Monday, August 20, 2018

Consolation Pie

Sometimes, you gotta kiss a lot of frogs.
Today wasn't a letdown per se, but it was slower than normal. We began with some tolerable doughnuts at Voodoo Doughnuts in Eugene. Apparently this regional chain is semi-legendary; I suspect people who think Captain Crunch actually belongs on doughnuts will like it better than I did. Rob's apple fritter did look nice, though.

We spent some time with Rob's father and stepmother, lunching at a Hungarian restaurant and then riding a carousel—something I think I may have last done... uh, sometime in my life. It was kind of fun.

So far, so good, but after that it was a string of failures and semi-failures. Note to Roadside America: Tim Tharp's Yard Art is (a) not really that visible from the highway; and (b) not at all accessible, what with the cattle guard blocking the road. We drove a few dozen miles out of our way to see not much of anything, so thanks for that. Then, in downtown Salem, we had but a few minutes to seek out the Eco Earth Globe, but due to unusual crowds—possibly for a country-music concert?—we never even got out of the car. And then we made to the Enchanted Forest—and we do love an Enchanted Forest, though preferably when it's at least half defunct—in time to realize that we didn't have enough time to justify the entrance charge. You lose some, you lose some, sometimes.

One of the few pitches that was not hit out onto I-5.
We did, however, get to see a slugfest at the Salem-Keizer Volcanoes game against the Hillsboro Hops: eight home runs in all. The stadium is bare bones; the tickets were grossly overpriced (hey, MILB teams, if you're going to charge prices like that, the least you can do is pay the players minimum wage); and the kielbasa was ill-advised. It made me not at all sorry, which I already wasn't, that we opted to skip last year's Eclipse Game. And anyway, we'll have another chance in 2169.

Turn around, bright eyes.
We wrapped up the night with some tolerable beer and pretty good late-night pie at Bannings Pie House. Was the pie a consolation? Only if you think that pie isn't a joy unto itself. In which case, what is wrong with you?

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