Counting the Signs

The life of a writer is hardly glamorous. I spend the majority of my time home and mostly alone, wrapped in sweatpants and down vests.

Which is kind of silly, considering what a chatterbox and clotheshorse I can be. But, despite my gregarious nature and a sincere love for garments of all varieties, I most definitely prefer this existence to any other.

“I am a loner, a rebel, Dottie,” and someone who inserts song lyrics and lines from movies as seamlessly as if they were from my own little head. That there being from Pee Wee’s Big Adventure. Insert his adorable chuckle here.

That being said, a critical part of my mental health is actually exiting the mind bubble and the house, wearing fancy duds (or just real pants), speaking words aloud, and meeting strangers eye to eye.

So, off I went.

 Luckily, I chose a glorious Portland day and found inspiration in the form of signs.

Golly gee whillakers, there are more than enough to shake a stick at.

All kinds of cool things on offer.

Houses, movies, meats, cheeses, and coffee, oh my!

And music, too, hard to go wrong there.

Or perhaps you’d like a slice of coffee cake with a side of tempeh bacon?

I chose Evoe, which completely lacks a sign, but has a monster chalk board.

Lest I exit too far into the real world, I read while savoring one of my favorite sandwiches in the world.

The Gallego, mi amor.

Now I am home again, jiggity jig!

 

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