Over here I'm getting back to work and to a fully Lindsay life.
That up there is my first iced coffee of the year, and a chocolate chip cookie (with sea salt on it, of course), and a computer and a notebook just out of sight and some sketching and it's all on a table in Case Study Coffee's downtown shop.
There's no baby here. King's with Patrick. I think they're hiking. The beauty of this moment is that I don't have to know what they're doing. I just have to know what I'm doing. And what I'm doing is writing in a coffee shop—and randomly running into a guy I went to elementary school with in North Carolina. No shit. I ran into Mario Gallucci and his wife; he's got an art opening this Friday. I think we'll go.
Normal life is also about getting sick. Cue a mug full of sliced orange, lemon, and ginger, steeped in hot water (thank you for the tip, Mela). This was a cold that, I swear, had been lurking in the shadows for months. It was being considerate, waiting for me to get all the hard work of moving finished. And then boom and then I'm on my ass and my baby was still happy but then she got sick too and now she's got the same raspy cough that I did and snot running out of her nose.
I'm slowly figuring out how to put my work space together. Washi tape on the window so I can organize my to-do list, and so it can be the alive thing it is—one column for to-dos, one for in-progresses, one for doneses.
A special little two-year-old had a birthday just as we were getting to Portland. I finally got his card decorated (card by Em Dash Paper Co), and you can see a little peek of King's contribution inside: her first artwork for her first pen pal!
Cannon Beach! One of our intentions upon moving to Portland has been to take full advantage of all the nearby beauties—parks, hiking trails, beaches. This past weekend was our first big little trip. An hour-and-a-half to the coast to walk a mile up the beach and watch these dogs go crazy for all the other dogs (Saazie up there is holding her breath before she lets loose on Tinto, who couldn't hold his breath if he tried—all panting exhales and excited yelps).
Along our walk through the beach neighborhoods I saw this little rock with a pasted-on heart and thought of one Ms. Paige Lester-Niles in Winston-Salem, who does things like plant love notes around downtown for people to find accidentally.
And this kid. Can you tell by this photo that she's four days into being sick? No? That's because the champest of champs. Little tiny ox.