The Story of Oregon begins in Seattle. We went to an underground tour and we were informed (by a strung-out grungy tour guide man who was clearly high at 8:30 am and also clearly brilliant) all about the inner workings of 19th century drunken loggers and their syphilis-infested interactions with suicidal crack whores. It was a lot.
From the bowels of Seattle, we were off to the beautiful mountains of Oregon. We stopped at an Alpaca farm on the way to Portland which was a big hit all around and everyone from home who knows I am "scared" of dogs would have never guessed because there was a big fluffy doggy named Maggie and I was playing with her and we were having so much fun. I fed Alpacas and all the kids love love loved it.
Then we had a yummy dinner at the hotel and headed off to my very own personal heaven: Powell's City of Books, one city block squared worth of new and used books. I was overwhelmed at first and then settled into the Judaism/Israel section and found two great books. So happy!
Now we are having a staff meeting and since I'm not in charge of any meals and we're doing restocking orders, I have time to write this on a hotel pad, even though I really just want to shower, read my books, call Meir, and go to sleep on my broken sleep number bed in my room that reeks of smoke.
Laila tov!
Honey, there was no crack in the 19th century. You read Freakonomics - it was invented in the 1980's. Love, Mama
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