Then I moved to San Francisco.
Still wanting to go to the concert I devised a new plan: I would drive up to Portland, leave my car at my parents' house indefinitely (because so far having a car here just sucks- see my post about parking), see James and Carole, rock out with my parents, have some Mothers' Day fun, and fly back.
I left early on Thursday morning and 13 hours, one audiobook (Blink, by Malcom Gladwell), a few stops for fast food (eew), and some headset-enabled phone conversations later I was in Portland.
The concert was amazing! Inspiring! Far out. All the hits and all played together, mostly with James on guitar and Carole on piano. They rocked so hard and everyone was so into it. There was this unique energy, like they were reliving something wonderful but this time with perspective. It made me wonder: do I enjoy this more than other concerts I've been to because of that perspective? Am I reliving the past even though I didn't live it the first time? What does that mean?
The rest of the weekend was great family time. We went out to dinner at this cute little Portland place, The Country Cat, and had some reeeeeally filling soul food. I watched a ton of OnDemand TV (mostly The Hills and The City, I know, I know...), had a great lunch with my dad, played cards with my mom, and chatted with my brother and sister. It was just what I needed after a long month adjusting to new circumstances and surroundings.
I flew home (sort of home? Is it home yet? Not quite but getting close) on Sunday feeling refreshed and ready to go back to work. Portland is great and so sleepy and quiet compared to San Francisco. I came back to sun and fog and a knitting project and friends and my little room. Ahh...
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