Raves

What Fertile Soil Can Do for a Gal

The soil is fertile here in the Pacific Northwest, just they way you picture it would be in the world’s largest temperate rainforest. We, as humans, are definitely a part of nature, but it seems to take us quite a bit longer to adapt to our surroundings. At least to the point of feeling settled, like, say, a pine cone can adapt and settle from its former tree to the forest ground.

Perhaps it’s all of the extraneous stuff we bring to the new place; books and beds, couches and chairs, dishes and coffee pots, plus the TV, armed with blankets and pillows and clothes and candles, we arrive to a new place called home with not just ourselves, but our belongings, all looking for a place to be. To settle.

But finally, settle, we have. It has been fairly easy, really. Because people are smart here, across the board. And creative. And open, curious, and interesting. They like to read books, and have decent, if not totally elevated, senses of humor. While I realize this is a huge generalization just longing for pointed fingers to examples of people who do not fit my nicely crafted mold, it seems that the general vibe of the human species here is remarkable. And I haven’t yet mentioned the amazing food, coffee, wine, and general love of music found at every turn. And I mean EVERY turn.

Nor have I touted the amazing natural wonders that is Oregon herself. I have kept quiet about the beauty of our region – the Pacific Northwest, and the endless opportunities for discovery on a natural level.

At times, I feel like I have lived here forever, while simultaneously, it’s as if I am deep inside a dream. Perhaps there IS something to that whole follow your bliss thing. From where I’m perched at the moment, this Campbellian way of life has bestowed so many gifts upon me that I am continuously rendered breathless. So if I am lost in a dream, I beg of you, don’t wake me up.

Our Oregon Trail

As the movers pulled away from our Lowcountry (freshly empty) home Wednesday, it felt like I was watching the scene unfold upon me from outside of myself. It’s still all pretty surreal.

Strangely, I did not feel any attachment to our home of 3 1/2 years; not even to the sanctuary that was our house, which David and I spent many resources remodeling and fine tuning. It is and always will be in a place that doesn’t work for us.

Now, while I sit in an Omaha coffeehouse, it feels so good to be looking forward, having filled myself up with loving friends in Asheville, Cincinnati and Chicago along the way. It’s as if each mile we head North and West, I start coming back into myself, no longer viewing it from a place outside of my own two eyes, heart, and soul. I am becoming whole again, and although it is totally cliche, it is precisely what is happening. I feel like I have a solid footing, which provides me the ability to actually float at the same time.

We have already been treated to harness racing in Lexington, KY, laughing and joy in both Cincy and Chi-town, the most incredible (almost) full moon and sunset winding our way through the amazingly lush Iowan countryside, and now we walk upon the soil that birthed David.

Next, we visit the great Sand Hills of Nebraska, then to Salt Lake City to visit more good friends, then Portland, baby.

We are now among our people, and it feels so good to be back.

Finally, I Know Why

Ever since I’ve moved to the land of outlet malls (well disguised outlet malls, thankfully), I find myself especially drawn to the Banana Republic outlet.

This may not be odd to most, but I never quite found myself to fit the “B.R.” demographic. Ever since I realized I was never gonna take that African Safari and make like Meryl Streep in Out of Africa back in 8th Grade, the “B.R.” dream of wearing khaki short suits fell by the wayside.

The original draw was that this place has really GREAT deals, and clothes that, mostly, fit me well. Add to that the fact that my black and more funky clothes never quite worked within the Southern environment (not the only thing that doesn’t work, but I digress…), and I found myself more and more drawn to “B.R.” to fulfill my functional, mostly business, fashion needs.

Now that I work from home and don’t find much need for business casual clothes, I still find my car heading straight to the local Banana Republic. I have also found that some of the things I think are FANTASTIC for the brief moment while I’m in the store turn out to lack that luster once I get them home. But this week, I experienced an epiphany to explain my (unknown) initial draw to the place.

The epiphany is this, dear friends. The music. EVERY time I am in there, I am groovin’ on the tunes. I sing, hum, and even sometimes semi-groove – publicly – to the music that is played. EVERY TIME. Of course, this is where I fit the demographic. Which seems a tad disconnected to the clothes, I might add, but I think I realized that I subconsciously go there for the music. Because in the last 4 visits, I have purchased nothing, but not been disappointed in the least by not finding anything.

Instead, I have come away, almost gleefully, not even realizing why until the other day. When I was all, like, what is this song? I know this song? But it’s not the song I think it is. But it is. All this within the first 5 notes…and it is a remake of one of my favorite Ryan Adams songs, called Amy. And I have discovered Mark Ronson in the process, which I am quite thankful for. This is an incredibly beautiful song, originally, and this remake takes it to a different level. I would put the MP3 here for your listening pleasure, but it is SO INVOLVED (especially since I only have the MP4 version, etc., etc….)

Go get it. It’s 2 bucks, if you get the original Ryan Adams’ version AND the Mark Ronson remake. SO WORTH IT. Trust me.

P.S. I was also re-invigorated with New Order’s Love Vigilantes during my recent Banana discovery, too. Reminded me of my high-school friend (and prom date), Matt Vidmar. He owned and sported the classic Substance all-white t-shirt back in the day. I love the 80’s.