A Little Less

As Karen will attest, communication is not necessarily my forte.  Some of us males are notorious for that trait.  Such proved to be my undoing when I sat down for a haircut at a Forest Grove, Oregon, barber shop.  As I sat down, Rick, the barber, asked for my glasses.  No problem.  Barbers don't cut around ones ears when the hair lies buried beneath the stems of a pair of specks.

He asked what I wanted and, as I do at home, I said I wanted to look like my friend, Terry Wolf.  However, since Rick had never seen Terry, he said just by looking at my shaggy mane he could tell what my last haircut looked like.  Wrong!

With that he clasped the front of my grayed locks indicating how much he proposed to lob off.  Without my glasses all I could vaguely see was some blurry guy sitting in what I knew was a barber chair with a form standing over him holding what I presumed were hands near the top of the blurry guy's (my) head.  I guessed Rick was proposing to take too much hair off so I eloquently stated "less," meaning, as anyone would sure know, take less off.  Rick interpreted my "clear" utterance to mean, leave less on.  With that he proceeded to make a vast cut into the already diminished hairline north of my brow.  A single cut at that strategic location and we had reached the point of no return.   I grimaced with each ensuing snip as Rick proceeded to undo all the months of growing the meager number of strands I used to camouflage my receding hairline — my ever-widening bald spot — where historically I sported a cowlick.  

I've had shorter haircuts -- when my dad took hand clippers to my head turning my hairline into something resembling a scrub brush that had been left in the yard and run over with a gas-powered lawn mower, maybe a tad shorter.  I guess the good side is, I won't need another haircut for maybe two years.  As for the bald spot -- I'm glad it's beyond my field of vision.  The down side -- maybe my field of vision, but not that of the Oregon sun.

With my newly scalped head and Karen with her new eye lenses we headed for Cape Meares, Oregon, for a much anticipated four relaxing days to unwind.  It wasn't too difficult to settle into our vacation rental with a northerly view like this.

Nor, this setting when we rotated our heads to the left in a more southerly direction towards Cape Meares.   

Technology meets nature meets aerobics:  The roar of the surf was no obstacle to keep this jogging mom from communicating.  Now I wonder if texting while running down a beach pushing a stroller qualifies as texting while driving?  Talk about multi-tasking talents.  

Further north down the beach , towards the Cape, sand dunes give way to an eroding rocky shoreline.

                   Upper reaches of the shoreline are strewn with wave sculpted rocks.

Rock outcrops that reached the water are colonized by an array of sea creatures such as these anemones.  A local resident told us that just a few months ago this area was totally covered in sand.  It's makes us wonder how these fragile creatures could survive being buried.

An ochre sea star demonstrates how to scale a more than vertical rock face.  Somehow I don't seem to have the same talents.  Nor could I suck a raw clam out of it's shell.

           Karen getting a wet derriere. -- oh, and photographing a pair of black oystercatchers. 

                                      Looks like these two are a bit shy.

Every morning Karen raced down the beach hoping to beat the gulls to sand dollars as well as anything else that washed up during the night.  

Some of Karen's treasures.  Note the holes in the tiny sand dollars where gulls had out-maneuvered Karen.  Are we to assume that gulls poke holes in sand dollars for recreation?

Sunset from our deck.  What a place to see the final edge of each day!  We eagerly anticipated the sun's return as the earth continued it's rotation.  Our next post will reveal what the "morrow" wrought.