HOME!!!
Thank God, oh, bless Him, I am home!!! Home feels so nice and welcoming, and I missed it so much. The trip really was great, but I do like Kentucky more. The Northwest climate no longer suits me, unfortunately; I missed the warmth here (though not the extreme humidity as my hair has a terrible, wicked tendency to become oily). Aside from the warmer temperatures, I yearned for the warmer dispositions. Several people snubbed me in Oregon and in Washington. Surprisingly, this applied mostly to salespeople and not to strangers on the street. The salesladies at Nordstrom's weren't god-awful, but they were most definitely below par for my beloved department store. Chicago was much better and remains my favorite city.
Speaking of bad salespeople, my family and I spent an afternoon at Cannon Beach, not on the beach, but in the shopping area. After perusing a Celtic store and the guaranteed tourist gift shop (where I accidentally broke a candle holder by dropping a candle on it), we headed for Powell's book shop, a personal favorite of my parents. On the way, however, a trendy clothes shop grabbed my attention, so we temporarily parted ways. The trendy shop offered less than I'd hoped for, but I found a few interesting pieces. The sales"lady" there, though, wasn't polite at all and reminded me that one need not be extremely redneck to be trash. I must list the offenses.
1. As I accumulated articles of clothing, I draped them over my arm, one on top of the other. A couple pieces were loose-knitted type things, sort of like they had holes. I can't think of the proper term at the moment. Anyway, this saleswitch comes over and starts taking them from me. Then she explains herself. "Don't hold these with the others because hangers will catch on them and damage them. I'll hold them over here."
"Okay," I said. "I'm sorry." Why did I apologize? I shouldn't have, but I hate to be rude, especially out of state (literally) because, honestly, Kentuckians have a bad enough reputation as it is, what with the ignorant view that we marry our cousins but don't wear shoes (sinful run-on!).
2. While Miss Bimbo chatted on the phone and diddled about on the register, I patiently waited to use the fitting room. A woman who I assumed to be her mother (they were similarly rude and bitchy and trashy, etc.) started grabbing at my stock of try-ons, snapping, "You can only take in five at a time. Do you have five?" She acted as if I weren't being quick enough for her. No one else needed the fitting rooms, anyway. Both were free. I only needed one. The skank.
3. Upon finishing modeling the clothes for myself in the sauna (aka dressing room), I exited and told the daughter saleswitch that I would like to put the pieces I like on hold, so I could go find my mom to pay (I didn't want to carry my money with me on this trip). Or I would have told her that except before I could get a word out, she put up her finger to shush me. Apparently, she was on the phone. I should have told her to kiss my ass then, but I found a cute jacket on the sales I wanted. Plus I didn't really know what to do. Honestly, her behavior dumbfounded me. Did I look like some little kid? I am pretty short. I'm not saying that salespeople are entitled to insult customers over their age of for any other reason, but this would at least explain why she didn't take me seriously.
4. As soon as I returned with my mom, who I informed of the rudeness and errors, they sweetened real quick. Miss Bimbo even commented on my jacket, "Oh! I didn't notice before, but I have pants that match your jacket! Yeah, they have the same color. And stripe. And stuff." I gave her one of my "wtf" looks.
5. My mom started playing games with them. She consumed their time with doubtful questions over an imminent purchase, and she even wandered off for a little while before they rung up the items. To amuse myself while she meandered elsewhere, I inspected the hat selection, searching for a gift for a friend. Get this. As I silently debated over a brown hat versus a blue one, Mommy Bimbo comes over and needs to ruffle through some shirts on my other side. Apparently, I was in her way. So what does she do? She places her hands on my hips and physically moves me out of her way. She didn't even say anything. It bewildered me. Thinking about it now infuriates me. The only thing keeping me in that store were two t-shirts I found for Conner and his roommate Jeffrey that I know they will love. They resemble the Jolly Roger flag and glow in the dark, and they'll think they're hot stuff when they wear them. But anyway. The nerve of those swine.
My mom quite enjoyed herself pissing the younger one off at the register. After she'd removed the tags and rung up the items, Miss Bimbo announced our grand total, a sum over a hundred dollars. "What?!" my mom barked. "Oh, I don't know if I want to spend that much." So my mother and I debated what would stay and what would go. We had Miss Bimbo read off the prices for each item a couple times, which visibly angered her. Finally, we nixed a hat, bought the two shirts and an outfit for me, and left. Mother and Daughter Witch weren't very happy, but my mommy and I felt much better.
Not all of the trip frustrated me. The Oregon coast awes one and all. It really is beautiful, despite the constant chill. Actually, one of my favorite events of the trip occurred thirty minutes into our four hour drive to the coast. Speeding along in our rented Chrysler, we noticed a couple people honking at us and motioning with their hands.
"What are they trying to tell us?" my dad wondered.
"Maybe we have a flat?" I suggested, though I didn't believe myself. The car still drove smoothly.
We pulled off to the side of the highway, and, low and behold, our rear left tire was flat. We took the next exit into a relatively small but very busy city. Lumber companies and big semi-trucks crowded the area and caused traffic. We stopped at a CFN station, a gas station for big rigs. Amazingly, the only semi in the lot belonged to a AAA man. We just happen to be AAA members. My dad asked the man Rick if he could help us, and he did. He helped us remove the tire from the underside of the car and changed it out for us. The burning rubber stunk, and Rick really dirtied his uniform. He performed this all for free, but my dad paid him anyway. Because the spare tire is only meant to be temporary, Rick directed us the closest Les Schwab, a mere five minute drive down the road. Would you believe it only took Les Schwab an hour and a half to change our tire? I don't know how myself because they were very busy at the time. By the time we'd finished our lunch at the Subway across the street, only a twenty minute wait remained. It was the easiest inconvenience one could have on a trip. It was like Fate accidentally handed us some bad luck when two inches of a serrated steak knife punctured our tire, and then made up for it with a series of fantastic luck. It was really cool.
From what I've typed, one can gather that we traveled quite a bit. We did. Enough, in fact, for me to read 3 1/2 books during the vacation. First, I finished the rest of my Anna Maxted book (which forms the 1/2). Then I read that book my father found for me, the one I mentioned before. I can't remember the title; I didn't really like it that much. Next I read a chic lit. book I picked up ages ago. Its title is Easy, and it's written by Emma Gold. When I bought it, I had no idea how trashy it was. Let me tell you, it was skanky. It wasn't even disgusting in a fun way; it was just filthy, classless stuff. I read it, though, and Gold wrote a couple of good lines. Overall, it is junk, but I will post the good lines tomorrow or something to share the decent parts of it. I finished that book a couple days ago, and like I said the day before yesterday, I've been very busy. I couldn't pick another book up until last night after returning from Nordstrom's. I finally finished a book we'd tried to read in senior English whenever we had free time. Unfortunately, we only had enough free time for about fifty pages of a one hundred and thirty page book, so I found a copy at the bookstore at Cannon Beach to call my very own. My English teacher will be proud when I tell her I read it and liked it very much. I liked it enough to pick up another novel by the same authoress in Barnes and Noble on the car ride home from Nashville. Oh, and the book I read was Ellen Foster by Kaye Gibbons. I recommend it.
That's enough typing for now. I hope everyone had a wonderful Fourth of July. I will lie happy in my bed tonight, thank the Lord.
Speaking of bad salespeople, my family and I spent an afternoon at Cannon Beach, not on the beach, but in the shopping area. After perusing a Celtic store and the guaranteed tourist gift shop (where I accidentally broke a candle holder by dropping a candle on it), we headed for Powell's book shop, a personal favorite of my parents. On the way, however, a trendy clothes shop grabbed my attention, so we temporarily parted ways. The trendy shop offered less than I'd hoped for, but I found a few interesting pieces. The sales"lady" there, though, wasn't polite at all and reminded me that one need not be extremely redneck to be trash. I must list the offenses.
1. As I accumulated articles of clothing, I draped them over my arm, one on top of the other. A couple pieces were loose-knitted type things, sort of like they had holes. I can't think of the proper term at the moment. Anyway, this saleswitch comes over and starts taking them from me. Then she explains herself. "Don't hold these with the others because hangers will catch on them and damage them. I'll hold them over here."
"Okay," I said. "I'm sorry." Why did I apologize? I shouldn't have, but I hate to be rude, especially out of state (literally) because, honestly, Kentuckians have a bad enough reputation as it is, what with the ignorant view that we marry our cousins but don't wear shoes (sinful run-on!).
2. While Miss Bimbo chatted on the phone and diddled about on the register, I patiently waited to use the fitting room. A woman who I assumed to be her mother (they were similarly rude and bitchy and trashy, etc.) started grabbing at my stock of try-ons, snapping, "You can only take in five at a time. Do you have five?" She acted as if I weren't being quick enough for her. No one else needed the fitting rooms, anyway. Both were free. I only needed one. The skank.
3. Upon finishing modeling the clothes for myself in the sauna (aka dressing room), I exited and told the daughter saleswitch that I would like to put the pieces I like on hold, so I could go find my mom to pay (I didn't want to carry my money with me on this trip). Or I would have told her that except before I could get a word out, she put up her finger to shush me. Apparently, she was on the phone. I should have told her to kiss my ass then, but I found a cute jacket on the sales I wanted. Plus I didn't really know what to do. Honestly, her behavior dumbfounded me. Did I look like some little kid? I am pretty short. I'm not saying that salespeople are entitled to insult customers over their age of for any other reason, but this would at least explain why she didn't take me seriously.
4. As soon as I returned with my mom, who I informed of the rudeness and errors, they sweetened real quick. Miss Bimbo even commented on my jacket, "Oh! I didn't notice before, but I have pants that match your jacket! Yeah, they have the same color. And stripe. And stuff." I gave her one of my "wtf" looks.
5. My mom started playing games with them. She consumed their time with doubtful questions over an imminent purchase, and she even wandered off for a little while before they rung up the items. To amuse myself while she meandered elsewhere, I inspected the hat selection, searching for a gift for a friend. Get this. As I silently debated over a brown hat versus a blue one, Mommy Bimbo comes over and needs to ruffle through some shirts on my other side. Apparently, I was in her way. So what does she do? She places her hands on my hips and physically moves me out of her way. She didn't even say anything. It bewildered me. Thinking about it now infuriates me. The only thing keeping me in that store were two t-shirts I found for Conner and his roommate Jeffrey that I know they will love. They resemble the Jolly Roger flag and glow in the dark, and they'll think they're hot stuff when they wear them. But anyway. The nerve of those swine.
My mom quite enjoyed herself pissing the younger one off at the register. After she'd removed the tags and rung up the items, Miss Bimbo announced our grand total, a sum over a hundred dollars. "What?!" my mom barked. "Oh, I don't know if I want to spend that much." So my mother and I debated what would stay and what would go. We had Miss Bimbo read off the prices for each item a couple times, which visibly angered her. Finally, we nixed a hat, bought the two shirts and an outfit for me, and left. Mother and Daughter Witch weren't very happy, but my mommy and I felt much better.
Not all of the trip frustrated me. The Oregon coast awes one and all. It really is beautiful, despite the constant chill. Actually, one of my favorite events of the trip occurred thirty minutes into our four hour drive to the coast. Speeding along in our rented Chrysler, we noticed a couple people honking at us and motioning with their hands.
"What are they trying to tell us?" my dad wondered.
"Maybe we have a flat?" I suggested, though I didn't believe myself. The car still drove smoothly.
We pulled off to the side of the highway, and, low and behold, our rear left tire was flat. We took the next exit into a relatively small but very busy city. Lumber companies and big semi-trucks crowded the area and caused traffic. We stopped at a CFN station, a gas station for big rigs. Amazingly, the only semi in the lot belonged to a AAA man. We just happen to be AAA members. My dad asked the man Rick if he could help us, and he did. He helped us remove the tire from the underside of the car and changed it out for us. The burning rubber stunk, and Rick really dirtied his uniform. He performed this all for free, but my dad paid him anyway. Because the spare tire is only meant to be temporary, Rick directed us the closest Les Schwab, a mere five minute drive down the road. Would you believe it only took Les Schwab an hour and a half to change our tire? I don't know how myself because they were very busy at the time. By the time we'd finished our lunch at the Subway across the street, only a twenty minute wait remained. It was the easiest inconvenience one could have on a trip. It was like Fate accidentally handed us some bad luck when two inches of a serrated steak knife punctured our tire, and then made up for it with a series of fantastic luck. It was really cool.
From what I've typed, one can gather that we traveled quite a bit. We did. Enough, in fact, for me to read 3 1/2 books during the vacation. First, I finished the rest of my Anna Maxted book (which forms the 1/2). Then I read that book my father found for me, the one I mentioned before. I can't remember the title; I didn't really like it that much. Next I read a chic lit. book I picked up ages ago. Its title is Easy, and it's written by Emma Gold. When I bought it, I had no idea how trashy it was. Let me tell you, it was skanky. It wasn't even disgusting in a fun way; it was just filthy, classless stuff. I read it, though, and Gold wrote a couple of good lines. Overall, it is junk, but I will post the good lines tomorrow or something to share the decent parts of it. I finished that book a couple days ago, and like I said the day before yesterday, I've been very busy. I couldn't pick another book up until last night after returning from Nordstrom's. I finally finished a book we'd tried to read in senior English whenever we had free time. Unfortunately, we only had enough free time for about fifty pages of a one hundred and thirty page book, so I found a copy at the bookstore at Cannon Beach to call my very own. My English teacher will be proud when I tell her I read it and liked it very much. I liked it enough to pick up another novel by the same authoress in Barnes and Noble on the car ride home from Nashville. Oh, and the book I read was Ellen Foster by Kaye Gibbons. I recommend it.
That's enough typing for now. I hope everyone had a wonderful Fourth of July. I will lie happy in my bed tonight, thank the Lord.