Seattle Round 2

After I flew out of Atlanta the day after Thanksgiving, I decided it would be fun to hit the complete opposite corner of this great country (Alaska not included) and head to Seattle with Dylan, Neebin and Marley. Check out these lovely family portraits.

You can see some more here or visit with Seattle Round 1 here. Life is good.

A lot to be thankful for

This thanksgiving I went to visit my family in Chattaooga, TN. It was a full house with Oma, Kathy, the boys (Branden, Daniel and Dennis) plus all the out of towners (myself, Kyle, Nate, Ryan and Katrina). Here are a few shots from around the house:

I love this crew! Reminiscing about the old days and all the trouble we could get into running up Lookout Mountain. It was so great to see everyone! Dennis graduates this term (congratulations!) and I think I have been successful in convincing all of them that a trip out west is the much needed vacation they need.
We got lucky with some beautiful, crisp fall weather and, as always, there was good food to be had all over town, especially Thanksgiving Day! Kathy cooked a delicious feast with Katrina's help while everyone else enjoyed the snooze fest...

I baked the pies and got the best compliment of my life from Oma when she scarfed it down. We've been force feeding her hospital food for a week, but she ate the whole piece in about 1 minute flat! She said "it's hard to find a good piece of pie nowadays" (insert a visual of me patting myself on the back here)

Also, mad props to Ryan and Katrina who drove 16 hrs just to spend 1 day with the chaos. THANK YOU! I love you guys!

My Grandparents

I have some wild and crazy grandmas. I guess that would make sense considering traits like wanderlust are surely genetic, but it seems more apparent now that I am older. I look back and appreciate it more. I was very lucky growing up and was blessed with four “grandparents” who loved me.

The first two were the “normal” Grandma and Grandpa. They lived about 5 city blocks from us, although that is a really rough estimate considering we lived on dirt roads. Maybe it would be more accurate to say they lived two houses down. They hosted huge family reunions and large holiday feasts. We made strings of popcorn and cranberries for their Christmas tree every year. If Grandma made a sandwich it was cold cuts on white bread cut into quarters and placed on a folded napkin for us to devour…neatly.

We all lived in a small town and my Grandpa owned the glass shop. He also scared me when he snored at night and any time I tried to sneak past his chair to get upstairs. I remember them dancing, then my Grandpa danced less and my mom was left to dance with my Grandma more. My Grandpa passed away when I was in high school and it wasn’t until college when I learned more about all their travels across the country and wild escapades.

In 2007 I was living in St Augustine, FL and Grandma came to visit. Turns out she lived in St Augustine too when she was younger. She traveled to Florida, Texas, and everywhere in between before she was married. My sweet, little, traditional Grandma was more daring than I knew. That spring we played putt-putt, went to the beach, rode a scooter around town, and took a helicopter ride. She was 83 at the time.

Now the other two I always knew were a little different. I never knew my dad’s dad; he passed away before I was born. Instead I had Oma and Clara and they were awesome! They lived in Tennessee and Oma sent costumes that she made for us to play in. If Oma made a sandwich it was all the necessities spread out on the table: meat on the bone and a block of cheese kind of ingredients with a knife in the mayonnaise jar. They would pull up in the “bat mobile” and we would go on ADVENTURES. State parks, museums, civil war memorials…we went anywhere we wanted to go. Clara drove and Oma rode shotgun. Anytime we were off-track it became clear that there was no such thing, “Oh we’re not lost! We’re on an adventure!” I loved it. Clara also passed away when I was in high school and now I wish I had a better memory. I just know she was very kind and loving to us all and when I think of her it makes me smile.

In 2007 I also embarked on my journey across the country. My first stop was Oma’s house. Listening to old stories made me wish I could record every word as she recalled her life so I could always remember how strong she was. Full of fire and sharp as a tack, she could battle to the death in a political debate and slaughter anyone in trivial pursuit. The stacks of books are not just decoration. It was the perfect reminder to be open to learning.

This year has been hard. For the first time since high school, I am reminded of mortality and it is scary. A big part of me (selfishly) cannot picture them gone and hearing of their physical decline has made the distance from home seem twice as far. The other part of me is just grateful and inspired. In two totally different styles, they have showed me so much support throughout my life. Both are open and honest and I have never had to censor myself or my thoughts. Neither one has ever questioned me, my motives or my desire to wander. They just keep loving me, unconditionally.

Coming home

Living in the San Francisco area has been amazing. I currently live in a house with 4 other lively folks in Muir Beach with minimal stress and tons of adventure. I miss my Portland friends and my supportive boyfriend, but I'm also thoroughly enjoying the change of pace.

I took a 2 hour ride up coastal highway 1 with spectacular views as far as my eyes could see and my schizophrenic iPod shuffling through my ears. The next day my bike experienced a different kind of waterfront ride from Marin through Sausalito and over the Golden Gate Bridge.

It has made me remember just how lucky I am and living in the moment seems to be a little more natural.

Flying home to Portland yesterday I glanced out the window to cloud free skies and those beautiful cascade mountains. I was overcome with excitement to get home. Home to Portland where the rain is plenty, the skies are gray, and the days are short. Home to Portland where I am happy...maybe even happier now that I am living in the moment.

Not to mention the other perks, like knowing the baristas in Portland. I love Crema!

The other woman...I mean blog.

So I haven't been too good about writing lately and I'm sorry about that. In truth, I have been writing, but not on this blog. I started one for work. Not sure how I am now an official blogger...for two sites...but it's true.

Check it out.

Like most things, it is a work in progress, but some of my favorite posts so far:
The dodge dart with Yakima racks
Running through Sacramento
Costume shopping with Dave

More coming to both sites soon.
Cheers!

Sounds that make me happy

Sitting in the car for long hours, I listen to a lot of music. And sometimes I listen to nothing. Sometimes the voices in my head are too loud to hear anything but them (not in a mentally ill kind of way...just normal, healthy voice).

Dylan asked me once last year,

"What sound do you love?"

I had never really thought of this question before, but it stuck with me and while I answered it then I pay attention even more now. I listen more and I like that.

So here are a few:

The crackle made by pebbles on the shoreline. Water rushes in and crackles out with the tides. This is a predominantly west coast experience.
Ginger shrieking “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE” whenever I walked in the door. So shrill it could hurt your ear drums, yet so energy packed it was always hard not to laugh.

Leaves rustling underfoot partnered with bright colors creating warmth despite the crisp air.

Babies laughing. Especially when whatever they are laughing at is just not that funny.
Dylan playing the guitar in his own little world totally unaware that I snuck in the door. Amp that up with a fire in the backyard.

My puppy (a fully grown 80 pound “puppy”) sniffing my neck right before going in for the kiss attack. Almost crying…snorting in my ear. So wound up and eager to get out and play.

The swooshing sound of a snowboard on fresh trails…like listening to waves. Gently carving toward and then away from Dylan as he patiently mirrors my line.Songs that have found the secret to time travel, quickly transporting you to another place.

Just to name a few, but no where near the end of the list.

Blustery

I spent last weekend in Spokane and I was shocked by the cold! Yikes! I was not ready for 20 degrees while we set up in the shade. Sans gloves and forgotten hat. Not to mention the boy scouts that were parked up next to us outside REI selling their popcorn...they were prepared. Damn mottos.

I returned to Portland with visions of last week dancing through my head. Blue skies, perfect temperatures, sunshine for days. Sunshine? Where did it go? What happened to summer?

I am in never-ending denial that this year will slow down any minute now! Surely...it has to! Unready and unwilling I have been dragged into fall. How could this happen? I want to go back!

But then I remember...I like fall. I think I spent too much time in Florida and learned to ignore this amazing time of year. Palm trees don't change. But the maples and the oak and the aspens, they most certainly do. And it is beautiful.

Yesterday felt like a holiday. A vacation day spent at home reminded me of so many other things I love about the fall.

Snuggling into a warm, fluffy bed (but not down fluffy. Synthetic fluffy. I recently learned those birds aren't plucked...they are killed! How naive am I?)

The crazy wind creating little twisters of red and yellow leaves.

Delicious mulled wine with friends in a comfortable candle-lit restaurant.

Cooking breakfast at noon and brownies at nine. Both hearty and warm!

Sweaters. Big comfy sweaters.

The crisp, clean air. You can almost smell the breeze.

Movies in bed and more snuggling. (If you have not seen Triplets of Belleville you should)

Oh...and galoshes. Mine are worn straight through. Too much dancing in the rain and puddle splashing last year.

SO it's fall. It's time to be excited and let the summer go. It will come back again. Always does.