Mark had a seminar over the weekend, so we spent most of Saturday at the coast.
While we were travelling on Hyw 99 W, Arthur calmly said, "Change diaper, please." We stopped and he needed it. Mark was great and changed it while I went in for Pepsis. When Arthur saw what I had, he said, "John, evil drink, please."
When we got to Newport, where Mark's seminar was being held, we ran into a parade detour. A race closed most of Hwy 101. Mark started laughing as we drove with a host of other tourists through scenic beachfront Newport. Eventually, we overshot and ended up north of Newport at Moloch Beach. I'm not sure why Oregon has a beach named after an Old Testiment demon. By this time Mark was on his cell phone to the hotel where his seminar was -- the didn't seem to believe him when he told them the Newport Police had shut down their 101 entrance.
After we dropped Mark off, Arthur and I went to the Oregon Aquarium -- on the south end of Newport. Arthur liked the otters, the sealions and the harbor seals, and the birds. He also liked the gravel, the machines that crank pennies into tourist trinkets, a barrel of plush snakes, and the fake tidal pool. The plexiglas shark tunnel was merely an obstical to go through so he could get to the water sculpture at its exit. We mostly had a good time; Arthur saw a bunch of kids herded by their older relatives into a group family shot, so when they left, he demanded that I take his picture. But, he got upset with me when I wouldn't let him get inside of the Plover exhibit and didn't appreciate it when I told him that if he studied ornithology in college then the Aquarium might let him in. But he really lost it when I wouldn't climb into the otter tank to get their ball so he could play with it.
We drove back to the north end on a blissfully clear Hwy 101. We parked in the Agate Beach wayside and then Arthur and I had a quick snack and then found Mark. By this time Arthur had his second wind and Mark froze his feet off making sure Arthur didn't wade to Hawaii. We saw lots of kites and met lots of friendly people -- two of which managed to catch sand crabs for Arthur to look at (by this time my camera's batteries had died or I would have snapped a shot).
After cavorting on the beach for about ninety minutes, it was time for dinner. So we thought we'd go to The Whale's Tale in Newport. While we walked around Bay Blvd in beautiful Newport looking at "coastal art" and basking (tatooed) sealions, we met a (very tatooed) hooker, a drunk (presumably unemployed fisherman), and fellow Wordo Jeff Gieger. (No, Jeff was with his significant other and her parents.) Dining was also an adventure as we watched a (very loud) party of nine enter The Whale's Tale, spend about ten minutes trying to fit around a table for six, and then leave. Arthur shared our dinners, which is his favorite thing to do (and talk about) when we are in a restaurant.
We got home quite late. Sunday was lazy, except for the gardening.