied. I then ordered her to lock herself in the brig, but she wouldn’t do that either. This new Navy is something else.
Visiting Ocean Shores, we found it is basically two roads in and the same two roads out. All the business opportunities seem to be on one of the roads in and out. That road is the one with the big fancy-schmancy sign welcoming everyone to Ocean Shores, WA. After about a 1/2 mile of business opportunity in this summer resort hide-away, you are into the residential area, or so it looks to me. They have a grocery store, Popo Station, Post Office, Teriyaki Eatee-Outee, and some other places. We ate at the Teriyaki Eatee-Outee because it was next to a laundry mat. The food was good and reasonably priced for being so far from China.
Speaking of the Post Office, Moe sent us a package of mail via General Delivery in my name. When I went to pick up the mail, I had to show ID. Well, you know how AZ driver licenses are good for like 20 years and I got my last one in 1996 or something, my photo is not quite like I look now. I showed the ID to the post mistress and we all laughed at how young and handsome I still am. However, when I got back to the Little House on Wheels and opened the mail, I had received a letter from AZMVD telling me I had until November 1, 2008 to come in and have my picture retaken, since it has been 12 years since my last portrait session with them. How weird is that? The same day we are joking about what a stud I look like on my driver’s license, I get a letter telling me I gotta get another picture taken in my current condition. That’s pure BS, plus I will probably have to pay them 8 damn dollars or something.
And speaking of the laundry, we ended up there one afternoon doing laundry. NO, wait, let me rephrase that. I ended up at the Laundromat doing laundry while Corinne was getting her nails filed into shiny barbed points of steel. Lots of women came into the laundry and not one of them tried to hit on me. What the heck is going on?? What woman wouldn’t want a man who can do his own laundry? Not to let someone (and I mean Corinne) think I am undesirable on the open market, I told her several really, really HOTT women walked past me and “accidently” dropped some of their unmentionables for me to pickup for them. She just laughed at me, but I think it was that nervous kind of laugh, you know?
We purchased fuel at the Safeway Gas Station after shopping. We got a 10 cent a gallon discount which brought the price of fuel to $4.49 per gallon. Anyways, as we were getting parked at the pump, some gas jockey told Corinne he needed to keep the lane and pump open because he had received a phone call from somebody coming in to buy like 700 gallons worth of diesel fuel. When Corinne told me this I told her what I tell other people who think they should have preference in line over me: “I guess you should have gotten here before me then.” Anyways, some lady driving a car and pulling a small pop-up camp trailer parks behind me and she is the one whom the gas station attendant believes wants to buy 700 gallons of diesel fuel for her gas-burning mini-van. I wanted so much to ask to borrow her cell phone and call her husband and tell him her car only took 20 gallons of diesel fuel before it was full. I bet that would have sent him through the roof to think she really did put diesel in the tank. Now that’s funny. But I didn’t do that and she didn’t get in line ahead of me either.
Today we visited the Capitol Building in Olympia, WA. We got a nice tour of the House and Senate and then got a tour of the Governor’s Mansion which is actually occupied by the sitting governor of Washington. Of course, she is in Colorado at the Dumocrats Convention right now so we didn’t see her. Nice place. 4 stories, including the basement. We got to see the first and second floors which included the family room, state reception room, two guest bedrooms and baths, the dining room and the ball room. Like I said, pretty nice place. Oh yeah, Vote Republican and Vote Often. Vote Dan Sabin for Sheriff of Maricopa County, too. Now repeat after me: “Hell NO, no more Joe! Hell NO, no more Joe!....Arpaio that is.
Okay, that seems like enough for you to read for now. It certainly is enough for me to write about and make peeps angry over. But you know, I’m in Washington State and the daytime temperature is like 67 degrees.
Give me a hot dog with everything, please.
Bobo Dogo
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008 - KOA, KENT, WA
Dateline: Saturday, August 16, 2008 - Kent, WA
Bob's Blah Blog:
Back from the great Northwest. We left the campground yesterday at noon, exactly. We got to the 800 meters to the border crossing at 1pm, excactly. We crossed the border at 3:25, exactly. Yes, it took exactly 2.5 hours to go 800 meters. The traffic was horrific. Two slow moving lanes and one fast moving lane for people smart enough to have a Nexus Permit, whatever that is. All I know is I'm gonna get me one.
Some people are just plain rude. They speed down the Nexus lane and then force their way into the adjacent lane that all the folks who play nicely are patiently waiting their turn. One guy forced his way in front of me only becuase I didn't want to crush his beater car. I honked the horn and he just waved at me. I waved back if you know what I mean. I really wanted to get out and drag his sorry self out thru the drivers window, but, well, you know, the meds were working. He then allowed several other vehicles to cut in front of him just to piss me off further. I seriously thought about showing the Border Patrol folks my retired badge and tell them I thought the people in his vehicle were acting suspiciously so they would be sent for a secondary inspection and search at the crossing. I know I could have pulled that off, but didn't. I was just glad to get moving after 2.5 long hours. Anyways, we ended up beating them across the border because the Little House on Wheels is more than 12 feet tall and three of the four crossing lanes are 12 feet tall. We got "special" treatment and got to go to the Nexus / oversized vehicle lane and got right thru. Clean living will get you everytime.
We had a great time in Vancouver. We rode the Skytrain, buses and the Seabus all over Vancouver. We enjoyed a great dinner one night looking over the bay at Vancouver from the upper deck of a restuarnt serving way too pricey meals. At one time on the Skytrain, we told Megan we were just getting up to stretch our legs and she should stay put. She actually thought we were gonna try and ditch her. Can you believe that? Everyone knows Bobo don't "roll that way" and would never, ever, consider such a thing. You gotta believe me, you just gotta!
We visited the Vancouver Police Museum, the Vancouver Overlook tower and a store where we had to wait at least one half and hour for the lady to return from her 10 minute break to give her dogs a walk. The Overlook tower needs to have signs and pictures to let the visitors know what they are looking at. The signs they have just give a history of Vancouver and are not all that imformative. They were at least in English and not Frenchy.
We went to the stadium where the Canucks play hockey. The security guy said the tour met at door #7 and started at 1:30. At 1:50, we were still at door #7 and not really enjoying the tour from the outside of the building. Finally, the security guy came out the door and apologized for giving us the wrong door number and told us the tour had already started and we missed it. He did say we can join up with the group and took us directly to the top floor of the arena where the group was. Fortunately for us, the group we caught up with were slow listeners, so we really didn't miss much, and I am sure they were glad to hear the tour guide repeat what she had just told them. We got a first class tour of the arean. All the floors, several of the $7,000 per game rental suites, the press box, the season ticket holders special Lounge where Alberta brewed beer is served. We got to see the owners box, the room for post game interviews, the teams locker room where we didn't see any real hockey players.
We rode our bikes around Stanley Park Island, which is a huge park in west Vancouver named after Lord Stanley, creator of hockey's Stanley Cup, the most prestigious trophy in all of sports. They have a great bike path and a separate path for walkers and joggers. There is a beach for swimming and a really large swimming pool if you don't want to get bitten by Canadian sharks. Where the bike and walking paths become shared by both, bikers have to dismount and walk through the area. Funny thing is, the place where they really needed to have the dismount and walk area is at the swimming pool where people are walking from their cars and other areas of the park. I sat there for awhile and saw several near collisions because they allow the two disciplines to intermingle.
We tried to get Megan to drive the dually and pull the Little House on Wheels but she just wouldn't do it. She was afraid she would hit something. She did drive the dually to the Coldstone Ice Cream store, tho. Something about ice cream that makes her loose her inhibitions. She even backed the truck into a parking spot on the first try. I thought her how to drive in our Extravaganza (Excursion) and we spent many a lessons on backing. Fact is, she could back the truck long before she could drive it forward. She has not forgotten her lessons and even commented on men driving large motorhomes not beting able to back their motorhomes into campsites because they didn't go to the "Unkle Bobo's School of Backing Big- Butt Vehicles and Stuff." I gotta admit, and she told me to tell Scrumptilicious, she knows how to drive the big vehicles. "Ya, Shane-O, its a Hemi. Are you ready for a throwdown??"
When we got back to the campground from the Stonecold place, Megan was parking the truck and had to back the truck to get it into a small space. As she was backing, I saw what appeared to be a Mac Squito buzzing around me and was able to slap and smash it on the door panel. I was so proud of myself for such quick reflexes. Of course, the somebodies (and I mean Corinne and Megan) were startled by the noise and actually blamed me for trying to fool Megan into thinking she hit something. Here I was, being an American hero by saving them from a Mac Squito bite and they chew me out for saving their lives, or possibly someone elses life, from contracting the deadly West Nile Disease. Scheesh!
Megan goes home today. She tried to entice us to let her stay longer by telling us she would: Go skydiving with us; get tattoos with us; go $10 purse shopping with us; go to the all-you-can-eat soup place with us; find a live video connection to Fort Dix and chat face to face with Scrumptilicious for three hours with us; drive us to Fort Dix to see "you-know-who;" go out for Stonecold ice cream two or three times a day with us...and on and on and on. We noticed all the things she wanted to do were actually things she wanted to do and had nothing to do with us, except trying to trick us into letting her stay. I guess that Child Psychology course she took at ASU just don't work that well on a mature adult such as myself...although she almost had me on the $10 purse shopping spree, but then I remembered I already had a $10 purse and didn't need another one.
Well, I gotta go pee.
Bobo
Bob's Blah Blog:
Back from the great Northwest. We left the campground yesterday at noon, exactly. We got to the 800 meters to the border crossing at 1pm, excactly. We crossed the border at 3:25, exactly. Yes, it took exactly 2.5 hours to go 800 meters. The traffic was horrific. Two slow moving lanes and one fast moving lane for people smart enough to have a Nexus Permit, whatever that is. All I know is I'm gonna get me one.
Some people are just plain rude. They speed down the Nexus lane and then force their way into the adjacent lane that all the folks who play nicely are patiently waiting their turn. One guy forced his way in front of me only becuase I didn't want to crush his beater car. I honked the horn and he just waved at me. I waved back if you know what I mean. I really wanted to get out and drag his sorry self out thru the drivers window, but, well, you know, the meds were working. He then allowed several other vehicles to cut in front of him just to piss me off further. I seriously thought about showing the Border Patrol folks my retired badge and tell them I thought the people in his vehicle were acting suspiciously so they would be sent for a secondary inspection and search at the crossing. I know I could have pulled that off, but didn't. I was just glad to get moving after 2.5 long hours. Anyways, we ended up beating them across the border because the Little House on Wheels is more than 12 feet tall and three of the four crossing lanes are 12 feet tall. We got "special" treatment and got to go to the Nexus / oversized vehicle lane and got right thru. Clean living will get you everytime.
We had a great time in Vancouver. We rode the Skytrain, buses and the Seabus all over Vancouver. We enjoyed a great dinner one night looking over the bay at Vancouver from the upper deck of a restuarnt serving way too pricey meals. At one time on the Skytrain, we told Megan we were just getting up to stretch our legs and she should stay put. She actually thought we were gonna try and ditch her. Can you believe that? Everyone knows Bobo don't "roll that way" and would never, ever, consider such a thing. You gotta believe me, you just gotta!
We visited the Vancouver Police Museum, the Vancouver Overlook tower and a store where we had to wait at least one half and hour for the lady to return from her 10 minute break to give her dogs a walk. The Overlook tower needs to have signs and pictures to let the visitors know what they are looking at. The signs they have just give a history of Vancouver and are not all that imformative. They were at least in English and not Frenchy.
We went to the stadium where the Canucks play hockey. The security guy said the tour met at door #7 and started at 1:30. At 1:50, we were still at door #7 and not really enjoying the tour from the outside of the building. Finally, the security guy came out the door and apologized for giving us the wrong door number and told us the tour had already started and we missed it. He did say we can join up with the group and took us directly to the top floor of the arena where the group was. Fortunately for us, the group we caught up with were slow listeners, so we really didn't miss much, and I am sure they were glad to hear the tour guide repeat what she had just told them. We got a first class tour of the arean. All the floors, several of the $7,000 per game rental suites, the press box, the season ticket holders special Lounge where Alberta brewed beer is served. We got to see the owners box, the room for post game interviews, the teams locker room where we didn't see any real hockey players.
We rode our bikes around Stanley Park Island, which is a huge park in west Vancouver named after Lord Stanley, creator of hockey's Stanley Cup, the most prestigious trophy in all of sports. They have a great bike path and a separate path for walkers and joggers. There is a beach for swimming and a really large swimming pool if you don't want to get bitten by Canadian sharks. Where the bike and walking paths become shared by both, bikers have to dismount and walk through the area. Funny thing is, the place where they really needed to have the dismount and walk area is at the swimming pool where people are walking from their cars and other areas of the park. I sat there for awhile and saw several near collisions because they allow the two disciplines to intermingle.
We tried to get Megan to drive the dually and pull the Little House on Wheels but she just wouldn't do it. She was afraid she would hit something. She did drive the dually to the Coldstone Ice Cream store, tho. Something about ice cream that makes her loose her inhibitions. She even backed the truck into a parking spot on the first try. I thought her how to drive in our Extravaganza (Excursion) and we spent many a lessons on backing. Fact is, she could back the truck long before she could drive it forward. She has not forgotten her lessons and even commented on men driving large motorhomes not beting able to back their motorhomes into campsites because they didn't go to the "Unkle Bobo's School of Backing Big- Butt Vehicles and Stuff." I gotta admit, and she told me to tell Scrumptilicious, she knows how to drive the big vehicles. "Ya, Shane-O, its a Hemi. Are you ready for a throwdown??"
When we got back to the campground from the Stonecold place, Megan was parking the truck and had to back the truck to get it into a small space. As she was backing, I saw what appeared to be a Mac Squito buzzing around me and was able to slap and smash it on the door panel. I was so proud of myself for such quick reflexes. Of course, the somebodies (and I mean Corinne and Megan) were startled by the noise and actually blamed me for trying to fool Megan into thinking she hit something. Here I was, being an American hero by saving them from a Mac Squito bite and they chew me out for saving their lives, or possibly someone elses life, from contracting the deadly West Nile Disease. Scheesh!
Megan goes home today. She tried to entice us to let her stay longer by telling us she would: Go skydiving with us; get tattoos with us; go $10 purse shopping with us; go to the all-you-can-eat soup place with us; find a live video connection to Fort Dix and chat face to face with Scrumptilicious for three hours with us; drive us to Fort Dix to see "you-know-who;" go out for Stonecold ice cream two or three times a day with us...and on and on and on. We noticed all the things she wanted to do were actually things she wanted to do and had nothing to do with us, except trying to trick us into letting her stay. I guess that Child Psychology course she took at ASU just don't work that well on a mature adult such as myself...although she almost had me on the $10 purse shopping spree, but then I remembered I already had a $10 purse and didn't need another one.
Well, I gotta go pee.
Bobo
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008 - BURNABY CARIBOO RV RESORT
Dateline: Tuesday, August 11, 2008 - Burnaby, British Columbia, Canada
Bob's Blah Blog:
So, have you been wondering what the Bobo has been up to for the past 10 days or so? So have I. Time has just flown by and we have been busy and not so busy. We moved from Tall Chief RV Resort to a campground just a ways south of Tacoma, WA. It was a nice campground with lots of tall pine trees and some maple trees, I guess. But, someone (and I mean Corinne) was concerned about it because they allowed open campfires and the smoke would linger in the trees and make it hard for her and Megan to breath. Megglitz has some kind of lung thing going on and just hasn't been able to get over it, yet. We call it the "Costa Rica Cha-cha." The doctor gives her stuff to take, but still..... Oh, and we couldn't get satellite reception or anteanna reception to watch the Americans kick some kind of butt in the Olympics.
We stayed one night at this campground then moved to Kent, WA, a suburb of Seattle, about 10 or more miles south. It was a KOA. It was convenient to SEATAC airport which the Megator was flying into, but it really wasn't all that great of place. Suitable in a pinch, and a pinch we were in because there are just not a whole lot of RV campgrounds in the Seattle area for some reason. Lots of state campgrounds, but they don't have electic, but do have everyones favorite "comode-ity"...er, I mean commodity, the pit toilet, which is most effective in the warm months of summer...if you "nose" what I mean.
Anyways, we got to the KOA, got setup and then received a text message from the Megster her plane had landed early. We hustled over to the airport, claimed her at the baggage carousel and beat feet out of the airport. Somebody (and I don't mean Corinne or me) was hungry...oh what a BIG surprise that was, so we headed to Dave's Diner and Grill for some eats. I told the hostess / waitress combo we wanted to sit where everyone in the Diner could see how pretty Megarama was. She put us right next to the window facing the street so we got double utility out of it with the drivers passing by being able to see her, too. We had a great lunch and the waitress was good natured enough to offer Megamoo the chance to wash dishes instead of paying for her meal. She declined the generous offer since she knew we would be picking up the tab. We didn't raise no dummy.
We visited the Seattle Space Needle, the Seattle Aquarium, the Seattle Pike Place Market, the Seattle $17.00 parking garage, the Seattle $3.00 parking meter, the Seattle Future of Flight and Boeing Aircraft Plant, the Seattle Walgreens, the Seattle Walmart and, of course, Seattle Seattle.
At the Future of Flight and Boeing Aircraft Plant they had a small museum where they had parts and pieces of (not crashed) aircrafts. We saw real landing gear, turbine engines (just like my baby-bro Jamie used to work on, except larger) and a cockpit from some jet plane they allowed visitors to crawl into and act like real pilots. I and some foreigner, who just happened to speak English, both got into the cockpit together and began flipping switches, pulling on levers, pushing on the pedals, pushing and pulling the steering wheel thingy and having fun. Then, I said to him, "Lets act like we are real pilots" and I put my head back and pretended to go to sleep and snored loudly. We both laughed heartily until the warning lights and buzzers came on to warn us of impending danger because real pilots were nearby and we were definately on a collision course to have a rough landing on the "ass-phalt."
The tour of the Boeing Plant was good, except it only lasted 1.5 hours and they didn't give anyone anytime to read the signs and descriptions of what we were being shown. We had to walk fast, no pictures, no cellphones, no cameras, no bags, no purses, no people less than 4 foot tall allowed (fortunately Megamatic had heels on), no food, no drink, no restrooms. No lagging behind, no picking anyone up off the floor, no spitting, no smoking. Must close cover before striking, call now - operators are standing by, look both ways before crossing, void where prohibited by law, tax not included except in New York, seek legal advice before purchase, pay at the door, children must be accompanied by parent. Too many rules. Now, page two.....
For Monday, we decided we had seen enough of this Seattle place and thought we would like to see Vancouver, British Columbia. We packed up the Little House on Wheels and like Johnny Horton "kinda sang," "North to Alaska, we're goin' North the rush is on" except we were only goin' as far as Vancouver. What should have been a 3 hour drive, according to maps and such, was actually like 5 hours because we stopped for fuel, food, currency exchange (better done in the good ol' USA than in Canadity) and to mail a package to Ms. Sandy O for her 57th (I think)birthday. Sorry, Sandy if 57 is not the right age, but I don't think you are older than that and I wouldn't want to go on record with a mis-guess of your age.
Oh, did I mention Megastar has a new beau-friend? He's in the military and is getting deployed to you know where. So, keep him in your prayers...not only for being in the military, but for being her beau-friend. He's gonna need all the help he can get. Oh, his name, you ask? Let's just say Megikins says its "Scrumptilicious." And, Meggie says he's really hunky, is a good kisser and looks hott without a shirt on....sizzzzzzzle! Oh, his last name, you ask? Well we believe any last name following Scrumtilicious would be redundant, don't you?
The Queen took us on some roundabout route to get us from the US/Cana-waba border to the Burnaby RV Park. Plus, it was rush hour traffic. We tooks some rather odd roads, one thru a neighborhood which had a Popo on it stopping cars, but not us for some reason. People up here are rude drivers. At one merge point with an off-ramp from a freeway, some guy in a much smaller vehicle than my one-ton-crew-cab-dual-real-wheel, full length bed pulling a 36 foot fifth wheel travel coach thought he could muscle me out and cut me off instead of waiting, like a good Canadian, and take his turn. Well, I am here to tell you, he won and got ahead of me. I am ashamed. If this were America, with American drivers, the end result would have been much different, let me tell you - Yes siree!!
The campground told us when we got here they had no reservation on file for us, even though I had a confirmation number and everything. He said they don't give confirmation numbers or everythings and I must be mistaken. Ahem!! I may be mistaken? I think not! He did say it was okay he didn't have a rsvp for us because he had space for us. When I got settled in and relaxed, I check email and found a response from the campground to my rsvp confirming my rsvp and everything, so I wrote them asking "Who were they and that I DID NOT have a rsvp and everything at the BCRV Resort when I got there." This morning I got an email back from them apologizing for their mistake. Hey, now I'm getting somewhere finally. Someone, besides me, having to admit they did something wrong. Life is Beautiful this side of the North coast of the US.
Again, because we are in Canababa and phone calls cost us 69 damn cents a minute to make OR receive on our Verizon super-duper whiz-bang best thing since sliced bread cell phones, you won't be receiving any phone calls from us until at least Friday this week, so just deal with it. If we really, really like you we might call...but don't hold your breath.
Speaking of something entirely random, I am wondering who, if anyone other than family, is actually reading this blog? I would appreciate you sending me an email at offtherockerm@gmail.com to let me know, like in outer space, is anyone else out there? I don't care who reads it, I just want to know if anyone is reading.
We are in space #147 for the homebound scorekeepers. We were in 116 at the KOA and I forget the number of the site before that. At Tall Chief, we were in #40, so somebody out there should have a "BOBO BINGO" by now. Speaking of Tall Chief, we used our Coast To Coast membership to stay there 6 nights at $10 per night. When we tried to move back there after moving to the campground Corinne didn't like and before we found the KOA, they said we already used our time alottment and couldn't come back for 30 more days. I told them they had plenty of empty campsites (like 80% of their total sites were vacant) but they said they couldn't rent them out in case someone else wanted to use it. Is that "stooo-pid" or what? Passing up good money just in case someone else might want to come there. Reminds me of a customer I used to deliver radio and tv parts to when I was younger. If he only had one item of something on the shelf and someone wanted to buy it, he wouldn't sell it to them because someone else may come in later and want to buy it and he wouldn't have one to sell. Sadly, a true story...I guess that's why he is not in business any more.
Tomorrow brings another day. We will probably visit Vancouver, ride the Skytrain, go to the harbor, and see the sites. Then again, maybe we will do something different. It's now midnight, technically Wednesday morning and Bobo's beddy-bye time.
Okay, his name is Shane. We call him Shane-O.
Bobo
Bob's Blah Blog:
So, have you been wondering what the Bobo has been up to for the past 10 days or so? So have I. Time has just flown by and we have been busy and not so busy. We moved from Tall Chief RV Resort to a campground just a ways south of Tacoma, WA. It was a nice campground with lots of tall pine trees and some maple trees, I guess. But, someone (and I mean Corinne) was concerned about it because they allowed open campfires and the smoke would linger in the trees and make it hard for her and Megan to breath. Megglitz has some kind of lung thing going on and just hasn't been able to get over it, yet. We call it the "Costa Rica Cha-cha." The doctor gives her stuff to take, but still..... Oh, and we couldn't get satellite reception or anteanna reception to watch the Americans kick some kind of butt in the Olympics.
We stayed one night at this campground then moved to Kent, WA, a suburb of Seattle, about 10 or more miles south. It was a KOA. It was convenient to SEATAC airport which the Megator was flying into, but it really wasn't all that great of place. Suitable in a pinch, and a pinch we were in because there are just not a whole lot of RV campgrounds in the Seattle area for some reason. Lots of state campgrounds, but they don't have electic, but do have everyones favorite "comode-ity"...er, I mean commodity, the pit toilet, which is most effective in the warm months of summer...if you "nose" what I mean.
Anyways, we got to the KOA, got setup and then received a text message from the Megster her plane had landed early. We hustled over to the airport, claimed her at the baggage carousel and beat feet out of the airport. Somebody (and I don't mean Corinne or me) was hungry...oh what a BIG surprise that was, so we headed to Dave's Diner and Grill for some eats. I told the hostess / waitress combo we wanted to sit where everyone in the Diner could see how pretty Megarama was. She put us right next to the window facing the street so we got double utility out of it with the drivers passing by being able to see her, too. We had a great lunch and the waitress was good natured enough to offer Megamoo the chance to wash dishes instead of paying for her meal. She declined the generous offer since she knew we would be picking up the tab. We didn't raise no dummy.
We visited the Seattle Space Needle, the Seattle Aquarium, the Seattle Pike Place Market, the Seattle $17.00 parking garage, the Seattle $3.00 parking meter, the Seattle Future of Flight and Boeing Aircraft Plant, the Seattle Walgreens, the Seattle Walmart and, of course, Seattle Seattle.
At the Future of Flight and Boeing Aircraft Plant they had a small museum where they had parts and pieces of (not crashed) aircrafts. We saw real landing gear, turbine engines (just like my baby-bro Jamie used to work on, except larger) and a cockpit from some jet plane they allowed visitors to crawl into and act like real pilots. I and some foreigner, who just happened to speak English, both got into the cockpit together and began flipping switches, pulling on levers, pushing on the pedals, pushing and pulling the steering wheel thingy and having fun. Then, I said to him, "Lets act like we are real pilots" and I put my head back and pretended to go to sleep and snored loudly. We both laughed heartily until the warning lights and buzzers came on to warn us of impending danger because real pilots were nearby and we were definately on a collision course to have a rough landing on the "ass-phalt."
The tour of the Boeing Plant was good, except it only lasted 1.5 hours and they didn't give anyone anytime to read the signs and descriptions of what we were being shown. We had to walk fast, no pictures, no cellphones, no cameras, no bags, no purses, no people less than 4 foot tall allowed (fortunately Megamatic had heels on), no food, no drink, no restrooms. No lagging behind, no picking anyone up off the floor, no spitting, no smoking. Must close cover before striking, call now - operators are standing by, look both ways before crossing, void where prohibited by law, tax not included except in New York, seek legal advice before purchase, pay at the door, children must be accompanied by parent. Too many rules. Now, page two.....
For Monday, we decided we had seen enough of this Seattle place and thought we would like to see Vancouver, British Columbia. We packed up the Little House on Wheels and like Johnny Horton "kinda sang," "North to Alaska, we're goin' North the rush is on" except we were only goin' as far as Vancouver. What should have been a 3 hour drive, according to maps and such, was actually like 5 hours because we stopped for fuel, food, currency exchange (better done in the good ol' USA than in Canadity) and to mail a package to Ms. Sandy O for her 57th (I think)birthday. Sorry, Sandy if 57 is not the right age, but I don't think you are older than that and I wouldn't want to go on record with a mis-guess of your age.
Oh, did I mention Megastar has a new beau-friend? He's in the military and is getting deployed to you know where. So, keep him in your prayers...not only for being in the military, but for being her beau-friend. He's gonna need all the help he can get. Oh, his name, you ask? Let's just say Megikins says its "Scrumptilicious." And, Meggie says he's really hunky, is a good kisser and looks hott without a shirt on....sizzzzzzzle! Oh, his last name, you ask? Well we believe any last name following Scrumtilicious would be redundant, don't you?
The Queen took us on some roundabout route to get us from the US/Cana-waba border to the Burnaby RV Park. Plus, it was rush hour traffic. We tooks some rather odd roads, one thru a neighborhood which had a Popo on it stopping cars, but not us for some reason. People up here are rude drivers. At one merge point with an off-ramp from a freeway, some guy in a much smaller vehicle than my one-ton-crew-cab-dual-real-wheel, full length bed pulling a 36 foot fifth wheel travel coach thought he could muscle me out and cut me off instead of waiting, like a good Canadian, and take his turn. Well, I am here to tell you, he won and got ahead of me. I am ashamed. If this were America, with American drivers, the end result would have been much different, let me tell you - Yes siree!!
The campground told us when we got here they had no reservation on file for us, even though I had a confirmation number and everything. He said they don't give confirmation numbers or everythings and I must be mistaken. Ahem!! I may be mistaken? I think not! He did say it was okay he didn't have a rsvp for us because he had space for us. When I got settled in and relaxed, I check email and found a response from the campground to my rsvp confirming my rsvp and everything, so I wrote them asking "Who were they and that I DID NOT have a rsvp and everything at the BCRV Resort when I got there." This morning I got an email back from them apologizing for their mistake. Hey, now I'm getting somewhere finally. Someone, besides me, having to admit they did something wrong. Life is Beautiful this side of the North coast of the US.
Again, because we are in Canababa and phone calls cost us 69 damn cents a minute to make OR receive on our Verizon super-duper whiz-bang best thing since sliced bread cell phones, you won't be receiving any phone calls from us until at least Friday this week, so just deal with it. If we really, really like you we might call...but don't hold your breath.
Speaking of something entirely random, I am wondering who, if anyone other than family, is actually reading this blog? I would appreciate you sending me an email at offtherockerm@gmail.com to let me know, like in outer space, is anyone else out there? I don't care who reads it, I just want to know if anyone is reading.
We are in space #147 for the homebound scorekeepers. We were in 116 at the KOA and I forget the number of the site before that. At Tall Chief, we were in #40, so somebody out there should have a "BOBO BINGO" by now. Speaking of Tall Chief, we used our Coast To Coast membership to stay there 6 nights at $10 per night. When we tried to move back there after moving to the campground Corinne didn't like and before we found the KOA, they said we already used our time alottment and couldn't come back for 30 more days. I told them they had plenty of empty campsites (like 80% of their total sites were vacant) but they said they couldn't rent them out in case someone else wanted to use it. Is that "stooo-pid" or what? Passing up good money just in case someone else might want to come there. Reminds me of a customer I used to deliver radio and tv parts to when I was younger. If he only had one item of something on the shelf and someone wanted to buy it, he wouldn't sell it to them because someone else may come in later and want to buy it and he wouldn't have one to sell. Sadly, a true story...I guess that's why he is not in business any more.
Tomorrow brings another day. We will probably visit Vancouver, ride the Skytrain, go to the harbor, and see the sites. Then again, maybe we will do something different. It's now midnight, technically Wednesday morning and Bobo's beddy-bye time.
Okay, his name is Shane. We call him Shane-O.
Bobo
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