A tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing

Shakespeare was the man. If he lived today, he would be busy on his next play thus titled (an excerpt from Macbeth). The bard of our times peeks out occasionally in the form of a playful Washington Post contributor: Alexandra Petri. I will put a copy of today's offering in my notice to loyal (and known to me) readers. 

But I wish to share a fact check I performed on a word in the second paragraph of today's submission: the official definition of "benighted". Curiously it sounds like a description of those who have been knighted. But I suspected a sly use of this word, and was muchly rewarded.

(From Bing!)

benighted

ADJECTIVE

1. in a state of pitiful or contemptible intellectual or moral ignorance, typically owing to a lack of opportunity*.

synonyms:

ignorant · unenlightened · uneducated  etc.

2. overtaken by darkness.

"a storm developed and we were forced to wait benighted near the summit"

*Typically, but not in this case at all. The ample opportunity to cure ignorance was overwhelmed by self interest, and /or pure cravenness and America was absolutely overtaken by darkness.

 

Whew

I am starting to breath a little easier. But I am taking to heart that our deeply rooted national schism might be whether we desire (or reject the need) to grapple with our embedded racism and politically empowered corporatism.  The next four years may prove to be nearly as upsetting as the last four have been (for me), BUT thankfully without the daily poisonous drip from the White House. I eagerly anticipate some civility seepage instead.

I will be needing a new hobby when hanging on by my fingernails is no longer the most I can accomplish on any given day.

 

Also, I must add that although a reduction in heated gasses emanating from 1600 Pennsylvania Ave is a VERY welcome coming attraction, it will sadly have only a small environmental impact; urgent climate change mitigation becomes more urgent daily. The war for the survival of life on earth was damaged by four years of (worse than mere denial) active succor to the enemy. My despair was not based solely on the fucking moron, but it was certainly been made worse by him and his minions (many of whom remain in the Senate where progress goes to die).

Travels with Mary

 In the spirit of shutting out the clamorous world, I am continuing my quiet intercourse (not THAT meaning) with my readers. Here are a few added travel notes I wish to add. 

Covid

Yachats (in Lincoln County) has signs up on Hwy 101 thanking visitors for keeping their county open. It made me feel welcome and safe.

In Bandon I "stalked" a fellow motel occupant who rubbed me the wrong way. First, I noticed his humongous SUV was backed into a parking space signed as "Park Forward". Also, California plates. He walked around with his mask below his nose, which I always take as a "finger" to community safety. This was a "no pets" motel and he secreted his dog in and out of his room. I add this diatribe as evidence that my "live and let live" vibe has been pushed past it's limit this year.

Comfort

My attention to comfort, however, is still in peak operating order. My sweetie and I sleep in different latitudes and longitudes. By this I mean, he reacts as if we are in cool climes when I am throwing off everything but the sheet I require to fall asleep. I try to cool the room to my preference and if allowed and able to, he has the extra blanket and a hot water bottle I bring for his comfort. If I am NOT able and/or allowed to cool the room to my happy range, I fill the "hot" water bottle with icy water I have created via the fridge and/or ice bucket. Chilling my feet works like warming! 

As for longitudes, we operate in different time zones. By this I mean that I am usually an aggressive early riser: entirely awake with no transition state. He is a night owl at the cellular level (bless, his heart; he has no choice in this) and is awake many hours past my off switch activation and waking is a transition state that lasts for hours. Hence I have many fully awake hours in a small room wherein I am trying to make my coffee and secure breakfast on the down low. He would probably give me a B+ for effort and a C- for outcome. He is a stranger to the concept of morning coffee and sustenance. It's weird.

Coffee

Look! The three C's of today's travel: an unplanned convergence! Efforts to have the best coffee available without waking him or looking in the dark for a kiosk has a history all it's own. At home I enjoy two very dark drip cups that I can keep warm with an electric beverage warmer. Following this last trip I vowed to secure a quiet, excellent brew, hotish to the last sip and light and small to pack. This involved gear. *I have acquired and home tested a pour-over coffee and an insulated, lidded mug. I can use the provided room coffee maker to pre-warm the mug and then to drip over the "coffee bag. It made VERY good coffee. Breakfast-wise I hence forth vow to unwrap my Quest bar at home and put it in a quiet opening container. It's the least I can do for Rip Van W.

*This is a screen grab from the Amazon Kuzu page.

The yearned for/dreaded day is nigh. So I am going to share something OFF topic

 My sweetie and I have had two little forays out into Covid land prompted by a near lethal accumulation of cabin fever. Both outings have been to the Oregon Coast. The first one was one night only at  the Yachats Adobe Motel in August. We had a second floor room overlooking some rocky coast, a window which opened, and a door into a hall which was funneling cool outside air it's entire length. Until bed time we kept our hall door ajar as we delighted in cool air over my skin. He also likes it when I become human again. (I feel sexy when cool, and homicidally inclined when hot, so the difference is stark indeed.) It was a stolen ahhhhhhhh moment in the midst of 2020 horrors. For those who feel travel trepidation I can report that the venues we visited were using good virus control procedures. We had lunch in Winchester Bay at Griff's in a nearly empty and very distanced way. John ordered dinner to take out from the motel and he had a very good full dinner (excluding the bread side I claimed to accompany my soup and his salad). Safe and cheap-ish. We did find menus sporting higher costs, but rarely exorbitant

They like darndilions

 

 

 But the SECOND foray was better (except for my under-researched motel choice) I was looking for a two night slot in mid October, but left it too late. We ended up going to Bandon (nice) but in a motel which was on Hwy 101 right where the cars begin accelerating up a hill. We could however see where the boats were due to a few masts which peeked over the old town buildings. We had lunch at Griffs in Winchester Bay and pizza in our room for dinner on the first night. Day 2 we drove south to Port Orford for lunch at Griff's on the Dock! Do you see a theme emerging? Another inside dine (the wind being too brisk) and a drive around. As we lost our way in a residential hodgepodge we encountered two goats, one very small, eating alongside the road. It was magical. I would like to have a pygmy goat to take care of my weedy back yard. For dinner, we grocery shopped packaged salads and yogurt for dessert. This was a Sunday night, and the entire town seemed to shopping. This was our sole RED STATEish experience in these out of town ventures. There Were quite a few T***P yard signs.

Day 3 we dinked around in Old Town and were gob-smacked by an art installation by the Washed Ashore organization. Neither of us knew of it, and after getting back to an internet connection we discovered that it was founded and still resides in Bandon! Next trip we will see if we can visit the inside gallery. Here is the site which shows some of the offerings: https://washedashore.org/ 

My co-traveler has photos of the one outside. I will ask him to send a few.

So, then it was back to Winchester Bay where John was still game for fish, though I was ready for anything else. Next to Griff's there was a new restaurant (formerly a Christmas all year store) so I asked to check out the menu. While we were trying to read the too small print above eye level, the owner came to the door. He asked if we would like to dine on the back deck. Why, yes!. It was expansive: we were 20 feet from the only occupied table. We both sat with our backs to the sun and ordered up breakfast for lunch. He was a friendly and garrulous new owner since January (ouch). He was eager to satisfy our every request. It was a very good meal with uniquely cooked hash browns. He was eager to know if we liked them OK, as they had not been grilled. (The exhaust hood over the grill did not have a stand alone fire suppressor, and one would cost $30K, so they were improvising). They boiled potatoes, diced them small, then "dry" grilled them with a tiny bit of sprayed oil. Actually a great improvement over it's greasier cousin.

I admit I have mocked folks who rhapsodize on their culinary adventures. And I have pushed that same envelope a bit. But in the age of Covid, merely eating OUT is not just a meal, but a re-affirmation of life as we knew it and a reason to keep on keeping on.