Futility Now

As Joaquin mentioned, I fell and did an number on my ankle.  During the rest of our vacation, I was spoiled with good company and attention and carried around, and there was a truly incredible view from our windows.  Despite this, my ankle refused to chin up, and just became bluer and bluer. Literally.

So, while it wasn’t on our itinerary, we made a stop at the Mad River Hospital (what a name!) to make sure I hadn’t broken anything.  Nope, not broken, but the ligaments are damaged, so it’s going to be a long time before I get back to my ballet classes.

I went back to work yesterday, and my students were wonderful, but it definitely wrecked me.  Crutching around is work.  I got all sweaty and I am just not a sweaty person.

So I stayed home again today, and did a lot of sleeping.  You know I’m not myself when you see me photographed in a hoodie.  I have never even owned a hoodie in my life.  This is one of Sylvia’s abandoned ones that has sharpie marker stains all over the sleeves.  But its shlubbiness is telling.  Seriously, I watched The Cutting Edge on Netflix and ate a Kit Kat today.  I guess my ligaments aren’t the only worrisome thing…

So we just got home from Trinidad. In Trinidad we drank fine wines, at delicious food and lounged around in a hot tub. On the downside, Hazel really did a number on her ankle because she was looking at the spectacular view instead of the porch in front of her. Now she’s on crutches. At any rate, here are a bunch of pictures.

There was also a lot of rain, but it was nice to just watch it through the windows. The drive home was also pretty soggy, and we stopped on the other side of Rice Hill, which is always fun.

Shots from the car.

On Friday night we stopped a bit outside Cave Junction at a resort whose rooms are tree houses.

We didn’t get to do anything exciting, but the room was nice and the breakfast they provided was quite good. It seems like it’s the sort of place that rewards a longer stay. If you like horses or ziplines or whatever.

Now we’re in Trinidad, and I’m sure there will be more to say about that presently.

We love the Rice Hill I-5 exit.  It’s between Curtin and Drain, if that tells you anything. We pass by anytime we travel down to California or Southern Oregon.  There is an amazing old school drive-in/up/thru place with burgers, fries, and shakes to die for.  Across the freeway, same exit, there is this chalet-style motel called the Ranch Motel — a string of tiny A-frame cabins with a bigger central establishment.  It probably comes as no surprise that I am extremely fond of A-frames. I have been wanting to check it out for years now (funny how the older you get, the more accurate that statement becomes).

It was not a disappointment! We were all in pretty desperate straits, me enough so that I ordered a Monte Cristo, which came with a pineapple ring on top. Awesome!  Why don’t more entrees come this way?

In our great wisdom, we also ordered two slices of cream pie to go — a very promising beginning to our Spring Break.

So as I said, there was some home improvement and it was insane. The drain basket that was in our sink was old enough that any effort to hold it in place while unscrewing the basket’s nut (heh heh) resulted in the ancient metal shearing off. This is (most of) the basket and the nut after it had finally been wrenched from the sink.

Here is the old and the new passing one another.

In the middle of the process, we took a break for pupusas.

On the way home, the world was clearly ending.

The next day we recovered at the aesthetically-consistent Little Big Burger.