|Fact: Portland has very pretty rain.|
The acquisition of new basket hardly calls for its own blog post. (And implies a certain level of self-indulgence.) But! When you have a new basket + a date with your husband + soup, well, that's a legit post. (Says I, the self-indulgent one.)
A post that will likely bore my lovely readers to death, but nevertheless a post. And so.
Last Friday Kiddo had a cross country meet just south of Portland. We didn't realize going in that it wasn't just the usual 2-4 teams competing, but an invitational with almost 2000 kids. We watched his race, showered him with praise, and got ready to leave. He wanted to take the bus back so he could stick around and cheer on his teammates, and we found ourselves with a few hours of child-free time. The traffic was brutal, as it often can be, so we headed into the city and bebopped around. On a friend's suggestion, we visited Kelley Point Park, a lovely place along the Columbia River. We also stopped for a drink and some snacks at a very cool pub. (The blackberry cider is a rather religious experience.)
As Kiddo gets older, more and more of these child-free opportunities present themselves. Although I miss his little guts when he's gone, it's nice to feel like an adult. No whining from the backseat, or choosing a restaurant based on the wants of a picky-eater; the ability to linger in the places of my choosing... it's nice. And freeing in a way I'd forgotten.
After ordering a big bowl of Tom Kha Gai from a local Thai restaurant last week, my deep-seeded love for this soup was reignited. I've been trying to nail a homemade version for years, but things like kaffir lime leaves and galangal are non-existent in rural New England. This week I got my hands on all the ingredients, and set about finding the best version. After hybridizing several recipes, and making two batches in as many days, I think I've nailed it. Check plus for Sarah.
Next up: figuring out how to make this hibiscus tea. (Just call me Martha.)
We have some seriously good friends. The kind that remember how much I lusted after the Ghana baskets at the farmers market. Friends who drive all the way down to said farmers market and brave heinous traffic just so I have a lovely vessel for carrying around my purple carrots on Saturday mornings. I came home from an all-day CPR class last weekend to find this beauty on my kitchen table. Great friends, indeed.
I wish I could be Vista for a week. It seems like a nice life.
I'm the weirdo that wants to steal all the apothecary jars full of depressors and swabs from the doctor's office. I'm also the weirdo that opts for a photograph instead, for fear of getting billed for the stolen jars. (I'm pretty sure they charge my insurance like fifty bucks per long Q-tip. Also, did they have to write "tongue depressors" on the jar? Shouldn't a doctor be able to suss that out for himself? Kiddo and I also had a debate about ear curettes. You're not even supposed to shove a normal size Q-tip in your ear let alone something you could make kebobs on. See? I'm a weirdo.) Thank goodness I've been called to work in healthcare.
My friend Natalie reminded me about the Meyer & Briggs personality test. I took it several years ago for a psychology class, but hadn't thought about it since. I'm so glad she reminded me. I took it and, per usual, it totally pegged me. (I'm a INFJ.) According to them, my career goals are perfectly suited to my personality type. This personality test also summed me up with amazing accuracy.
P.S. In the spirit of full disclosure, I have to admit I wrote this post late last week. In the land of blogs, this stuff is old news. But this lazy bag of bones hasn't written any new material. My mind has been elsewhere and I fell into a quiet, rainy, introspective week where nary a word was written.Thoughts are currently being organized and re-thunk, so next week should yield something profound. Maybe. (I like a good buildup.)