As my belt buckle says, "Oregon is what America was." I don't really know if that's true, but I like the ring of it. We rolled up yesterday afternoon/evening after a somewhat late start, made the regular stops: all-star liquor on the CA/OR border (best bourbon selection around), the crazy Norwiegen for dinner in Port Orford. I made the faux-pas of pumping my own gas in Reedsport, but I was such a little hustler about it the attendant didn't butt in until the end. It's against the law to pump yr own petrol here. Keeps many a young man employed.
Finally made the Euge around 11, and met up with Mary, Shannon and Chelsea at the High Street brewery, a little monkey reunion of sorts. Chelsea's been in New Zeland for about two years, but wants a US college degree. She's currently working on bringing over Jess (who she would have married if it helped, but we don't let people do that here in Dick Cheney's America) and their dog, Banjo. It costs like $1,600 to bring a dog across the Pacific, so maybe there will be a Portland benefit concert.
And now I'm at the Momster's, enjoying the neighbors wifi and her excellent interior decoration skills. Tonight a BBQ at Mark's mom's place out Coburg Road for Little Ben's graduation, and tomorrow it's up I-5 to PDX for a day or two, then back down.
I'm enjoying seeing everyone of course -- priceless to connect with old friends and see that natural easy feelng is still there -- but I'm also antsy to get into my summer rhythm. This isn't supposed to be a vacation, and until I get that bike and a regular desk space worked out it's going to be tough.
I've been pondering the difference between stuck in a rut, a phrase I've used more than once (usually with the adjective "comfortable" thrown in) to describe my recent life in NY, vs getting into a groove, which I've used to describe what I'm looking to do this summer. Are my metaphors hopelessly muddled or is there something to be revealed here? Discuss.