indianians

Here's what's up... My friends are pretty rad.

love heals

This is truly spectacular. These two women lost their sons on 9/11... But in very different ways. One learned her that her son perished when the World Trade Centers fell. One learned that her son was one of the men responsible for that fall.

There is a crucial lesson to be learned here - whether it is a lesson of God, of fate, of karma or of humanity - and the lesson is simply this:

FORGIVENESS IS GREATER. 

PEACE IS GREATER.

LOVE IS GREATER. 

I implore you to take ten minutes and watch these women speak for a TED Talk.

There is extreme grace in this world, if only we seek it. 

impromptu dinner party

With new jobs, crazy schedules, boyfriends, friends, car trouble, overtime hours, unexpecteds and, oh yeah, the fact that she lives in Vancouver, it's been a long time since Ashley and I have been able to slow down enough to catch up with each other. And so this weekend when her boy Brandon was out of town, we jumped at the chance to play.

Of course, this past weekend at work left me with my head spinning around like those damn plates Radiohead has been singing about all these years and even when we got our act together and decided "Yes! Saturday night! SAT-UR-DAY NIGHT!" by the end of the work day I was about to fall down and wail helplessly trying to figure out what just happened to the last nine hours of my life ("busy, busy, busy") (Vonnegut point for Moshboy, who probably doesn't even read this... That's fine).

So Saturday didn't work. I didn't have the stamina to make the hour drive from Dundee to Vancouver at that point. Sunday though... Sunday was the day. Armed with a bottle of 2005 Leland Vineyard Pinot Noir (ooooh) I crossed the border into Washington and landed at the Briley/Gamble household. At this point, Brandon was home and dinner was being made (not a bad event to walk into). The menu? Lime & jalapeno marinated tuna steaks on the grill, fresh salad with veggies (most of which were from their garden), oven-roasted potatoes and strawberry shortcake (which gave Ash, who rarely drinks, some trouble there when trying to perform kitchen conversions for the butter and egg components after a glass of wine - entertaining for me though)

Dinner aside (which was amazing) the evening was much needed. I've known Ashley for almost three years; one of my first friends at Living Room and Portland in general. Our initial bond formed when we took that leap of faith and became Facebook friends (isn't that, after all, the true validation of any relationship?) (wait, it's not? I need to go reevaluate my belief system...) and discovered we both had had religious experiences reading Shantaram. As far as I'm concerned, this novel is the perfect cornerstone for a friendship. Fast forward to the past year and that's when I really realized that she had become one of my best friends. A true and solid member of the Portland family I have found myself fortunate enough to be a part of.

The three of us ate our tuna, doused our potatoes with Creole seasoning (Brandon's addition to the meal... Hey, these kids are from Louisiana, they know what they're talking about) and finished off the Leland. Leaving us to girl time, B headed off to bed but not before prepping the hot tub for the ladies (here meaning, taking the cover off while we popped open another bottle of wine). And for the next two hours Ash and I alternated bubbling in the hot tub and perching on the edge to bring our body temperatures back down to a normal level. We talked about the classics - love, life, faith and philosophy -  you know, solving the world's problems. We've both found ourselves in similar situations in the past year and both come out better, stronger women for it. Not taking for granted these lessons, we decided that the pits of despair we have teetered on the edges of off-and-on for the past few months were all entirely worth it. and above all else, we are thankful for them - something we were only able to realize here in hindsight.

My point is this: that old saying, "Wherever you are, it's your friends who make your world" is entirely true. My best friends, the ones who make my heart beat and soul strong, are peppered all over the place (here, there and everywhere). My utopia would have them all within arm's reach (alas...) but it's sure nice to know that wherever I go, they'll be there.

cutest nephew contest

Jack

Kamdyn

 I win.

Note: That's a whole lot of ravioli on K's face... And apparently when he sneezed, ravioli came out his nose... Yes, even THAT is adorable.

long lost iphone photos

Laura, while you were in labor for 38 hours...

...This is what we were doing.

Maria and Ashley, I adore you two. And Laura too.

let it go

I have a decently vivid memory of a drive out to Bodega Bay somewhere between 8th grade and sophomore year of high school wherein my friends tortured me by playing country music the entire time. Being the wayward American Bandstand-er lost somewhere in the wrong musical generation that I was (in between teenyboppering too of course) I could not bear the twang and "my girl just left me so I'm going to go milk a cow" sentiment to just about every song I heard. Nothing too terribly against it... I just couldn't dig it.

An unfair generalization, yes. But I was thirteen (or possibly fifteen, like I said, decently vivid memory, not  a solid flashback) and had yet to finalize my taste in music.

Anyway, hit the double arrow to fast forward (or arrows and a vertical line to skip a few chapters ahead for the DVD generation) to college, now somewhere between sophomore year and senior year (timeline here more an ongoing thing than a specific incident) (what's that? more parentheticals you say? SURE!) (ok, this one's just for kicks, we're getting off topic...)

Where was I? Oh, yeah, country music. Meeting Blake meant the occasional Texan coming out and this in turn meant a dose of country (though to this day I have yet to hear to full expanse of his true Texas accent, despite so many margarita nights). Nights spent spazzed out on Blake's extra-long twin in his dorm room were often to the tune of Enya, various Disney classics or the occasional country classic. "Who's Your Daddy?" became a beloved sing-along with HRH belting it out in his fabulous baritone along with my now personal favorite "My Maria".

But that's a lot of backstory to bring things back around to my point here (bless you for sticking with the post thus far)...

So a friend of mine recently tuned me into Zac Brown Band and in spite of myself, things were sounding pretty good. My genre of choice has fallen into a sort of folk rock/folk punk direction with a little bluegrass thrown in for good measure so with ZBB not being too twangy I quickly found that I was keeping their album on repeat. Song after song I was totally into it and, gasp!, loving it! At first I only downloaded one album but was soon going back for more.

And in that second album, one song in particular hit dead home for me. I was leaving Mari's one night after one of the most meaningful nights of wine and conversation I've had in a long time and popped The Foundation into my car and headed home. The first song on that disc was "Let It Go" and following what Mari and I had just been talking about for the last three hours, I knew that God had carefully crafted this moment for me. He had done it so that I would hear exactly what I needed to hear exactly when I needed to hear it. (Funny how He does that, eh?)

The chorus goes as follows:

You keep your heart above your head and your eyes wide open

So this world can't find a way to leave you cold

And know you're not the only ship out on the ocean

Save your strength for things that you can change

Forgive the ones you can't

You gotta let it go

Well said, ZBB. Well said.

Ever since the proverbial ::cough:: expletive ::cough:: hit the fan back in April, I had been fighting things so hard and I was losing steam. London had helped beyond all measure and adequate adjectives, but there was still that little twinge in the back of my mind/heart/soul that wasn't freely giving up what had been taken from me. Incidentally, that was one of my earlier epiphanies about the whole break-up mess - in it all, I  found myself in no way doubting God's plan, but certainly not understanding what I did to deserve that swift hand of change. But it did bring me closer to Him and in doing so, made me look back over the stories that have comforted so many of the centuries. I returned to the story of Job and realized that if I was ever going to find comfort and peace of mind again, I would have to freely give up this thing that I had held so dear. 

But folks, we all know this is easier said than done (if I've done my job right, there should be a resounding "DUH!" echoing through your homes right now).

But what a thought, right? "Let It Go" had unknowingly just summed up the exact philosophy I was trying to put my finger on in order to move forward. "Save your strength for things that you can change, forgive the ones you can't..."! Wow. You all know the weight and importance that I give words and the power that they have for me, so to hear/read something so simply profound as these lyrics was practically a little religious experience itself! And I was so excited to have it!

And so I'll tuck that sweet chorus away in my canon and keep the advice close at heart. The song references those words being a "message from [his] father"... I think I'll put that thought in a box and show it to my children someday when it comes time for me to pass along a little bit of wisdom. Until then, I'll keep repeating it in my mantras. 

frogs and snails and puppy-dogs' tails!

Hello Jack!

Wearing the little hat I got him when he was born!

Kamdyn is clearly thrilled by flotation devices.

It's amazing how much he looks like his uncle!

That's what little boys are made of!

Well, the votes are in and it's unanimous... I have the two cutest nephews in the world.

Laura sent me the top photo of Baby Jack this morning - there are few better ways to wake up an hour before your alarm goes off! I actually giggled out loud at the sweetness of his little face. I can't believe he's holding his head up, he's so strong!

And to further my incredulity, Kamdyn will be ONE YEAR OLD in two weeks! Just incredible. He's growing up into such a little man (I'm trying to figure out how to get a couple of videos that Andrea posted on FB up on here to drive the point home how adorable this little guy is!)

Oh, I wish these two lived closer! Why are Montana and Indiana so far away!?

pestering the boy

After knowing my dear, sweet Blake for over five years years, I’ve realized there is no one on earth who is easier (or more fun) to aggravate. It's kind of like bothering a cat when they're trying to sleep in the sun so that they growl and hiss and then go back to sleep.

That being said, this list is just the tip of a rather formidable iceberg. We’ll start with 50, just to get things rolling. 

In truth, it’s infinite, but we only have a short time here and...Uh... Yep, I see they’re giving me the light so I should get on with it. Thanks for coming out, it’s been real, I'll be here all week. Try the veal. What? No, I am not a proponent for politically incorrect meat, it's just that... And I really don’t appreciate the insinuation! Yeah? Well same to you, Bucko! How dare you! Hey, no! Put that chair down…

50 Ways To Irritate Blake

*Things learned firsthand

1. Saying something stupid*

2. Using the word “little” in the same sentence you mention him*

3. Hand him a penny*

4. Loose buttons… Anywhere near him*

5. Ask him the same question repeatedly*

6. Badger him in any way*

7. Insult him

8. Be taller than him

9. Ignore him*

10. Put him in the same room as a cat*

11. Quote movies he hasn’t seen yet*

12. Olives*

13. Trick him into drinking coffee

14. Spell things wrong*

15. Use bad grammar

16. Be an idiot*

17. Be inconsiderate

18. Sleep when he’s not sleepy*

19. Overstay your welcome

20. Move when he’s sleeping/cuddling with you and he's already comfortable*

21. Excessive promiscuity

22. Throw things at him from across the table*

23. Attack him in the pool during a water fight*

24. Run out of whiskey and/or Dr. Pepper

25. Like cats*

26. Dislike huskies

27. Disagree with him on various things*

28. Have no class

29. Go to Eaton

30. Go to Oxford

31. Be unattractive

32. Be gross

33. Make him wait*

34. Make things more complicated than they need to be*

35. Waste his time*

36. Talk down to him for any reason

37. Be disgusting

38. Be a blond bimbo/idiot/slag/etc.

39. Dislike Disney movies

40. Dislike comic books

41. Be his old Italian professor

42. Make him watch a movie he doesn’t like*

43. Quote a movie as it plays*

44. Disloyalty 

45. Swearing, if you’re a girl*

46. Put trash in his car because he leaves the doors unlocked and how else is he going to learn?*

47. Write on his car with dry-erase markers*

48. Act like an idiot while drunk

49. Anything to do with his big toes*

50. Hang out with someone he doesn’t like*

Oh, and...

51. Move to Oregon*

still going strong

This is the sweetest thing I've heard all day. Michael and Myra Long have been married for 72 years and "never go to sleep without kissing goodnight."

Folks, this is the way it should be.

my other two thirds

You've heard me prattle on at length about how much I adore Portland and the people in it and I thank you for that. In reality, I've held back. So count your blessings folks. You have no idea how loquacious I can be (and if you do, I am genuinely sorry). 

But the time has come, the Walrus said, to remind you all of something Portland does not have: my other two-thirds.

Brigette and I met the second semester of freshman year at Pepperdine. We were the two non-theater majors working in the Scene Shop (the scenic construction and installation heart and soul of Smothers Theater) and got plugged into working on the haphazard jalopy for The Grapes of Wrath. I still have visions of our leading men and women falling through/off that thing due to our shoddy pneumatic stapling job. Anyway, somewhere between air-powered adhesion and John Steinbeck, we realized we were both set to spend the following semester in London. 

Long story short, that was the beginning of what would become the saga of us being "Heterosexual Life Partners". Almost six years later, we've been through just about everything together. We've traveled Europe, Mexico & America; we've had the ups & downs of relationships; we've eaten too much cheese, drank too much wine, bought too many clothes, watched too many Christmas movies (no such thing), played in too many IKEAs, made too many people nervous about whether we're going to fall up a flight of stairs (we're both guilty of that) and had too many smoke detectors sound off at too many attempted cooking feats. She is my sister, my best friend and the only person in the world who understands what it means to watch 101 Dalmatians on the 101. 

As for Blake, he is my boyo. Our Wonderboy. We met in Intro To Creative Writing in 2006 just as Brig and I returned from our first adventure in London. He was the six-foot-something freshman from Texas who looked like he'd just fallen out of the Abercrombie & Fitch Quarterly and while it would be another  few months before we moved on from Instant Messaging about Disney and literature to hanging out in his dorm room watching Star Wars and James Bond movies, that was the humble beginning. And once he and my mom met and she all but formally adopted him, that was it - best friend, big little brother, co-runner-around-Boboli-Gardens-in-the-rain, only-person-who-would-make-me-a-birthday-Frankencake-and-cut-it-with-a-butcher-knife, "...but by God, there'll be dancing!", one of the loves of my life. 

To shorten this long story, it was somewhere between Brig's and my junior year and now that the three of us clicked and became unconditional friends. There are nooo boundaries (for better or for worse, ha) and while I'm positive that we've raised more than a few eyebrows from the people trying to figure us out, we rarely care. It's more fun that way. 

These two people are the other two-thirds of my heart and for all the things I don't miss about Los Angeles, I miss them infinite times more. When we were in college, it was easy to run through our apartment complex and meet in the middle. To crash in Blake's bed when we didn't feel like walking the extra few hundred feet to our apartment. To pound on Blake's door in the middle of the night, Brig and me with hoodies and wellies on, ready to drag him out to puddle-jump in the rain.  To fly down PCH, blasting "Dark Blue"and singing at the top of our lungs. 

It's harder now. We're over a thousand mile apart. The occasional video chat isn't enough! I miss them like I'm missing a piece of my heart. But remember what I said earlier? This is an unconditional friendship. The pictures of them all around my apartment make me smile on even the crummiest day. 

This love isn't going anywhere. 

 (photos of our adventures over the years)

as promised...

Hello lovelies! Well, with a night to myself I find myself sitting here with a nice glass of wine and a few episodes of The Office and plenty of time to finish up about our weekend in Washington!

So those of you who know Jared know he's not big on getting gifts, regardless of the occasion, be it Christmas, his birthday, whathaveyou. So this year I took a different route. As opposed to telling him I wouldn't get him anything for said holidays, I threw out the option of us going away for a weekend together and having that count for the next three gift-giving occasions. 

He agreed. And happily so!

Our weekend mini-break at Skamania Lodge is Washington served as a catch-all gift and was, in a word, perfect. I don't think either of us really realized just how long it had been since we'd both slowed down and let us catch up with ourselves. 

Since Jared only had a half day of class on Saturday we decided now was the time so off we went! Winding our way out of Portland-proper we got onto 84-E and started our way into the Gorge. For me, the Columbia River Gorge holds a lot of sway - the first time Jared and I spent time together after meeting was hiking up Multnomah Falls (I guess you could call that our first "date" even though we didn't really realize we were in fact "dating" until about a month after we first hung out), and some of my favorite memories have taken place throughout that area of our state. 

After a quick stop at Burgerville, Oregon's (ahem, superior) answer to California's In-N-Out (and with a chocolate-hazelnut milkshake in hand, yum) we pushed eastward until we crossed over the river at The Bridge of the Gods which took us into Washington. It was just a short drive on until we came to the turn-off for the lodge and boy howdy, were we blown away!

It is a stunning place and God made for us the most beautiful day we've had up here in the Northwest in weeks. As we walked up to check in we were both prepared to be in the lap of rustic luxury. "I don't think I'm allowed to stay at a place like this!" was all Jared could muster as we sauntered into the lobby where we were met with the immediate heat of the giant fireplace in the middle of the gorgeous sitting room. We made a mental note to stake out a couple of the very inviting rocking chairs near the hearth, we dropped our bags off in our room and headed straight outside to walk around the grounds while the weather was, mercifully, perfect. 

Of course, it is January in the Pacific Northwest so there was a bite in the air which made it easier for us to head back inside and saddle up to the little bar for a drink to warm up. It was nice, just getting to sit and sip and talk. That mindset followed into dinner where we sat at our little table watching the end of the Purdue game (Boiler up!) and munching on some Dungeness crab laced entrees. After dinner, Jared's  work/school schedule caught up with him and he passed out pretty quickly leaving me up watching the show Hoarders on A&E (addicting!) until I too fell asleep. 

Now my plan was to sleep in but again, with a severely tweaked schedule Jared was up at 7am, showering and ready to go for the day. So I woke up and we went down to the lobby, grabbed some coffee and curled up in those lovely rockers by the fire and just sat. It was so nice. The perfect reason to get up early. To have it my way, we'd would wake up every morning and do just that. 

Of course, though the sight of the morning fog rolling across the mountains was feeding us in ways no food ever could our tummies began to grumble and breakfast began calling our names. So it was back to the little restaurant for delicious french toast, eggs and bacon. Again, the theme of the weekend being "perfect", this meal was no exception. 

Though we only had about 24 hours there, we did manage to catch a bit more time in front of that fireplace before heading back out. It is so wonderful to just be able to spend time with the person you love and have no other obligation other than to be together, even if only for a short time. 

We are truly blessed!

Before heading back to real life we took one more detour and continued east to Hood River, Oregon to visit Cathedral Ridge Winery. It was a sweet little spot with more gorgeous views and some tasty wines to boot! 

But like any delicious dream, the weekend wound down and it was time to wake up again. But that was just fine because it meant I could now dive into that comforting world of memories and start to relive some of the highlights in my mind.

In the end, I can now think of a greater gift to give because we both got to experience the present and now we have these memories that will last a hell of a lot longer than any thing we could have given each other. And that's pretty wonderful, I think. 

"happiness is a warm puppy, an umbrella & a side of french fries."

My title today comes from the mind of Charles Schulz, the man behind Charlie Brown, Snoopy and, me personal favorite, Linus. Now I don't know much about his life beyond the Sunday funnies and my favorite holiday specials, but this philosophy seems about right to me.

I've been think a lot about this concept of happiness lately (clearly) and how vital it is to our lives. Maybe it's that little Pollyanna side of my personality, but I am happy. And I know it. This idea has been in my head since high school when my history teacher Mr. Szmidt posted a quote for us to discuss one day.

The words were familiar enough - "If you're happy and you know it clap your hands." He did this every day, Mr. Szmidt did. We'd all walk into class after lunch, still bloated and breathless from dodging the seagulls that swarmed the quad hoping for dropped bits of pizza crust or a forgotten french fry (here's where Charles Schulz's umbrella begins to make more sense), and pull out our notebooks. Keeping tracks of daily quotes may have seemed tedious to my classmates, but for me it was my favorite part of the class period.

Sure, there are others that have remained in my mind, but this one in particular is something I try to remember every day because in so many ways, this concept could become as integral to keeping us alive as breathing. Why? Because with everything keeping us moving so fast, making our lives "easier" and seemingly more disconnected (I'm one to talk now having just purchased an iPhone, ha), it's important to stop and think about things. To allow ourselves the time to slow our breathing and realize the present moment and stay in it for a minute or two.

This was a life-altering thought to me, especially in high school when I was at my least happy point - always stressing about college applications, grade point averages, math class, chem lab... You get the idea. At the time I could look back on the past and think about happier moments (which is what helped me get through the, er, less happy times) or, my go-to way of coping: faking it. For a few years there part of my morning routine included these weird sort of pep-talks to myself in order to put on a good happy face for the rest of the world as I headed into the quagmire of high school. Oy.

Anyway, back to my point... Mr. Szmidt told us to really think about what made us happy. And when we found ourselves happy about something, to stop and enjoy it right then and there. Not to breeze right past it and just use it at a later date to boost our mood, but to take it in and BE HAPPY IN THE MOMENT!

What a revelation!

So fast forward eight years to now and, like my mother (and proudly so!) I appear to be walking around with carnival music playing in my head (thank you Sean for coining that, it's funny because it's true) Although in my case, it's not so much carnival music as much as Frank Turner or the likes. And do you want to know why? I'm happy.


Really, truly, over-the-moon, slap-her-to-snap-her-out-of-it, honest-to-God happy.

I admit, it took me a while to get here and with more than a few bumps along the way. No matter - those trials made it worth it and all the sweeter in the long run. And now, as I've said in the past, often I could just cry, it's so wonderful. Not to say that there aren't the troubling moments, but on the whole, what's the point in being anything other than happy? And I'm not talking about faking it now either because if I'm not feeling happy, that's okay too. I'm just saying that more often than not, I have an honest smile on my face and try to share that with the people around me. And I don't think it's unrealistic either, or that I'm living in a fantasy world. I'm merely focusing on what God has given me and being thankful for it.

Every. Day.

On that note, I've started doing something these past few months that I believe is adding to this level of outrageous joy. Each day when the pure moment of realization happens (and it does happen, you just have to be open to finding it) I stop, think about the moment I find myself in, and thank God for it. Thank Him for everything He has given me and for all the good things, people, everything in my life. Sometimes I even thank Him for the not-so-great things because even that is part of the great give-and-take of it all. Because without the bad, how could we recognize the good?

It's weird though because while this doesn't seem so unrealistic to me, others seem far more... I don't know... Pessimistic about it. Like it's so hard to find happiness. The current issue of Real Simple magazine is all about happiness and yet in the Letter-from-the-Editor, she writes about how she basically accepts that happiness is fleeting and that it's not something attainable on the grander scale unless you work hard at it, and how if she didn't take small steps to really find it on the small scale, she'd be in a grump most of the time.

What?


The whole thing had the complete opposite effect on me and left me feeling so sad for her. That she had to work so hard at it made me wonder what her life must be like. I mean, true, I'm not dealing with the stress of being a major magazine editor but still... Damn.  On the flipside, one article in the issue gets closer to my reasoning.

Anyway... I've gotten pretty longwinded here so I'll wrap it up. I'm grateful for everything and everyone in my life because you're all part of what makes me happy and I know I wouldn't be in this place (literally and emotionally) without you.

So thank you, I love you and I wish happiness for all of you. And if there's nothing else making you smile today, try this!

(photo of Kamdyn by Lauren Morton-Farmer)

baby boy!

I had had these in a previous post but found that only my Facebook friends were able to view them. So here we go, take two! I present for your viewing pleasure - as well as your daily dose of cute - Mr. Kamdyn Michael, in all his three months of glory!

i love love

love actually IS all around

The coming and going of another Valentine's Day has left me exhausted.

As is the unwritten but entirely understood house rule at the theater, I worked yesterday. Unless you're unexpectedly drafted or experiencing a mishap with your do-it-yourself lobotomy kit, you're going to work Valentine's Day. Fair enough, I knew that was the deal, so Jared and I planned accordingly. 

Friday was lovely - though I had barely left the theater at all, Jared and I dolled ourselves up and enjoyed a night out. Regardless of working there nearly every day of the week, LR is still the kind of place I'd like to find myself on the occasional Friday night. Amazing food, drinks and movies? Can't lose. So we sat down, found ourselves something on the rocks (him a sensational rye whiskey and me a gin drink I'd stumbled upon earlier that day in a book behind the bar which I then dog-eared for future use) and then dug into our food just as the opening credits of Casablanca began to roll. 

Let me tell you, Casablanca on the big screen is something to be seen at least once in one's lifetime. Our system at work is one of, if not THE most advanced digital system in the country so there was nothing to worry about but whether Ilsa will stay in Morocco with Rick or not. And I wasn't the only one caught up in the smoky splendor of the 40's - Jared liked it too. I love that about him, always curious to try new things, see new movies and experience something that means a lot to me (in this case, classic movies). 

After the movie the night was still young enough so we wandered further into the Pearl District to Life of Riley, a tavern where Kalen (Lisa's oldest son) works and hung out for a bit. Portland really is the perfect place to do a weekend in. 

Saturday morning found me up bright and early to drive the boy into work so he wouldn't have to pay for the bus (didn't mind, stopped for breakfast on the way home then passed out on my couch for a couple hours). It was wonderful to be able to stop and relax and enjoy my day off, especially since the following day (yesterday) was such an unbelievable blur of action. We're absolutely slammed at work with the addition of Avatar in 3D (along with all the other great movies we've got in the lineup right now - we rule at the moment). From the second we opened the doors we were busy and even though I walked with a handsome sum in cash tips, I barely made it home without nodding off. I was also informed that my days off this week were no longer my days off as there simply aren't enough of us to go around at the moment in terms of keeping up with demand. So for now I won't have a day off until Wednesday and then who knows? But with any luck I will finally get my weekends back and by next week be able to devote more time to writing, reading and picture-taking.  

In the meantime, here is an image I found that I completely appreciate. 

l o v e

It's an interesting sensation to be so happy and feel so loved that you can't help but cry. I'm not always sure what to do with it when it happens, but it's worth mentioning that it's been happening on a pretty regular basis lately.

Looking back on the couple of posts I wrote while in California it's hard to believe how far I've come in the past few months. Though I was back in a world of my family and my best friends I was completely lost and, in all honesty, one of the darkest emotional pits I've ever found myself mired in. The nights alone in my apartment in Calabasas I would not wish on anyone. Even to think on them now makes me tear up, to watch the "me" in my memory crying myself to sleep wrapped around a pillow wishing so hard that I could just undo everything and be back in Portland...

Well, not to dwell on the bad times. The end result is that I've been back in my beautiful Pacific Northwest for over a month now and everything makes me smile, laugh and cry for happiness. I can't even begin to comprehend the love that has helped me make it to this point. Love from my family, my friends, my God, everyone and everything. I both can and can't fathom it. The can't comes from wondering how on earth I was chosen to be one of the "lucky ones" and the can from knowing that love is the end all be all. Love is everything.

It's coming up on Thanksgiving and at the risk of jumping the gun I've been counting my blessings. For love, I am eternally grateful for the miracle of grace I've been shown. Life isn't perfect, no, but it's damn close. I couldn't have made it back here without it. I don't know many other families who would drop everything to help their daughter, granddaughter or niece the way you all have helped me. God, I can't believe it! And I'm so overwhelmed by it!

And my friends too, most of all Indy. When I left in August he and I talked for hours on end about what it all meant and how we were going to approach the next chapter. He told me then that when he moved to Portland I became his best friend here and always would be. He is, on top of everything else, my best friend. Not in the same way Brig and Blake are, nothing compares to them, but my best friend nonetheless. And as the days and weeks led up to my departure I found myself praying, and wishing on everything I could from stars, to tunnels to any candles I would blow out, just begging God to let me keep him. And now as I drive to and from work, in and out of the city, to and from his apartment to mine I could just burst from the gratitude and sheer joy of being allowed to be back here with him, to have his goodness, his selflessness, his wisdom, his love and his plain being back in my life.

And Mike! I've often said that if you don't like Mike and Indy there must be something wrong with you. Through this whole ordeal Mike has been amazing. He was always there to talk to me and listen to me when I needed a voice of reason. He never told me what to do but simply offered me a sounding board so that I could make the decision myself. And in return he confides in me and that, well that is something special when someone opens up to you and trusts you. Life would not be the same without him.

I know God doesn't just dole out love and acceptance and friendship to everyone so, knowing that He is reading every word I type here, I can take this time to truly thank Him for this life He has given of me. I want to make Him proud, make Him smile, do right by Him and I know that I have and will continue to stumble but that's the beauty of His LOVE. He is everywhere, everyone and everything. He is the reason I get to keep all of you.

It all comes back to love, doesn't it? It seems to me that love actually is all around.

Now I find myself drenched in tears after writing this not because of sadness but from the all-consuming happiness and thankfulness for everything. It's a wonderful feeling to cry this way, to be so happy that you can't keep it in and know that you shouldn't have to.

I'm not a child anymore and I'm learning a lot about life and at twenty-three I think I'm pretty lucky to be able to go to sleep at night happy, loved and at peace. The world may not be perfect but the simple joys of life, love and happiness are priceless.

If I accomplish nothing else in life at least I have this much figured out.

Below are some lyrics to a Chuck Ragan song called "For Goodness Sake" and a link to him singing it. It's exactly where I am in life right now and I love it. Definitely worth waiting for the video to load because to hear this song is to truly understand its meaning.

Simple backbeats seem to soothe me

If I could hold them I would let's say

Take some rest as if not wicked

And walk around enjoying silence

A world away elders gather speaking their tongues and hardly falter

With words of fun, joy and grievance, simple songs, work and penance

To drown hate like a stone and walk the path overgrown

Never to lie awake and if so for goodness sake

Down the road the deer are crossing

The grass is greener where they're walking

Rattling beasts and heavy movement

Mark them now son, before we lose them

Bear you arms ever so wisely or burn them all if you have no need

And dress to kill but kill so kindly hollow hearts too weak and weary

To drown hate like a stone and walk the path overgrown

Never to lie awake and if so for goodness sake

Now call me crazy but all the old ways of living simple are simply fading

And all we buy is time before we die and lay on down desensitized

A wise old friend recently told me, "an idle mind is the devil's playpen,"

Find the gaps and watch them closely, spread the love and choose your friends wisely

Love yourself to love your family and find the difference between wants and needs

Be sure to stop and count your blessings, smell the roses and fight for something

To drown hate like a stone and walk the path overgrown

Never to lie awake and if so for goodness sake

Now call me crazy but all the old ways of living simple are simply fading

And all we buy is time before we die and lay on down desensitized

stumptown

photos from the past couple months...

I'm back in Portland.

Only for a short time though. I'm sitting on the floor of Indy's apartment, he and Mike are both at work so I'm left to my own devices. When I woke up this morni

ng there was a skillet on the stove full of hashbrowns and diced chicken with an envelope next to it...(you'll have to read it backwards because my computer camera takes mirror image photos)

... Mike had made me breakfast! Love that boy. It's so wonderful to be back here, even though I was gone for less than two weeks. Last Friday when I got here I came "home" to the boys' empty apartment - Indy had worked out at the golf course until late that night and then had to go pick up Mike from work at Whole Foods so I beat them home by about 20minutes. So I waited for them in the recliner, my usual position in the living room, and read. Only not really because I was so anxious I found myself simply looking at the words on the page but never quite committing them to any long term memory. Finally the key turned in the lock and in flew Mike yelling "Oh no, we're being robbed, someone broke in, heeeeeelp!" followed by him lifting me into the air and twirling me around while Indy stood smiling in the doorway. Once I was released by the raving red head, I fell into Indy's arms and we stood there hugging while Mike taunted our reunion ("Ooh, look at us, we like each other, we're in love, wah wah wah...").

It was good to be home.

Meanwhile, this week has flown by faster than I'd hoped. While the guys are at work I've been working on my summer reading, gearing up for school in a little over a week. Brig, Blake, Jason, Mom and I got all my stuff moved in to my new "fort" in Calabasas, just about 10 minutes from Pepperdine. It was so surreal to be back there and back in that setting after living in Portland. This city has a personality, a charm and character all its own. The whole town is alive in itself and you can feel it breathing and moving. LA though is just like walking onto a movie set (appropriately so I suppose). It has no life to it. It's just there. To look pretty. That's it. I'm not downplaying Calabasas or Malibu, they're lovely places and I'm not about to discount the ocean views from campus but there is no personality (unless you're on the beach itself). 

It's going to be a hard transition, I true re-adjustment to a world I already know like the back of my hand because I spent four years of my life there. Four very pivotal years no less. And I will miss my life in Portland more than I can say but this is the next chapter, the next scene in my life and I know this is something I need to do. 

In the meantime though, I'm momentarily back in my life in the Pacific Northwest... I'll always come back here and know I'm home.