Ensconced with the Empress

On Friday, the Hood to Coast Relay started about half an hour before I left home. This means that 3,000 runners and their support staff, vans, and assorted other vehicles were coming down Mt. Hood as I was going up. They run in the breakdown lane, so they don't actually impede traffic, but the flow is slowed none-the-less. The runners start at Timberline Lodge (you've seen pictures of it glorious in the snow if you have seen, "The Shining.") and drop some six thousand feet in altitude, passing the baton from runner to runner for something like one hundred and fifty miles until the suffering bastards finally stagger over the finish line on the beach at Seaside, Oregon some 24 to 48 hours later. They run in the dark with a follow car cruising in granny gear behind them, lighting the rural road ahead with headlights. they smear Vaseline liberally between their cheeks to prevent crippling chafing, and by the end of the run, the transport vans probably smell so gamey they need to be burned.

So what does all this mean to me? It means that the local constabulary are out in force to ensure no possum mad asshole runs over into one of the gallant athletes. As I was cruising through the village of Damascus, I absent-mindedly drove through a 40mile zone at 50 miles an hour. The nice lady motorcycle cop who pulled me over ran my plates and registration and gave me a warning about speeding and a ticket for expired tags. the computer told her I had paid for my tags, but she could see they were not affixed to the plates. I distinctly remember, when I got those tags in April, putting them aside for a day when I wouldn't have to squat in a mudpuddle in a rainstorm, freezing my buns off while affixing the tags to my plates. I wonder where they are now? If I can show up at the Damascus City Court with the tags on the plates - before Sept. 23 - I can skate without paying the fine. The lady motorcycle cop was very kind once she realized I am just a harmless batty old broad. I was quite impressed by the high-techness of the motorcycle's on-board computer. And by the significant persuasiveness of the shotgun in the motorcycle's saddle holster. If you go to Damascus, stick to the straight and narrow!!

I faced runners for only a few miles. The rest of the drive was cake! I'm glad I got here before Brother and the crew left. There was a lot of training needed. How to run the AC. How and when to water the lawn. How to lock up. What to lock up. Where to find the mail box. etc.etc. But the crew of happy fisherfolk are on the road and have had to call with things remembered only twice so far, so things are going well.

I got out and took a lovely walk at six AM this morning. Cool in the dawn. Lovely sunrise. I got wonderful pictures. Now all I have to do is find someplace with a wifi so I can transmit them. Brother doesn't have any ports that will fit my camera cable. Well, there's always Starbucks. I won't face them on Saturday morning, but maybe by Monday, I can give you pictures.

And now, knitting. Joy to one and all!