It's a morning.

Happy February.

In a departure from just a run-down of the daily news, I'm going to try a new tact and write about some life-things. Nothing depraved or secretive (I don't have much of that in my life right now anyhow!), but rather just the little here-and-there's that make my life in Portland tick-on.

To start with, it's lovely that the days are finally getting longer again. I get home from work in the evenings, and it's light out for a few minutes. Much preferable to fumbling for my keys in the dark. I realize that I like my house significantly more when I get to spend time in it in the daylight. It's nice at night, too, but a little sunshine really works wonders.

I nearly killed two of my plants this week. I went away for a couple days this weekend, and when I returned home, both of them were forlornly draped over the rims of their pots, wilted and pathetic-looking. It reminded me of nothing so much as a room full of Victorian ladies in a full-blown swoon. Similar to the delicate constitutions it brought to mind, loosening their corsets and offering them a little water seemed to do the trick. This morning they were upright with ruddy complexions and in good cheer. Really amazing how they do that. Their quick resuscitation is also reminiscent of something else: those little wooden puppet toys that collapse when you press in the button on their base (and loosen the strings holding them up), and then snap to attention when you stop depressing the "button." BOING! Recalled-to-life.

I'm sure you didn't drop by to read about my slightly forgetful green thumb, though.

What else is new in my world? I was writing a letter back to a friend abroad last night, and I was hard-pressed to come up with note-worthy events to tell someone who isn't living in Portland. Um... I was sick last week? I went on a hike last Saturday before I got sick? (check out the pictures Here. They're pretty awesome. It was a lot of fun.) It really challenges my sense of myself sometimes to wonder: should I be living my life so as to make it the happiest and the most comfortable, or should I be living it so as to make the best stories out of it? It seems that sometimes, your situation alone creates fodder enough for good anecdotes (eg: jobs I've worked in the past year or two), but when it doesn't, are we obliged to seek those experiences out? I tend to be inclined to say yes. When we're abroad, we think nothing of taking an 8-hour bus ride on a weekend to go to a town we've never seen before: just for the sake of making the trip. When do we really do that at home? Should we? Is that somehow irresponsible? Maybe on a large scale. On a small scale (once in a while) we should probably shake off the apathy and do that sort of thing. Maybe I'll kidnap C. one of these days soon and drag him off to Ontario (like a good cavewoman, so, by his scalp.) In Ontario we'll eat big greasy burgers and wear parkas. We'll sleep in our car in a church parking lot, shivering in the sub-zero temperatures. Then we'll come home and say, "Whelp, that was Ontario alright." Our parents and our friends won't understand our trip, but then again, neither will we, really.

Lord, blow the moon out please!

I tutored last night. That's a whole different can on worms I should tell you about. I think I'll hold off for a few minutes, and tackle a handful of tasks around here, then check back and update. Stay tuned.