This morning, after nine dazzling days spent on the tip of Cape Cod, Bevan, Sid and I took a ferry boat to a Lyft truck to a train car on which we’re currently passing through majestic Mystic, Connecticut on our way to the Big Apple where the three of us and one Very Special Guest will shop, see shows and spend a night on Fire Island with the goal of lowering me ever-so-gently into 35.
Today is Harry Potter’s 39th birthday and to celebrate I’m gonna make 13 t-shirts, 11 bathing suits, ten pairs of shorts, eight pairs of underwear, seven pairs of shoes, six pairs of socks, three pairs of pants, two hoodies, two polos and one button-down disappear.
And now, off to P-Town!
P.S. This isn’t the first time I’ve done magic on this blog.
In order of no order.
garden brunch with Kari’s parents at Kari’s childhood home
quality time with Saph and Jeremy
Gay Running Club
the bronze tree in the Beverly Cleary Children’s Library
the real tree across the street from our hotel
the fact that there’s a street named after Harvey Milk
Petunia's Pies & Pastries
I was sipping an IPA as Bevan got intimate with a non-meat something or other on gluten free bread at Kenny & Zuke's Delicatessen in downtown Portland yesterday afternoon when who walked past our table but my current friend/former colleague Kevin and his wife Vicky whom I had not seen in nine years. I bounced out of my chair and skipped outside to hug them on a sidewalk that none of us had set foot on before. They’re still living in Chicago but had arrived in Portland just hours earlier to attend a wedding.
How many seemingly trivial, throwaway decisions had been made in the near decade since the last time we saw one another for all of us to have wound up on the same corner at the same moment in Portland, Oregon?
A damn lot of them.
Portland is for miracles, y’all.