All Things Profane and Sacred

Our trip to the coast was fun, although it didn't go as planned. Starting out, we packed up J's comfy old Mercedes with the sun roof, hopped in and started rolling down our very steep driveway. As the car reached maximum incline, there was a thump and then coffee started raining down from above. I ducked when the coffee hit my neck, which saved me from taking a metal travel-cup in the head. The dash was unharmed.

It rained off and on during the drive down, but when we got to Yachats the sun was shining. The beach there is dotted with large rocks and tide pools and all sorts of cool stuff. While we were wandering around, we nearly killed Pogo (again) when an unusually large wave came in. Jude and I ran for high ground. J and Pogo ducked into what turned out to be a narrow dead end between rocks. J got soaked, Pogo got a dunking. Luckily he was still there when the wave receded and he came sprinting out from the rocks with his tail wagging like crazy. When he got over to me, he picked up a stick and threw it about joyfully. I think he was adrenalin rushing-"Look at me! I'm alive!" Weird ass dog.

We took the survivors back to the hotel room where they cleaned themselves and I fell asleep like the grandma in training I am. The next day was rainy and cold, so we slept in and had a monkey and dog pile on one of the queen beds, drinking coffee laced with hot chocolate and listening to NPR while the rain drummed against our roof.

Today is my actual birthday, but I don't feel a whole lot of anything about it. I don't especially feel like celebrating-this last year has been way too draining and disappointing for that. I hadn't been able to think of any sort of present I'd super duper like (besides someone to deal with my creditors) and we're really too brokster to do a whole lotta anything. Still, it doesn't seem right to spend your birthday working, cleaning and then going to bed early.