I must apologize for the fact that I left you with the erupting ovarian follicle photo for the last two weeks. Dreadful imagery for such an interesting and life-creating thing. Certainly not something one wishes to contemplate on a daily or even weekly basis. It did serve as a good reminder that I am out of Vitamin E and Evening Primrose Oil, however.
I'm back from California. It was a lovely trip. All-consuming, though. Portland and work and the blogosphere (you) and the election and 1000 words a day and everything from the normal (mmmm, "normal") realm of life ceased to exist, sucked up by the mighty Pacific and all the sunshine you could ever want. (More than enough sunshine, actually: hot and sticky, all day every day, soaking in through newly burnt skin, through sweat-stained and inappropriately dark-colored clothing, through steamed-open pores. Beautiful, yes. Omnipresent, of course. Gratuitous, I'm thinking so). Busy as it was, and packed full of visits and events and dinners and lunches and hellos and goodbyes, it was also that dangerous sort of rockabye that cradles and then crushes the fool who slumbers in its embrace. Ah Ventura, how you lull me in to your warm gentle bath, only to slowly boil me in a soft stew of complacency and meh.
On Monday, our last day in town, Joosh and I walked on the beach and strolled the boardwalk for a spell. Feet in the sand, toes in the water, it was perfect. We talked about how easy and kick back Ventura felt this time around. How totally busy and packed the trip was, but also how simple it was to get around (unless you try to leave the city proper, and then all sorts of freeway and timeschedule planning hassles ensue, but of course it was always thus), to see people, to come and go and chat and connect and blah blah blah. For Joosh, I think it was how easy it is to get things done and accomplished - the bike project, the Fiat 1100 project, the Fiat spider project, work projects at his main place of business, etc etc - that appealed to him.
For me, it was how simple and easy it was to see family, friends, to chill and hang out and catch up. Portland is isolating, a bit, because of our age bracket (and the fact that we moved here after our twenties), our inclination to work from home, our lack of children or outdoor pets, our tendency to sneer at and alienate strangers, my propensity for deep and unwavering judgement from a distance... I kid. Mostly. But really, it's true that we are far away from family and all but two of our dearest friends (four, if you consider Seattle to be nearby, which I do and I don't). So it was nice and life-affirming (as in: yes, I am still alive and connected to people on this planet) to be in such close proximity, with so much easy access, to loved ones. I do miss that. (Hey, come visit!).
And then, as we were walking back to the car, shaking the sand from our feet, Joosh pointed out a tree that by all counts should be considered to have green leaves, but appeared to me more like a dusty brown-green. I looked up at a palm tree, searching for a more vibrant green. Nope. How about the hills? No, totally brown, with a few mustardy greenish trees dotting the landscape. Even the grass growing in front of the seaside condos was a kind of dull washed out color, more of an impression of greenness than anything that could be considered truly verdant. Back a the car a receipt from the previous night's meal fell out of my pocket with the keys. $41.25 for two people, consisting of a not-fancy (but delicious, I'll concede) cheese plate, a salad (better than most Ventura attempts at classy fare), and a martini.
And suddenly, I remembered life here. It's all green, all the time. The air is fresh. None of that why-so-dusty?/everything-needs-a-rinse feel to it. There's about a million different activities/events going on each week (just this weekend we've got the Organic Brewers Beer Festival, The Artichoke Folk Festival, The Cowboy Junkies at the lovely theater at the Zoo in the middle of Forest Park, and a million other shows with KCRW featured artists and local heroes alike, as well as a few book readings, several plays, art openings and a gaggle of $3 second-run movies at sweet old theaters serving beer and pizza in addition to the usual popcorn/candy/soda lineup). And, most importantly, $41.25 in Portland means three people, three full meals made from fresh locally grown organic ingredients, three or four beers, and maybe even a dessert.
I'm back from California. It was a lovely trip. All-consuming, though. Portland and work and the blogosphere (you) and the election and 1000 words a day and everything from the normal (mmmm, "normal") realm of life ceased to exist, sucked up by the mighty Pacific and all the sunshine you could ever want. (More than enough sunshine, actually: hot and sticky, all day every day, soaking in through newly burnt skin, through sweat-stained and inappropriately dark-colored clothing, through steamed-open pores. Beautiful, yes. Omnipresent, of course. Gratuitous, I'm thinking so). Busy as it was, and packed full of visits and events and dinners and lunches and hellos and goodbyes, it was also that dangerous sort of rockabye that cradles and then crushes the fool who slumbers in its embrace. Ah Ventura, how you lull me in to your warm gentle bath, only to slowly boil me in a soft stew of complacency and meh.
On Monday, our last day in town, Joosh and I walked on the beach and strolled the boardwalk for a spell. Feet in the sand, toes in the water, it was perfect. We talked about how easy and kick back Ventura felt this time around. How totally busy and packed the trip was, but also how simple it was to get around (unless you try to leave the city proper, and then all sorts of freeway and timeschedule planning hassles ensue, but of course it was always thus), to see people, to come and go and chat and connect and blah blah blah. For Joosh, I think it was how easy it is to get things done and accomplished - the bike project, the Fiat 1100 project, the Fiat spider project, work projects at his main place of business, etc etc - that appealed to him.
For me, it was how simple and easy it was to see family, friends, to chill and hang out and catch up. Portland is isolating, a bit, because of our age bracket (and the fact that we moved here after our twenties), our inclination to work from home, our lack of children or outdoor pets, our tendency to sneer at and alienate strangers, my propensity for deep and unwavering judgement from a distance... I kid. Mostly. But really, it's true that we are far away from family and all but two of our dearest friends (four, if you consider Seattle to be nearby, which I do and I don't). So it was nice and life-affirming (as in: yes, I am still alive and connected to people on this planet) to be in such close proximity, with so much easy access, to loved ones. I do miss that. (Hey, come visit!).
And then, as we were walking back to the car, shaking the sand from our feet, Joosh pointed out a tree that by all counts should be considered to have green leaves, but appeared to me more like a dusty brown-green. I looked up at a palm tree, searching for a more vibrant green. Nope. How about the hills? No, totally brown, with a few mustardy greenish trees dotting the landscape. Even the grass growing in front of the seaside condos was a kind of dull washed out color, more of an impression of greenness than anything that could be considered truly verdant. Back a the car a receipt from the previous night's meal fell out of my pocket with the keys. $41.25 for two people, consisting of a not-fancy (but delicious, I'll concede) cheese plate, a salad (better than most Ventura attempts at classy fare), and a martini.
And suddenly, I remembered life here. It's all green, all the time. The air is fresh. None of that why-so-dusty?/everything-needs-a-rinse feel to it. There's about a million different activities/events going on each week (just this weekend we've got the Organic Brewers Beer Festival, The Artichoke Folk Festival, The Cowboy Junkies at the lovely theater at the Zoo in the middle of Forest Park, and a million other shows with KCRW featured artists and local heroes alike, as well as a few book readings, several plays, art openings and a gaggle of $3 second-run movies at sweet old theaters serving beer and pizza in addition to the usual popcorn/candy/soda lineup). And, most importantly, $41.25 in Portland means three people, three full meals made from fresh locally grown organic ingredients, three or four beers, and maybe even a dessert.
I truly miss you, one and all. But damn, it's good to be home.
2 comments:
Damn, I totally thought this was going to be a big "We're moving to SoCal!" announcement. If you did, we could be judgemental about strangers together (and then woo Joey to our dark, snarky side). But noooo, you're all "fresh air" and "reasonalbly priced food" and "organic beer." Whatever, Amber. I thought you were better than that.
I started to feel that yearning to be back in Ventura with all our old friends again too, when I was there. But, flying back into Portland and seeing all the green trees, rivers and mountains helped me to remember also, why we live here! We're in this big city together, remember that!
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