over the mountains and through the hail

Our six-hour drive to Ashland, Oregon ended after the sun set Friday night. Our heavy eyes and creaky joints pleaded with us for mercy, but our determination to make this weekend seem as long as it possibly could pushed us out of the doors of our hotel and into downtown Ashland. A British-themed bar that we found on the upper floor of an old building looked inviting, so we walked up and ordered drinks while we watched theatre-goers walk the streets. I talked Jon out of ordering "Bangers and Mash" from the extensive menu, and we headed back to our hotel. Just before I gave in to my exhaustion, I noticed that I didn't feel excited to be on this mini-vacation. An undercurrent of sadness was following me everywhere, as it would for most of our stay.

The next morning we visited Lithia Park, and paused from hiking to taste the water from the stream that runs through the park. Sadly, the weather then made a drastic turn for the worse, and we spend much of the afternoon getting soaked as we attempted to get a feel for downtown Ashland. After having the ridiculous amount of rainfall we've had in the past few months at home, we probably should have thought through our destination choice a bit more thoroughly. To get out of the rain and drown our sorrows, we visited a local winery owned by a former Presbyterian minister, and we tasted what the local grapes had to offer. Had the rain stopped, we would have loved to sit out on the deck that faces the hills.








With the sweet residue of cabernet lingering in our mouths, we drove a few miles up in elevation where we happened upon something all too familiar, though absent from our lives in recent years. We pulled the car over and jumped around in the patches of fresh snow.








We were able to get tickets for Saturday night's performance of "A Winter's Tale" at one of the theatres in town. It was so impressively executed in every way, and it was also just fun to do something we don't normally get the chance to do. Still, my heart was slouching, unable to really let go and enjoy the new things surrounding me. On our way home the next morning, we stopped in Shasta for lunch. While we sat in the mostly empty but charming cafe with our hot soup warming our bodies, we watched out the window as snow started to fall outside. That persistent sadness gave way for a moment, and I was suddenly and deeply content.

better than this

This is how I spend most of my mornings, especially when I have the day off or work the evening shift. It's sometimes lonely, and always quiet, except for the songs I sing while I practice playing the guitar. One benefit of this time without a piano is that I've had no choice but to play the guitar when I want to sing with an instrument. I'm almost to the point where I'm confident enough to play in public.

There's so much going on in my head these days, but I haven't been able to put it all into words yet. I'm sure that I'll be able to make sense of some of it after our weekend trip to Oregon. Spending a few days outside of my usual environment always gives me better perspective and insight. I'll write more then, if not sooner.

lonely food

the light was coming in the dining room window so nicely last night, I had to take this photo. it's kind of a strange subject matter, but I couldn't resist because of the steam being so visible.

everything is illuminated

I made a sort of agreement with myself when I started blogging that I wouldn't write about the weather. A passing comment every once in a while is okay, but people do not care to read in-depth information about how cloudy it is, or how hot or cold the air is outside. I'm breaking that rule, just for today. Yesterday, after a month and a half of nearly constant rain, I woke up to a blue sky. As soon as my shift ended at work, we drove over the west hills and spent the afternoon and evening in Santa Cruz. It felt so foreign to be warmed by the sun again, and not get the hems of our jeans soaked the minute we stepped outside. Before dinner, we discovered our new favorite hang-out, Caffe Pergolesi. It's a coffee house that also serves alcohol, and it's set in an old victorian-ish house. We took a table outside on the patio, taking advantage of every last bit of sunshine that the day offered us.

all I want is some fresh basil, dammit!

How could I possibly not want to move away from the Bay Area when a few simple errands take three hours to finish? This place is so ridiculously overcrowded! The majority of the time that these errands took was spent standing in line or waiting at stop lights. By the time we got home, it was too late to prepare the dinner I had gotten ingredients for, so we heated up our elegant frozen meals instead. I suppose that I should be used to all of this by now, but I'm just not. Jon says that if we moved to a smaller town, we wouldn't have places like Trader Joe's and Whole Foods close by, but I have to believe that there's a better option out there where I can still find my soy cheese and Aveda moisturizer and not throw cooking utensils around the kitchen afterwards out of frustration.

Still, we ended our mostly leisurely weekend well. I made a cup of herbal tea, sat down on the living room floor and worked out some songs with Jon in preparation for our next open mic night apperance. We're hoping to snag a spot this coming Wednesday evening at Barefoot Coffee Roasters. I still have to call to get the details of how the open mic night signups work there, but I think it's going to be a lot more fun than the last one we performed at. We might even give our friends the go-ahead to come and listen.