Lucky

I have amazing luck in Portland. Even when bad things happen, I am still lucky. The other day I accidentally left my debit card in an ATM machine. I didn't realize it until the next day, when I tried to pay for the coffee I'd ordered, and discovered I had no cash or debit card. Before I had a chance to figure out how was going to get my coffee, the barista told me it was on her at the exact same time the woman behind me in line insisted on paying for it. The argued for a minute, and I felt like I was being bid on. The woman behind me won; she'd recently had the same thing happen to her, and person behind her in line had paid for her coffee. She felt like it was her turn. I got my coffee, went to work and when my coworker asked me if I wanted to go out to lunch I said sure, if she paid, since I had no money. We had a nice lunch, and then I borrowed some money from J. to tied me over until my new debit card arrived.

The whole situation made me think about how cool people could be, and what an opposite perspective I'd had towards people in Seattle. My expectations for other people and myself were low, and my experiences reflected this, which is probably why I've only spent two days in Seattle since I moved to Portland. I don't really think about my old life at all, other than when I go to the dreaded but convenient Safeway and type in my old phone number. I have been using a Safeway club card based on a phone number I haven't had in three and a half years. The card was under B.'s name, not mine, and every time I use the card and the cashier says "Thank you, Mrs. Bigley" I am pulled momentarily into a past that has so little in common with my present it doesn't seem like I could still be the same person.

Some Things I Love

abundance * accessories * antique shoes * baths * camping * crumbling beauty * dairy products * exaggerating * eating outside * family stories that probably aren’t true * garage sales * going barefoot * going out to breakfast * kissing * ladies’ night * naps * pedicures* playing dress up * pretentious French movies * projects * reading out loud * summer vacation * talking to strangers * wine

Two Tales Of A City

I am relieved to report that my homesickness was only a 24 hour bug. I have been too busy since then to do much reflecting, and I am behind in reporting my continuing adventures in Portland.

In an effort to correct this, I'll share two stories tonight.

Out Of The Dust

When I first looked at my apartment, I noticed a troubling smell. It was apparent that one of the previous tenants of my apartment had been a cat who had fallen out of the habit of using his litter box. I mentioned this concern to the owner of the building, and she told me she thought the smell was coming from the rug in the bedroom. She told me she would replace it, and even asked me what kind of rug I wanted in its place. I really like the new rug in the bedroom, but it didn't correct the odor, which was clearly coming from the wood floors in the rest of the apartment. I was a little devastated, because I was otherwise in love my apartment. It seemed like a cruel joke to have a beautiful apartment that smelled so toxic it made my eyes water.

I shared my concern with the owner of my building, and she hired an older southern couple from Olympia to perform a natural deodorizing ritual on my apartment. They started by spraying some kind of magic potion on the floors that bubbled to indicate areas of concentrated bacteria. They then sprinkled deodorizing crystals all over my entire apartment, including my own furniture and rugs. The only piece of furniture they left untouched was my bed. The final step was to fog my apartment. I was told to leave my apartment during this process. When I returned, all the windows were open and both of my fans blasting. I was instructed to leave the windows open and fans going, and keep the deodorizing crystals on the floor and furniture for five days.

I knew right away this would be a problem. Walking around barefoot hurt. The only place to relax was on my bed. By the second day, I decided it was time to clean up. I used the vacuum cleaner that belongs to my building. I guess the bag was pretty full...the stuff just wasn't vacuuming well. I had to go over and over the same areas, and I still wasn't making the kind of progress that I'd hoped. All of a sudden, the vacuum bag exploded. Since the fans were on, the contents of the vacuum distributed themselves over ever inch of my living and dining rooms, turning my apartment into my own personal dust bowl.Further inspection of the vacuum revealed not only had the bag exploded, but the force of it had broken the vacuum.

My apartment felt toxic. I decided to turn of my fans and go have a beer while I waited for the dust to settle. I went down the street, had a beer, and read for a while. I got up to go to the bathroom, and when I returned, there was a note on my table that said I love you. This piqued my curiosity, and I asked the couple sitting at a nearby table if that had seen anyone at my table. The told me a young woman with a long blonde ponytail sat down at the table briefly, then jumped up and left.

Of course the couple wanted to know why I wanted this information. I showed them the note, and we all decided to have another beer. It didn't take long before we realized we had moved to Portland the same week. M. and K. are most recently from Cannes. It turns out they're my neighbors, and now they are friends.

The Call Heard Round The World
I had a rushed morning the other week. I got up a little early, and this may have been the problem. I always run late when I do this. I made the mistake of trying to bring to much stuff with me to work on a rainy day. While I was struggling to juggle multiple bags and an umbrella, somehow my cell phone fell out of my pocket, and I didn't even notice until an hour or so later. Since I don't have a landline, this is a crisis situation for me.

I called my cell phone provider and found out someone had made outgoing calls using my phone. I suspended the line, ordered a new phone, and sent frantic emails to my friends requesting their numbers.

At about 11 that night, I received an email from my father, informing me someone had found my phone and called the number labeled mom and dad. Since my parents are currently living in Cambodia, the woman staying in their house spoke with the guy who found the phone, emailed the information to my parents, and they forwarded it to me. I gave the guy a call the next day and found out he lives three houses down the street from me. I stopped by that evening to pick up my phone and meet him and his dog.

What are you doing to me, Portland? I may turn into an optimist.

Pride

I have just built my first successful fire.

It took about an hour to get it going. I didn't have the right ingredients; I had logs, but almost no kindling, and no newspaper. I was really frustrated, almost ready to out and get a fake log. I felt too old to be learning a skill I should have acquired as a girl scout. I was irritated with myself for having always let other people build fires while I sat back and relaxed.

I was dangerously close to feeling sorry for myself when a light bulb went off and I got the bright idea to burn those file folders I never use but always buy when I'm trying to get organized. The fire is now roaring, and I am enormously pleased with myself.

Saved

I'm now officially tracking and recording nice things that strangers in Portland do for me.

Yesterday I went to a different light rail stop than the one I usually go to. It wasn't a fancy stop and I couldn't use my debit card to buy a ticket. I started frantatically taking everything out of my bag, hoping to find some cash in it somewhere, but I didn't have any. I could see the train coming and I really didn't want to be late my first week at a new job.

A nice man seemed to appear out of nowhere and gave me two dollars.

Nice Things_,

The Rockstar and the Fairy Godmother

I've been pretty overwhelmed ever since I was offered a job I applied for over a year ago. It means relocating to Portland, and I hadn't realized until now just how complicated moving to another city is. Looking for an apartment was making me crazy. Apartments on Craig's List were rented 45 minutes after they were posted. Apparently it is not an easy time to get a place in Portland, which is why I am so happy to report I have found an apartment that will make even home owners jealous.

Finding it wasn't easy. I looked at crappy places that were too expensive, and beautiful places that would have required taking three busses to work. By the time I saw my building, I had already cried twice in one afternoon. I don't know what I would have done without N., who drove me around for 8 hours to look at places and served as my therapist the whole time. She is a rockstar who had a gut feeling we should turn down a particular street. I saw my building and told N. how cute I thought it was without even noticing the For Rent sign in the yard. I'm glad N. was paying more attention than me! I called the owner, she told me she had just put the sign up an hour ago.

I now consider my new landlord my Fairy Godmother. She has an impulsiveness I really appreciate; she bought the building without even seeing the inside of it in 1978. She rented me an 1100 square foot apartment with a fireplace, den and dining room for not a ton more than I'm paying for my place in Seattle. The deposit was $1000 less than some of the other places I looked at. She didn't check my credit, which frankly could be a lot better than it is. She didn't call my previous landlords. She said I seemed like a nice person, and that was enough for her.

Adventures_