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Livin' Just Enough, Just Enough for the Cit-ay!

That's Crescent City, California, folks! And, even more accurately (sorry Stevie), let's substitute "surviving" for "living." We'll get most accurate at the end of the next paragraph.

How could I have neglected to tell you anything about the place we're parked for the next couple of months while Tim does his time? Well, if you were here, you'd know. Perhaps our nickname for the place will give you a clue, "Crescent Shitty." Or, when we're feeling particularly affectionate toward our home away from home, simply, "The Shitty."

Why in the world, then, should you keep reading about this place? Look at it this way: The more you learn, the less likely you'll ever feel the need to come here yourselves. That's a good thing. Trust me.

Granted, the beaches are gorgeous. If you simply stared out at the ocean all day, you might forget you're actually "in the shitty." But, you've got to turn around, not to mention actually go to town, sometime. Poor you. Or us, as the case may be.

Herewith, some Shitty highlights (or lowlights - you decide):

Since there's a harbor with, you know, boats and everything, I had been looking forward to eating loads of fresh fish. Thing is, you can't buy fresh fish at any store in town - not even the (two) grocery stores. The only way to get fresh fish is right from the fishermen themselves, but they won't filet it for you. Believe me - I asked. The grocery stores are another issue - the nicest one in town is 23 miles up the coast in Brookings, Oregon.

Ah, the harbor. The lighthouse's fog horn sounds every 7 seconds. Every 7 seconds. All day, every day. 7 seconds. It's like Chinese water torture.

As the subtitle of my books says, I have approximately 200 pairs of shoes, although I regularly wear maybe four. I like admiring the rest on my shelf - like works of art - but I haven’t bought new shoes in ages. I thought I’d been “cured” of that particular obsession while living on the bus. But, in Crescent City, I bought my first pair in a very long time: Waders. At Wal-mart. Oh, Queen of the Road, how far hast thou fallen?

Last year while we were here, I saw this Elephant Seal on the beach by our rig:


She seemed to be in distress (even more so than one would expect simply being in The Shitty), so I went to the RV park's office. They said not to worry, "she's just molting." Hmm. This Queen has always believed one should molt behind closed doors but, oh, well. Kids these days. The marine center said she’d come all the way from Alaska, and was headed to the Faulkland Islands to… hook up. I turned to the seal and gave her some free psychiatrist advice (which, as with everything in life, you get what you pay for), "Honey, there are perfectly nice seals next door in the harbor. But, if you insist, I hope he’s worth it." (Clearly, this seal has no sense if she stopped here to pick up a new coat. She should have gone just a little ways down the coast to the Nordstrom in San Francisco. Good luck finding anything nice here in The Shitty.)

It has been way too long since I got my hair done in Boulder - including weeks of ungodly humidity. As I observed when we were in Arkansas - which looks positively cosmopolitan compared to this place - think Hindenberg disaster - “Oh the humidity!” Tim wasn't crazy about my new look either, but as I always say, why did he marry a Jewish woman if not to be disappointed every day of his miserable life? I found this salon (notice it’s conveniently located on the fishing harbor). I think I’ll just wait until we get home.


No Scissors 'R' Us for this royal. What do you want from me?

One plus is that in nice weather (so, every few weeks), Tim and I walk on the beach. I love watching the pelicans skim the water (Pelican Bay has pelicans! Who knew?), but some kind of seagull flock recently got to town. They are decidedly less enchanting. Prior to our last walk, I had just washed my hair. The seagulls kept flying overhead.

"You better not poop on my hair" I called, more than once, eyeing the sky warily.

"Keep looking up and it won't be your hair you get it in," Tim snickered. Told you he's evil.

Unfortunately, the pelicans are soon migrating south, so we'll only be left with the seagulls. Tim lamented that fact, saying, "Even a bird-brain knows to get out of The Shitty for the winter."

On the plus side, we can walk to Turf Club (although do we really want to?):


Tim thought maybe we should give it a try. Feeling scatalogical (what else is new?), I commented they should change the "f" to a "d".

Tim said, "I don't think anyone will notice." He has a point.

Anyone have a nomination for Worst Shitty?

Comments (4)

Annette Baesel:

I've been to the Shitty. I just couldn't bear to share what i really thought of the place with you until you'd been there and discovered it yourself...somethings are best left to self-discovery. Does it still smell like a pulpmill or has it closed down (what might be bad for the Shitty would be great for you if that was the case).

Waders...i'm am laughing my a*& off my chair. (but I admit...I have them...from my years in the Seattle area...must be that northwest thing.)

sorry about the pelicans moving south...i love the pelicans...maybe I'll have to get you more interested in seagulls...do you know that some species of seagulls are "lesbian"? I had a friend in college who researched seagulls on santa barbara island off the coast of so cal. They found that a sizable chucnk of female seagulls nested together...obviously a male was involved at some point...but after that it was "sayonara fishbreath!". Here's the more interesting point (only if you are desperate for bizarre cocktail conversation). How do you tell the sex of a seagull since they look exactly the same? Grab a gull...throw a blanker over you and the gull (to make it dark) ...get your flashlight out "held in your teeth" turn the gull upside down...and...well...peek inside with the flashlight. Seriously...really Seriously. that was my friend's job "sexing" the sea gulls.

You really are several knotches up the "interesting friends" flagpole...many several.

I have more interesting facts about gulls if you get bored...but no pointers how what guage shotgun to use (well...a 24 is probably good enough).

Oh, Annette. If I get so bored here that I need more "interesting facts" about gulls... I think I'll ask you for that shotgun, instead.

One of Tim's prison buddies (NO, not THAT kind) just told him he and his wife refer to The Shitty as "Oklahoma By The Sea."

No pulpmill smell. Must have closed down. Even a pulpmill apparently couldn't handle The Shitty.

I had no idea some seagulls are lesbian. If you had told me some seagulls in this place are suicidal, that would not have surprised me, though.

By the way, Annette, you DO get around, don't you?

Annette Baesel:

Doreen you make me laugh and laugh! And yes, I DO get around (in the best sense of that phrase). Our vanity license plate isn't "BCurious" for nothin'!

To Drink before your evening "gull stroll"

Blue Pacific Gulltini

1 1/2 oz gray gull vodka (yeah, yeah its gray goose...have a few, you'll forget that and the gulls!)
1/2 oz blue curacao
1 tsp lemon juice

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on November 12, 2008 11:34 AM.

The previous post in this blog was All Aboot (Sorry Ladies) My First Canadian Book Group.

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