Yesterday, we stopped in Portland to see my niece (recovering from COVID - testing negative) and two of her children who have also continued to test negative. She gave us some doctor recommended masks to wear under our regular masks and we all wore masks and were outside with social distance between us. (Sad that we didn't get to hug.) She was the first COVID patient at her doctor's office where they now have 30 testing positive. She was diagnosed in October and is just now receiving a medication given for Lyme's Disease that is finally helping with the severe nerve pain. She said each day she would be hit somewhere on her body with excruciating pain and only in the last couple of days was the new medicine prescribed. It provided so much relief. Yesterday was the first day she'd been out of the house since she was diagnosed. Fatigue is a continued side effect.
My niece had a lovely neighbor repair my license plate holder with the help of her 12-year old son who has become quite handy. Turns out I need a whole new panel on the back end of my RV from water damage. It has been one cha-ching after another with this RV. It would take a whole long blog to catch you up. Anyway, they helped get my new plates attached properly. I'd been running on expired paper plates since the 13th. (That's a whole other story.) I picked up the plates in a package my daughter shipped to my niece. In that package we also got a 6 month supply of nearly $500 a month medicine through an income qualified program. Truly a life saver.
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The tide was way out when Cooper and I got to explore. The patterns were wonderful. I could have photographed the sand for a long time.
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Cooper helps pack out what he deposits, so I tie the filled up poop bag around his collar when we're on our walk and let him pack it around while we explore. He hauls it back to the trash can on our way out. If he doesn't find something wonderful to smell, he always has his lovely aroma filled bag nearby. ;)
I wish so much the beaches were off leash. He wanted to run so badly. Everyone had their dogs on leashes, and signs said leashes only, so I kept him on his. At least he was allowed to walk with me. This was our one half day of sunshine, but drove out of blue skies right into another storm.
I wish so much the beaches were off leash. He wanted to run so badly. Everyone had their dogs on leashes, and signs said leashes only, so I kept him on his. At least he was allowed to walk with me. This was our one half day of sunshine, but drove out of blue skies right into another storm.
UPDATE: My dear friend enlightened me that the poop bag around a dog's collar negatively affects his ability to investigate smells because of the plastic. I never thought about that. I often don't have pockets and sometimes am carrying a cup of coffee. I've never seen another dog carrying his own bag. I'm grateful for the advice. I won't be doing that again. She sent me this link to make her point.
If you're interested in more about a dog's nose click here. I received an email from an Editor at Happy DIY Home in New Zealand who lists 15 things you might not know about a dog's nose. Enjoy!
If you're interested in more about a dog's nose click here. I received an email from an Editor at Happy DIY Home in New Zealand who lists 15 things you might not know about a dog's nose. Enjoy!
One State Park in Newport, Oregon
Beaver Creek emptying into the ocean. Birds would float backwards toward the ocean.
We are currently parked across from scenes like this in Astoria, Oregon.
The kayak scenes were from a few days ago at Ona Beach in Newport, Oregon. Ona is known as a Chinook jargon word for razor clam.
From the Park's website:
"The land was purchased between 1938 and 1968 from private owners, and includes one gift of 10 acres from Lincoln County made in 1963. In the days before the completion of the Coast Highway, the beach between Newport and Seal Rock was used as an access road. Motorists would travel at low tide, following the mail carrier who knew the best way to cross Beaver Creek. The park was first known as Ona Beach State Park, but was renamed in 2013 to honor the first Oregon State Parks and Recreation Commission chairperson."
From the Park's website:
"The land was purchased between 1938 and 1968 from private owners, and includes one gift of 10 acres from Lincoln County made in 1963. In the days before the completion of the Coast Highway, the beach between Newport and Seal Rock was used as an access road. Motorists would travel at low tide, following the mail carrier who knew the best way to cross Beaver Creek. The park was first known as Ona Beach State Park, but was renamed in 2013 to honor the first Oregon State Parks and Recreation Commission chairperson."
Beaver Creek empties into the ocean.
11-22-20
This is our view out one window. We are going to stay the night here and hopefully won't be asked to leave in the middle of the night. That's a risk at almost every place we stay.
There's a nice walking trail around the water. It's raining steadily again, but the morning was dry. Even with the clouds, the dry weather was a tiny reprieve from the constant sound of rain. We saw the sun for almost an hour yesterday. It felt like a magical life line. My mood drastically changed the moment the sun debuted. My niece had me buy some Vitamin D and said to start taking that for the rain induced depression. She said it really helped her.
This is our view out one window. We are going to stay the night here and hopefully won't be asked to leave in the middle of the night. That's a risk at almost every place we stay.
There's a nice walking trail around the water. It's raining steadily again, but the morning was dry. Even with the clouds, the dry weather was a tiny reprieve from the constant sound of rain. We saw the sun for almost an hour yesterday. It felt like a magical life line. My mood drastically changed the moment the sun debuted. My niece had me buy some Vitamin D and said to start taking that for the rain induced depression. She said it really helped her.
Below was taken with my telephoto lens through the RV window as the ship passed by.
It's pouring as I write this. I've been watching through my binoculars and saw some sea lions diving in and out of the water. I caught this image through my window. I've watched several of them swimming in this section from the RV and can hear them talking like when we were in Crescent City. I love that sound. Little joys count for so much right now. Coop and I walked down by the water and saw a lot of sea lions on a closed pier. I wish we could have gotten closer.
Waiting out the rain ...
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Cooper and I got out for a walk while it was
between raining and sprinkling, but not downpouring.
between raining and sprinkling, but not downpouring.
This tram system is shut down because of COVID here
in Astoria, Oregon. We're parked right near the tracks and water.
in Astoria, Oregon. We're parked right near the tracks and water.
Photos can certainly tell a story. We've all heard how a picture is worth a thousand words. But it can also tell just a teeny tiny portion of the whole story. And it can also tell a story that doesn't exist. We see in photos what is inside of us. We imagine the good or the bad or the magnificent or the mundane. Every picture ignites in us our own interpretation of the world.
In some very small ways, this trip is what you see in the photos. But it's also much more. It's hard to put into words. Nothing in the photos captures these COVID times.
Nothing in these photos captures the constant tug at my heart that I feel as I watch the independence and life force fade away in my mother. Nothing in life prepares us for that. There's a sadness that cuts deep inside me as I'm faced every day with my mother's physical losses.
I wrote a dear friend about some of this today. Just thinking about it makes me tear up. Her mind is strong, but without meaningful or useful sight, it's a game changer in so many important ways. She is so dependent on everything because of her sightlessness. What I really miss is sharing the beauty of nature with her and being able to talk about the sights. It's like I'm traveling alone in some ways, but not with the energy that comes from solo traveling. It's very strange and somewhat draining.
I bought her a portable clock that "talks the time" when a button is pressed, but it needs a new battery and we need a special screwdriver to access where the battery goes and I've lost that. (I lose something every day.) I try to remember to randomly tell her the time during the day.
I can't often put her prescription drugs in her hands because her hands are semi numb (neuropathy from Cipro) and she can't see the pills either. I have to put them directly into her mouth. Sometimes she can tilt the little pill cup into her mouth if I make sure only two or three little pills are in it, but I need to watch to make sure none drop out.
She also has swallowing difficulties so the pills sometimes don't go down smoothly, and if they jam in her throat where she has a diverticuli (sp?) issue, it can slice open the soft tissue and make swallowing painful for weeks. I sometimes need more patience than I have to wait between swallowing the pills. It takes several times to get through all the pills morning and night. Her swallowing reflex takes extra time to work. Two pills have to be ground up each day and put in pudding for her to take because they are simply too large for her to swallow. Sometimes I mix it in peanut butter. I'm tearing up just thinking about all the ways she has lost her independence. Just three years ago, it wasn't like this. I never even imagined it would ever be like this. Of course, I'm very grateful her mind has stayed strong. Her voice still sounds mostly like the mom I've always known. It's just very hard to witness how much the body fails with age.
Nothing in these photos captures the constant tug at my heart that I feel as I watch the independence and life force fade away in my mother. Nothing in life prepares us for that. There's a sadness that cuts deep inside me as I'm faced every day with my mother's physical losses.
I wrote a dear friend about some of this today. Just thinking about it makes me tear up. Her mind is strong, but without meaningful or useful sight, it's a game changer in so many important ways. She is so dependent on everything because of her sightlessness. What I really miss is sharing the beauty of nature with her and being able to talk about the sights. It's like I'm traveling alone in some ways, but not with the energy that comes from solo traveling. It's very strange and somewhat draining.
I bought her a portable clock that "talks the time" when a button is pressed, but it needs a new battery and we need a special screwdriver to access where the battery goes and I've lost that. (I lose something every day.) I try to remember to randomly tell her the time during the day.
I can't often put her prescription drugs in her hands because her hands are semi numb (neuropathy from Cipro) and she can't see the pills either. I have to put them directly into her mouth. Sometimes she can tilt the little pill cup into her mouth if I make sure only two or three little pills are in it, but I need to watch to make sure none drop out.
She also has swallowing difficulties so the pills sometimes don't go down smoothly, and if they jam in her throat where she has a diverticuli (sp?) issue, it can slice open the soft tissue and make swallowing painful for weeks. I sometimes need more patience than I have to wait between swallowing the pills. It takes several times to get through all the pills morning and night. Her swallowing reflex takes extra time to work. Two pills have to be ground up each day and put in pudding for her to take because they are simply too large for her to swallow. Sometimes I mix it in peanut butter. I'm tearing up just thinking about all the ways she has lost her independence. Just three years ago, it wasn't like this. I never even imagined it would ever be like this. Of course, I'm very grateful her mind has stayed strong. Her voice still sounds mostly like the mom I've always known. It's just very hard to witness how much the body fails with age.
Update: Woke to this view of the ship under sunlight early this morning. It's not raining and doesn't look like it will today. Tomorrow is a different story.
Our parking spot worked out well. That's always a feeling of great relief.
Our parking spot worked out well. That's always a feeling of great relief.
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