Yurt!

It's a word that begs to be shouted out. In a funny voice that sounds like a honk. I had no idea what a yurt was until I moved to Oregon, but a few short weekends ago, I found myself sleeping in one. Not quite a tent, not quite a cabin--but I am one cookie who does not do "outdoors" very well. So the compromise (in celebration of Mr. Nice Guy's and my 11th wedding anniversary) was this:

Disclosure: This photo is not the actual yurt in which we stayed. And I have no idea who that guy on the ladder is. I was too much of a space cadet (and on a billion allergy meds) to get a photo of our yurt. But it looked just like this one. Image from this site.

But here are my photos and the inside of our yurt was amazing. 

The soaking tub was just big enough for the whole family to squeeze in. Someday a tub like that will be mine. At home, I pretend to soak in our pathetic sitz-bath that pretends to be a real bathtub.

And here is just about the highest bed I've ever slept in. I had to step up on the bottom edge of the frame to hoist myself up. We pushed an ottoman-type storage cube against one side so Little Girl Nice Guy could climb up and down. She said she felt like The Princess and The Pea. She looks like a pea--that bed was so big.

We stayed just outside Seaside and the weather was so kindly cooperative. Unlike now.

Oh, to be on vacation again.