Loving

You are currently browsing the archive for the Loving category.

The hubster and I both dreamt about my Grandpa last night, of him being with us before realizing the reality of his death. Both of us reminded of the truth that the dead never leave us. He is here, beside us, as we type, move, and breathe. Always.

There is serendipity in the dreaming, too. Today, my grandparents house sale is finalized. The last place to smell of them, of sixty years lived well in one treasured spot. The porch light will not be left on for me. No more glimpsing through the windows, across the street, onto the porch, or the Skulavik’s yard. I have taken one last look in the mirror at the end of the hall. Grandma hasn’t swept nor dusted in more than three and a half years. My hand will no longer shhhh down the banister, to the raucous stair creak of a million exuberant Lewis, Sohn, and Johnstone steps. Every game, National Geographic, book, and beloved record, Chicken Fat to Herb Alpert, emptied from the shelves my Grandpa built. A rack empty of his ties. And I, the not terribly sentimental type, weepy at the thought.

There will be traces, however, a beloved photograph buried in a jar. A few pieces of furniture, and the remains of our love and laughter, racing like neutrinos, through every atom of the house.

Direction: Northwest!!

Hood * Jefferson * Three Sisters

And Mt. Hood, all by its lonesome.

The most wonderful reasons for my return to Portland! Solveig’s little Luna had her third, and we sure hope final, open heart surgery, the Fontan. Our girl (now age five!) is a true heart warrior, having the strength to come home from the hospital a mere week after surgery. While she isn’t 100% and we need to be careful not to bump or jostle her, the strides she’s making are really quite remarkable. Her baby brother, Zoran, has grown by leaps and bounds since we last cuddled and bounced, with an adorable personality to match. I love them all so much!

Most of my time alone was spent sleeping and wandering the city for old haunts and memories. I am super happy to report that many remain. I was so afraid of a city so changed as to be unrecognizable.  Though there are differences (good gracious SE 50th Avenue!) there was much more that sent my heart galloping with glee.

Brown Lumber was one of our beloved local spots to buy supplies for our million and one home improvement projects. They have super customer service, but I liked their sign best:

WATCH OUT FOR THE POST WHEN BACKING UP

POST 111

TRUCKS 0

Gets me every time…

At the zoo…

Southeast Portland gets its Bushwick on, fabulous mural style.

 GUN not GONE

Never was, never will be.

Tofu makes my body wanna DIE, but I’m happy to see this old Portland business is still plugging along.

One of my favorite Portland peeps (Hi Susan!) with some of my favorite food:

the cocktel del pulpo at Tacqueria Nueve!

Southbound Number 75

I shall never tire of this view

Or this one!

More to come…

 

Tags: ,

Today is our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Gosh and huzzah, wow, wow, wow, we have come so far together. We are wonderfully strong together, happy together, silly together, mostly wise together, and sometimes stupid together. Most of all, we are crazy in love TOGETHER.

In some ways it is a total surprise, that our lives have cycled through twenty-five years, a mad dream of beauty, wonder, and adventure. Still others, it feels like an eternity. How could there ever be a time when we weren’t practically attached at the hip? The slim space between us the breadth of the universe. That is us, so close, yet so unhindered and free.

It is not always easy, and we have fumbled and blundered, but our LOVE and will for cooperation remains stronger than anything that has wished to see us apart.

Here’s to the next twenty-five years….

New Mexican Black Dog. Maybe not technically a breed but the most accurate description of our girl. She is most likely a Kelpie – Cattle Dog mix, but we’re happy to let the mystery linger.

What we DO know – that she loves all that is important in a dog’s life –  to hike and walk and eat and cuddle and play. Oh, and dig holes (grrr…) and run, especially after rabbits and squirrels.

 

Oodles of zoodles, and a few meatballs, too. Zoodles, if you don’t know, are made by spiralizing a zucchini, which is pretty darned awesome. Heat them in the oven, and they, to my mind, are the best substitute for pasta. But that isn’t really fair, because I would honestly rather eat the zoodles. Really!

Why? I have been trying, and succeeding a good 90% of the time (sweets the weightiest albatross), at eating low carb. Not to be part of a growing bandwagon, but because my body has gotten very LOUD about what constitutes its best fuel. After trying just about every food combination imaginable to keep my hormones (and dreaded endometriosis) in check, keto (low carb high fat) works THE best. I have very little pain, fewer hot flashes, better digestion, more energy and focus (I didn’t know how foggy I was until I made the change). Also, to quote my friend Chrissie, “Where did your wrinkles go?” She is exaggerating, but my skin looks and feels great for a forty-six(!) year old. So zoodles, and casseroles consisting of my favorite pizza toppings (fennel, roasted bell pepper, mushroom, & Italian sausage), salmon, hamburgers without buns, bacon, and piles and piles of green things: broccoli, asparagus, cucumber, kale, lettuce, avocado, cabbage. These are my staples. So good.

Such a sap for this sweet girl, who, even in sleep is almost always on the move, wiggling, panting, stretching, smiling, cuddling. Juniper Beulah, I love you!

And to make this post an even more odd assortment, tomorrow I am going to my grandparents house for the first time since my Grandpa died. For reasons both obvious and puzzling, I am feeling a bit wrecked at the prospect. My family, member by member, is taking furniture and knickknacks, items random and sundry, and dispersing them to the four winds and our respective homes. My list includes a ladder-back chair, a whisk, bookends, a bowl, muffin tins, and a stool. Every single item touched by my grandparents hands, well used, loved even. Soon enough the house will be empty of Lewis and Sohn and Johnstone traces. With laughter, the sound of traffic, the flutter of toilet paper by the heat register, the creak of stair to the basement, a glimpse in the mirror at the end of the hall seen and heard by other eyes, filled with other voices. More than sixty years of memories. My whole life, thus far, and I am at a loss. Say a little prayer for me…

« Older entries