Weekend at Bernie's

Seconds after Grace ran into the studio, Kelly and I nearly jumped.

"WHERE IS THE BUNNY?!"

The baby bunny her cat tried to maul last night had apparently escaped from the tupperware he was chillin in previously. Kelly and I, unaware of the missing bunny, looked surprised but not altogether shocked. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Grace to be missing a tiny bunny that she was about to take to the Nature Center.

I reluctantly signed up to tweet with the rest of you twitterin maniacs...teehee! LadyEllJay is the name. I guess this makes me a late adopter of that technology. I would love a quick hands-on tutorial.

Jason and Brittany's wedding this weekend sent my mind reeling about marriage and relationships. All relationships will have a bad point, a wretched point. It is a solitude I seek within myself, outside of intimate relationships, that my impatient, messy nature has a hard time finding. I'm learning, every day, about these things. I think I'll continue to learn about those kinds of relationships that I seem to have a hard time living without. Pulling myself away from? Ending sentences with open-ended prepositions...

Oh the ellipses, you open ended mark you, inviting responses for centuries! Trailing off into silence...

dot dot dot

Now I'm just getting goofy! Kelly continues makin' pretty portraits on her canvas. Grace whirled out of the studio with the same energy and gusto with which she entered. I'm getting creative and cheap about making it to Knoxville for a weekend of luxurious love, fun and sunshine. We shall see.

home sweet home

Two big furry pups and a little tiny one relax by my fluorescent green socks that so brightly cover my new blisters. I literally hit the ground running here. The scamper down to an interview this morning in Danskos sans socks left me hurtin'. A passerby dutifully pointed it out: "You could use some socks!"

It didn't hurt till after the interview upon realizing I still had quite a ways to walk. Hence the fancy sock purchase next door to potential new workplace. It was worth it. Two interview down and one to go, and I've been in town for about 48 hours. I can't wait to work! To get on my own symbollically blistered feet again.

The blisters on my feet match the burn on my thumb from rushing and the wind/sunburn on my face from the ride home. I wisely and sucessfully bartered with my second favorite bike shop owner this afternoon to retrieve my bike! It was great. A few super hoppy beers from Oregon seem to do the trick most of the time. My ride to the house is killer, truly killer: a steady succession of hills made me feel like a CHAMPION upon completion. Walky, you know how it feels...

Phew. I really needed that adrenaline.

Almost Train Time!

My bag of snacks for the train ride fills slowly...

with the most heavenly peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. (!!! they're perfect!!!)
with tempeh salad sandwiches.
with carrots and grapes.
with apples and oranges.

I wisely decided to leave my clunker techno-leash at the house. I don't need to be plugged in, for fuck's sake, and I don't want to lug that white piece of plastic around. I'd like some tunes, but I've adjusted to not having them. I'll let the rails rock me to sleep, the sun and mountains wake me in the morning, and the conversation of fellow passengers to sooth my ride. A journal, some good pens, my camera and the new Jeanette Winterson books I scooped up at Powell's last night.

I've been itching to dive into those books, ever since reading her "Art and Lies," after my sister turned me on to Winterson with "Written on the Body." Such sensual (hot!) writing, beautiful language, artfully woven stories, especially the former. I picked up "The Lighthousekeeper" and one of her collections of short stories. Finally, a chance for me to get into short stories! Eeep!

The trip isn't as planned out as I would have hoped, but I have no doubt it will be a barrel of fun and surprises. Denver apparently has some decent mass transit, aka it goes to the airport, and other than that, I'm not too worried about the adventures in between.

Tonight: a fire queued up in the back yard, fresh cookies, a tall beer and friends. A heavenly spring is unfolding.

Vernal Equinox

The long winter of my life slows to a crawl finally, as the smile re-emerges on my face. It mirrors the sun I see weekly, not daily. I haven't felt this inspired, this motivated in months, maybe even since the peak of fall and the fading summer; it could extend as far back as the summer after Paris, the romantic adventure that altered my path so positively and significantly.

Even on the vernal equinox white and gray clouds hang overhead and drip with a delicate drizzle. My empty bags sit at the edge of the bed awaiting the packing process for leaving Portland. My train rolls out of the station for Sacramento on Tuesday at precisely 2:25 p.m. PST. We roll down California, then shoot up via the California Zephyr through Nevada, Utah and then through Colorado. Winter Park, here I come, sweet wanderin' lady K, I'm on my way...

My blind trust in the future I'm creating leaves a satisfying feeling in my body, and warmth that drives away the chills of the day. No more, gray skies, no more, recreations of Southern shwank, sans friendly smiles and grins. No more, smooth light rail, no more, scandalous dirt rags full of filth. No more, misery.

Drink in the sun and light and beauty through your brain, like a strong tonic that eases your worries. Shut off the media, their impact is minimal now Miss Jane. Your strenght prevails in this change, the only constant. Head for the hills you know like the back of your hand, the natural habitat that little Laura Janes thrive in, grow in and seek the most change in. The volatility drives me out, the cravings for what I love the best that I have distanced myself from. A sense of home strengthened by 2,500 miles and a lotta love.

I wouldn't be me without this trip, without this adventure, and without these strong feelings.

And now, a blurb from my dearie Amy: "My friend Paul, in Portland, just sent me a text that says 'I will write a collection of short stories titled "The Bus That Never Came." Tales of sultry smokers, wet newpapers, half-eaten donuts, and spare change, all bridled with that sort of uncertain unease of being surrounded by other broke strangers. Waiting for the bus.' "

Walk Like An Oregonian!

I dreamt that a group of folks and I were walking alongside a river and found a cave/structure of ruins. There was a animated-like bug in this creepy, ancient place that resembled something from Indiana Jones. Vague, I know, but the dreamscape is already fading from my mind.

Local liquid delicasies dominate this town, and my trip. Tommy and I got breakfast at the Wandering Goat, which I visited this summer. Their coffee is dreamy, delicious and strong, and I had a bagel totally covered in various tasty seeds. We hopped in the Honda and zipped through Eugene to King's Estate winery. Grabbed some pinot noir just outside of town, and I tasted my first flight of Oregon wines! The winery looked like a castle surrounded by green hills covered in vines. Mossy trees cover the vast valley. I joked that the cows were probably mossy, too.

Yesterday we hiked up Spencer's Butte that overlooks the town. We squished up the muddy trail to the rocky top of for butte-iful views of distant snowy mountains and surrounding hills. Pictures to come! On Valentine's Day I indulged in multiple pints of Ninkasi's Believer at some local bars with Amy. The beer is a hands-down damn tasty delight! Amy also introduced me to Barry's, a little bakery by U of O that sells Dark & White chocolate chip cookies. Applesauce in the mix makes for the gooiest consistency, a major component of the best cookies ever. EVER.

I'm ready to head back to Portland and explore the buttes and Mt. Tabor via bicycle. I miss Ellie -- the bikes in Eugene make me long for my two-wheeled wonder! I'm taking to the streets this afternoon on foot to meet Amy and buy one of those cookies for Shane. We have a bet to see if it will make it home...or if LJ the Cookie Monster will eat it on the train!

Dance parties with Otis the pup have interrupted my train of thought this afteroon; it's time for another adventure!

red hots

This Valentine's Day started off gray -- just the sky, as expected here. My heart is happy, though I am a hundred miles away from my hunny. Still far closer than the thousands between us a month ago.

Instead I'm curled up in a blue cocoon on Amy's couch, in her house in Eugene, waiting for her and Tommy to get up.

My train ride down from Portland was beautiful. It was on one of the double decker, big ole' honkin trains that was running all the way to Sacremento. I sat in the last car, and my seatmate dozed and texted as my eyes wandered around the car. My neighbors discussed U of O law school and triathalons; the other ones talked about Montana's economy and natural resources, and traveling. The sun was shining between Portland and Junction City, I saw big, snowy mountains in the distance and herds of sheep.

The haze took over slowly as the sun set and faded to the same orangey tint I'm used to seeing here. As the train pulled up to the station, it started sprinkling. I got off and smelled reefer, thinking to myself, "I guess it is a 'smoking stop,' " and laughing inside. Welcome back to Eugene, Laura Jane!

We warmed our bellies with "wild" Thai food right down the street; I'm already thinking about mine for leftovers this afternoon. Otis and Cooper scurried around as I dozed off, jingling and eating and trying to sit on my head.

And here I am, thinking about the mister still sleeping in bed at home. Hopefully doing better than yesterday -- down with the flu since Tuesday or something. I had raced out to Freddie's to get soup, tea, fresh veggies, ocillo, you name it. All he really wanted was cough meds, though. I think the rest was for my peace of mind. Always offering "too many options," something I'm sure I picked up from my mom.

Seeing Amy and Tommy, two other Oregon transplants this past summer, makes me miss you folks in Tennessee...quite a bit. All three of us grumble a little bit about the things I expected, but somehow having Tennessee friends makes the transition easier, the rain less severe and the sunny days brighter.

And now I'm left to daydream about the mister and our budding love. Mother Hips show at the Doug Fir + scrumptious dinner next weekend + the gaudiest glue-and-doilie creation I can think of...that boy's got it comin for him. Heh.

My toes are chilly, stuffed in the end of the chocolate couch as I watch the moon rise through the blinds. It's surrounded in a ring of haze, typical stuff of the Northwest this time of year. The day was clear and sunny, a bit cold in the shade and sitting waiting for the bus.

Nikki and I watched with eagerness as a mother and daughter tied up their basset hound, aptly named Potato. Potato wanted to go eat Asian food with his family, and looked up at every passerby to see if maybe THEY would let him in.

"Come on guys. Come on. Let me in.
I want to see my family. Now.
Now. Now. .. No, now. Please. Please. Now."

He wanted to sniff the tiny long-haired dauchsunds that slid easily across the sidewalk, not nearly as eager as Potato.

I was visually distracted, though, as I tend to get on the streets here, gazing at the wild colors folks wear, the speedy bicycles they ride, the eccelectic feel of each neighborhood. There's always something unexpected, some totally weird occurence... and there always seem to be more of those when taking the bus. Last night on the Max we saw some teen's hilarious business-card pickup move. We murmured about the couple murmuring in our direction. I stared at the city lights' reflections as we crossed the river going downtown. My giddy fascination with transit is still so prominent. Call me a hick from Tennessee, but I love it.

My dreams have been particularly wild the past few nights, one of which involved dropping my backpack and laptop off a cliff. I wasn't really afraid of falling off the cliff myself though. Stressful shit on the edge? Too much baggage? Definitely.

OK, boneheads. Enough drudgey talk.