Better Than Portlandia

Time is flying! I can hardly believe I head to France this week. There have been so many tasks, getting the house ready for the people who will be staying here in my absence, and of course, getting myself ready to go. But I thought I had better write a quick post about our fabulous Easter weekend in Portland before I missed doing it entirely. This is likely to be one of the last, if not the last, of Chelsea’s fun trips before her baby is born, so we took advantage of the long weekend to pay a visit to Doug and Kristl.

We got there Thursday afternoon and had a chance to walk around a bit before Doug got home from teaching. Spring in Portland was a bit ahead of Colorado (and DEFINITELY ahead of Minnesota), so we soaked it in.

Thursday night, Doug’s band often gets together to practice, so we had a bit of an impromptu concert . . .

Doug and a band-mate serenading us

OF COURSE, we went wine tasting–Chelsea along for the views only. Sorry, Chelsea!

Doug, Brittany, Courtney and Chelsea at Colene Clemens Vineyards

. . . and no, Doug is not double-fisting it. He’s holding my glass while I snap the photo. Didn’t want it to look like the mom-to-be was swilling wine! Here’s the view . . .

Colene Clemens Winery

We had brought along a picnic from Grand Central Bakery . . .

Grand Central Bakery, Sellwood (Portland, Oregon)

. . . where I accidentally bought the last three quiches out from under the people in line ahead of me, who were asking about them while I was paying for them with another clerk. Sorry! I didn’t realize. (Not THAT sorry. They were amazing!)

The weather was a bit rainy Friday, so not quite picnic perfect, but Bergström Winery–one of the other wineries we visited–has changed its tasting procedure, so we were forced to come in and sit at a table and have our picnic while we tasted their wines. (Perfect!)

Chelsea and Brittany on appetizer prep

And because Doug is an all-caps EXTROVERT, of course he (and Kristl, who is NOT an extrovert, but is very gracious) hosted a bunch of people Saturday night. Here are Chelsea and Brittany helping prep the appetizers . . . .

By Sunday, we were all happily exhausted, so had a low-key day. Doug and I took Courtney downtown for a quick dash through Powell’s (one of my all-time favorite bookstores) and then to catch a train to visit a friend in Washington, since she was so close. Brittany, Chelsea and I headed home on Monday. Brittany had been to Portland several times before, but the time went by so fast, I don’t think I even had a chance to show Chelsea and Courtney that the quirky image portrayed in the show Portlandia exists for a reason. Exaggerated, but still. What a fun place.

The last time I had been there was the last road trip David and I took before his diagnosis, so I had a few weepy, nostalgic moments, but overall, what a joy to be able still to share beautiful places and happy times with dear ones. I am so grateful for that.

Wishing you many opportunities to enjoy beautiful places and happy times with your dear ones as well!

Next post from France if all goes as planned. Stay tuned!

Ebb and Flow

I started this weeks ago and never posted it, but since it is honest and true, even though I’m doing better now, here it is:

(Written April 4): I haven’t wanted to write this. I sort of wanted to pretend I was still at Folk School leaving the grief rock among the daffodils, as if I’m now skipping into the sunrise, but that’s not really how things have been going since I got back.

I was okay for a while. A friend hosted a fabulous French cooking evening that was a super fun group effort as well as delicious…

. . . where I won this . . .

Julia Child Prize for “#1 Best attitude about mistakes or messes

. . . which I would not have won without an epic fail in the kitchen during my part, let’s be honest. But it’s true, we did all cope and laugh about it, and I ended up with a cute new apron.

And yes, I did paint the little 4 x 6 I mentioned in the comments on the last post, and I still like it, especially framed:

In the knowledge that creative things seem helpful to my general well-being, I even finished a piano composition that’s not bad. Admittedly, George Lopez, a music professor at Bowdoin College and a traveling concert pianist who offers lessons when he’s in town every few months, was not impressed. Oh well. I worked on it a bit after that lesson, and my friends have said kind things. And I guess most important, I like it and I feel a sense of accomplishment having done it, so there’s that.

Yesterday, I spent four hours at an art workshop with kind people and a patient, encouraging teacher. Here’s one I started there and finished (maybe) at home last night:

Still, it was hard driving home from that workshop on a glorious Sunday afternoon, knowing David and I, on such an afternoon, would probably have headed straight to the Rio patio for margaritas, but I was headed home alone. All my closest friends happened to be out of town, so I couldn’t even show up looking pitiful on one or the other of their doorsteps. Surely you don’t want to read about me feeling hopeless, but there it is. It seems right to be honest.

Today, April 27: Here I am a few weeks later, and I’m doing better again. I’m recently back from a quick Easter weekend trip out to Portland with my three daughters, which involved only minimal weeping, but I’d better save that for the next post.

I guess this grief journey is still about ebb and flow, even if the grief waves crash over me less frequently and are less likely to knock me off my feet. Thanks be to God, my rock among the shifting sands, and thanks also to you, my dear ones, who hold me and many others in your hearts. I know I’m not the only one walking this rugged shore.

 

Folk School – Part Five: Leaving

The whole experience at the John C. Campbell Folk School was so great, I didn’t want to leave.

So I didn’t.

Okay, I admit I was already booked to stay an extra night to avoid having to pack up and move back to the Holiday Inn before my Sunday flight out of Chattanooga, but still. I was delighted to prolong the Folk School high. I just didn’t expect it to be so lonely.

I had spent some time Saturday with Mom in Murphy, dodging raindrops and browsing galleries and shops, but then I drove back to the Folk School to start packing and to take advantage of a pause in the rain to shoot a few final photos.

The sudden quiet was a little unnerving after the bustle of the week, and I wasn’t sure what I would do with myself in the evening after I got back from one last dinner with Mom and Dick. My wine buddies had all gone home. But then I noticed a flyer that there was to be contra dancing that night in the Community Room. I decided to go watch.

Well. That’s not really how they do things at JCCFS. You don’t watch. You do. So next thing I knew, people were introducing themselves and teaching me the steps, and I danced until I begged for a pause to get a drink of water. It wasn’t hard to pick up, although I had a few random lurches in odd directions. But as the caller said, if you didn’t do what he called, it wasn’t wrong. It was different. So much fun, and I’m glad I went, but I ducked out early to finish packing up.

Sunday morning, the sun was breaking through as I loaded the rental car and drove down the hill to Keith House to make myself a cup of tea and bid the place farewell.

At some point during the week, digging through the heavy bag I carried to and from the painting studio, I noticed in the bottom a small, smooth, black rock, the perfect size to fit in the palm of my hand. It startled me at first, seeing it there, but I knew what it was. It was a grief rock, given to me during my earliest grief counseling in a group for the newly bereaved. It was meant to be something solid to hang onto, something smooth to soothe the ache. But it also had a little weight to it. I had another one at home on David’s dresser. That one was not going anywhere. Not anytime soon. But this one? Did I really want to continue carrying a memento of grief with me everywhere I went? No, I decided. I was ready to let it go.

So in the freshness of a glorious sunny Sunday morning after a week of rain, before I got in my car to drive away, I held it in my hand for a moment, then I left that stone among the daffodils just beginning in earnest to raise their heads and shine with gold.

I left something behind that needed leaving, but I brought home so much more. And I’ll be back. I hope to see you there with me someday.

Folk School – Part Four: Happy Clappy

The week flew by, and by midday Friday we were all choosing and/or finishing a few examples of our work to display in the Community Room for what the schedule calls “Closing Ceremony” but people actually call “Happy Clappy.” Love that. Here’s where we could finally see what had been produced in all the various studios. Like these bowls from the woodturning class:

And this candelabra from Metalworking, which happened to be “Hammered Copper in the Arts and Crafts Style” this week (by one of my housemates, Stuart Lenz):

And this table from Woodworking:

I showed you in the last post some of what they were making in blacksmithing. There were also classes in glass fusing, clay tile making, hand-stitched book binding, mountain dulcimer, and more.

Here’s the display from my watercolor gouache painting class:

Painting class display for Happy Clappy — Mine are the three on the far right, starting at the top.

Here’s a better shot of my “Loose Goose Spruce” painting, so called because the brush I used is called a Loose Goose brush.

I wanted you to see it, because just after we got everything set up, a woman from the fused glass class came over and asked me if I sold my work. What?! I was so discombobulated, I think I said, “Uh,” and turned around and walked away laughing to tell Mom and Kathy! Excellent salesmanship, right? But she was persistent. When I wandered back toward the painting display, she said, “I’m serious. Give me a price. And take a photo, because I’m leaving here with it.” So I sold it to her. She made my day. I was smiling so much my cheeks hurt.

Then Kathy said, “I can just see David going, ‘Yes!'” as she pumped her fist. As soon as she said it, I could too, so the tears threatened, but I didn’t stop smiling. I think I floated to dinner.

Then we all came back to the Community Room for a mountain dulcimer concert with Don Pedi, which included hilarious stories and flying-finger tunes with catchy titles like “Jenny Broke Her Wooden Leg A-Dancing at the Ball” and “I Love My Wife As Well As Anybody, But When My Back Is Turned, She’s A Huggin’ Everybody.” You can click on his name above for a link to his website, or search for him on YouTube, and you should, but neither will quite capture the fun of his live performance. It was the perfect cap to an evening called “Happy Clappy.” There was a lot of both.

Wishing you many happy-clappy evenings of your own!

(One more JCCFS post to go!)

 

 

Adventures in Wanderlust