The lichens cling to the trees like lime-sherbert colored legwarmers, mysteriously luminescent against the sodden clouds. The clouds hurry by, dressed in their charcoal hues, as harried and serious as bankers. Looking west, the foothills of the coastal range occasionally break through the clouds and appear to float in the sea of low lying morning fog. Later in the day, the sun will break through, blindingly rebellious and briefly triumphant against the incessant moisture. The light then is brighter than ever, reflected from the ubiquitous puddles, streams, and dripping trees. Downtown, on sidewalks and in traffic, errands are forgotten, phone calls are ignored and vast collective squinting is undertaken. Lasting just long enough to rummage unsuccessfully for sunglasses, the sun retreats like a missionary, leaving only damp pamphlets with hollow proclamations of good times to come. Like a tribe of savages shown a video of Liberace in vegas, we fear that life could be a bit more exciting somehow if we knew where to get a rhinestone or two.
things that make winter in oregon possible:
1) a dehumidifier.
2) wool
3) beer
4) friends
5) hot tubs
stella update: walking, running, walking on tiptoes, walking backwards, spinning around, climbing, hiding, singing, exploring. she's very tidy, maybe from living in the airstream, but she cleans up messes she makes and puts her toys away (most of the time). a little shy these days but warms up to strangers quick. lots of words, dada, mama, nala, doggies, cheese, book, milk, yee-haw (thanks to sam) and bonzai. the toilet is still exciting but mostly as a place to sit while fully dressed or store unwanted toys. mostly cheerful, a tantrum here or there. we've decided to renew her contract and will keep her on for the next season.

still sorting through pictures from new years and beginning to realize that our frenetic medley of plans gave us a chance to see a lot of the coast between portland and san francisco. a definite highlight was exploring the tidepools at cape perpetua. starfish, anemones, and mussels managing to look cozy amidst the waves crashing on old broken lava fields.
driving highway one along the coast south of mendecino is an adventure. the road is curvier than a plus-size model and plummets from the road to the beach inches past the guard rail.
in a cove rolling and boiling with driftwood trapped by the rising tide, i looked into the bobbing tumult and realized that one of the logs was looking back at me. with a knowing glance the seal twitched his whiskers at me and dove out of sight.
gloomy weather makes for dramatic sunsets.
stella firefly ringing in the new year

well, another trip around the sun is complete and 2010 finds us in oregon. 2009 started with a broken leg, stella's first tooth and a desperate desire to get out of kentucky for a while. 12 months and 24 states later we have moved out of our tiny airstream trailer and into an apartment to wait out the unimaginably damp oregon winter. moving out of the airstream, we felt like we'd just left the ark after 40 days and nights of bobbing through the incessant precipitation. the entire population of oregon apparently seems suffers from the delusion that it's not raining; suburban mom types and sorority girls are out there walking their dogs and chatting on their phones in the pouring rain. we're damply adapting.
i like to imagine that i can mail pictures to my past self. sometimes i see something going on in the present and i realize that a polaroid from the here and now would totally blow my past self's mind. the corollary to this is of course that i expect that any picture from the future would also flip my current lid. i think if this system really worked, it would take a lot of pressure off. it seems like we could quit worrying about making plans and give into the idea that the that the future cannot be anticipated and that the most meaningful events in your life are often the most unexpected.

the needle skips on a tragedy and the music of day to day life is shattered with unexpected static. 2010 has started roughly for some brave and beloved friends of ours and i wish there was any damn thing i could do about it. if you pray, pray for anyone who is struggling to keep their family safe.

Somewhere in the past few years I've gotten old enough to realize that the shared experience always trumps the personal. Saying, "Remember that one time..." is always gonna generate more joy than saying "Man, you shoulda seen it...".


This new years eve occurred in conjunction with the first blue moon since our wedding and we did our best to get with our families, both real and chosen, and do some celebrating. We met up with the Berkeley contingent in Dillon Beach. We walked the beach at sunset and danced bizarrely enough in the beach house that I felt compelled to shutter the windows. From there, Tiffany, Stella and Troy headed to Atlanta to whoop it up with the professionals.
I hung back in Berkeley and rang in the new year with Austin, Tiff, Anjali and the dogs. [cheers to Austin the irrepressible] The long drive up the coast by myself (the dogs are faithful companions but poor conversationalists) put me in a melancholy mixture of homesickness and resolution-making.


Being in Corvallis with Tiffany and Stella feels like an adventure. Being here by myself feels a bit lonely. I'm definitely resolved to get the hell out of here before the next rainy season. So far the best plan I've come up with is to abduct all my friends, load 'em onto a bus and head for Guatemala. Clearly I've been living in the land of Ken Kesey too long. In two days, my parents, my cousin Sam, and my favorite-in-law Marintha arrive in Portland and are gonna hang out with us for a week. I can't wait.