Earth Experiences #12: Out West

From Portland, OR to Boulder, CO

Haystack Rock

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First and foremost, I want to thank every one of you who commented, reached out, offered support, and kept in touch during Hurricane Milton. We made it through unscathed, even though it is a great deal of work to pack everything up, evacuate for a few days with nervous and medicated dogs, and then move back in when the hurricane-battered coast is clear—especially two weeks in a row. But we are safe, the dogs are safe, our rig is safe, and the only minor inconvenience associated with the whole ordeal is that I was a day late flying out to see my kids.

But here I am, nearly a week into my long-awaited trip, and I am in heaven. My adult children have grown into funny, interesting, independent, cool humans, and I love having the chance to see them thrive on their home turf.

Sam lives in Portland and he flew me out to visit for my 2023 Christmas present (that smarty pants makes more money than I can ever imagine making), so Mary Claire drove from Tacoma to stay with us. We dined and drank and visited the coast and played pool and enjoyed wineries, and it was so good just to soak them in in that beautiful space.

Gorgeous Cannon Beach

Mary Claire and Sam

Pool Shark

Portland gets a bad rap. Sure, there are unhoused people and there’s a lot of graffiti, but the unhoused deserve to exist, and there’s beauty in the street art if you look for it. Portland has mountains and nearby coastlines and an amazing food scene and a sea of eclectic people. It’s busy and cool and Sam loves the music scene. He is so happy there.

One of the highlights of my Portland trip was visiting Historic Tattoo where Sam, Mary Claire, and I got matching tattoos—my first American Traditional ink. To have something permanently imprinted in my skin that matches two of my kids is an incredibly special gift, one I will cherish forever (even as my skin continues to get older and saggier). My kids said my new tattoo makes me at least 10% cooler. I’ll take it.

My kids’s initials: Sam, Gus, Mary Claire, and George

Sam’s tattoo melted my Mom heart

And Mary Claire’s self-love proclamation is just badass

I also got to meet my grand cat, Gizmo, for the first time. He was incredibly shy and wary, but beautiful. And as allergic as I am, he didn’t even kill me with his dander! He’s a sweet boy with mesmerizing eyes.

Gizmo

Sam and I indulged in a couple of wine tastings in the Willamette Valley. I had no idea there were 700 wineries in the area, but now I only have 698 more to visit. (Also, I may or may not have had to buy a second suitcase to bring my wine purchases home.)

A gorgeous Willamette Valley winery

When Sam and Mary Claire had to return to work, I flew to Boulder to visit George (SKO, BUFFS!). Because of schedule conflicts and holidays with significant others, it’s been over three years since I’ve hugged this man/boy. Although he’s currently working on his thesis and overloaded with school work, we’ve been able to squeeze in a lot of amazing time together.

Oh. And I finally got to meet the “best guy in the world” as George calls him: My grand dog, Henry.

He’s the very best boi

George and I got to spend a day in the mountains, hiking a tiny bit with Henry. My new knee and my unacclimated lungs could only handle so much, but it was a great day nonetheless. We drove up through Nederland, and I found a little cabin I want to buy in my next life. Or maybe this life. Who knows what the future holds?

Driving through Nederland

A boy and his dog on a mountain

My Airbnb is the cutest little space, and I’ve been spending time here completing some mandatory training for my new job while George is in class.

Cutest little Airbnb

Of course, I also made time for a burger and a book shop visit on Pearl Street. (My new books may or may not fit perfectly in the new suitcase I bought for my wine.) My adorable bartender at lunch told me he loved my look and my vibe. I feel at home in the PNW and in Boulder. I am a tattooed, nose-pierced, flowy-pants-wearing fish out of water in Florida, and I can’t wait to make my home in a place that feels like a better fit. People here see me, they get me, and I see and get them.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that.

Burger with fig jam. YUM!

George suggested rooftop drinks at sunset, so we drank beer and wine and chatted about life and philosophy and bouldering and watched the sun go down behind the mountains last night. George pointed out all the mountains he’s climbed—both with and without ropes, and the part of me that’s embarrassingly, ridiculously afraid of heights tried not to cry—or vomit—at the thought.

He’s home here, my baby boy. He’s doing what he loves in a place he loves, and I am so very happy to witness his joy.

The Flatirons at sunset

Tonight, we’ll take Henry to a dog park and share another dinner together. Hopefully, George will play his banjo for me, and maybe his uber talented musical roommates will join in. (Sidebar: One of George’s roommates just had a birthday, and they all pitched in to buy him a PIANO so he can join in their living room jam sessions without having to move his clunky keyboard around. What an amazing group of fellas. A PIANO!)

Tomorrow, George and I will do a lot of the same. Saturday, he works at the Boulder Farmers Market, and I’ll buy some really good apples from him before I fly home. (Once again, hooray for that second suitcase!) I begin work on Monday, and I still have training to complete. (Excitement and anxiety and apprehension abound! All the things at once.)

I love living in the multitudes life has to offer.

This trip has been such an incredible reset for me. I’m so happy and grateful that my strong, independent kids have carved out lives they love in such beautiful spaces, but I miss them with every ounce of my being. Spending time with them fills and rejuvenates me, and I can’t wait until we get to do it all again.

Next stop: Gus in Lexington (at a date TBD).

Thanks for sharing the journey with me, friends.