January 25 + Astoria

As a month of 31 days, January's in no hurry to leave. I think the magic of this early-in-the-year time is getting 100% back to basics, getting 100% serious about clearing out clutter both mental and physical—like, replacing the strings of white lights in the windows with nothing, with fresh space, with newly cleaned glass.

Something else that makes me feel like I have more air in my lungs is travel, by road, by car, with good people if that's at all possible? Exploration. I am still determined to find new favorite places in Oregon. And despite my longstanding grudge against the Oregon coast (too crowded in the summer, too gloomy in the winter, altogether too many windsock shops), a few of us drove to Astoria this weekend, and I was charmed by the place.

I liked the ancient crumbling victorians piled all the way up the hillside. I liked the colossal freighters anchored in the inlet. I liked the melancholy place names—like Cape Disappointment, where all the ships crashed, even the one carrying supplies to build a new lighthouse. Astoria's just a grand, rugged ole frontier timber town straight out of The Journey Of Natty Gann or something. It's exceptionally Northwest!

Anyway, we let the dogs lunge through the waves and watched Billy do donuts in his SUV on the beach. We stopped at view points and looked at views. We drank beer and ate copious french fries and then fell asleep early in one of the quietest, comfiest hotel rooms with the softest of beds.