Last week, I actually went out of town. I drove 6 hours (Google will tell you it is four and a half hours: Google lies. Also I like back roads better than I-5.) to a conference outside Elkton, Oregon. The conference was, well, I have thoughts. There were really good parts and there were parts I was less enamored of: so it goes. It was a womens conference for leadership development in community colleges. Being as how I am old and crotchety and essentially uninterested in growing my career at this point, I was probably not really the right person to go. But I needed a break and I got one, even if it was way more intense than I thought it would be. I was hoping for more time sitting around by the river and less time making questionable group art projects based on values. Oh well! Everyone was very nice and I even kinda sorta made some friends. I was forced to think about my Goals, which, at this point in my life focus less on being my best self and more on just plain surviving the coming various apocalypses.

It was held at the Big K Guest Ranch, which is an actual ranch but with guest cabins. It’s gorgeous and right by the Umpqua River and apparently a world class trout fishing destination, which begs the question, why then is the food so extremely Sysco in nature? But perhaps that was just for the conference or perhaps it reflects the reality that this place is seriously remote. It’s a winding twenty minutes up a dirt road to get there and that’s after you have been driving some time on twisty two lane paved roads. There are cows. There are hay bales. There are deer, although I am jaded on deer. There were turkey vultures and a glorious osprey and the morning light was golden on the fields. The weather was amazing: hot and clear in the daytime and cool and clear at night. So maybe, actually, it really was a break. There are a couple more photos on Instagram. My insta is private now because 2026; if you don’t already follow me, shoot me a message and I’ll approve you.

It was good that I was gone, anyway, because apparently all hell broke loose here. My son had a serious bout of food poisoning – not cryptosporidia but actually somewhat worse – and ended up on antibiotics, spending the week, as best as I can tell, lying sadly on the couch groaning, and that was the good part. My brother was cranky that I was not here. The dog did not get walked; the cat took up a fun new hobby of chewing the internet where it comes through the wall. And, as if a new kitten was not enough, my daughter’s ex mother in law showed up with little warning: always a good time when you’re trying to plan a big party. Why a big party? Because she who was Four is now FIVE. I missed it. I was at the conference on the actual birthday and I couldn’t even call, because my phone didn’t work there. Several great books, however, and a deck of Go Fish cards are now in Five’s possession. Honestly I do not think she cared much.

So! Last week was mostly away, different latitudes, a rented car, new people, new horizons. On Monday, I drove all morning. I was two and a half hours late but I got there, frazzled and exhausted though I was. The road from Astoria to Elkton starts with mountains then winds through vineyards and more vineyards and farms and then changes again to different mountains and streams. Observe a representative farm shot from the agrarian valley part. On Tuesday, I was fully ensconced and this was the evening view from the not-campfire where we sat each evening around an empty fire ring and drank wine (it’s Oregon; it’s July; there’s a burn ban.) Wednesday, down at the Umpqua River with some fellow conferencees. The river was lovely and there were lots of tiny fish. If you go, bring water shoes and binoculars. On Thursday, the conference ended and this was the start of my six hour drive home. Friday, I was exhausted so here is a deer peeking around the house. Saturday here is Five clutching her Hello Kitty pinata; we were deep in party preparations and Sunday, here are my TWO gluten free cakes: one regular cake and 20 cupcakes, two distinctly different recipes, everything completely from scratch and both quite tasty. That was six hours of baking, which seems to be the theme for last week: six hours there and six hours back and six hours of baking, which brought me a new appreciation for the Great British, because if somebody had shouted Half An Hour! at me at any point on Sunday I would have brained them with a cast iron skillet.

Now it is Monday and it was FUCKING DIRE but I will tell you more about that next week when, hopefully, the memories have mostly faded.