A week into P-Town

I've been in Portland, Oregon for a week, and all the greenery and fresh air is really making me euphoric. I've read two books this week: The Glass Castle (in Spanish), and Eat, Pray, Love; both of which are kind of Oprah's-Book-Club type books for middle-age lady divorcees, but both of which I managed to just sink my teeth into and enjoy despite my initial misgivings.

I also took a personality test and found out I'm an ENTJ, which doesn't really tell me anything I didn't already know about myself, but reminded me that it takes all kinds.

I also have spent hours and hours with old friends enjoying the pleasures of chatting about random dillydalliances like no time has passed at all over food and wine of varying types;doing crossword puzzles on the fuel of a hot cup of milk with espresso in the chilly mornings; and sometimes waking up to the beautiful, beautiful, achingly beautiful sonority of an acoustic guitar, resonating through the wooden floor, originated by the touch of a human hand, belonging to Dan's father, one floor above my cozy little basement enclave. I think heaven is a rich acoustic guitar, playing all the time, in a small room with carpets.

I also ate a gigantic ahi tuna steak smothered in cream and fresh mushrooms.

My old library is moving on, to enormous and fantastic new heights, without me. I lament not being a part of it. I'll be back sometime, though. If I'd had two lives, I would have spent one of them with you these years. But I only have one life. (Thanks for lending a sentiment, Jonathan Safran Foer.)

I went to Fred Meyer with my mother, and picked out the things I wanted to buy. I bought gummy dinosaur candy, and new sets of trivial pursuit cards. I bought gray eyeshadow, and a refill of all-purpose cotton balls. I remembered a time when we would have been walking through Fred Meyer together, and I would have had to ask her to buy such things for me, and sometimes she would say no. In fact, she mostly said no. Almost always. I would have been a tiny child, and I never would have imagined this future.

When we went through checkout, the guy offered me paper or plastic, and I chose plastic, and immediately felt like a pariah. For all I know, in the last year and a half, selecting plastic could have become an unspoken social crime; a faux paux of the largest magnitude, particularly within a mile of Alberta street. I had forgotten that we're in the land of people who bring cloth bags to the grocery store and compost everything they can see with the naked eye. More importantly, I had forgotten that plastic really is bad for the environment. I also forgot, initially, that one can drink tap water here, quite safely and enjoyably. It's been awhile.