sNOw

Portland doesn't quite understand the concept of winter.  And I don't quite understand that.

I grew up in Montana where we used to build snow tunnels in the back yard with ease.  Plugging in our cars at night was normal.  (I already lost some of you, didn't I?)  Subzero temperatures, sledding and snowmen were just a part of this season we call winter.
I moved to Colorado after high school.  As you may know, Colorado embraces winter as well.  I have fond memories of blizzards and snowy outdoor recreation.
Before Oregon, I also lived in Chicago.  Snowy? Yep.  Cold? Um, yeah.  Winter? Absolutely.

Nevermind all the other moving around I did...
I ended up here in Portland, Oregon.  The land of no winter. 
I remember reading somewhere that the average annual snowfall here is less than 6 inches AND that the record low was 5 degrees.  To me, this is crazy. Oh and don't be deceived by six inches.  It basically turns to water the moment it hits the ground.

Perhaps I haven't expressed the fact that I love winter.  Or maybe its more that I love experiencing true seasons.  There is something about everything going dormant while a white blankets the earth and then a bursting out with new life in the spring that just gets me.  I love it.

And this brings me to my recent heartbreak.  It was supposed to snow.  And it did...a little bit here and there.  But then it was really supposed to snow.  All night and then heavy in the morning.  I had a hard time going to sleep as the snow glow brightened the sky and I dreamed of sledding and frosty photos.  My alarm woke me up early (I told you...I was excited), but before I could look outside, I heard it.
Raindrops.

That BIG northwest storm that plastered the news for several days??  Yeah, Portland didn't get that.

After I watched the weather channel lustfully for an hour, I got to thinking about my cold attitude.  I love living where I do.  I hardly ever have to deal with icy roads.  I rarely feel the need to bundle up.  And even as I write this I marvel at the mild January day filled with green grass and sunshine.  I really can't complain much about all that.

But once, just once (each year), I'd love to break out a sled in this winterforsaken town and experience some true snowy glee!

rolling with the credits

I have a hard time walking out of a movie theater before the credits end.

Most of my friends know this about me.  It's just a thing I have.  It feels awkward to me, possibly comparable to screaming uncontrollably at a concert when a song pleas for silence or dancing wildly around a posh (and perhaps slightly uptight) art gallery.  And the awkwardness is only heightened by the discomfort I sense from those around me as they try to understand why I am still sitting there.  I am there because art deserves reflection and those five minutes are a gift.
For one thing, every single name on that screen had something to do with what just happened.  I find myself catching a name or two along the way and wondering who that person is.  How did they become a part of this?  What does their life look like?  How much passion did they devote to this project?  They probably deserve the credit they are getting.  Even more than that, though, I cannot escape the reality that whatever film I just gave part of my evening to had some sort of impact on me.  It doesn't matter whether I feel annoyed or sad or inspired, I FEEL something and really appreciate the time to actually process those feelings.  And they give you a mostly dark, mostly empty room with a specifically chosen song filling the void to do so...
I can't walk out on that.

to new york on a train

watched a sunset * hugged a friend * made a new one * read a lot * wrote even more * rode a blizzard * walked familiar city streets * woke up to vineyards * gazed again * found inspiration * laughed with old friends * cheered in central park * had a drink or two or ten * opened eyes * headed north * heard traveling stories * heartbreaker * ate a cupcake * wrote again * skipped rocks * laughed again * said too many goodbyes * wrote again again * headed home and left * again

heart right now

walking the void with bittersweet distraction
fading into glances
and hazy love

corroded by loss
pounding strong with an ache
only waves can wash away

ideas are ideas

I've been pondering the idea of ideas lately.  I have lots of ideas.  I even feel passionately about them.  However, all they will ever be are ideas floating around in my head until I turn them into something else.  It's time for me to take some action.  I've taken all kinds of little steps here and there and cannot deny the footsteps of progress I look back and see.  I've even walked right up to the edge and allowed myself to become familiar with the vastness of my passion and desire for change, but it's time to jump.  It's time to shed these last layers of weight holding me down and truly free myself to take my ideas and make them a reality.  Because ideas are just ideas...until they become something else.

road trip blips

"A journey is best measured in friends, rather than miles"


Upon pondering this quote, I have been inspired to share some thoughts from a recent trip. I ventured out via car, train and uhaul over the course of two weeks and seven states to reconnect with old friends, make room for new ones, spend time with the ones so close, see new and growing children and bring one friend back "home" with me. Random thoughts from the journey:

Thai food:
I LOVE Thai food. I would venture to say that it is my favorite cuisine. But what happens when pad thai combines with a beautiful evening and an old friend I haven't seen in over ten years? Thai food becomes a million times more fabulous. Also, cutting up magazines while eating leftover thai food will always make me happy.

On the (rail)road again:
Something else I love? Taking the train. It requires a time deposit which I find easy to respect while staring out windows at sights not seen from other roads. When my gaze turns away from the window, I see people. Everyone is going somewhere, but for now, be it hours or days, we are all together on the train. To embrace this little community is a part of the nostalgia of the tracks. To those I met on this trip, I thank you for sharing your stories, your markers, your laughter, your homemade cookies, your thoughts and your plum brandy. Cheers!

Naps:
I'm not much of a napper. On average, I'd say I nap MAYBE once a month. But the day I arrived early on the train and ventured up into the clouds, a nap was my best friend. Engrained in my mind still because I was so content, I found myself curled up on my sleeping bag listening to the lake and soaking up the sun while drifting in and out of sleep, unsure of whether to truly sleep or just enjoy the peace.

Colorado transplants:
I love that I have friends from college to visit when I go back to Montana. Whitefish friends...thank you for being there with your colorful walls that always make me happy, your homemade granola, dancing and music and not needing plans. Sorry I kind of abandoned you for huckleberries. It happens. And Bozeman friends...thank you for having time to reconnect and for sharing your baby and that delicious dessert. Thank you all for always offering up a place to stay. Please say "hi" to the snow for me when it comes. I fear I may not be buiding any snowmen this winter. Super weird.

Talk about quality time:
In only a few days, my mom and I managed to visit both Glacier and Yellowstone, take lots of photos, go camping, discover a new type of marmot, move a huge boulder, pick gallons of huckleberries, listen to lots of classic rock, go shopping, make friends at Arby's and drive about 1000 miles. Good times indeed.

Picture Perfect:
Yellowstone is always a wonderful adventure, but meeting a wonderful friend there makes it even better, especially when it's a favorite photo snapping partner in crime and when the adventure takes a grizzly turn. (Pun partially intended.) I am glad for three things:
1. That we tented it even after the ladies told their crazy bear story about our campsite.
2. That we saw a grizzly.
3. That the sick bear decided to attack the night after we left.
Bear with me (pun fully intended) as I deposit more memories. Oh also, people are stupid. "Not us...it's others." Hee hee. No but seriously, bull elk are dangerous too.

Denver:
Pub. Beer. Phone Booth. Ice Cream. Laughter. Pianos. People Watching. Sweet Potato and Black Bean Tacos. Fabulous stories. Margaritas. Mix together all these things with friends from all over and enjoy. Lovely day.

Peeps and pipsqueaks:
Sometimes the thing you need most is just a day with the girls. It doesn't really matter whether shopping for umbrellas, sitting around eating chocolate, making peepsushi or playing dress-up. On a sidenote of sorts, I am thrilled to see that Kiley's fashion sense is coming along smashingly. Really, though, there are friends that will be there no matter what new roads are being travelled and they will always be the perfect day in the middle of an adventure...

Fort Fun:
*sigh* This town will always have a place in my heart. SO MANY memories. It was a blast this time around too. A trip to the ever flourishing mall may be my last ever considering the absence of Chick-Fil-A. What?! Bad move mall. Thankfully, we tracked down a #3 with magic lemonade across the street. Old town is still lovely and Old C's still a great gathering place. The parks make for great picnics as always, but is it just me or is our crowd getting overrun by children? Pretty sure they will soon take control...

Master Plan - Step One:
The last part of the trip was the drive back to Oregon...in a Uhaul...friend in tow. Mwahhahaha. See, if I could make Portland the new Fort Collins, my life would be pretty near perfect. Why? Because I love where I live. It has pretty much everything I've been wanting...except every person I love. That is why you are all going to move here and we are going to live happily ever after. Ok, I realize this is probably not going to happen, but I am still going to try. I suppose it's for the best anyway if SOME of you stay where you are, otherwise I would have no friend filled road trips to write about now would I?

At Last:
It will always be a spectacular song. Nope...has nothing to do with the trip. It is playing on pandora right now and I just felt like mentioning it as I wrap this up.

Thank you friends for being a part of the adventure that is my life. The miles matter not when you are on the other end. See you again next time I hit the road. Or when you move to Oregon. Or when we meet somewhere else. Or here if you're itching to relocate...it's sunny right now. There's an IKEA. And lots of water. And me. Ok...I'm done.

loving local flavor

Recently, I hopped off the lightrail and made my way once again through several park blocks to the farmers market. Once there, I sampled cooked greens, picked out perfect pears and chatted with the honey guy about huckleberries. Fresh colors invaded my heart as I let myself fall in love with this local scene. I am lucky to live somewhere that values local flavor. Aside from the abundance of farmers markets at my doorstep, there are hundreds of homegrown breweries, bakeries, restaurants, fruit stands and farms in every direction. It's not just fun either...it is fabulous. Eating local food supports the local economy, enriches a healthy lifestyle and simply tastes delicious. I recently read a blog post about some of the benefits of eating local food, so check it out, get out and take a bite out of life.
10 Reasons to Eat Local Food