It is the last day of August.
I am tired after two days at the coast and two nights in Portland.
On Sunday, Amy and I drove to Newport to see Keiko before he leaves for Iceland and the possibility of a new life.
We ate clam chowder and fish and chips at the original Moe's.
And then we drove home.
Sunday, Lars and Anne arrived in Cannon Beach on the tail end of a trip throughout the West. We drove to meet them.
After chasing them for some time (we passed them on the way and had to turn around to catch them) we laughed about the trip and a broken accelerator cable patched with duct tape.
Then we turned around and finished the trip to Cannon Beach. We had fish and chips again, watched the sun set, read the employment section of the local paper.
We ran through the cold sand down to the water. We put our hands in.
And we drove home.
Two days: one whale, five baskets of fish and chips, two beaches, two cities, one Volkswagen bus, two Germans, three Americans, and a whole lot of driving.
