Everyone I’ve known who had visited Portland has told me the same thing: “You’ll love Portland; it suits you.”
Friday, April 8th is our longest day of driving on our entire road trip… A total of about 340 miles, about six hours and 45 minutes of driving time.
Our road trip started exactly as I imagined it would: slightly delayed, due to a last-minute obligation on my part, tainted by a spousal quarrel, and ultimately christened by junk food.
I’m a notorious procrastinator when it comes to packing.
It’s been a crazy Tuesday. Partly because I missed my workout and I ate two Beard Papa cream puffs at work — therefore, screwing up my metabolism and my recent health kick. Also, because I just witnessed a highly stressful Warrior game.
The sun’s rays take on a more gloriously golden hue and bathe my home — my belongings, my loved ones — in its radiant warmth.
All my life, Sundays have always been dedicated to the same things: Focus on family. Focus on your faith. Focus on yourself.
The iron birdie surveys me from above, its peak and its steely eye aimed at my heart.
I think I just miss the sensation of chewing — I can’t wait to eat some solid food tomorrow, even though it’ll just be a salad.
I’ve been on a health kick lately.