Guess where I went this weekend?!

NOWHERE!!

It was *so* lovely! It’s been ages since I had a weekend all to myself. And no, zero complaints about all the jet-setting lately. But given my introvert and homebody tendencies, three trips in one month has me feeling uncomfortably close to this guy:

And it wasn’t the quietest lead-up to the weekend either. On Monday we went to a concert.

(Why yes, we went to a concert the night after returning from NYC. That was across town. That STARTED at 9 pm. There are *very* few bands that would ever merit that kind of superhuman effort from me. Fortunately, Whitehorse is one of them.)

Oh man, these guys. So, so good. I’ve been following them since before they were together and whenever they come on the ol’ CBC, I ratchet up the volume. And oh man, what a fun venue.

The Doug Fir Lounge is basically like our old Minneapolis basement(complete with wood paneling). You literally have to go downstairs to find this cozy spot. And we totally lucked out – there were maybe 35 people there? Yeah – Monday night, Canadian band, threat of snow – it was pretty sparse. But look what happened!

Do I look a little derpy? That’s cuz I AM A LITTLE DERPY CUZ I’M TOTALLY FAN-GIRLING BECAUSE I’M TOTALLY CHATTING WITH ONE OF MY FAVOURITE BANDS AFTER THE SHOW NOBIGDEAL! While proudly wearing my CBC sweater, natch (which one of the other 35 audience members totally complimented).

So tired. So worth it.

Tuesday night wasn’t much better on the relaxing front, because we had another concert. Starring this guy:

(Can you find him? He’s the one in the middle looking SUPER enthused.)

Here he is in all his mumbling glory:

Did I love seeing my baby up there singing Christmas songs? Yes! Did I love that it was a total bait and switch and what I *thought* was a cute little middle school concert ended up being a concert extravaganza with three guest choirs from the high school PLUS audience participation PLUS intermission PLUS all the *real* middle school choirs? (Turns out The Boy is actually just in a music appreciation class and for some reason he had to kit up in black pants and a white shirt to sing TWO songs along with a cast of thousands at the very end of a TWO HOUR CONCERT).

Grrr.

Wednesday night, my usual “OMG this week was crazy it’s time for tea and a book” night ended up being errandpalooza – The Girl needs new glasses and I had to hit the grocery store because the entire city was battening down the hatches for SNOWPOCALYPSE!!

Oh yeah. This was totally my deck a few hours into the major weather warnings. But, given a bit of time, Mother Nature delivered:

Yes, ‘Tobans and ‘Sotans. I know that’s hardly real snow. I know you’re laughing. I was laughing too. BUT! the snow was swiftly followed by hours and hours of freezing rain and a temperature that refused to budge above zero.

And so, my weekend ended up being SUPER relaxed! The Husband and The Girl’s Thursday night Phantogram concert? Cancelled. Our Friday night dinner with folks from church? Cancelled. School? Cancelled. For two days. The Husband’s commute? Cancelled. Our Saturday plans with friends? Cancelled.

Honestly, it was so nice. We still had power (unlike lots of folks we know) and we had a full fridge and we had ten-second commutes to our respective at-home screens. The Husband pretended he wasn’t at home on Friday and smelling me baking deliciousness and then also pretended to be surprised on Saturday by the awesome cake I brought out for his 41st birthday.

(Phew. He’s older than I again. The world rights itself on its axis.)

And now we’re all relaxed up and caked up and rejuvenated. Our window for energeticness may be short-lived, though, since they’re predicting SNOWPOCALYPSE 2.0 later this week. Eh, can’t say I’d mind a couple of days of snuggling by the fire. These last ones sure were nice!

Am I doing this right?

XOXO

Your favourite snarky West Coaster

(Most of my neighbors are from California – bet they’d like to borrow my scraper, winter tires, and heated seats.)

Enjoy your second snow day, friends! We’ve got snow/freezing rain in tomorrow’s forecast and pretty sure Portland doesn’t have any plows or sand trucks, so watch this space for Snowpocalypse 2016 updates!

Alright, I’m gonna lay this down right at the start. I lead a charmed life. A golden ticket kind of life. An I-don’t-deserve-this kind of life. Not gonna pretend otherwise. And I’m not going to tag this “#blessed” because then it gets all oogy with “why is she blessed and I’m not” and all health and wealth gospel and this is not that. I am lucky and I know it and I don’t know why full stop. Disclaimer made:

I WENT TO NEW YORK CITY!!

Oh you guys, it was so, so great! It’s all true! Everything they tell you about NYC – the crowds, the energy, the crazy people!

Just look what we got to experience! The Metropolitan Museum of Art:

An Advent scavenger hunt at The Met (The Visitation and the Annunciation).

And for all my Whovian friends:

Grand Central Station!

Central Park!

The Statue of Liberty!

The Strand bookstore!

A Broadway show!

Rockefeller Center!

Truly it all exists and it is amazing. But you want to know what’s even more amazing? These two.

That right there is 27 years of friendship, folks. And here is where I’m pulling out the “#blessed.” Because I thank Jesus all the time for these two. Because he smiled the day he put those three names on the same homeroom roster in Grade Nine. Because I cannot imagine life without these two.

We went to grade nine grad together. We went on choir trips together. We graduated together. We wrote letters (real letters!!) to keep in touch from mission trips and Bible colleges and African adventures and child-bride-teeny-apartments. We shared pee stick results.

We have cried buckets of tears, probably evenly split between tears of laughter and tears of despair. But never real despair, because we’ve always had each other.

Oh, and we’ve had these guys:

Our poor, long-suffering, forbearing, patient husbands. The ones who orchestrated this whole thing (well, they decided we needed a trip and then we planned it) and the ones who sat back while we loved on each other.

(The Husband has a bit of an advantage here in that he’s been around the whole time, but the other two are Johnny-come-latelys and are newbies with only 15 years with us. But I’m not sure The Husband counts that as any advantage since he’s had to hear the same jokes for more than a decade longer….)

We did everything together (masterfully logisticized by that tall bald one – he is the perfect guide in NYC because he’s six foot eleventeen and he sticks out in every crowd AND he can read a map/subway schedule like NOBODY’S business). We ate and drank so, so well.

We took approximately a hundred subway rides.

We posed for carefully-arranged selfies (because SOMEONE had the forethought to win a selfie stick at his work teambuilding event and I officially eat crow and yes, itwasagoodideaforyoutobringitandimsorryimadefunofyouandareyouhappynow?!

(Friends at the “Friends” building – get it?)

The occasion for this trip? Well, every single person you see in this picture is 40 years old. Yep – for three weeks after I turned 40 (I’m the baby!) and before The Husband hits 41 (he’s the old man of the bunch!), we are ALL the same age. And because I am the luckiest girl in the world, our wonderful husbands (with planning help from us) decided we needed to celebrate in style.

My heart is so, so full right now. I am lucky AND #blessed. These are the friends you pray for for your kids. These are the friends you would call at 3 am. These are the friends who hop on planes when you need them and who sit vigil beside you. These are the friends who understand your unique shorthand where one person says “home ec” and you all start cackling. These are the friends who do this:

(Like I said, our poor husbands. Pray for them. If we have our way, they’re in for at least 27 more years of this.)

Oh, and before I forget, shout out to yet another parent-trip-enabler who came to mind the munchkins while we were gone. Our very own “Uncle Buck”:

(The kids are alive and I’m not asking any questions.)

Yes, Peitricia, there is a Santa Claus. And grace and love and Jesus and kindness and far, far more love than I could ever imagine exists and it comes through the hands and feet and hearts of my girls. Love, love, triple love.

(Each) Let’s go get away… [sorry – I can’t say that without singing Nicki Minaj]

Friends! Did you all have a good Thanksgiving? Or, as they refer to it in Canada, a good Thursday?

Mine was ahMAYzing because I was on my annual escape-Black-Friday-and-usher-in-the-holiday-season-on-the-beach vacation!

(Yes. Am luckiest girl in the world. Am aware.)

For the third year in a row, The Husband and I took advantage of having no American Thanksgiving traditions to prevent us from enjoying the long weekend and headed off to St. Martin. Third time was definitely the charm – the first year it was still all new and we felt obligated to do touristy things. Last year there was the spectre of “must sell house and move across country” hanging over my head. But this year was perfect – a well-established routine, no pressure to try anything new, and an extra day to boot.

Let me show you why I love it so much! First, you wake up to blue skies and hot sun and flowers and palm trees.

Then, off to breakfast where (because we stay on the French side), you get croissants and pain au chocolat and fresh juice.

Then you saunter back to your room, apply 90 SPF sunscreen, and head off to the beach!

A short stroll later, you reach the only difficulty of the day – catching the attention of the right beach boy who will get you a good seat (it helps if you tipped well the day before).

And then you are placed and you politely request that the umbrella be moved to make sure not a single sunbeam touches your skin and then you ask for an espresso and you take out your Kindle and then ahhhhhh…..

(See how there’s a little tile with our name on it on that table? Once you’ve come for a few days and proved your worthiness, you get a reserved seat!)

Then it’s all “read a few pages” and then “stare at the ocean” and then “read a few more pages” and then “ask for a drink refill” until you take a break from all that arduousness for lunch.

(Also on the beach, because luckiest girl in the world.)

Then, when the sun starts to think about setting and the wind starts picking up and you start to get a bit cold, it’s time to pack up, bid farewell and “a demain” to the beach boy and head back to the hotel room to rest up from such a hard day.

(Made all the better with beer and French snacks. Note: That collection of bottles is not from my side of the bed. My collection was much smaller. But also contained fewer Miller Lites. [Good grief])

Second wind obtained, it’s time for dinner. There’s decent restaurants (because France) but my favourite, favourite evening is Friday.

I don’t go for the lobster party. I go for SHINE! See the smooth dude behind me with a stool and a microphone? That’s Shine and he croons the best karaoke ever.

(Sorry about my face – I’m doing that thing where you pretend you’re posing for a picture when really the person is trying to unobtrusively take a video.)

Oh, and the resort is full of feral cats! So there’s little friends hanging around your dinner table! (That actually makes it sound less cool than it is….)

And then you happily sway back to your room and your crazy-big king-sized bed that is so big you can’t even find each other and smile as you drift off knowing you get to do it all over again tomorrow.

Swoon. It really is my favourite thing. And so amazing to have a week to be just the two of us, reconnecting and relaxing and calming our spirits before the holidays. I look forward to it all year and every second I’m there is truly a dream.

Oh, and don’t you feel bad about our poor left-behind children. Shout out to my parents who came out for the week and exceeded expectations (which was possibly not that hard since we gave them only one requirement: “keep the kids alive”). Not only alive, but also a Thanksgiving feast!

Sigh. I can’t wait to go back! Only 359 more days!

Oh my ‘Murican friends – I love you thiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much!!

Happy turkeyfriendsfamilytofurkeyfootballstuffingpumpkinpie day!

(Celebrating with you abroad. Don’t worry – the Vikings were watched. We’re not heathens.)

Phew. I gotta say, if this last week is any indication of what life is going to be like now that I’m a real grownup, I think I’m going to have to start going to bed earlier.

My brain hurts. Last week in the office was ah-may-zing but oh my, I crammed an awful lot into the ol’ noggin’. Which is good and is exactly the reason I went for a week-long work visit to Minneapolis. I’m working on a big, fancy new project and before I can write about it, I had to figure out what exactly is going on, so I spent hours pestering some oh-so-patient developers with “so, you might have said this already, but where do I find that XML?” and “which action initiates the sync again?”

(Lol – I totally make it sound like I know what I’m talking about, right?)

My heart hurts. Being with my coworkers was oh-so-wonderful. We went out for lunch and for happy hour and for DQ and chatted in the kitchen and hugged and laughed and swapped kid updates. And in a happy/sad way, I said goodbye to a good friend on my team (happy because he’s got another job and he timed his last day with me being present to send him off, but also sad because he’s got another job and he timed his last day with me being present to send him off!). And I got a new boss, which is totally fine (and again, very nice to be there in person to get the news) but I’ve now said goodbye to two great bosses in under a year so there’s that.

My spirit hurts. The election. Oy. I’m not going to comment much on a macro level; y’all know where I stand and my Face.book feed is full of people expressing their sadness and concern much more eloquently than I could. And I’m reluctant to be too vocal because I really, really don’t want to appropriate a grief and dismay that aren’t really mine.

We’re in such an odd place down here. Completely vested in what’s going on, yet with no say. Presenting as the “perfect” nuclear family, yet here only because we’re immigrants who “stole American jobs” (although, since we’re a white heterosexual couple that speaks excellent English, I believe the preferred term is “expats”). Even if I commiserate, I feel disingenuous and that people are thinking judgmentally “easy for her to say – she’s got the double golden ticket of a green card AND a Canadian passport if things really go south.”

We might have a “get out of jail free” card, but it is still so hard to be here right now. There is so much division and frustration and anger and fear. The election may be over, but it feels like the anxiety and distrust it’s exposed is only getting started. And so very painful is watching the Church tear itself apart. It’s kinda hard to be a Christian here right now.

But I am, and I’ve found solace in listening to this album on repeat this week, particularly this song:

And I am hopeful. My churches both preached unity and loving better on Sunday. I see people on both sides trying to engage one another and listen. I see so many who have been emboldened to stand strong for love and justice and peace.

We see this even in our home. The Girl contemplated joining the high school walkout today, and we were able to have a long talk about how we can best use finite time and resources for the most good. She came home from school with stories of every. single. locker. displaying a note of acceptance today and posters declaring love and solidarity all around the school. The student leaders at her school are organizing open forums and shows of support even as they call for students to protest not by walking out of school but by staying the course and investing in their education as another tool in their struggle to make the world a better place.

This might be the last election I have to sit out as an innocent bystander. I alternate these days between searching for jobs in British Columbia and tallying up how many days we have to wait until we can apply for citizenship. I simultaneously want to get the heck outta here AND double down on our American adventure and throw my lot in with this country, about which and whose inhabitants I have come to love so much. It’s a strange, in-between place, but until we decide one way or the other (or it’s decided for us), I continue to be inspired by Jeremiah’s words to the Israelites who were so far from home:

Seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the LORD for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper. (Jeremiah 29:7)

In which I embrace the cliche of “mid-life introspection.” And warning – this one’s long. But it’s my party and I can blog if I want to.

You guys – I made it! I’ve been waiting to turn 40 for ages now and it feels like my chronological age has finally caught up to my soul age!

So much of this last decade has been figuring out who I am. And I think when you arrive at 40, society finally says it’s ok to relax into that identity. (Or maybe you stop caring about outside opinions. I did wear leggings as pants the other day….)

I’ve come to terms with the fact that there’s a lot of things I’m supposed to like/be good at, but I just don’t:  Interior decorating. Shopping. Oranges. Fashion. Sushi. Standing at concerts. Playing with children. Planning vacations. Sitting still for an entire movie. IPAs. Going out more than once a week. Fancy coffee. Group exercise.

Instead, having found freedom from worrying about being inferior, I have so much space to lean into the things I do love. Baking bread. Spinach. Yet another book about simple living. Hiking. Churching. Cardigans (bonus if there’s a pocket for Kleenex). Semicolons. Four free evenings in a row.

My favourite quote (it’s a birthday post. Of course there’s a quote!) is from Colette:

What a wonderful life I’ve lived. If only I’d realized it sooner.

Since I discovered it, I vowed I would realize it now. That I would open my eyes to the wonder around me. That I would never lose sight of the quotidian glory that so easily gets ignored for its very familiarity.

And so, my love letter to the universe:

Thank you for this perfect fit of a city in which I find myself. For its relaxed pace and authenticity and delicious beer and its embracing of my family. And for surrounding me with beauty:

Thank you for fulfilling work. For its variety and its challenges. For friends who love me and who love correct indentation in equal measure. For an office with a ten-second commute that allows for welcome kid snuggle interruptions.

Thank you for extended family. For brothers who helped rub off my rough edges. For inlaws who ignore pesky things like biological connection when defining “family.”

Thank you for my bestest girls. The ones who cancel Christmas and hop on a plane because you need them. Who sit beside you while you watch a Jamie Oliver marathon and give you space to sob. Who go for A&W coffee after every practice. Who know that broken hearts are mended with kitty cat mugs.

Thank for this guy.

Thank you for that glimmer of hope that sustained us through picking up the pieces of a shattered marriage. Thank you for making that long fight worth it and for a happily ever after every single day.

Thank you for these nerds.

Who knew my heart could get so big and so full? Who knew you could get a do-over? Who knew you could be inspired to set aside your selfishness with joy? Who knew teenagers were hilarious and smart and kind?

Thank you for Jesus. For embodying love and grace and for filling me with it. And for teaching me to see it thrumming through the world.

And, because none of this would exist otherwise, thank you for these two:

As a parent of teenagers myself: “Thank you. I love you. I’m sorry – I had no idea.” This one’s for you.

You guys, if this is all I get, it’s enough. Happy birthday to me!

The stars aligned and we all had the day off today, so we decided it was high time for a family adventure!

(I standardly don’t work on Fridays as it’s typically my “how did this house get like this AGAIN and why is there no food in the fridge and time to whip this place back into shape” day. The Husband gets every other Friday off because he works for a non-profit. And the kids were off today for their first day off in what I’m calling “No-School November.”

[Seems as though Portland Public Schools is doubling down on their “classroom time doth not an education guarantee” gamble and are requiring our kids’ presence for about half the days this month. Since The Boy is currently watching movies in two of his classes, I’m not even sure that the half he IS present is making that much of a difference.])

Anywho, we took advantage of the gorgeous weather and headed out into the Columbia River Gorge to check out a cute little town called Hood River.

Of course, this being Oregon, we had to stop en route for a quick hike and one of the ubiquitous waterfalls.

We’ve taken to calling them “Nature Walks” because for some reason the “H” word makes them both start whining and complaining, although once they get out there, they usually come around.

(How can you NOT smile when you’re surrounded by a glowing forest?)

It was a super easy “nature walk” since it was only about a mile and it was paved. Look at that leaf! It’s bigger than my head! Along the way, The Boy astonished me with a detailed geology lesson of exactly how the gorge was created and The Girl answered The Husband’s brain stumpers before I’d even started figuring out whether the red ball or the blue ball cost a dollar, so maybe that school is teaching them something after all.

Hood River was great! Shockingly (or not, given the places we tend to visit), it’s littered with breweries, so we quenched our nature-walk-produced thirst with some brews for both grownups and munchkins.

There was also some pretty amazing wood-fired pizza!

Then we strolled around downtown and did a little bit of shopping. The Husband bought a rocket (the model kind), The Boy got the latest Diary of a Wimpy Kid book, The Girl got a mini notebook and pen, and I scored an awesome vintage picture/thermometer combo at Goodwill and a new family game.

We rounded up all this awesomeness with a mini-nature walk down by the river.

And, bless his heart, an immediate cracking open of the latest book in a beloved series.

Forced family fun for the win!

 

Welp, guess I’m an official Portlander now:

I am wearing yoga pants in public. And I’m not at a yoga class.

(In my defense, I *was* at a yoga class earlier. And I had to hit the grocery store on the way home. And by the time I got home I had only enough time to do one thing before running to the next appointment: change clothes or get the ice cream in the freezer. [You’re welcome kids]).

Sigh. I stayed on my “leggings aren’t pants” high horse for so long.* Guess I’m only a few inches down that slippery slope away from pumpkin spice lattes and Ugg boots.

*Yes, I am aware that my momiform consists of leggings and a dress/tunic. But my upper thighs always remain concealed from prying glances. That six inches makes all the difference, folks.

Batten down the hatches, Portland! Apparently the dregs of Typhoon Songda are headed our way.

The worst hit will be the coast (there were TORNADOES there today! Pretty sure those folks prepare for earthquakes and tsunamis and call it a day). I figured we’re far enough inland that it’ll just be a good day to stay inside and read and I might want to skip my hike.

But then I went grocery shopping and saw this:

And then found this from the most trustworthy weather caster I know:

Welp, looks like I better go find the flashlight batteries. And charge my Kindle (thanks for the reminder, Frankie!).