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Whew! The weather firefox add-on at the bottom of my browser is reporting “Now: Sunny, 76 F”, but I just don’t believe it. When the back of your knees are sweating, you know its hotter than hades.
Lil’ E is at nanny Anna’s today, having a ball, no doubt! The chicks are the backyard about to pass out. I am safely tucked away in the house at the moment, where the cool night temps linger. It seems like just last week I was worried about freezing out my newly planted tomato starters- and now the record high temps threaten to burn them up! Tomorrow it is supposed to reach nearly 100 degrees!

All of this is so full-circle, it really is. This time last year, I was selling the last of my belongings that weren’t already packed up. I was preparing to send Hubby off with our car on a 3,000 mile road trip while I finished up the house cleaning before Lil’ E and I flew not far behind him to our new home, Portland, on May 21st. Everything about Portland this time of year was captured by my senses because it was so new and exciting. I familiarized myself with all of the smells, like the lavender, rosemary and sage growing along the sidewalks, as if they were the encapsulated in and only in Portland. The summer heat was familiar, since in many ways the last 23 years of my life was one big summer in Florida. And the evenings were pure bliss, when the skin on my shoulders would tingle as the temperatures dropped off, giving me an excuse to grab a cute shaw and relishing the strange feeling of having stolen extra time by enjoying sunlight until at least 9 pm.

Then I made it through Portland’s grey, drizzly winter. I even made it through the up and down days of early Spring that can play mean tricks on you. I thought that the shift towards Summer would be mighty welcoming, but instead — I must admit — it is bittersweet. This time last year I was saying goodbye and hello so much that my soul was just buzzing from it all. Now the cycle of one year brings all the sights and smells and sounds back again, and all I can think about is that its been 12 months since I have been able to hug my dad, to share a good cry with Steph, or laugh a loud, tipsy laugh with my sister Rachel. And perhaps more depressing- I have no idea if it will be another year, or two, or five, before I will be able to do those things again. This economy and life have left us all pretty darn broke and busy, making the seven hour plane ride seem more like a trek on the “Oregon Trail”, where one will inevitably die of dysentery, or in the very least, lose twelve oxen along the way.

There is nothing to look forward to this time around. While I’ll enjoy the different aspects of Fall, Winter and Spring again, it just won’t be the first time. It won’t be the honeymoon- it will be the marriage. And we all know what marriage is like

Of course, there’s more to it than all of this. There’s a new presidency, (maybe a boost to the economy will create a new job for Hubby), or perhaps we will decide to do something wild and crazy together, (like have another human being with our DNA combination enter the world). Even the low-key, hum drum days of life will no doubt gift me with a nugget of satisfaction or drama, if I keep my eyes open.

Anyway, I’m waiting for June to settle in. Something tells me the grass will look greener in June.

Many of you know, (and you can just check out my postmodernity blogroll category for further proof), that I kinda have some interest in the “emergent” conversations (I use the word “conversations” because it seems that most emergent leaders/writers would rather this term… using the word “movement” or something similar strikes up the typical “you’re either on the boat or off the boat”, us v. them, bla bla bla that we just can’t seem to help doing as humans, heh?)

I use the word “kinda” because I was introduced to it while pregnant several years ago and having a kiddo to run after and a bazillion odd jobs seems to limit my time to devote to my thirst for spiritual knowledge. I now say my daily service to my family is my theology, which is either true or a cop-out. I guess you’ll never really know, will ya?

So I finally woke up in time to make it to church (late) this week, but not too late to hear the announcement that Doug Pagitt is in town this week. I haven’t actually read any of his books, mind you, (need I refer to the second paragraph’s excuse again?!), but I recognize the name from… again… “emergent conversations”.

The scoop is here. I have emailed Bob (you know- Bob. Everybody knows who Bob is.) to see if there was still a spot open for little ol’ me.

I would like to point out for all obvious reasons that I should get to come to this shindig for free. Doug and I go way back, we have a connection. I work for John Wiley & Sons, who owns Jossey-Bass, who published A Christianity Worth Believing.

Like I said, we’re practically siblings.

Ahh, but that’s okay. This sounds like it’s well worth my ten measley dollars. I’ll just deduct it as a charitable tax right off. (SO joking, sheesh!)

For a chuckle, here’s my parting gift.

UPDATE: So I went downtown to switch Lil’ E with Hubby, grabbed an overpriced Nathan’s hot dog for a super nutritious dinner, and then waited at the bus stop far too long before calling the Trimet number and tracking the schedule. The darn thing must have come early because the next bus out there was 45 minutes away! WHHAATTT? (I felt like I was in Lakeland again. ) So I gave up and headed home, figuring I would have missed half the darn thing by then. Well, shoot, ya win some ya lose some.

Okay, I debated a little about sharing the following story with you all, I really did. In the end, I have to just get it off my chest.

So after leaving my purse on the Trimet bus last Friday, I found myself goofing up again not two days later on the MAX light rail. Hubby, Lil’ E and I were on our way home from William’s birthday party on Sunday when it happened.

Lil’ E had begun to snooze on my lap, and I wasn’t far behind. Sure enough, another passenger thinks I look like the ideal Chatty Cathy to strike up a conversation with. With all the politeness I could muster, I responded to the man’s questions.

“Oh, he is two and a half”, I replied with a weary smile.

“Oh, that’s a lovely picture of your daughter,” I went on.

The passenger had a heavy set build, a business casual outfit and a OHSU badge (Oregon hospital), along with a bike helmet. That’s about as much as I can remember. He went on to tell me the heights of EVERY MAN in his daughter’s family tree because I was dumb enough to comment that she looks older than 8 in her school photo. Enough, I was thinking, how can I back out of this conversation. Why can’t I be like Hubby and be fine with just completely ignoring people!?

“Wow”, I continued to remark, gradually getting more and more obvious (I THOUGHT!) that I wanted to do just about anything but talk at the moment.

And then it happened.

“That’s crazy”, I said, with a complete lack of enthusiasm. Then I heard myself say, “And how tall is her mother?”

…

First, Hubby jerks his head sideways at me in horror.

Second, the marathon conversationalist takes on a whole new tone.

“Excuse me?!

-I’m a girl!”

…

OHMYGOD. Oh.my.gggaaaaawwwddddd.

It doesn’t even stop there. Had I retained any brain cells, I might have covered up my faux paux with something like, “Oh, sorry, I meant to say her father… heh heh… whew, it’s been a long day!”

But no. No, that’s not what I said.

“Oh, I’m sorry… I — I couldn’t tell…. your…er… hat…er”

(I still contest that there was not one defining feminine trait to this character. NOT ONE!)

I felt like I was melting. I wanted to get off at the next stop and wait for the next train, but I was frozen in my seat.

The man woman ended up shrugging it off and continued to go on and on about his her tall daughter, which only made the whole thing more awkward. I was like three feet off the bus already when he she was still calling out to me the name of the preschool his her daughter attended. I MEAN - HOLY CRAP!

I have no idea how I could have avoided this run in with the anonymously gendered passenger, but sometimes I need to keep MY BIG FAT MOUTH SHUT and let the weirdos talk to themselves.

EDIT: Thanks to the folks at www.trimetiquette.com for agreeing on just how embarrassing that was.

Today started out as a pretty great day:

After pulling a late night of work, I slept in a bit on the couch while Lil’ E ate breakfast and watched Sesame Street. I got moving, did some chores and so on. I had a call with a prospective new client and it went fantastically (SO crazy how it came right in as I reduce my involvement at another). It was a beautiful day, low 70’s, sunshine and breeze, so Lil’ E and I headed out to the supermarket for rabbit bedding and a birthday gift, with a quick stop at the park.

On the way home, late afternoon, Lil’ E was passin out on the bus and I have a metal basket on wheels to drag/push around, (as well as two sweaters we stripped off in the heat and a plastic bag of left over burritos from the lunch we half ate). We were on one of the old buses (you know, with steps up instead of a curb level floor), and I pulled the chord, beckon E to rouse himself, “LET’S GO, BUDDY, THIS IS OUR STOP!” We tumbled off (quite literally) and made our way to the next stop for the bus home.
No sooner did we sit down when I went to grab my cell phone for the time. Cell phone, I think, … Huh, I feel like I am missing something.

Ya’ll: I did. I really did just leave my purse on the public transportation system. Complete with the following items:

• keys
• cell phone
• check book
• id
• 2 debit cards

What does this mean? We spent the early evening running to get cash out at the bank before closing the account, canceling our other banks debit card, canceling our cell phone and HAVING A FLIPPING BABY COW.

At this point I am also concerned with the fact that my address is on the checks and they have my house keys. FANFLIPPINTASTIC!

But, hey, its cool. It’s cool. Everything always turns out a-okay in the end, right? This week was so great, it was farting happiness. So the cosmos were bound to send me a little -okay, maybe big- hiccup. I’m still staying positive, so TAKE THAT, COSMOS! Whose cryin’ nooooooww?

It’s funny how you can sometimes feel like the only person in the whole wide world with a particular issue.

I’ve seen plenty of other mom’s while I ride the bus, certainly, but for some reason I never expected to cross paths with them once more in cyberspace.

This week on Activistas there was this post, regarding the family-friendliness of the Tri-met, Portland’s mass transportation system which includes bus, light rail and street car. I thought it was pretty interesting to read the experiences of the various moms who, like me, use the bus exclusively and how this works for moms of young children to get around town, essentially without a trunk for strollers, groceries, library books, and “stuff”.

While I realize this may not be of interest to all of you, I wanted to draw your attention to it. I mean, in the grand scheme of the country moving towards not relying so heavily on their automobiles, I can imagine this being an issue in the next 50 years. How does a family live without their vehicles? What would that look like for cities across this country and how can they plan to accommodate our little one’s and all the “stuff” that comes with them?

So something to chew on!

This week held some surprises for me, some struggles and uprooting too. I enjoy having family and friends into our home, but as we all know, it invariably can bring with it the added history, dynamics, habits, and so on. Having company or living in close proximity with family or friends is one of the hardest ways I have had to “learn” community. It can unveil covered up resentment, bitterness and grudges in ways that only a close community can. You can find yourself, as I did a lot in the last few weeks, spouting off things you never thought about first, surprising yourself at your own subconsious (?) level of downright ugliness.

If I had a dollar for all of the unforgiveness that goes on in me and in my home,  let me tell you, that tax refund would pale in comparison!

The discussion at Evergreen today was on this idea of peace, both with God and with others. Forgiveness and reconciliation were facets to peace that resonated with me in a “holy crap, you’ve tapped my prayers” kinda way. I had been learning some major junk lately about having more grace and mercy with others, and seeing how many things I thought I had forgiven that I truly had not (and all the countless things I need forgiveness for, 99% of which I am grossly oblivious too, which I also suppose needs forgiving.) It was just last night that I sat on the floor in my dark room asking for peace, and experienced a few moments, maybe whole minutes, where the room inside my mind went quiet and what I heard was this:

There is an eternity.

I didn’t expect that. It certainly wasn’t what I was praying about, on first glance. But the more that sentence sunk in (and it had to, because there were literally no other words or thoughts in my head but this, despite my best effort!), the more I realized that the pain or chaos I feel is universal, recycled, shared- and that the fact that there is an eternity some how makes this one moment where I am pleading for God to calm the storm of anger or hurt in me a little bit, well, okay. I mean, think about it. There is an eternity. An eternity to feel, to heal, to grow, to love. And- there is a God of that eternity, a God of me, who can fill all of my deepest emptiness with everything that is full.

Whether this is true to you or not, this is going on in my life.

What followed church this morning was a lovely day, a chilly but “bright, bright, bright, sunshiny day”. Even included my first Voodoo doughnut (YUM-OH!) (… and NO, if you happen to look at the menu… I did not order a cock-n-balls. That’s just nahs-tey.)

P.S. Have I mentioned lately just how much I love my family? Cause I really, really do.

It’s been awhile since I’ve shared some photos!

Check us out, doin this or that around town. Snapped some shots of what my last post described- the opened tulips, the many Spring shoots and early blooming flowers! Check out Peter Rabbit runnin around, as well as the melted crayola “stain glass” butterflies we made today! Can anyone say “Spring Has ALMOST Sprung?!”

As the timer ticks away my “work” hour, Lil’ E patiently plays with his choo choo’s. He also, while potty training the Naked Method, pooped in his room during my “work” hour.

Obviously, life as a work from home mom is a little unorthodox. I woke up this morning to the realization that it was President’s Day, and while many of the people I work with get a paid day off, I get to file my taxes and take a nap, sans income. Of course, I’ll play catch up on some things and get in some hours today anyhow, so I’m grateful for the “holiday”.

This passed week has been what folks in Portland lovingly call “The February Fake Out”; the temps rise, clouds part, ground gets a little less soggy, and citizens rejoice. We took some glorious walks this weekend, saving the bus fare in exchange for the crisp oxygen. I got to garden a bit last Friday while the kiddos and Peter the Rabbit ran around the yard. I have never experienced the thrill of seeing bulbs shooting up, revealing that under the dead leftovers of last year’s seasons, something new is stirring. I couldn’t wait, and got a dark red potted tulip at Garden Fever to bring in and place on my kitchen counter. It blesses the sun by opening up in mid-day and showcasing its dark and velvety inner core. I never even knew what tulips looked like when they opened up, or that they opened up at all!

So, while you must excuse me for any cheesy metaphorical stretch this is for the average non-Lit mommy blog, I can’t help but feel the little February fake-out open up some things in me that have been lingering under the impending death of old seasons of my life.

When I began this blog, my son was a nursing cruiser not even one year’s old. Now he is lengthening, widening, expanding every which away, ingenious enough to inform me, “Mama, you’re my best friend ever ever ever” or “Mama, you and I have Quesadillas in our butt.”

In the past nearly two years of writing this blog, my career was that of a brand new graduate, technically a “temp” for a great publishing company, doing whatever the heck was asked of me and learning as much as I could to gain experience. (There was the few months I was freelance writing first, and most of the time I held additional part-time jobs on the side.) Pulling away the end of the “toddler” season of my life, the “first job” layers that are all decrepit and mossy, I can see a few sprouts coming up. I’ll turn 24 in one week, crazy enough. What will mid-twenties have in store for me? I will phase into new and maybe risky career moves (shh, I’ll tell you more about it in a few months) in the next year, and I can sense that in many ways I’ll have to learn to surrender some of my best laid plans for those that might not be as comfortable and secure. Of course, I’ve got an entrepreneurial spirit so I’ll enjoy the ride.

So there you go, a few insights into my life, in general, while I sip my “Authentic Cajun” mug boasting a little blurb about “joie de vivre”.

I was delighted with the information shared with us by Aaron and Joelle (who I have affectionately nicknamed “The Pretties” on Lost night: $3 dollar wine!

Am I the last to know about this??? While I dish out 8-20 dollars a bottle, there’s this extreme cheapo wine that’s really not half bad! Charles Shaw, you’ve saved Lost night (because Lord knows I can’t keep up with the goodies offered at the premiere!)

So we’re headed out to Trader Joe’s today for groceries (first time!) and I can’t wait to see if they have any other hidden cheap gems!

Gotta love a bargain!

EDIT*  OHMYGOSH I am a new BIG FAN of Trader Joe’s. How come so many people told me it was expensive!??! Since my nearest grocery store is Whole Foods, I found Trader Joe’s full, FULL of cheap foods. I mean, organic apples for 69 cents a pound?! Avocado’s for 75 cents each (this was the cheapest they ever went in central FL and that was at a produce stand so they were over ripe!) A quart of maple cream top yogurt (I normally pay $4-5 dollars for) was only about $2.50. Just about everything I found was 25-50% cheaper than I usually pay for it. This is my new grocery store, without a doubt!

If only it weren’t for the LOST PREMIERE tomorrow, we would definitely love to go down to Last Thursday on Alberta and check out what’s happening. The family we will be swapping care with will be showing (dad’s) art at a gallery he co-owns, they’ll be serving hot chocolate and winter themed art, sounds nice!

I found this little video on Alberta, and I think it does a great job showing just how special the little neighborhoods of Portland  are, particular Alberta, one of my favorites, and walking distance away too! Check it out!!!

We will be riding our bikes down there today to check out the home Lil E will be going for the swap, which is a great excuse to lock up the bikes and walk around Alberta, grab some pizza and stuff. Love it!