Denise, my partner in crime since we were freshmen in high school, e-mailed me in April announcing that we were due for a week at the beach this summer. I thought that was funny since I live five houses from the ocean, but what she wanted was to meet halfway between her home in Seattle and Crescent City.
I recommended a place I’ve stayed at in Taft, Ore., at the southern end of Lincoln City. It’s a modest home on the edge of the bay. We each drove about 250 miles to meet at the house Sunday before last. The rental company gave me a 4-digit code that opened a lock box with three keys inside: one for the three exterior doors, one for the laundry/storage room and a third that opened the detached cottage.
We soon fell into vacation mode. We slept until 7:30 or so, then ate our oatmeal and blueberries either by the picture window or outside, depending on the temperature. We shared books and magazines we’d brought and read until it was time to “get ready.”
Around noon we left on a quest for lunch and bargains at the Factory Outlet Mall. Then we’d return to the house for a walk or to soak up the sun from the Adirondack chairs on the deck. Eventually we’d forage for dinner, then read until we fell asleep.
On our last night in Lincoln City we left the house around 7:30. We planned to walk to a restaurant down the street for fish tacos.