I spent the week before our February snowstorm waiting for its arrival, watching weather reports with amusement and excited anticipation. Maybe a little dread. The ten-day predictions changed every few hours, from a few inches of snow to the extreme of eight inches one day and eleven the next, then dialing it back again. Extreme for Portland anyway. I was just waiting, checking the weather the way I used to doom scroll for the daily news - what disaster is in store today? This was way more fun however than waking up thinking, what has he tweeted today?
Adaptation comes little by little, accepting what I must, embracing what I can, trying to not tip over. I can do this, I can do this. I have no choice.
When we first arrived in Portland our son warned us that spring was actually several seasons in one - fake spring, late winter, early spring, summer, real spring, winter again, and so on.
Retirement isn't about stopping living; for me it was about choosing how I wanted to live my life, and where I wanted to live it.
I go from having a spring in my step to groaning as I rise from my chair, from sprawling happily on the floor with grandchildren, to waking at night in pain. But what if I look at what I CAN do instead of can't?
I didn't fall in love with Portland right away. I wasn't all that impressed during our many visits early on. It felt more like a blind date, a set-up by our daughter. Portland was an occasional fling, not marriage material. Landing at the airport on the northeast end of town, we drove through the grittiest … Continue reading Falling for Portland
First impressions can be superficial. I arrive in Mexico forgetting that it takes time to appreciate and understand something foreign and complex. What I first see: homes and businesses in stages of stalled construction or general disrepair, lots of trash on the streets, and dozens of scruffy dogs and ragged chickens and roosters pacing or … Continue reading What I Saw in Mexico
I set out alone from Santa Barbara on a hot July day, my little sedan packed to the brim, and cruised north along Highway 101. The one key I owned was to my car. I had just finished packaging up my life, to leave the place I'd lived for 32 years. I was alternately thrilled … Continue reading Changing For Good