The disappointment of the weekend was Henry VIII. The production was first rate and the company didn’t have much to work with. This is just a bad play.

We’ve already started to pick plays for next year. Any suggestions on what to see?

• Hamlet by William Shakespeare
• Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen ; adapted for the stage by Joseph Hanreddy and J.R. Sullivan
• Cat on a Hot Tin Roof by Tennessee Williams
• She Loves Me, Music by Jerry Bock; l
• Throne of Blood Adaptation by Ping Chong based on the film directed by Akira Kurosawa World Premiere
• Well by Lisa Kron
• Ruined by Lynn Nottage
• American Night by Richard Montoya and Culture Clash World Premiere
• Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare
• Henry IV, Part One by William Shakespeare
• The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare June

• Left pdx at 6am and arrived at Laguardia 4:25
• Crying started at 4:15 when we first saw Manhatten. So what are those cool bridges and what neighborhoods did we fly over?
• Dinner at a Carnegie Deil. Meat poisoning
• Sat. Up too early. A quick breakfast then the subway to Battery Park. Nadya and Edis didn’t want to explore the battery. Somehow they were more interested in the statue.
• Wall of Honor. Mom walked upto the panel and immediatly found the family name. Just as quickly she lost it!
• Wild cab ride to rock center then to the roof. Wow!
• Back to the hotel for a drink and nap.
• Out again to comix and cheesecake and walking to times square. Lots of people
• Sleep. Eight hours and wanted more
• Up for a walk in central park, breakfast at Tavern on the Green then to shop.
• Fao and a live ugly doll.
• Dropped Nadya and Edis off at Bergdorf Goodman. Promptly found a watch Jaquet Droz. Grand hour. $24k
• Coffee and more shopping. Sent Nadya into Bloomingdale’s with my water.
• Back for a nap and booze
• Dinner at Craft
• More sleep
• Another wild cab ride to the airport.

It was a good thing I had on nominally clean clothes since we were about to take a detour that led us into the mouth of hell.   You can’t meet your certain and terrifying death in dirty clothes.

This particular hellmouth is known as Lava River Cave.   And sure, it’s been 100,000 years since molten lava flowed in Lava River Cave, but it must have been very hellish at the time.  Let’s say it’s now in a low maintenance phase.  Now it’s a one mile self-guided trail, that 3 year old children cheerfully gallop through.  For me, though, it was a pit of despair.

Jim was eagerly anticipating the cave walk.  Ever since we moved to Oregon he’s had his eye on the lava tubes around these parts.  I, however,  was terrified in that way that no rational argument can dissuade.

I have learned in these situations that the best path is to accept my fear and complain loudly.   Pretending I’m not scared just lets the fear expand inside me.  If I babble on and on, loudly and with feeble attempts at humor, some fear leaks out and I can jolly myself into doing the foolish thing, whether it’s a tetanus shot, a walk across a swaying bridge, or leaving blue skies to enter the pit of doom.

Approaching the cave, I accepted I was terrified, lamented loudly about my imminent demise, and made Jim constantly praise my bravery.    I pointed out to Jim that just as people questioned the sanity of skydivers jumping out of perfectly good buildings, I questioned the intelligence of people who wanted to leave a sunny Oregon summer day for a sunless tunnel.   He just giggled and said, “come on!”

When we got to the ranger station I asked for two lanterns.

“Two?” said the ranger.

“I’m an engineer, I always have a safety margin,” I explained.

Having paid, we walked around back to pick up the lanterns.  The second ranger handed us a single lantern.

“We’re getting two,” I said.

“Two?” she asked.

“Engineer!” shouted the first ranger.

“Good idea,” said ranger number two.  ”One light source in a cave? No way!”

Ha! I was completely vindicated when a swarm of bats extinguished Jim’s lantern.   Yeah, not really.  But it did work out much better for the photography to have two lanterns as we could strategically place them.  Jim does say that next time he’d want three lights and a tripod.

A half mile into the cave I was even willing to temporarily let go of mine.  I spent most of the walk torn between sheer terror and the thrill of exploration.  But I did get comfortable enough to read the signs, and help Jim with his attempts to photograph the difficult subject.  Ever the California girl, I started worrying about earthquakes, until it occurred to me that the 100,000 year old tube had already seen it’s fair share and made it through alright.    On the way back, I wasn’t so scared, as it was now familiar territory, but I did move right along.

Leaving I said, “That was a pleasantly terrifying way to spend a morning.”  It  had been delicious blend of adrenaline, endorphins from the uphill walk, and the thrill of seeing something rare and special.

On this trip we also went to Crater Lake.  It’s darn pretty and not scary at all.  You should check it out.

It’s really prettier here in this corner of Norway than the pictures do justice. That may be true of all of Norway, but I’m trying to acknowledge that Norway is half again as big as my home state. Someone who has only been to Cannon Beach might be surprised by Gresham, no?

My favorite scenery in the US is comprised of areas with wide vistas: Death Valley, the San Juan Mountains, the Grand Canyon. By contrast, here you turn every corner to find a new enchantment, neatly framed and complete in it’s beauty. A stone wall encircling a sheep meadow. A tiny half moon of sandy beach. A row of red boat houses edging the water. A glassy stretch of water marked only by the ripples from a swan. A gingerbread trimmed wooden farmhouse. A cove of sparkling midnight water lapping ancient granite boulders where improbable birch trees grow.

Improbable? When you come to realize the vast granite nature of this coast, it’s amazing that trees have managed to stake a claim on the rocks. They’re big rocks. I drive through a 100 meter tunnel carved in solid granite on the way to work. It’s easy to get poetic and compare the trees to the thousands of years of people who have also staked a claim here and thrived. Maybe that’s what got the Norse bards started.

The Eigeroy Fyr is a lighthouse on an island at the edge of the North Atlantic. Approaching the lighthouse you come across a house that, as one of my Norwegian colleagues said, “The Germans very kindly built us during the war.” It’s not a real house. of course. But it has an amazing view.