1,2, and 3

Three interesting things have happened today:

1.  I got a call this morning requesting that I come in for an interview!  I am scheduled to be at Gresham High School at 10:00am on Monday, July 28th to interview for a full time teaching position!  GREAT news.  

2.  On our way out the door this morning, we ran into a mini-van.  Wait, let me clarify:  we did not walk out the door and ram our faces into the side of a car.  Doug was driving, and as he made a left turn off of our street, a mini-van came zipping around the corner out of NOWHERE and BAMB!  We creamed her driver side door, leaving a rather heavy mark to prove it.

Ok, so I may be dramatizing the incident slightly.  Either way, we immediately pulled over and gave our information to Mrs. Suburban Mom All-Star Hell-of-a-gal (S.M.A.S.H. for short).  She called us back a couple of hours later with an estimate: $3,700!!!!!   At which point Doug and my mouth dropped simultaneously.  I mean, granted this was a mini-van and we happened to hit the spiffy [and expensive] electric sliding door that is a mini-van staple, but still!  $3,700???  Seriously??

3.  Post traumatic incident with S.M.A.S.H., we mustered up the strength to carry on with our day, gravitating to the one place in Portland where all meandering souls go to heal their wounds and clear their mind:  The Portland International Rose Test Garden.  The garden was beautiful, as I expected.  It is a rose garden, after all.  

A wise man once wrote, "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."  Doug and I officially confirmed this statement.  I think we smelled two dozen different varieties of rose, each creatively named for it's peculiar size, color, and fragrance. "In the Mood" and "Tahitian Sunset" are two particular varieties that come to mind.  

Now is when I sincerely wish there were such a thing as scratch-n-sniff digital pictures because honestly, the airs emanating off of these flowers were far more brilliant and captivating than their physical beauty.  Perhaps this is why Shakespeare, like most poets, was so fixated by them.  

"Of all flowers

  Methinks a rose is best."

--straight from the horse's mouth.

I have read over my most recent blogs and realize that I seem to have unintentionally given the impression that I am unsatisfied with how things have been going in Portland.  This is absolutely not the case.  Granted, there were a couple of days at the beginning where I feared the worst.  After all, traveling 3,000 miles across the country, far far away from everyone and everything you love and hold dear...well, that's kind of a big deal.  So of course there are fears.  Of course there are trembles and heart-clenching moments of doubt.  This is to be expected.  

I think it was day three (or was it two?) in Portland that I had a minor little breakdown.  It was time to get serious and find a job and for some reason, I was making this process incredibly difficult.  Documents that I desperately needed began disappearing (i.e. I kept losing them), and I found myself lost in a dizzying haze of uncertainty and worthlessness.  I did not feel like the strong, independent woman that I so desperately envisioned of myself.  Instead, I looked down at the red sandals on my feet and saw a child, a helpless little girl who suddenly realizes she's not in Kansas anymore.  

So I cried.  I wailed; snot erupted from my orifices like Old Faithful herself.  The more I cried, the heavier the flow;  the heavier the flow, the more I felt like crying.  Stuffing my nose with the cottony comfort of Kleenex tissue, I told Doug I was done crying.  It was time to go.  

"But you still have sad eyes,"  he replied, so earnestly wanting to melt away all of my fears and frustrations.  

"Yes, I know," I shrugged.  "That's ok."

And the truth is, it was ok.  The next morning I completed my first application and suddenly, things didn't seem so murky and uncertain.  I had a plan, a goal, and the empowerment that I needed to follow through.  What else could a girl--sorry, woman--ask for?

Doug and I have been in Portland for over a week now, and each day I feel a piece of this place penetrate my heart and leave a small, magical droplet of what feels like home.  It may take some time, but those droplets are the foundation of a great river of strength, beauty, and sweet sweet clarity, a river that is teeming, ready to burst through me and in me and all around me.  I can feel it building, waiting for the time to come when it's crystal clear water can wash clean the stagnant pools of my past and fill me up to the brim with courage and life and supreme love!  

  Portland may be big and new and more than a little bit scary, but it is also the beginning of something strong and powerful building within me.  Time and time again I have heard people caution me about the weather here in the Pacific Northwest.  They tell me I will love it now when it is sunny and warm, but once the rain comes, I will think differently.  The rains of Portland will wash away such a sunny disposition, they say with disdain.  Well let the rain come!  Bring on the clouds and the mist and the clammy gray skies.  I embrace their water vapors because they will simply build up that mighty river that is on its way; and oh, it is coming!  And it will be glorious!  It is glorious now.

For now, I am content with the soft dew of Portland's potential.  It calms me and it brings me peace.  Doug and I have both noted how relaxed we have felt these past few weeks, as if the world and all of its protective energy is holding us, giving us the precious softness we so need in a time of such harsh reality.  I thank it's comfort and support but I also know that it will not always be necessary.  There will come a time in the not so distant future when we will not need such vigilant protection.  But until then, I am thankful for the angels watching over us and furtively looking to the skies for the magical rains of tomorrow.

Stay away from Buster's.

Good news! We found a place to live! It's an extremely cute house in the NE side of town, right by the MAX line. We will be temporarily renting a room there starting next friday through the end of August. AND, there is a possibility we will be able to take over rent for the whole house starting in September. Hopefully we will have jobs by then and will have a better idea about where we need to be. The two girls who live there seem super cool and I am excited to get to know them better. Like Doug says, the house and it's inhabitants have "lots of potential"--potential for new friends, great living space, and possibly even a long-term rental. Very exciting! Also, the woman who owns the house we are staying in right now has agreed to allow us to stay an extra week, so we should be covered! No camping/hostels/knocking door to door looking for shelter. It is settled.

On a slightly unsettling note, Doug and I went out to eat last night, our first "night on the town," and where do you think we ended up? Yes, a BBQ place recommended by the local auto mechanic. Here we are, 3,000 miles away from home, and we continue to fixate upon the lip-lickin' splendor of some goooood Q. Call it an obsession if you will, I call it having good taste. So here we are, attempting our first gander at Northwestern BBQ and, to no one's surprise, it was AWEFUL. Terrible. I hated it. In fact, I hated everything about the place, from the country-western music playing in the background to the cowboy hats and longhorns plastered against the wall. As I forced down the dry, overly-seasoned bites of "pulled pork," I felt the all-empowering, all-encompassing emotion common to southerners everywhere: guilt. I felt like I was betraying my roots, my country, my GOD, by simply being there. The place was a mockery; it single-handedly managed to suck the soul out of the most soulful food there is: fire-roasted pig accompanied by some mighty-fine sauces. It's as simple as that.

Doug assures me that there is still hope for Oregonian BBQ; "don't give up hope now, not yet," he says with a penetrating stare.
I take a deep breath. I know, honey. I know. It's just so damn hard when you've left behind something so damn good.

from Portland!

And so, after eleven days of sweat and dirt and luminous exploration, Doug and I finally reached Portland, OR, our home in the making! Little Sioux (that's what I have officially Christened my mazda) took a deep sigh of relief: we had made it.

Now, here we are, four days later, and the reality of our situation is finally starting to sink in. We have been lucky enough to have a beautiful house to stay in until this friday, at which point we are on our own. Unfortunately, the plans we had made for the end of July have fallen through, which leaves Doug and I in quite the precarious situation. Up to the challenge, we have both put on our "serious" faces (and Doug his "responsible" voice) to step up to the plate and figure out a solution. Surprisingly enough, there are quite a number of temporary sublets out there, so we are hoping to find a furnished place to live in for a month or so until we have jobs and are ready for something more permanent. At least that's how the plan goes.

Big Sigh....

I woke up yesterday morning with an ache down in belly. The ache moaned and I knew that I was finally missing Asheville, my little home tucked away in the Appalachian Mountains, so far far away. Portland is big and...city-like. The people are different. The landscape is different. Where are all the trees? Instead of foilage and creek-beds I smell exhaust; rather than hear birds and crickets, my ears are filled with the sound of busses and an eerie silence. Where has my home gone? Is this the replacement? Has it all come to this?

Reminder to self: we have only been here FOUR days. Hardly time enough to be able to inhale the fullness of such a big, new place. And so I am trying to be patient. Doug and I are about to head off to the coast for the day. I think a little time away from the city and under the wide branches of nature will do us both some good. My heart calls out for the salty sweetness of the sea.

As we were traveling down the road today, it suddenly occurred to Doug and I that everything that we own, we are currently hauling with us, on us, across the country. EVERYTHING that we own. That's pretty wild! I mean, what a crazy thing! Who does that? Well, apparently, we do. And I think that is freakin' AWESOME! It's such a freeing thing, really. Just hitting the open road and experiencing that untamed and unpredictable adventure called life.

Speaking of life, the past two days have included lots of it! Last night, we camped over in the Badlands, witnessing the most awe-inspiring fire-works display I have EVER SEEN. No lie. And where did this gargantuan pyrotechnic celebration take place? Why, Interior, South Dakota, of course! (pop. 77) To say this was a surreal experience would be a vast understatement. It was DISTURBING how enormous these fireworks were. I think this tiny little town must spent more money on the fourth of july than their entire education budget for the year. Scary. As Doug so aptly put it, "Their teachers are getting paid 6.00 an hour but hey! They've got one hell of a fireworks display!"

Tonight, i sit on the front porch of the town store here at Devil's Tower, Wyoming, stealing their wireless internet while stealthily charging my phone. (This comes after sneaking into the nearby KOA and "illegally showering" in their facilities. I know, I've turned into a thieving renegade. I blame Doug completely.)

Devil's Tower, btw, is amazing. Absolutely breathtaking. As are the cute little prairie dogs that scurry around it's base.

I could say more, but Doug is getting hungry, so I will try and post some pictures of our latest travels!

CHICAGO

It's 10:30 at night and Doug and I have set up camp here in Sioux Falls, SD. Not much to report on for today's activities, I'm afraid. We left Winnetka, IL at 10:30 this morning and have been driving ever since, stopping for gas and for dinner at a mom and pop's Mexican place for dinner. (And by mom and pop's, I mean lip-lickin' good and more than a little bit sketch.)

So let me back up a day. Yesterday morning, Doug and I left Lebanon and headed north to Chicago, arriving in the Windy City shortly after noon. Miraculously, we managed to drive into the heart of Chicago and PARK our car/trailer in a garage for the low, low price of 13 bucks for the day. For those of you out there praying for us, thank you.

Once in Chicago, our first stop was a walk down Michigan Avenue, where I was immediately struck by the wide streets, beautiful gardens, and fascinating architecture of this strange yet oddly familiar city. Fortunately for Doug, I restrained myself and only snapped a couple of pictures. After all, pretty streets are one thing, but Doug and I, we were on a mission and that mission, was aptly titled: Taste of Chicago. Now those of you who live in Charlotte are familiar with the festival of a similar name and in essence, it is the same concept: hundreds, and I do mean HUNDREDS of restaurants from around the city come together and set up booths downtown. As a participant, it is then your job to meander the swarmed street tasting the delectable, finger sized tid-bits presented to you by the venders. So basically, we gorged. Mexican Empanada? yes please! Indian Samosa? Of course! Chinese Boa Bun? Why not?

Awesomeness.

So, after feasting upon the best Chicago had to offer, we make our way to Navy Pier in search of an IMAX theater. We don't care where or how, but IMAX is calling us forth and we have no choice but to answer with a "two tickets for Kung Fu Panda please." Of course, it only took us 45 minutes to hike across town, along the shore of Lake Michigan, to reach the gloriously cold mecca of air-conditioned entertainment. And oh was it glorious, Jack Black included.

By now, we have worked up quite a sweat (I am scaring little children away with the smell reeking from my pores) and our appetites begin to re-awaken. It's Chicago stuffed pizza time, baby!! Off to Giordano's we trot, revived by visions of a pizza so delicious, some say it was sent down on a golden chariot by his Holiness Himself. After waiting an hour for our own personal slice of heaven, I hold onto my faith. It will come; soon, I will be graced with its esteemed presence. Sure enough, the pizza arrives and, honestly, it's all rather a blur from there. Even now, I get dizzy thinking about how freakin' wonderful that pizza was. The stories are wrong though. God didn't commission the baking of that pizza; God WAS that pizza and that pizza WAS God. And I have finally seen the glowing light of salvation, a salvation stuffed full of gooey mozzarella, garlic, tomato saucy goodness, and giant chunks of meaty sausage.

Haleluia and Amen.

So Doug and I have reached our official resting place for the evening: Econo Lodge, Lebanon, Indiana.  It is past midnight and we have been driving all day.  We began by stopping off in Maggie Valley to say goodbye to the mountains that I so love and will miss so deeply.  I couldn't help but shed a tear or two during our last moments together.  After all, those mountains have really been there for me over the past 7 years; through it all, my heart has remained rooted to their unwavering spirit, and I will be eternally grateful.

Four hours and ninety dollars in gas later (yikes!), we made our second stop at super AWESOME  Mammoth Cave, Kentucky, the longest cave in the world!!!  The cave itself is hundreds of miles long, with untold miles yet to be charted, so needless to say, there are a lot of different tours and expeditions you can go on.  Unfortunately, Doug and I only had a few hours, so we chose the "New Entrance" tour, which was about three hours long and covered 3/4 of a mile.  The beginning of the tour lead us down over 300 steps into the very depths of the cave; the air was cold and moist as water trickled down the sides of the silky smooth limestone, continuing to carve away at the stone.  This was all rather majestic, indeed, but the real splendor came toward the end of the tour, with stalactites and stalagmites bursting out of every crevice.  I suppose I could go on, but I will leave you with some pictures of today's adventures.