On a Whim and a Prayer

Back from yet another short and loosely planned trip to the PNW and feeling as rested as 2.5 days away can make a person feel. The trip included things domestic (appliances), things festive (Christmas), and things social (yep--with real people), all highlights in their own way.

Of note, however, was an introduction (probably a re-introduction, really) to the McMenamins concept: transform old buildings into unique destination spots where grub and grog are readily available. On this trip my hosts to me to Edgefield, where the company, the dining, and the glass of Pinot Grigio were quite nice in the cool Oregon air. My host's friend and I exchanged war stories. My host was hostful. I watched a couple of women transform molten glass into wonderful works of art (one of these women would also gladly exchange some of that art for some of my money.) Drinks were served in the Little Red Shed. Dinner was served in the Power Station Theater & Pub.

I am already plotting my return to Edgefield, perhaps accompanied by my spouse who might enjoy a visit to the onsite spa while I hide out in Jerry's Ice House, an extremely small shack with an extremely good sound system and television through which nothing but Grateful Dead music and videos play. Though I am not a Deadhead by any means (spent too many hours listening to Paul Simon, for Chrissake), the Ice House was cozy and welcoming enough that I pictured myself with my notebook and/or laptop and some good beer, all the while trying to conjure up one Muse or another. Kominski, he of great Grateful Dead knowledge and affection, is probably more suited to the Ice House than am I, and he would be good to have along to provide insight into the Dead mystique. (If you encourage him, perhaps he'll share some of his Dead experiences.) There is, also, a short golf course if you are maschocistic or even if you simply enjoy the game.

One unexpected gift from the trip was the first paragraph of what I think could be a fun novel to write. Okay, one stinking paragraph doesn't mean much, and I have no clue what the second paragraph will be, but I had fun sitting in PDX and scribbling lines onto a piece of scrap paper I found in my pocket. Now, that second paragraph.....