Whoosh

I don’t know that you heard it. That whoosh was summer passing, glorious as it was, chock full of every little thing I love. Long walks and sunsets and star-gazing, and spending time with my favorite people.

Solveig and company visited Portland for two weeks, with five fun days at our house. We chatted in the dark and early hours, of the big and small. I helped with bath time, danced, sang, played, and laughed.

Oh love, how it sneaks into your heart when you aren’t looking. A fourteen year old girl with more baggage that anyone deserves, ten years later and she is my K I N. Silly, smart, lovely, and fine, and the best mom to little Luna, she’s made a beautiful life and a beautiful family. I could not be more proud.

An evening of fabulous Prosecco (Ca’ dei Zago – try it!) and good company with our friends, Don and Katie. Hiya!

Out at the Clackamas County Fair with our friends Pat and Kelly. They’re posing with our favorite pig, what wild ears it had! And the cute girl (I forgot to ask her name) is posing with her rabbit Mr. Cuddles, who most definitely lived up to his moniker. The kindly man above is hammering my name into a horseshoe! As a child who could very rarely find my name imprinted on anything, I am making up for lost time. Everything Colleen, and pronto! Ha!

I hope your summer’s been sweet and filled with all you love.

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The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.

Henry Miller

Happy Birthday, Solveig!

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What

I love you, not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you.

attributed to:

Elizabeth Barrett Browning & Roy Croft

Sweet Luna! She’s eighteen months old now, walking, laughing, and spreading love wherever she goes.

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Friendship

The glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand, not the kindly smile, nor the joy of companionship; it is the spiritual inspiration that comes to one when you discover that someone else believes in you and is willing to trust you with a friendship.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

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Sunday, early evening, my hand delightedly skimming the summer air. We had a lovely afternoon, with an early dinner at Guero. I had my favorite, and what I consider to be the best torta in town, the #3. It’s basically a bean sandwich, which seems unfair, because in their hands it is so much more.

We wandered around in the heat, taking in the fun and funny wares along 28th before enjoying the latest dazzler from Jim Jarmusch, Only Lovers Left Alive. It follows the measured, highly intellectual, and occasionally melancholy lives of vampires. It is neither glamorous nor frightening, at least not in the conventional sense. It is stunningly beautiful, a marvelous juxtapostion of life in Tangier and Detroit, cities and people alive and dead in their own way, full of zombies, beautiful music, and a certain yearning. Marvelous!

Home again, wandering again, the hour of vampires and the full warmth of an evening plucked from childhood. There were bats about, very apropos, we thought, and windows obscuring their occupants golden secrets. All was hushed, the breeze a whipping, jaunty exclamation point to a peach of a day.

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