Gas Stations in Oregon and an Entertaining Summer Show

Terraced lawn at Carson Ridge Cabins, Carson, Washington

For a state without a sales tax, Oregon has managed to maintain impeccable roadways. We drove from Portland to Coos Bay and across to the Columbia River Gorge during our vacation, and every single highway featured picture-perfect surfaces, whether shiny blacktop or rock-infused cement, down to the artistically painted white and yellow lines. How does Oregon do it when California can’t even fix its potholes? Oh, wait, Oregon’s governor is a woman, to start with. Diversity, I suppose that has something to do with it.

Elizabeth Weintraub and friends at Brian McEney Wood Carving Gallery in Seal Rock, OR.

You also, apparently, can’t pump your own gas at an Oregon gas station. No self-serve gas stations in Oregon that we found. Which I love. Anything that prevents excess action on my part such as digging in my bag for my credit card and inserting my health benefits card (that looks just like a VISA card) into the card reader over and over, getting more irritated by the moment as to why the machine is broken, not to mention having to actually get OUT of the car, figure out which hose I want, unscrew the damn cap and then stand there while I depress the lever and nothing happens because it’s never read my card, well, I’m all for full-service, yes sirree.

Elizabeth Weintraub and Big Foot in Stevenson, Washington

My husband, on the other hand, finds it annoying to speak to another person when he’d prefer the zen of filling his own gas tank. He doesn’t really enjoy anybody fussing over him, which is a good thing he’s married to me. I’m not much of a fussor as I am a fussee. Which is probably why I like the new Comedy Central show with one-half of the Garfunkel and Oates team (Riki Lindhome) in Another Period more than he. It’s sort of a Downton Abbey in that it’s about rich people around the turn of the century, but it’s also like Arrested Development in its family dynamics.

I would not mind getting ready to go bed at night and standing there in my bedroom with my arms outstretched waiting for somebody to undress me and slip a nightgown on over my head. But instead what I get are cats chasing Q-tips around my feet.

Still, it’s good to be back home and in our house, with my own WiFi and internet services. It’s back to selling Sacramento real estate without any interruptions of a vacation. And, unlike gas stations in Oregon, pumping my own gas. Above are several photos I thought you may enjoy that could not find a place in any of my other blogs about our trip to the Oregon Coast and the Columbia River Gorge.