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July 7, 2008

On the Oregon Trail, Part 1

Yesterday the gent and I left our dear Minnesota to go Westward, ho! We spent a nearly unbearable nine hours getting from there to here (which would be Dickinson, ND, natch) with nary an incident beyond a speeding ticket and a North Dakota rain storm so fierce I feared for my life. But we survived the brutal river fordings and cholera epidemics, and for that we must be grateful.

(Aside: I just discovered iTunes U and I'm totally in love. Yesterday we listened to an Australian university's lecture on Harry Potter and the Holocaust and a Stanford lecture about the rise of French awesomeness. Last night we went a little nuts on the downloading (they're free!) and got podcasts on everything from Bob Woodward discussing the media's impact on politics to the art of reading a poem. Sigh... I love getting learned real good.)

We made our home last night at a bed and breakfast, a type of lodging which is quickly becoming an obsession of mine. Hey-- they're often cheaper than regular hotels, the rooms are nicer, the owners are always quirky and you get a lovely and filling breakfast.

When we arrived at this one the owner, Quinta, greeted us at the door, which opened upon her handmade jewelry shop. Sparkly. Then she led us through the house, where we saw the fancy library:

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The lovely dining room:

 border=Our room's mini keg (it's the German Room and all Germans have mini kegs-- didn't you know?):

 border=And then this:

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Discuss.

6 comments:

  1. Is that a ghost harp looming behind her coif?

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  2. Did their daughter die mysteriously from an untimely encounter with a mini-keg? Or from an overdose of "liva-worst"? Maybe DeAnna will reveal all this evening...

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  3. Ah the 80's. When frizzy, unruly hair was somehow attractive. I miss shoulder pads.

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  4. I wondered if it was a picture of Tonya Harding at first sight.

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  5. I always tried to get my hair to do that. And failed.

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  6. I once stayed in a library-themed bed and breakfast. Everything in the breakfast room was a color of red that can only be described as "Jazzy!" and was patterend after a book called "The Bed and Breakfast Murders." The owner had seven cats.

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