Sea Lions, Sea Lions, Everywhere...

"Well?" you may well be wondering and rightfully so, what happened to me after the very pregnant pause following my birthday which post was considered to be highly inappropriate according to one very special adolescent, He Who Shall Not Be Named, since it contained several questionably controversial "p" words? Well, having birthed seven babies and shredded most of my anatomical self-consciousness in the delivery room, that is not, alas, the reason for my long silence. It was more like the end of the year got away from me and the new year began before I was ready and I have been running to catch up with "aught ten" ever since. So, this is a catch-up post, better late than never.
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And here, on the beach by Heceta Head - a few miles south of where I sit happily typing in my yurt, live and online in person for the first time from my lovely life in the round since we finally have internet service to our barn even tho we have no indoor plumbing (or outdoor plumbing, so I guess we have no plumbing, to be clear...) and so you can see by that where our priorities and other things lie but I digress and will pick you back up here mid-sentence - yes, here, en masse are the missing California sea lions that once sank the piers of San Francisco with their halitosis and gas-eosis and exuberant mating behavior and blubbery bulk, the same lions of the sea which had everyone wringing their hands with frustration as they flatulated in a most uncivilized manner and openly displayed their affection for one another, causing the well-heeled urban ladies to cover their eyes with kid-gloved hands, fingers nevertheless parted with unconfessed curiosity, until the tourist dollars flowed like so much saltwater into their palms and they threw their arms around their marine mammal friends, embracing their slippery skins which recently slid out from their clutches, leaving them scratching their heads and fingering their empty wallets with wonder. (No, I don't really intend to catch you up here all in one gigantic sentence..)
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"Where did they go?" our neighbors to the bankrupt south of us yodeled in fake Austrian accents with tears matching the salinity of the waters around their shores which now lapped uninterrupted by barking except as emitted by proud pampered poodles being walked by their pooch-sitters and doing their duty with propriety in several different languages. And no, they did not call over their little shoulders in perfect imitation of their governor, "I'll be back..." Or at least not so anybody heard. But it is fun to think about and certainly something a sea lion seems capable of.
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But, anyway, not to worry your permed little heads about it any longer as here they all are, right here in Oregon, safe and sound like so many other economic refugees from the Golden State. Eureka! Perhaps they are enjoying the temperate rainforesty weather for a change, tired of all that sunscreen application, perhaps they are simply following the herring who have done the same, their little fins tired of traipsing off to Rite Aid to stock up. Nobody knows WHY, but the amazing sight we beheld on our Thanksgiving trip down the breathtaking Oregon Coast was thousands of them soaking up some, ahem, rays and catching waves en masse. They looked and sounded to be enjoying their stay and who knows, perhaps they will tarry awhile. Hopefully you can tell that those brown blobs in these photos are, in fact, the missing Californicators, as folks in these here parts have been known to call those who try to take their motto across the border with them crying Eureka! (tr. "I have found it!")
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So, we headed south along the edge stopping briefly to remember ourselves to Paul Bunyan and Babe, the big blue ox with the big blue testicles - never mind, Micah - that Andy had to pose holding up, irresistible to males of all ages. But I will leave you to your own visual imaginings on that one and keep right on moving through the last vestiges of the oldest things on earth, Sequoia Gigantia, which we stopped to admire immensely and on under the Golden Gates of the city where Hannah was born and where we began our happily wedded life together and still keep on going a bit further south to where we ate turkey and celebrated the holiday of my Mayflower ancestors, hosted by Henrietta the chicken and her lovely caretakers, our friends from our days in Costa Rica which seem like yesterday but are fading quickly into the past. Too quickly.
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And what better to do after eating all that pumpkin pie than to walk over the famed Golden Gate. So the next day we did. And I won't bore you with all the dramatic details of how our nephew was married the weekend before in Seattle but chose not to invite us to witness his nuptials because, well, that goes along with why we celebrate holidays with our friends vs. family out here on the left coast, but I might just drop a little reminder about the bitchiness of Karma because who do you think we ran into strolling under the Golden Arches but said nephew and his lovely new bride on their honeymoon. So remember fair reader, as I told him, you can run but you can't hide. And as an added bonus he got to meet Bella and Isaiah, his first cousins, for the first time even though one of them has been on the planet for over a decade now and the other for a half. His blushing bride remarked how much Bella resembles Dakota Fanning, asking, "Has anyone ever told you that before?" "Why, yes," I replied in my perfect Scarlett O'Hara imitation. But then I missed my golden opportunity to add, "And don't you think she would make a perfect flower girl?" Darn it...
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K3