Beach House Day Five: I do not roister with an oyster. I like my bed dry. An oyster, moister.

June 17, 2010 Comments Off read Attractions, Pacific, Travel, USA, Washington, West

In the limited time I had on Wednesday before I had to drive home, we decided to take a trip to Oysterville to see what there was to see.

And when you’re in Intercourse, you take home…? Hobo Station? Slaughterville? Hooker Hole? New Erection? Gaylordsville? Don’t leave me hanging, sign! Oysterville clearly fancies itself the Honolulu of Washington, and the resemblance is striking once you analyze the data. Honolulu, the capital of Hawaii, has attracted nearly 380,000 residents. Oysterville is an unincorporated community in Washington, and though there is no population information online, I can tell you that the one street that comprises Oysterville contains precisely twelve houses. Amazing similarities, no? A tourist trap is not a tourist trap without a general store, and while there, I learned some fascinating things about oysters, from a fascinating book called Oysters A-Z. There was a book next to it called Oysterville A-Z, so clearly someone has cornered that market. Surprisingly enough, nothing caught my fancy enough to want to make it mine, and I wandered outside to watch something much more interesting: someone had gotten his truck caught out in the beds, and even pushing it from behind and attempting to tow it out with another truck couldn’t do the job. Eventually, the Gorton’s fisherman (most famous for his role in ‘I know what you did last summer’) wandered out with a piece of rope so ratty he likely got it from his last trip to Atlantis, they hooked his truck in, chariot style, and with two trucks pulling plus half the town pushing from behind, they were able to free the truck. Now that the problem had reached a conclusion and the most excitement the town had seen since the great oyster molester of ’23 had passed, we decided it was time to move along ourselves. Thus endeth Beach Week 2010.

Beach House Day Three: “If you can’t start behaving, they are going to kick us out of this museum!”

June 16, 2010 23 Comments read Attractions, Oregon, Pacific, Travel, USA, West

After the Cranberry Museum, we hopped over to the Maritime Museum to cause more trouble. And potentially learn something. But mostly cause more trouble.

^{We lost the supplies? We have resort to cannibalism?}

^{No, no, rescue is surely around the corner!}

^{Quick! Let’s commandeer this ship while the crew sleeps!}

^{Set a course for Barbados! Cabana boys, here we come! …I am still thinking about cannibalism.}

^{I am the best stealth captain ever! Muahahahaha!}

^{Help! Evan is being attacked by a fearsome octopus!}

^{Quick! Grab onto something, anything to pull us aboard!}

^{We’ll each have to demonstrate our specific skills in order to earn an honest living aboard the ship.}

^{Some of us are less naturally skilled than others and have to rely on the natural loneliness and drunkenness of sailors.}

^{How long is going to take for them to feed us? Crikey! …I am still thinking about cannibalism.}

^{Soooooo….hungry!}

^{I don’t want to do any work, per se. I just want three hots and a cot.}

^{Quick, cut the power to create confusion so we can escape with a rowboat and provisions!}

^{A bye-bye, everybody!}

^{How could these sweet faces possibly wreak havoc on a perfectly nice museum?}

^{…Nevermind.}

Beach House Day Three: “Be good or I’ll take you to the Cranberry Museum!”

June 16, 2010 18 Comments read Attractions, Nom or Vom, Pacific, Travel, USA, Washington, West

Unfortunately, given our shenanigans the evening prior, we had already behaved poorly enough to deserve the Cranberry Museum. And if we didn’t deserve it THEN, we (read: Evan and I) certainly deserved it after what we did Monday morning. Monday morning, Memorial Day proper, Emily sat up with a start and shouted ‘BALD EAGLE!’. She has a…rather contentious relationship with the eagles in Long Beach. Namely, she wants to photograph them, and they mostly don’t want to be photographed, by her in particular. So when she saw this eagle flying down to perch on the post marking the property line, she ran out to the beach with her camera, still in her pajamas, clutching her waistband so her pants wouldn’t fall down in her excited rush. I decided that it would be prime time for a marshmallow gun ambush. I swear that if this photo extended to the left just a bit further, you would see me standing in the window, plotting.

Evan and I crept downstairs and outside, waiting behind bushes with our guns. Emily was so excited that she was practically skipping down the path back to the house. And then we struck.

Her scream was bloodcurdling and entirely satisfying; there’s video proof but I can’t embed it here. And it put me square on the naughty list.

So let me tell you about some damn cranberries.

Firstly, they are boring.
Secondly, they are boring as HELL.
Thirdly, this ‘museum and research laboratory’ is owned by Ocean Spray (a fact which would no doubt thrill my grandma, who gets very excited when she has a point of reference like, say, Dole. “Are those orchards owned by Dole? Do you think they have contracts with Dole? I think they would make a lot of money if they sold to Dole.”), which means they are biased regarding cranberries, their interestingness, and what exactly constitutes a ‘museum’ and ‘research lab’.
Fourthly, “When the Pilgrims first settled in America, it was the Indians who introduced them to cranberries. The Pilgrims thought that the drooping pink blossom of the berry looked like the downturned head of a crane, so they called it a “crane-berry.” Later, the name “crane-berry” was shortened to cranberry. From the very beginning, our forefathers considered cranberries very important. They used them for food and medicine. And to this day, the cranberry is still considered unique. Its juice has a flavor that is naturally and powerfully concentrated. And it’s the cranberry taste that makes our drinks uniquely refreshing and that gives you the goodness and flavor you expect from Ocean Spray.”

If you guessed that a room full of pictures on the walls plus Ocean Spray propoganda plus a gift shop constitutes a museum AND a research lab, you would be correct. But wait, there’s more! It’s not technically a museum until there are people inside, being bored by the exhibits. It was time for me to shake things up a bit. As part of the shaking process, here I am, having my hind end picked by a suction picker.

However, it turns out I’m not the only one who decided there needed to be some shaking-up going on.

Really? Touching, wearing, and throwing have been problems in the past? I could see touching. Or wearing. But throwing?

Just look at all these fine products that Ocean Spray provides to the cranberry-loving public! They even label it ‘marketing’, as if perhaps I was confused as to the entire purpose of the museum’s existence.

We didn’t even get the benefits of the Ocean Spray movie, though it was prior to 4:30. What kind of museum are you running here, Ocean Spray? Oh wait, we already established, a crappy one.

Did you know that cranberries were an important part of the war effort, that they spurred the soldiers on to kill their enemies? Wait, maybe it’s the potent mix of coffee, cigarettes, and candy. I know that just the thought of fruitcake makes me want to punch a guy.

Of course, with any food-based ‘museum’ plus gift shop, there’s going to be food for sale. And some of it is destined to be judged by the internet at large. Poll #1579393 Nom or Vom: Ketchup? Catsup? Are you here to solve my ketchup problem? Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 25 Would you eat this?

View Answers NOM NOM NOM 11 (44.0%)VOM VOM VOM 14 (56.0%)

I could have gone to inspect the cranberry bog in person, but…eh.