Difficult

I believe that life is cruel. It's other things, too - beautiful and full of wonder, but it is cruel as well.

Last night at about 8:00 I decided to find another new restaurant for dinner and this took me way across town to SE Portland to Noho's, a Hawaiian diner. I like plate lunches, I guess from an experience I had in Oahu trying to pass time before a Pearl Harbor tour. I happily ate a plate lunch, sitting in the hot sun and looking out to the water, and it was during an amazing vacation, so I have this great association with Hawaiian food and was glad to get some authentic grub. Noho's is small, crowded, and happy,  (and slow, like Hawaii), and I really enjoyed it. Super ono. 

One the way home I passed a new dessert place a few blocks past Noho's and decided to stop for some yogurt; another place to discover. I walked into the cafe and straight up to the counter. I was the only customer inside. The woman at the counter, probably my age or a couple years older, radiated warmth and hip friendliness. I don't know how else to say it. Right when I walked in she said, "Want some samples?" in the warmest way, before she even said hello, like she'd been waiting for me or something. I told her it was my first time visiting, and asked her what was good. 

We were talking about her favorites and I had my back to the door when I heard someone screaming their head off, just wailing and yelling, and before I even turned around I knew what happened. I've made those noises before, and I've heard those noises before. A really beautiful woman, also our age, was coming through the door of the shop, and she was screaming her head off and crying and barely able to walk. It was horrific. She stumbled over to the counter and wrapped her arms around the girl I'd been speaking to, and she clung for life. She continued to wail, stopping for brief seconds to try to apologize to me, and then going back to her intense sobbing.

Their best friend had been killed by a dru.nk driv.er that morning. Horrific news. The guy who did it didn't even stop, although they did find him and arrest him later. 

I ended up staying for 25 minutes or so and we exchanged names and they told me about this wonderful guy who was a gentle, hippie soul and who looked like Mel Gibson. He dressed up like a different Mel Gibson movie character each Halloween. They told me about his personality and his life and family in Oh.io, and we all laughed and also cried together. They were the coolest, kindest girls. Very gentle and accepting. You could just tell. 

I can't stop hearing the very first few seconds of her screaming, as she was coming through the door. My body went into a crazy fight-or-flight mode at that very second, and I can't stop thinking of the pain that made her howl. It's haunting me. 

On the way home I noticed the moon was a gorgeous sliver, just like a child would draw, bright yellow and hanging perfectly in the sky. It was bright enough out, even at 9:30 PM, that I could easily see the rest of the moon, the dark portion, above the sliver. 

This morning my sister and BIL had to put their dog down. He got sick very suddenly and no one could figure out what was happening, but his strong body was quickly shutting down. I feel sick thinking about it. Amos was every bit a member of our family as much as I am or my sister is. He was a gorgeous dog whom strangers all seemed to describe the same way: cool. "That's a cool dog" we would get when we walked him. He really was. He was 90 pounds of pure muscle, and his bark could curl your toes. Very badass. He could sound like he was three seconds from ripping your head off, but he reserved that only for strange noises and the UPS Man. 

Amos knew he was part of the family and had no shame asserting his place. Once when I was babysitting him while my sister and BIL were out of town, Amos slept with me on the guest bed, his long body fully extended and pressed up against mine, every inch of my almost six feet, much to my discomfort. In the middle of the night when I got up to use the bathroom, I returned to find him asleep in my place, as if I'd just been there for the past several hours to get it warmed up for him. That happened more than once, and when it did, good luck getting him to move. You could push or pull or "Come on, Amos! Come on! Amos, get down! Get down, boy! Come on Amos!" all you wanted. He wasn't moving. 

I've never liked dogs before; I'm not a bad person, I'd just never been around them and I've always been afraid of them. They're big and scary and quite messy. But I lived with my sister and BIL for five months when I moved back from Japan, and I grew to love Amos very quickly. It was easy to overlook the slobber dripping from his droopy, part-boxer lips. He was so lovable, so loyal, so playful, and wanted so much to please you. When I would go over to visit, I'd be walking through the back door and I'd find Amos in the middle of a confusing ritual - he was so excited to see whoever was coming through the door that he'd be wiggling frantically back and forth from his tail to his nose, but he also wanted to offer up a toy, so at the same time he'd be scouting around to find a present to give. He'd wiggle his way to the TV room to find his Kong or maybe a bone, and then wiggle his way back to the door and drop it in front of me (usually on my toes.) I'm sick that he's gone. 

Much Pleasure and Benefit, I Hope

I lost my virginity at Voodoo Doughnuts today. I had the maple donut with Apple Jacks Cereal and the chocolate fudge doughnut with vanilla frosting and Butterfinger. Vurp. I'm not generally on such a delicate diet that a sudden increase in sugar affects me, but I admit that I was zinging around after eating that little diabetic disaster. Awesome. A guy from Portland Walking Tours was inside Voodoo with a tour group and I overheard in his spiel that The Church of Elvis had closed (such a shame), but that you could now get married in Voodoo Doughnuts, under the Holy Donut and a velvet painting of Isaac Hayes, for $200. Mark my words, people.

Eating has been my hobby lately. In addition to the places I went today, I've been to Le Happy, Vivace, Pastinis, Pizza Schmizza, Blind Onion, Roses, Santa Fe, and Two Tarts since returning. Holy calorie overload. 

It's been such an intense week. (Month.) I'm really happy to be in Portland. It does feel like home. I love my place - love it. I'm glad I didn't get the original apartment I had secured from NY. I'm even ok about it when I hear my neighbor's kid screeching in the middle of the night. My current apartment faces west, and every night I look out my windows and watch the sun gently sink behind the mountains. (If you live in Central NY, mountains are like hills, but much bigger and kind of severe.) Even on days when it rains, it always clears up just enough that I can see the sunset. And soon I'll do that from my little balcony - just rest outside in my fluffy chairs with my flowers around me and watch the sunset. I love it. The apartment is small, capital SM- and -ALL. I told a friend that most days I feel like I'm pacing back and forth on a postage stamp. And I do feel uneasy about just how fast everything has happened. I wake up in the middle of the night and think, Where in the hell am I? Some days I think I should sing "Looks Like We Made It" to my cat. But I am happy that I'm here and I feel hopeful about this change.

In an attempt to have a half-decent drivers license picture (you really need to know the back story to understand the importance of this; let's say my previous OR DL picture resembled Amy Winehouse on a really bad day), I spent significant time getting all dolled up today and then went to the DMV to take my written test and surrender my NY DL. However. I FAILED the test. Goddamn it, you heard me. I failed my drivers test! I could not believe it. I passed that son of a bitch when I was 15 1/2. Although I admit it wasn't a total surprise - I was stumped on the first question, and by the third I was already thinking, "Oh sh-" If you feel like picking on me about it, no problem, just go ahead and let me know what it means if you're driving and you see a person riding a horse on the side of the road and the person puts their hand up in the air just before you pass them. No clue? Oh RE-ally? Well, that's ok. Then just tell me how many feet in front of a truck it's legal for cargo to stick out. What? You're not quite sure? Hmm. Well then shut the hell up.

It's probably best, as I struggled with my make up today and ended up looking like a goth teenager with pink eye. I'd gotten dolled up twice before and headed to the DMV only to find that I didn't have proper documentation, so if I get enough study time in this weekend, Monday will be attempt #4 at getting an OR DL. Maybe I'll flip off the camera to commemorate lucky number four.

In other news, earlier this week while still sick as a dog, I dragged myself to church* and looked everywhere for the two books I wanted before finally having to ask the clerk for help. The older woman had her fingers poised above the computer keyboard ready to look up the titles, just waiting for me to tell her. Pause. "It Sucked and Then I Cried." She said "O-kay" quietly to herself and looked up the location and scribbled it on a notepad. "The next title?" Drat. "My Booky Wook." She looked up at me with a blank stare, fingers still poised, probably thinking I was messing with her. Somehow I sensed the author, across space and time, snickering at me. She laughed and then went back to business. How could she not have heard of either? 

I started My Booky Wook in the parking lot when I got back to the car and didn't stop reading it for 8 hours. I finished the next day, which is rare for me. (Slow reader.) Outstanding book. Funny, authentic, sharp. Rated R, so don't go getting any ideas if you're on the conservative side. So now my deep, abiding love for Russell Brand continues. And true love lasts a lifetime. 

I had an interview on Thursday with a placement agency. It sucked, but the point is, the night before I was feeling quite a bit of anxiety - wondering what in the world I would wear, wondering if my hair would cooperate. I kept thinking, I don't know if I can do this, be this "I'm a businesswoman" person. I'm not sure I can pull off that look and that confidence. I felt that way all night, just kind of stewing in my own insecurity. Right before bed I thought, I can do it because I am that person. I've been that person for 15 years. Crazy to wonder if I know how to put on a skirt and talk business. I can't get away from that. It just really impressed on me how unemployment and getting laid off messes with your confidence and self-image. 

One more bit of loveliness about today. I visited Old Town Piz.za for the first time in about 20 years today. I didn't get a visit from the ghost of Nina, but I did get shitty service and mediocre pizza. It's such a shame; the vibe in there is so incredibly cool. I'll go back in 20 more years. 

Before that, I visited the Chinese Garden for the first time ever. Wow! What a wonderful, gorgeous experience. I bought a membership before I'd even stepped through the door. And when I did go in, I was immediately romanced and completely taken with it. I can't wait to go back. It was cold out, so I just did a quick walk-through, but I had my mouth hanging open in awe the whole time. It reminded me so much - so much - of this amazing garden that I visited in Shouzhou, China, called The Humble Administrator's Garden. It was very famous in China and I was absolutely taken with it. This was back in 2004, and it was a really special experience for me in lots of ways, and I was so grateful to be reminded so vividly of it. Well, didn't I just turn a corner in the garden today and hear a tour guide compare the Portland Garden to The Humble Administrator's Garden in Shouzhou? It was such a happy turn of events. Lovely serendipitous serendipity. 

Of course I took the time to make a wish and get my Chinese fortune in the garden. "You will make a new acquaintance which will bring pleasure and benefit. You will get your wish." 

I hope so.

*Barnes and Noble

Thirty-Eight

Hi. I'm here. No, not there. Over here. 

Go Charlotte, it's my birthday. I woke up sick today. What is that about? It's probably from exhaustion - the move was b-r-u-t-a-l, and I'd talk about it but I'm hoping that I've already started the process of repressing it forever. The great news is that I'm settled in an apartment and it's homey and I love it. My stuff is mostly put away and things are getting organized. My little brother helped me beyond what any brother who was pinned down twenty-five years ago and made to wear make up and curled hair should ever have to do. He was amazing. I was less than amazing, mostly worrying about the cat running into new walls and babbling incoherently while lining up all my toiletries in perfect rows in the bathroom. The move was really hard.

I'm happy to be in Portland, and I'm thankful to have another year under my belt, and I'm hopeful that this year will hold a lot of great things for me and for us. More soon.

Almost

My departure from upstate NY got delayed a bit and I'll be flying out to Oregon on Thursday now. It's been nice to spend extra time with my sister and BIL. I've been following my car online: New York - New Jersey - Illinois - Colorado - Utah - Idaho, and keeping in touch with the driver taking my shipment to my new home. I've been pretty freakin stressed, but rather than bore (hmm . . . irritate?) you will details of my tension, I'll direct you here where ZFS has just made a similar move with about 100 times more humor and grace than I ever will.

I've been able to read a bit, but not do much commenting, on my favorite bloggies. It's driving me crazy. I don't have wifi, so I've been reduced to reading feeds on my iPhone, which will probably leave me permanently cross-eyed. Eh.

I've been spending time thinking about what I've enjoyed about living here, and, believe it or not, the list is pretty long (although notably absent is five solid months of snow each year.) I don't regret for a minute moving here from Japan; on the contrary, I'm very glad I did. The folks in upstate are good people, and there are parts of life here that I'll miss very much.

The dog has eaten the cat food four days in a row now. I need to go find and stop him before he starts meowing.

Nothing, Really

I really can't stand it when parents coach their kids to perform. I'm in Panera using their wifi and ingesting loads of calories, and there's a family of women with a little girl three inches away from me and they're all hyper-focused on the averagely-cute kid. "Do you do chores, Sienna! What chores do you do! Do you clean your room! Do you have money, Sienna! Do you like to shop! Do you want to go shopping!" I really hate it. Leave the kid alone. No one for the rest of her entire life will be as interested in her as you are now. You're setting her up for disappointment.

There was a period, however, before my nephew started using words when he just meowed all the time, and I admit to asking, "What does a kitty say?" more than once. But he's way cuter than this kid.

I went to the local zoo yesterday to pass some time. It was my first visit and it turned out to be a pretty great zoo. They have lots of interesting animals and a nice walking path, and it was finally well above freezing, so it was a great day to stroll outside. I loved seeing the Asian elephants. They have little maps by the names of each animal showing the country or region they came from. These elephants came from Thailand, and it reminded me of the time I was in Ayutthaya, north of Bangkok, and I rode an elephant. I'd met a really nice guy from Seattle, I forget his name, and he had a daughter with the same name as me and about the same age. He took to me and we hung out for a while and shared an elephant ride. He was so nice, and he expressed a few times that his daughter was an important businesswoman and too busy to stay in touch with him. You could tell she'd really broken his heart. He was great. All that from a trip to the zoo.

The day before yesterday I went to the local art museum and saw a Nancy Jurs exhibit. She has a really wonderful piece called World Peace: Finding Common Ground (We're All in This Together, Do Unto Others, Your Move) that I loved. She also had a nice one called Artist Statement: My Life Has Gotten So Busy That It Now Takes Up All of My Time. Isn't she clever?

I bought new glasses. So there's that. And, you know, pedicures yesterday.

Today I might go to a movie. The Jonas Brothers: The 3D Concert Experience is playing. What do you think? Just kidding. Wendy and Lucy is playing at the local art cinema. I don't know anything about it, but it's only 1 hr. 20 min., which makes it my kind of movie. 

Sorry about all this drivel. Time isn't so much moving slowly as my brain is just moving slowly. My days are winding down here. Two more, to be exact, and I'll be on my way westward. My car and household goods shipment are held up on the east coast, so I'll easily be a week without them in Portland. I guess that means much more drivel to come.

So Far, So Good

In a span of three hours that felt like twenty, we got everything packed up in the house so it's ready to load into the truck, and I got moved into my sister's. The guy who will be driving my stuff to Portland packed up the kitchen and wrapped the furniture in that clear protective wrap. I had everything else already prepared.

The cat is pissed, but doing ok. We're both exhausted, and I'm glad to have a week at my sister's before flying out. The 90-pound dog who could eat cats like mine for breakfast is behind closed doors, and I don't even want to think about what's going to happen when they meet face to face. 

Tomorrow is the big moving day and then I'll clean my place and meet with my slumlord Tuesday morning to get jacked out of my security deposit. 

I'm exhausted and feel like I could lay down this minute on the floor and sleep for three days. It's all coming together.