I’m not sure if the first time I went to Powell’s Bookstore felt like slipping through the wardrobe. Continue reading
The thing about social media, about using it, is that people can respond to each other. That’s the whole point. But sometimes I forget that I’m speaking to other people and instead pretend I’m speaking to myself. I send statuses and tweets into the ether expecting nothing. For sure, this makes me feel better if no one “Likes” or “Favorites” or “Hearts” something I say or post. But also, it freaks me out when people actually do respond.
Last night I tweeted:
Nandini responded. Continue reading
A week ago I spent three days in the exclusive company of women. We were celebrating the dwindling bachelorette status of my good friend, Leyna, in the oddly German town of Leavenworth, Washington. I went into the weekend with unconfronted nerves — I mean a houseful of women, most of whom I didn’t know, for three days, sounded like the opening of horror story.
Last Saturday we spent two and half hours in the Verizon store. We’d gone in to see if we could upgrade TJ’s phone, which for a year had been saved only by the Otterbox protecting it. It was a beautiful day, over 50 degrees by 10 am and we’d plans to drive to the coast. Continue reading
This is just to say if you had plans to see Jupiter Ascending, *Spoiler* I recommend finding a viewing establishment that offers adult beverages. Continue reading
We’ve been meaning to get to the Multnomah Falls, a quick thirty minutes from us in Portland. There was no planning, we just happened to pick a perfect day — clear, dry, and warm for January.
I thought we were going to walk up that first little bridge, take some photos, and get on with our lives. This was a short-lived fantasy. When we reached the bridge, we kept going. And noticed this little cave. We did the most obvious thing:
Up we went. The first switchback had a sign: 1 of 11 switchbacks. I knew then I was in trouble. I had dressed inappropriately: Ugg books with no ankle support, cardigan, and makeup. I was only good for looking pretty, not for hiking. Actually, I don’t think I’m ever good at hiking.
At first, I kept up with TJ, but soon, I was falling behind.
Eventually, I gave up, waved TJ on, told him to go on without me and to remember that he loved me, despite my failings. I pretend to try some ‘photography’ . Really, I was bent over at the waist sucking air.
Don’t judge me. I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I workout inside. I have weak lungs. At switchback 7 of 11, I swear I saw a burning bush and Moses.
By the time I got to the overlook, TJ was heading back down the trail, but he turned back to walk with me.
At the top, you could stand at the edge and look down, straight down the waterfall. It’s moments like those that I remember that I don’t enjoy heights. Was it worth the pain and embarrassment of being left behind? Of course. I have two strong legs, a heart in good order and ability, I try not to let my brain get in the way.
We highly recommend this hike. But I suggest being a little more prepared than I was. Maybe, wear sneakers or hiking boots, bring some water, wear layers and if possible eat something. Or, if this all seems like too much, convince your travel party not to go past the first bridge.
You do things that puzzle me, like fall asleep lying
on the couch in your coat and hat.
You do things that set my teeth on edge, like leave every light on,
every cabinet open. Continue reading
Every Sunday, between 9 am and noon, I go to the Walmart on 82nd avenue. It’s a Walmart with a reputation. That might seem like a redundant thing to say about Walmart, but for this one it’s particularly true. It’s not very far away from where we live, just three miles, but in true Portland fashion & I think like most cities, the neighborhoods can shift with just a stop sign. This Walmart is in the beginning section of a not-so-nice part of town. It’s always an adventure, I always go looking for excitement, and I’m usually rewarded, but this last Sunday was completely uneventful, or so I thought. Continue reading
So remember just last week when I was in full crisis mode about cutting my hair? Well, it got a little worse before it got better. The response from “Fuzzyhead” was so positive and supportive that I decided to finally talk to a professional. I looked up the address to the shop I’d been recommended ages ago and decided to go, last Friday. I told a friend I was going and asked her to follow-up with me, so I couldn’t back out. That’s how real my fear was, I needed an accountability partner. Friday morning came and went. It was noon before I even considered putting on clothes. Continue reading