some think of it as the element that corrodes their car. strips the paint off their home or burns their eyes. but for me it does much to purify my lungs. to assuage my soul. to me the sea teems of life and it's contagious. I need to be near it. to breath it in. to hear it. it brings me life.

garden state of mind...

A recent email has gotten me thinking and reminiscing a little bit. About what? Well...

I remember the house in bridgewater. A house thats held the same name for over 4 decades. I remember the long drive up the gravel driveway that ran beside the house. Anxious to see my Grandparents. I remember stepping out of the car and immediately enveloped by the scent of pine. I remember an awkward little traffic cone that sat in the middle of the backyard. I remember seeing deer in the backyard. Building snow forts in the backyard. I remember we never used the front door. Never. In fact, for the longest time I'm not sure I knew my grandparents had one. We always came in through the door by the garage. My Grandpa would scramble to punch in the alarm code while we squeezed by with our luggage.
I remember the den which seems to be where we spent most of our time. The rifle on the wood paneled wall. The antlers above the fire place and a little machine by the tv that just rewound vhs. I remember playing with my dad's gi joes and hess trucks on the furry area rug. Grandpa snoring in his recliner. I remember NIck at Night (we didn't have cable growing up) and getting up early to watch Nick jr.
I remember hearty breakfasts that would start with my sisters and I reluctantly eating a bowl of fruit my Grandmother had so selflessly prepared. I say reluctantly because we had to in order to get to the crumb cake and cornmeal muffins. Once we were done pushing our fruit around the bowl it was go time. I think breakfast might be my Grandfathers favorite meal. He always seemed to have such a commanding presence at the table. He sat in the same place every time. To his right sat the toaster oven and microwave. Directly in front of him sat the cutting board. And on this cutting board lay a slab of Hackensack, New Jersey's finest. The B&W Bakery's crumb cake in all its glory. We placed our orders with Grandpa. A buttered cornmeal muffin here. A slice of the crumb cake there. Grandpa was so fluid, so seasoned, so flawless. A true master.
After breakfast I remember spending hours in the basement. A mysterious accessory to us native texas kids but a common occurrence in the design of northeastern home. In the basement we were pool sharks or kings of ping pong. Table hockey junkies or just spectators. I remember the basement being divided somewhat naturally into a place to play and they place where the "monsters" lived. You would always turn right at the bottom of the stairs. A right turn led to the pool table. A turn left would lead you to the ill lit half of the basement scattered with bulky tools, shadows and inevitably monsters. I always tuned right. I remember there being a freezer down in the basement that stored the famous crumb cakes. I would always make it my responsibility to check the inventory of frozen cakes. Leaving the basement was always a rush. With the way the light switches were fixed you had to make sure all the lights were out except for one remaining light near the stairs. I remember switching one light off and then the next. The basement slowly disappearing into a damp dark void. Till one little bulb remained at the bottom of the stairs. Then I'd burst up the stairs as fast as I could so the monster couldn't catch me. Switch the last light off and close the door behind me.
I remember lying awake in bed christmas eve night. I was alone in what was once my uncle jim's childhood room. I remember getting up and tip toeing to the window. You had to tip toe at night because of those creaky wooden floors. I looked out the window. Snow. White flakes swirled in the flood light perched by the garage. So vivid against the black backdrop of the winter night sky. Tomorrow would be a white christmas.
I remember coming down the stairs on christmas day. The living room filled with family and presents. I remember tins of cookies and cabinets filled with candy bars. I remember a dining room table that some nights stretched into the living room. Surrounded by family. Reverend Bob would say grace.
I remember a forest that back my parents house. When I was little the forest went deep. There was no promise of return if we ventured out too far. The risk was always worth it. As I got older the forest grew smaller. I soon discovered that our exploring really only took us from one neighbors backyard to the next. Still it was nature. It was quiet. I remember going sledding down a hill my dad used to sled down when he was younger. I remember standing at the top of the hill and he would show me how far they used to be able to ride.
I remember catching lightning bugs. I remember having a toothbrush with my name on it. We all had toothbrushes with our names on them. I remember day trips to the city. All the bedrooms upstairs. Old photos of my parents, aunts and uncles. The house always felt so warm. As a grandparent's house should.

As I type this my Grandparents have now recently moved from the house in New Jersey to live closer to family in Massachusetts. Hence the long reminiscent blog on the house in bridgewater. I have nothing but good memories from that place. I am blessed to have had those experiences. It's sad to think I will probably never go back there and that the house will hold someone else's name. I hope their experiences there will be just as good as mine.

When Fridays become Mondays…

Working retail can have its benefits.
Like getting a day off in the middle of the week.
A day which I used to go snowboarding with a friend of mine.
We were able to avoid the weekend crowds.
Park up close.
No lift lines.
The park was ours.

But working retail can also have its disadvantages.
Like having a day off in the middle of the week.
I’ve been getting Wednesday and Thursday off lately.
Which hasn’t been all that bad except that having a schedule like this messes with a normal week.
My Wednesday and Thursday become my Saturday and Sunday.
And well my Fridays become my Mondays.

So here I am on a Friday night at the start of my week.
I opened this morning at peets and I’ll open again tomorrow.
That means a 4:30am wake up call.
So I’ll stay in tonight.
Like most “Monday” nights.
I got a good deal on a food chopper at fred meyer and I’ve attempted a few hummas recipes.
I rode my bike over to the Belmont station and picked up a brown ale brewed by a brewery I kind of like.
Played guitar and read.
In bed by ten.
Not bad for a Monday I mean Friday night.

when beggars become choosers…

(I’ve just over steeped my chai tea for the second time.)

Last night mish and I hit up the bagdad restaurant and pub.
Its become our favorite nothing-else-is-open-right-now-and-I’m-really-hungry place to go.
It’s only a couple blocks from our place so we put our shoes and jackets on and headed out the door.
Bagdad sits on the corner of 37th and hawthorne.
Last night also sitting on the corner of 37th and hawthorne is Arthur.
Arthur has been walking along the street of hawthorne much longer than I have.
He carries an old acoustic and will play you a song for spare change.
If tipped he replies very humbly “blessings”.
I don’t know too much about Arthur.
if he has a home, job, family friends.
I know he likes to play a mix of punk and jazz.
He listens to a little bit of everything.
And when tipped he replies “blessings’
Mish and I are now standing on the corner of 37th and hawthorne.
With out even looking up from where he was sitting Arthur asks if we could spare some change for a song.
I told him we were heading into bagdad and I asked him if we could get him something to eat.
He said yes but to my surprise he made a little request when I asked what he would like.
Some hummas maybe or something vegetarian. Just nothing with eggs.
Okay.
I got him the hummas plate.
I was kind of tickled by that.
Only in Portland will the people on the street request a vegetarian meal.
I brought the meal out to him and without looking up he said “blessings”
blessings

so this is the new year...

I think its hard to not make resolutions.
Even if they’re just short and simple or a little vague.
Like saying you’re going to start eating better.
There’s just something about the new year that sort of begs change.
Or improvement.
I’m trying to be more intentional this year.
Intentional with my time.
Intentional with my wife, my walk, my friends.
Intentional with my thoughts.
Intentional at work.

With all that being said we are twelve days into the new year and I’ve finally gotten around to doing a few things I’ve been putting off.
Today I went for a run around the neighborhood.
There was a break in the rain clouds and the sun peeked through so I laced up the running shoes for the first time since we’ve moved to Portland.
Just a quick jog through Laurelhurst park and then back home.
I don’t feel it now but I’ve sure tomorrow will remind me of how long it’s been since I’ve been running.

I also began knitting today.
Mish got me some needles and yarn for Christmas.
If I can figure this out everyone is getting scarves next Christmas.

winter ale anyone?




i think mish and i will be getting a little radio soon so we can join the ranks of NPR listeners.
I'm currently getting my news from the local patrons of peets coffee and tea and did you know that there was a hurricane off the coast of oregon this weekend.
well, at least thats what they said.
but despite the gale force finds i had a pretty good weekend.
it started friday night with christmas card making.
mish's new job has tons of cool paper and great craft ideas so we've been taking advantage of what they have to offer.
i worked saturday morning but afterwards i took the bus downtown with jay and megs to the holiday ale festival.
we tasted a few brews.
some good, some not so good.
i bet you can't tell me how many BTUs are in the Sinterklaas.
after the festival we had dinner at that portland city grille.
the happy hour is really cheap and the view of downtown from the restaurant on the 30th floor is amazing.
our next plan was to catch the bus back home.
but the bus wasn't going to arrive for another ten minutes.
it was too cold to stand around so we hiked some 30 blocks in the rain back to jay and megs apartment.
we did manage to make a stop a voodoo donuts on the way back.
yum.

i'm learning that despite the rain the normal every day activities still go on.
i felt like such a portlander today when i jumped on the old bike and trekked across town for a work meeting.
it was a six mile round trip in the rain.
what's cool is that you can show up smelling like a wet dog and that's ok.
nobody cares.
however i think i might be investing in some rain pants soon.
jeans just don't dry very fast.

my walk to work takes less than five minutes.
it's something like three or four blocks.
but in that short stroll i've been asked so many different things by different people.
some of which include

do you have spare change
do you have time to talk about mercy corp
do you care about polar bears.
do you want some good weed
do you want to legalize weed
do you want to support our basketball team
do you have the time
did you vote
do you have a smoke
do you have a light
would you like to buy the homeless newspaper
do you want to toke up
would you like to buy this guitar
(i'm told its a classic)
do you have a light
do you have a light
do you have a light


most days i have to say no.

i'm excited for two reasons.
well, maybe more.
but two of them are because my mother-in-law is coming in this week
and, because she is, we are all going to make the pilgrimage to the mecca downtown that is Powell's Bookstore.
there is a powells a few blocks away from where we live but you don't need a map to navigate it.
i'm pretty excited.
i'm going with a list.
maybe mccarthy's no country for old men
or the omnivore's dilemma.
i'm really in need of a good book.
got any suggestions?