Category Archives: Travel

Can You Call a City Beautiful?

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You wouldn’t think a city could be beautiful.

Not in the conventional sense, anyway. Trees and mountains and lakes. Sunsets. The ocean. The smile on a baby’s face. The glint in the eyes of lovers. Those things are beautiful. Concrete and steel? Different words come to mind. Manmade. Sterile. Linear. And yet, a city is like a living, breathing entity. It’s got a skeleton. Arterials and a pulse. A beating heart. And without a doubt, a city can be beautiful and striking and resplendent in its finery.

I have long had a love affair with Seattle.

Don’t get me wrong: my heart belongs to Portland. But this wasn’t always the case. Flash back to 1993, when I was living in San Jose with my now-ex wife. We were kidless still, so when I suggested on a whim that we fly to Seattle for the weekend just to check it out, she eagerly agreed. I didn’t know much about the city then, other than the fact that some really good music was coming out of there. And the Space Needle dominated the downtown skyline. The Pacific Northwest had always held a strong allure to me, so we flew north for a mini getaway. Ended up staying in a really crappy motel near SeaTac on the same busy strip where the Green River Killer was abducting women. We’re talking syringes in the parking lot and drifts of garbage piling up. This was before the days of Yelp reviews and hotels.com, so booking a room in a city you were unfamiliar with was like rolling the dice. Despite the less-than-stellar ambiance, I fell in love with the city that weekend. Pike Place Market, Seattle Center, Elliot Bay, the monorail, the ferry to Victoria B.C., some really great seafood at a lakeside restaurant – it was a terrific trip, and the catalyst for my job transfer and move north a year and a half later. Granted, I ended up 2.5 hours south of Seattle, but my fascination with the city continued, and that was close enough for the occasional visit. I did get back a couple more times over the years, but those trips were few and far between, and were barely enough to whet my appetite.

Now, with Tara’s family up there and her nephew barely a month old, we have plenty of reasons to go – and, in fact, just got back from an overnight visit yesterday. It was my 4th trip to Seattle in seven months, and I envision many more in the future.

This makes me happy. I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface of the Emerald City. There’s so much to see and do there – neighborhoods to explore, restaurants to try, sights to seek out. And yet, sometimes you want to return to your old favorite haunts. Yesterday, we did a little of both. Had lunch with Tracy and David at our favorite little hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant on 1st Avenue, and then wandered the market. Afterwards, we caught views from two different perspectives. Kerry Park and Alki Beach. The mountain was out, as the locals say whenever Mount Rainier pokes its snowcapped head over the horizon, and it towered over the city like a protective parent. The day was perfect, the scenery stunning.

I’m not saying Seattle is perfect. It’s big and sprawling and busy. Traffic is an issue. Unsavory characters roam the streets. And yes, it rains. A lot. But none of those things detract from the undeniable beauty of the city.

A beauty which we will return to again, very soon.

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Kite Therapy

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There is nothing more therapeutic than flying a kite.

This surprises me. You wouldn’t think such a simple pursuit would bring much joy. All you’re doing is standing there, holding onto a string. The wind does all the work for you. Sure, you have to tug on it occasionally and make an adjustment or two to ensure that the whole thing doesn’t plummet to earth, but otherwise you’re pretty much just standing still with your neck craned skyward. And yet, there is undeniable joy in the act. A sense of freedom and adventure that is unparalleled.

This past weekend, Tara and I took a trip to the Oregon coast. Saturday was Cinco de Mayo, and Lincoln City was advertising a fish taco cook-off. This sounded like something fun to do and a perfect excuse for a romantic getaway, so we booked a room in a cheapish motel on the edge of a cliff and headed out early in the morning. We stopped to visit briefly with my aunt on the way, and then continued on to Lincoln City, arriving at the Culinary Center (which also doubles as the fourth floor of the local library) a few minutes past noon. Perfect timing. Tacos were $1 each and there were six teams competing, so we bought enough tickets to try all six. There was a good mix of fish – three cod, one tilapia, one salmon, and one blackened mako shark – and beer to wash them all down. Then, with several hours to kill before it was time to check into our room, we drove south along the coast, holding hands and rocking out to music. Just north of Newport we stopped at Beverly Beach. Before our trip Tara decided she wanted to fly a kite on the beach, and I thought this was a wonderful idea, as neither of us had ever done so. She picked up a couple of cheap kites from Target – $2.98 on clearance – and we were good to go!

We walked to the beach and tore open the packaging, quickly assembling our kites. The Oregon coast is always windy, so we weren’t afraid of catching a good breeze. It took a try or two to get them in the air, but before long we had unspooled the full 75′ length of string and our kites were dancing in the sky, weaving and bobbing, buffeted by the gusty winds. And for the next half hour I lost myself in the experience.

I’m not even sure how or why it happened, but I gotta say, it was pure joy. I hadn’t flown a kite in many years, the last time being when my kids were very young, and on those previous rare occasions I was never able to keep it in the air for long. Saturday afternoon, along the coast, this was not a problem. I stood there mesmerized, watching my kite fly with the constant sound of the crashing surf as my backdrop, and I felt the weight of the world simply melt away, all my cares scattered in the wind until they dissolved. I thought of my previous trips to the beach, how I longed for somebody to share my adventures with, and was overcome with elation because this time, finally, I had somebody very special with me. She was a few dozen yards away, flying her own kite, and looked every bit as happy as I did. This warmed my heart.

I love her so much.

And then I was running down the beach, my kite chasing me from seventy-five feet in the air, the sand beneath my toes and the Pacific Ocean lapping at my ankles. Giddy like a child. Free like a bird. I had found happiness at the end of a string.

If you’re ever feeling stressed out in life, go fly a kite. Your worries will melt away. I guarantee this.

The rest of the weekend was bliss. We checked into our room that evening and enjoyed Bloody Marys on our ocean view deck before heading out to dinner. The food was delicious: coconut shrimp for me, a sauteed seafood sampler for Tara, and some of the best clam chowder we had ever tried. We arrived back at the beach just in time to catch a fantastic sunset, and fell asleep that night to the sound of the ocean. Sunday we wanted to take the long way home, so we meandered up the coast, all the way from Lincoln City to Astoria, and had to drive across the bridge because, well, the Astoria-Megler Bridge is awesome and whisks you across the mouth of the Columbia River to Washington. We stopped at the Astoria Column and I convinced Tara to climb the 164 steps to the top for a breathtaking view of…well, everything. You can see for miles and miles in all directions, and the sky was cloudless and blue. Afterwards, we stopped for dinner at a former cannery that had been transformed into a brewhouse and then took the final leg back home. With all the stops we made it took us over nine hours from the time we set out, but it was a fantastic day and a wonderful weekend.

I couldn’t be happier.

Fish tacos in Lincoln City. Happy Cinco de Mayo!

The Oregon Coast at Cape Foulweather.

My lovely girlfriend.

The Yaquina Bay Bridge in Newport.

I had a whale of a good time.

One amazing sunset.

View from the top of the Astoria Column.

Go fly a kite. Cheapest therapy ever.

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Tag Teaming, Ely Style

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Dear Readers,

You’ve chuckled over her comments. You were dazzled by her guest post when I was in the hospital. So, as a special treat, I thought I would team up with the girl who stole my heart for a post while we are together this weekend. That’s right: it’s the one…the only…TARA!!

Or maybe I’m the only one excited by this?

Whatever.

My spur-of-the-moment trip to Ely has, naturally, been nothing short of wonderful. It still amazes me how perfect we are together, and how everything just feels so right. It’s nice to experience a real relationship for a change. Maybe someday I’ll talk about the other crazies delve into my dating past.

Someday when I’ve knocked back a few and my inhibitions are looser.

Speaking of knocking back a few, we did just that last night. But instead of my usual play-by-play, I think I’ll turn the blog over to Tara for a bit. Take it away, lovergirl!

Wow, babe.  Good thing I’m not feeling any pressure…

So, yeah, the visit has been wonderful so far.  And I get where Mark is coming from when he talks about how things were with the crazies. Been there, done that myself and its so great being with someone that gets excited and appreciates all those little moments that make up the best weekend since the last time we were together.

After he posted yesterday, I hurried home from work so we could spend the afternoon [CENSORED] and relaxing. Two of my favorite pastimes.  :)  We then hurried down to Racks because it had been a whole 24 hours since we had consumed alcohol. A couple of friends joined us and since Mark had posted on FB that we were likely to get shmammered, rounds of chocolate cake shots were a must. Not surprising, we bar-hopped until a little before midnight and even stopped at the Hotel Nevada to blow some bucks at the Blackjack tables. Also not surprising, Bloody Marys were in order (and greatly enjoyed) early this morning.

OK, it’s me again. In all fairness, my Facebook post originally put the odds of getting intoxicated at 70%, but as the evening wore on it was clear that we were headed in that direction. (Relax, mom and dad – we were celebrating. More on that in a second. Plus, this is Ely. What else is one supposed to do in a small town on a Friday night?). You know, I often say that I’ve lived my life in reverse. Married my high school sweetheart at a young age, settled down, bought a house and had kids. It wasn’t until my divorce that I started actually going out and having fun. Luckily, Tara is all about having fun. So are her friends. Let’s just say at one point we were playing shuffleboard and they may have been lifting their shirts in order to distract me. Which, I might add, worked like a charm.

Typical Friday night scene in Ely, Nevada. These were chocolate cake shots. Yummy!

Tara’s got the coolest friends ever.

Today has been much mellower. We got up at an ungodly hour – 5:30, after going to bed a mere four hours earlier – because…umm, I have no idea WHY we were up so early! Care to field that one, babe?

Because beers and chocolate cake shots = HEADACHE & THIRSTY!!!  I got up intending to drink a gallon or two of water, pop some Excedrin, and crawl back into bed for some cuddle time. Remember when I asked if we were going back to sleep or if I should make coffee YOU were the one that said ‘coffee’?

Regardless of the reason, our eyes lit up when Mark suggested a Bloody Mary instead of coffee. Nothin’ like a little hair of the dog to make things all better. And honestly, it turned out to be a great morning. Not only do we share a love for great food and drink, we also get a bit spastic over good music. With our respective music libraries, we took turns listening to old classics and new favorites. While he was jamming to Survivor, Men at Work, and Flock of Seagulls in high school, little ten-year-old me was rockin’ out to Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac, and Bob Seger. Many thanks to my mother for raising me right!

OK, first off, “Eye Of The Tiger” is the perfect rock anthem. Long live Survivor! Maybe my musical tastes in the eighties did leave something to be desired. But once the nineties rolled around, I got into all the cool bands!

Anyway, yes, this morning was pretty great. What I like best about this relationship – as Tara mentioned above – is how much we appreciate and enjoy the simple things in life. We both sort of spazz out over things that other people would take for granted. Like grilled cheese sandwiches, for instance. It brings us closer together. After our music and Bloody Marys, we headed into town for a stop at the All Aboard Inn, a bed and breakfast run by one of Tara’s friends. While this particular friend didn’t lift up her shirt, she did serve us a delicious breakfast – French toast for Tara, a carne asada breakfast burrito for me. Then we came home, watched a movie, and took a nap. Afterwards, we walked back into town with a loaf of bread to feed the ducks, grabbed a sandwich at the local drugstore, and ate that in the park. It was the perfect day to be out and about – sunny and 60 degrees – although a breeze did kick in while we were sitting at a picnic table, chilling us just a bit. We’re back at the house now for more movies and, well, we’d just like to enjoy each other’s company on my last night here. I’m heading back home tomorrow morning at 7 AM, and already feeling bummed over that.

But…

The reason we were celebrating last night? Tara has been applying for jobs in the Portland area, and there was one in particular she really wanted. They contacted her the other day, and she’s got a phone interview scheduled for Monday morning. They’ve already asked about her availability for an in-person interview. I was hesitant to mention any of this on the blog lest I jinx it, but Tara assured me it was okay. Neither of us is getting our hopes up, but if things do pan out, then she could be moving in with me very soon. At the least, I may get to see her for a couple of days again next week. Fingers, toes and all other appendages that can be crossed are officially crossed!

That’s all I’ve got. Any parting words, dear?

Yes, actually I do have some. I just want to take this opportunity to thank all your readers for their kind words and supportive comments over these last few months. You all have been wonderful and I love reading your comments. I look forward to the day when I’m moved, settled, and have a job that doesn’t send me all over this great state so that I can read more of your posts and start writing again myself. Just like blogging brought Mark and I together all those years ago, I suspect there will be more new friendships forged in the future. You guys are awesome.

May This Passion Never Fade

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So, I’m in Ely again. Surprised? I blame it all on my girlfriend. She’s too damn irresistible.

When we parted ways after her last visit, we weren’t sure when we’d see each other again. For once, we didn’t have any future visits planned – only because Tara is focused on moving out here there ASAP. Her job search has begun. Things could conceivably move fast, if everything falls into place. So there’d been talk of meeting up in Boise for a weekend, but that was it. And then, suddenly, opportunity presented itself. Her dad (who she is living with until she moves) was headed out of town for several days, and the kids are with their mother this week. The lure of four nights together in Ely proved impossible to resist, so we made plans for me to drive down on Wednesday. Even then, we were nearly thwarted by a snowstorm, a case of the stomach flu, and an appointment with the state of Washington regarding my unemployment. But everything always seems to work out perfectly for us, and all of those became non-issues; at 4:41 AM I pulled out of my condo complex and began the long trek to Ely. Just a little over twelve hours later I pulled up in front of Tara’s office and we embraced. It had been an excruciating eleven days apart.

Yes, I’m serious. And may this passion never fade.

The trip down was uneventful. Cold and windy, but not a cloud in the sky the entire 837 miles. There’s snow on the ground here, but not a ton. Still, more than I encountered in December. Go figure. The desert is quite beautiful in late winter, as a matter of fact, with the snow-covered mountains that stretch north to south nearly the entire length of northern Nevada, and acres of silver sagebrush dotting the plains. It got down to 12 degrees my first morning here, but warmed up to the mid-40s. Today it was 16, but on the way up to 60, with clear skies. I couldn’t ask for better weather.

Wednesday evening, Tara made me egg rolls and sesame noodles. It was a great meal after a long drive. Felt weird to be in her dad’s house – my last two trips here, I stayed at Tara’s, but her place is rented out now – although, weird in a good way. He’s got a real nice home. Thursday, Tara had to head into Wells on business, so I accompanied her. Wells is two hours away, and even though I’d spent the entire previous day in the car, this drive was pretty spectacular. Maybe it was the grazing antelope we spotted shortly after heading out. Or the detour down a dirt road. Let’s just say, great drive! After several hours in Wells, we drove to Elko, another hour away. There, we toured Lamoille Canyon, stopped for Bloody Marys and hush puppies at JJ’s in Spring Creek, visited with Tara’s aunt and uncle, and met up with her cousin and his family for dinner at a “sushi” place called Flying Fish. I use the term loosely because it’s not traditional sushi, but is still quite good. They have something like 30 different “long rolls” you can choose from; I opted for the Godzilla, consisting of shrimp, crab, scallops, avocado and eel sauce in a tempura batter. Sooo good. Add in the appetizers – inari, stuffed avocado, and lumpia – and we were pretty damn full. Afterwards, we made a quick stop at K-Mart (because Ely does not have any big box retail outlets and Tara has to take advantage whenever she’s in “the city” to stock up on necessities), and then made the 2.5-hour drive back home, chasing a brilliant full moon the entire way.

All in all, it’s been a very nice visit so far, and is only halfway done. The next couple of days shouldn’t be so hectic. Tara’s working until noon today, and then we’re going to relax the afternoon away before heading to Rack’s to meet up with some friends for drinks. Because in Ely on a Friday night, that’s what you do. Tomorrow we’ve got nothing planned other than breakfast in town and a walk to the duck pond. It sounds like a perfectly idyllic day to me. Sunday morning, I’ll head back home. Sadly, we lose an hour thanks to @#$&% Daylight Savings Time, which I already hate as it is. But, hey – what are you going to do? At least we’re enjoying a nice little bonus visit in the meantime!

Mountains south of Jackpot, Nevada.

My baby makin' me dinner!

Tara's dad's driveway. Not his sole method of transportation.

Lamoille Canyon, east of Elko.

*Smooch*

Stream running through Lamoille Canyon.

Godzilla Roll from Flying Fish Elko.

The Day After

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I hate the day after.

The day after my girlfriend leaves. It means another wonderful visit has come and gone, and spells a return to a normal routine that no longer feels “normal” or “routine.” The realization that she was here less than twenty-four hours ago is hard to bear; it’s all still fresh, and often I’ll find myself thinking, yesterday at this time we were…{fill in the blank with whatever we were doing, and it doesn’t really matter what we were doing, the simple fact that we were together is enough}, my mind remembering every minute detail, my heart aching with the pain of separation.

I’m sentimental to a fault sometimes.

And I know, in the grand scheme of things, this is nothing. She keeps calling the past eight days her last visit here, for now the focus has turned to searching for a job. Once she finds one, she will move here, and we can begin a life together. She is optimistic it won’t take long, and lord knows she’s far less pickier than I am when it comes to work (this is a compliment). Still, every moment we’re apart stings a little now. It doesn’t help that we’re both impatient, or that there is no firm date for the next time we see each other, a first since we began dating back in September. There’s always been some concrete event to look forward to, and the countdown app on my phone has never before been void of days to tick down toward. I think it makes this time apart the roughest yet, and believe me, no goodbye has ever been easy. We’ve talked about meeting in Boise for a couple of days sometime between now and That Future Then When She’s Here For Good. We’ll see how everything goes.

And yet, I remain happier than I’ve been in years. The pain of separation speaks volumes about the depth of that joy. Soon, I tell myself. Very soon these goodbyes will be nothing but a memory. There will be no day after to contend with.

It’s all good in the hood, as they say. Or maybe nobody actually says that, but they should. It’s clever and it rhymes.

Anyhoo.

LONG PARAGRAPH WARNING!!!

The Days During were pretty stinkin’ good, as always. Hanging out with the kids last weekend was a blast; Tara and Audrey bonded on Sunday, shopping together and even getting manicures. I was impressed, as The Daughter has never been much of a girly girl (which explains the black nail polish, but I thought that was cool and loved the fact that Tara would go out of her way to do something special with Audrey). After dropping the kids off Sunday night, we got all gussied up and hit the town for a belated Valentine’s Day dinner at Jake’s Famous Crawfish, Portland’s oldest restaurant (dating back to 1892), and I introduced her to the wonder and joy that is Powell’s Books. The baked salmon stuffed with crab, shrimp and brie, and the seafood fettucine were excellent. These came from Jake’s, not Powell’s, in case you were wondering and the word “books” didn’t tip you off. Monday we relaxed around the house, partaking in the grilled cheese experiment and watching movies, before making a fantastic dinner of steaks, sauteed mushrooms, garlic bread, artichokes dipped in mayo (never had this before but man alive am I hooked), and margaritas. Since we’re both foodies, one thing we do enjoy together is the art of good eating! Tuesday, we were on the interstate by 9 AM, destination: The Emerald City. Seattle, not Oz (because somebody forgot to pack their ruby slippers this time around). We arrived shortly after noon, made a quick stop to say hi to her brother Eric, and then killed a couple of hours at Pike Place Market. I love it there! Picture acres of fresh produce and just-caught seafood, fish flying through the air, hot doughnuts fresh from the fryer, quirky shops, and a big brass pig. It’s such a cool place, and I hadn’t been in a few years. When we came up for the City Arts Festival in October we discovered a little hole in the wall Chinese restaurant called Genghis Khan, which served the most fantastic orange beef we’d ever had, so a return visit was in order, and since it was lunchtime, our timing was perfect. The beef (and sweet ‘n sour prawns) were every bit as good as we’d remembered. By mid-afternoon it was time to meet up with Tara’s mom, Tracy, in Bothell, so we left the market and parked the car at the park and ride station in Bothell, down the street from her home. She sort of surprised us by suddenly appearing in front of the car while we were in the middle of a rather intense make-out session…oopsie. Not quite in flagrante delicto, but let’s just say if the windows weren’t steamed up, they should’a been. I cooked us fried chicken that night, and Tracy made mashed potatoes and country gravy. Yummy stuff. Wednesday we mostly hung around the house; Tara and Tracy were throwing a baby shower for Eric’s girlfriend, Anne, that evening; when they left, Tracy’s boyfriend David and I kicked it at home and decided to watch a couple of movies. I’d never seen Gone With The Wind before and he urged me to check it out, so I did – and naturally, was quite impressed. It’s not considered a classic for nothin’, after all. We put on Urban Cowboy next, a different sort of classic film…if you’re fond of John Travolta, anyway. Which I am. So that was a nice and relaxing day. Thursday, Tara and I went out to breakfast and then – on a whim – decided to drive across Stevens Pass to Leavenworth, a quaint Bavarian village on the other side of the Cascades. I’d always wanted to go, and had no idea it was a mere 100 miles from Bothell. We had a fantastic time there, strolling hand-in-hand through town and stopping in at various shops – an olive oil and vinegar place, a hippie joint (pun intended), a Christmas store, an antique place, a taffy shop – and naturally, had to buy a big ol’ soft and warm German pretzel to share on our way back. That evening Tracy made a pork roast with garlic mashed potatoes, and Eric and Anne came over for dinner and Wii bowling. I was promised a lemon if I made a beer run with Eric, and eagerly took Tara up on that offer. (Inside joke. Very funny. Trust me). We then played cards before heading to bed. Friday we said our goodbyes and made the trek back home; we had my parents over for dinner, and Tara was sweet enough to cook for them, whipping up her chicken broccoli braid. It was a night of good conversation, the wine was flowing, and Frank Sinatra crooned to us over the iPod. Saturday sucked. But only because of that trip to the airport at 3:30. Before that, the day was just fine and dandy! So, all in all, an excellent visit.

It just makes me that much more eager to have her around all the time. It’s going to be amazing.

Our belated V-Day dinner.

The Chef's Special that night: baked salmon stuffed with shrimp, crab and brie. It was heavenly.

Because I'm a romantic bastard, remember?

The iconic sign at Pike Place Market.

Pike Place: It's like an indoor farmer's market on steroids.

A plate full of orange awesome and sweet 'n sour delicious!

View from near the summit - Stevens Pass, WA.

My sneaky girlfriend hiding a snowball, which was subsequently launched in my direction.

Leavenworth, WA.

Even the Starbucks in Leavenworth looks like it's in the middle of Germany.

Love Is In The Air. And Chowder, too.

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A few days ago I got a hankering for a really good cup of clam chowder, so I did what anybody would do to satisfy that craving: made a 240-mile round trip to go get me some.

What? You wouldn’t?!

One of the things that attracted me to Tara was the fact that she once drove 72 miles for a corn dog. Clearly, this is a woman after my own heart.

And okay, fine, there was more than just the clam chowder at the end of my destination. There was sand and surf and salt air. The ocean. Fun shops to browse through. And the world’s largest frying pan. I’d been longing to take a trip to Long Beach, Washington for some time now – and with a kid-free Saturday looming large, decent weather (meaning overcast and drizzly), and an iPod full of tunes, the open road beckoned this past weekend. I decided to hit the road at 9 AM sharp. I stopped in Astoria a couple of hours later to walk along the Columbia River for a bit, before proceeding across the 3.5-mile long bridge that connects Oregon and Washington. I arrived in Long Beach about 11:30.

The unique and cool thing about this place is, cars are allowed on the beach. If you’ve never done so before, let me tell you – driving across the sand is a blast! I had my window rolled down and the breeze in my hair made me giddy with excitement and the sense of adventure.

And cold, too. Brr. February on the Washington coast? A tad chilly. I quickly rolled the window back up.

But still, it was a great way to spend the day. I took a walk along a section of the world’s longest beach (yes, it really is) before retreating to my car to watch the waves crash to shore. I spent an hour or two reading and relaxing and enjoying the scenery. Back in town, I hit a few stores. And when 4:00 rolled around, I headed to a bar and grill called Castaways Seafood Grille for a couple of cocktails. And that clam chowder I had come so far to have. It was delicious, I’m happy to report. And then I added fish ‘n chips to go along with it. I always crave those when I’m at the coast. Properly full, I headed back to the beach, and fate smiled down upon me by providing just enough of a break in the overcast to surprise me with a sunset. It was unexpected, and magnificent.

I then made the long trek back home in the dark, arriving back at Casa Petruska eleven hours after I set out. It was pretty much the perfect day.

I say “pretty much” because Tara wasn’t with me, and she was the one missing ingredient. But while she wasn’t there physically she was there in spirit, and we texted and talked throughout the day, anyway. Next time I go, we will go.

I’m also a little sad that we aren’t together for Valentine’s Day, which is ironic because I never cared much for this day. I used to refer to it as a phony holiday invented by greeting card companies looking to make a fast buck, assuming there were kickbacks involved between the chocolate and flower industries, as well. God, I’m such a romantic. But I realized that this attitude only existed when I was single, or married to somebody who complained that the flowers I gave her weren’t nice enough or delivered to her work. Is it any wonder I greeted this day with cynicism?! I have since discovered that when you are in a relationship that makes you happy, you want to celebrate Valentine’s Day with the person you love. So, the distance between us feels greater than usual today. Add in the fact that today is our official five-month anniversary, and it’s even worse.

But.

Next year we’ll be celebrating together. And, Tara is coming up for another visit on Friday, and staying for eight days and nights. We’re celebrating VD a few days late with a dinner in Portland on Sunday. This helps soften the blow.

It’s going to be a fantastic visit, and brings us ever closer to the day when she moves in with me for good. Every day will feel like Valentine’s then.

Aww. What do you know? I am a romantic bastard, after all.

The Astoria-Megler Bridge spans the Columbia River and connects Oregon and Washington.

That there's the world's largest frying pan in the background.

Well worth the 240-mile roundtrip.

Don't know who these people are, but I don't care: I love this shot.

Remembering The The’s

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Maybe, she says, they’re getting tired of hearing about all this. 

But, but…I stammer. There may be some truth to this, but who isn’t a sucker for a good love story? The romantic in me has been unleashed, trumpeting forth furiously and without abandon. A broken record, perhaps, but it still spins, playing the same happy tune over and over, and it is sweet music to my ears. A blog is many things, I reply, but first and foremost, it’s a bookmark in the pages of your life. I want to look back on this, to always remember The Beginning. I’ll still write about mandolines and geoduck, but also of the great times we share together. Photographs fade over time, details become murky. I’m compelled to remember so we never forget.

You’re right, she says. Don’t ever stop.

It’s a good thing, because I couldn’t if I tried. I don’t just talk, I shout. From the rooftops, for the world to hear. There are so many moments in time to capture for posterity…

The adrenaline rush of the late night airport greeting. The ride home, holding hands the entire trip. The [ARE YOU CRAZY? MY PARENTS READ THIS]. The pizza and beers Friday night, followed by Wii games with the kids. The drive to the Oregon coast on Saturday, when rain and snow and fog gave way to hail moments after I remarked that we had seen every kind of weather imaginable. The rainbow that blossomed right before my eyes the instant I pulled over to take a picture of the water. The World Famous Octopus Tree (how they laughed over my Griswold-like enthusiasm) and the view of the Pacific Ocean from the Cape Meares Lighthouse. The squeaky cheese at the Tillamook Cheese Factory and the wine tasting next door. The snowball fight and the Mad Libs tournament on the drive home. The belated birthday dinner for my dad, and Tara’s first experience with Chicken Paprikas.

The homemade biscuits and gravy and pitcher of Bloody Marys Sunday morning. The flight to Vegas, our first airplane ride together, full of laughter and good conversation and Mousetrap on my phone (“Airplane Mode,” of course) and a few more Bloody Marys. The pictures in front of the iconic Welcome To Fabulous Las Vegas sign, retakes because those we snapped a few weeks earlier in the dark didn’t turn out. The Presidente margaritas at Chili’s (and the realization that we hadn’t been lacking in our recommended daily allowance of alcohol that day). The drive down the Vegas strip, in the dark, neon lights shimmering in the desert air, before trekking Over The Hump To Pahrump.

The solo excursion to the hotel casino Monday morning while Tara was in a board meeting for work. The four “3″s perfectly lined up on my video poker machine, 800 nickels that translated into a rare chance to leave a casino with more money in my pocket than I entered with. The lunch with Tara and her coworkers, and admonition (or was it a threat?) from her boss to take good care of her. The trip to Pahrump Valley Vineyards while she finished up work. The rain showers and chilly wind sweeping through the valley (I thought it never rained in the desert!). The housing inspections we went on together with Michelle from the Pahrump office that afternoon, a chance for me to see my girlfriend in action. The two-and-a-half-hour dinner at Tommasino’s, a classy and gorgeous Italian restaurant that seems as out of place in Pahrump as a tumbleweed would in Portland. The calamari, tentacles and all. The Italian wedding soup and roast duck and chocolate chip cannoli and live jazz music and pinkie ring-bedecked owner straight out of the Sinatra era.

The breakfast burrito and coffee from Sonic Tuesday morning before heading out for more inspections. The crazy antics of Lisa and Laura, the local realtors who are partners-but-not-in-that-way. The detour through Red Rock Canyon on the drive back to Vegas, the mountain formations stunningly beautiful in the afternoon sunlight. The long, sad walk through McCarran Airport, neither of us wanting to part ways after such a wonderful visit. The tearful goodbye at the gate. The new countdown beginning: 25 days until we are together again.

That’s a lot of The’s to remember. A lot of The’s to never forget.

A lot of happy memories.

This rainbow over Tillamook Bay appeared out of nowhere, just in time for my shot.

Best airplane flight ever!

Las Vegas sign, Welcome To Fabulous Las Vegas

The iconic sign welcoming dreamers from around the world.

The Strip

The Vegas skyline.

Over the hump you end up in Pahrump.

Tommasino's in Pahrump: one of the best Italian restaurants I've ever been to.

Red Rock Canyon outside of Las Vegas.

My hair is blowing in the wind and there are cars in Tara's eyes, but I love this picture anyway.

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Out Of This World

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33

My coffee tastes weird this morning.

Not because there’s anything wrong with the brew or the filter or the water. It’s just that, it didn’t come from Tara’s coffeemaker. Little things like that are hard to get used to when you’ve just returned from an amazing trip with the person you love. Don’t even get me started on sleeping alone on the wrong side of the bed last night…

But we’ll see each other again in 15 days. That ain’t bad. And she’s moving out of her house this weekend, the first crucial step toward coming out here. Her plan is to move to Vancouver in March, depending on her job search. She’ll be moving in with me. Just further proof that 2012 is going to rock. We certainly welcomed it in on a high note.

The whole trip was incredible.

Hey Good Lookin’, What’cha Got Cookin’?

Tuesday evening – 8 whole days ago already – I finally got to cook a meal for Tara. I suppose you could technically say I did on Thanksgiving, but that was more a full-blown feast for a bunch of people. This was an intimate candlelit dinner complete with wine (we polished off two bottles together) and music. I made chicken cacciatore, and she praised my culinary abilities. It was a pretty romantic night, that’s for sure.

Good food was definitely a theme for the trip. Tara spoiled me with some pretty tasty meals; Wednesday, she made a chicken and broccoli “braid” incorporating a lattice-like pattern of crescent dough. The whole thing was to die for. Then there were the redneck egg rolls and sesame noodles, the pot roast, the meatballs for the potluck…man alive. I’m so glad I’m dating somebody who knows how to cook. That hasn’t always been the case, and as much as I like to get busy with pots and pans, I don’t want to do that every night, ya know?

Tara ended up taking Thursday and Friday off from work. Fantastic, right? Well, yeah…except for the fact that she worked me like a bitch that first day. We spent a good twelve hours – minus breaks – painting her bedroom in preparation for the renters who will be moving into her house in a few days. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but she wanted taupe walls and a white trim; great color scheme, but a lot of work blending the two. The truth is, even though we were both wiped out by the end of the day, I still enjoyed myself. We had my iPod hooked up to her stereo and listened to good music, and despite our typical two-hour phone conversations every night, still managed to come up with some great conversation topics. Besides, I’d rather spend a day cooped up in a room together painting than 840 miles apart. We drove into Ely for lunch at the All Aboard Inn, a bed-and-breakfast place by the railroad depot that is owned by her friend Tricia. Had delicious stuffed burgers and got to chat with the proprietor for a bit. We finally finished for the day around 10 PM, and relaxed on the couch with some mindless television to keep us occupied. And then we crashed.

Mr. & Mrs. Social 

Friday was better. After relaxing with coffee and old game shows in the morning – Gene Rayburn, R.I.P.! – we finished up the painting, then headed into town. Tara’s cousin’s wife, Andria, was coming down for a visit with her daughter Addison, and we met up at a Mexican restaurant for lunch. After a wonderful margarita and a uniquely delicious cabbage salsa we returned to Tara’s house, where we sat around her kitchen table talking, drinking and playing cards. Jessie and Arturo (sister and sister’s boyfriend) joined us, followed by Tyler (her coworker) and his girlfriend, Emily. Tara made those redneck egg rolls and sesame noodles I mentioned earlier. They were daaamn good, and we all scarfed them down. The drinking continued, and we played Apples To Apples for awhile before graduating to King’s Cup, a – surprise! – drinking game. We wound down by watching Drop Dead Fred on Tara’s VCR. No, I didn’t misspell “DVD player” in case you were wondering. Dria and Addison stayed the night, and Arturo crashed on the couch until 4 AM. The entire evening was a blast. I’m used to spending quiet evenings alone half the time; playing Mr. and Mrs. Social for a change was lots of fun. I’d say our first dinner party as a couple was a big success.

Saturday morning we had coffee and doughnuts and sat around the living room talking with Dria until she had to leave for the drive back to Elko around noon. That evening we entertained again, having Tara’s friends Jessica and Bill over for dinner. The pot roast, mashed potatoes, steamed carrots and homemade rolls were delicious.

They left around 8 PM, and then it was time to go out and PARTY!

10, 9, 8, 7…

I already wrote about how dull and depressing my last New Year’s Eve was. Saturday night was the complete opposite! Our first stop was Racks Bar & Grill, where we met up with Tara’s dad, aunt and uncle, and a couple of others. We had a drink and chatted for awhile, then drove to the Bristlecone Convention Center for the 105th annual Fireman’s Ball. I was a little leery at first when we sat down and the DJ started playing Boot Scootin’ Boogie. I asked Tara when we might hear a Nirvana song, and she laughed. But with plenty of drinks to keep us fueled – I started with gin and tonics and switched to cranberry juice and malibu rum halfway through – plus good conversation, visiting with Tara’s friend Mary, and hanging out with her family, we had a really good time. The music didn’t improve all that much, unless you’re really into Def Leppard and Sir Mix-a-Lot and Big & Rich, but they did throw in some Lady Gaga to keep things current. Tara even got me out on the dance floor for a bit. It’s amazing what you’ll do when you’re too drunk to care. Much sooner than expected, it was one minute until midnight. The DJ counted down the last seconds, balloons dropped from the ceiling, and I had an amazing stroke-of-midnight kiss to welcome in 2012. Ahh…now, that is the proper way to usher in a new year! Especially one so full of promise.

This year is going to rock.

We stayed for another hour, and then walked across the street to the Hotel Nevada, where Mary joined us for a very early breakfast. Chicken fried steak and eggs are the perfect way to stave off a hangover, it turns out. We dropped Mary off and then headed home, falling into bed around 3:30 AM.

Best New Year’s Eve ever.

Sunday morning we were both feeling the effects of the previous night, though I wasn’t too terribly bothered. My stomach felt a little queasy, but at least I didn’t suffer from a headache. Every New Year’s Day Tara’s family gets together for a potluck, and this year the festivities were held at her Uncle Ward’s ranch about an hour south of Ely. We arrived around 2:30, and I was blown away by the size of this place. It’s 330 acres, and I’ve gotta tell you, that’s a lot of land. Ward has cows, chickens, and peacocks, and several ponds filled with trout and sturgeon. Set against the backdrop of the Nevada mountains, the place is stunning. The house itself is a real man cave, complete with the racks of many animals Ward has hunted over the years. Moose, coyote, elk, bobcat, all mounted to the wall. Dria insisted their eyes were following her around the room. I sort of got the same impression myself.

Tara brought meatballs cooked with beer, brown sugar and onion soup mix, as well as deviled eggs. That was just the tip of the iceberg; there were all sorts of appetizers, in addition to ham, turkey, and a 20-lb. yellowfin tuna that had been buried and cooked for hours. The food was amazing, and I enjoyed meeting so many of her family members.

We were back home by 8 PM, and enjoyed a mellow evening at her place. My last night in her house, as a matter of fact. Ever. Which is sort of bittersweet but at the same time, exciting.

Out Of This World

Monday morning we awoke early. I was excited for our trip south. We were headed for Vegas, baby! I was there once before, but it hardly counts; I was 17 and confined to Circus Circus. Not very exciting, and none of the hip new casinos or resorts were around then. We grabbed breakfast to go and hit the road a little after 8:00. Soon we found ourselves on the Extraterrestrial Highway, a swath of Nevada State Route 375 that passes by Area 51 and has been the site of many UFO reports over the years. We stopped in Rachel for cocktails at the Little Ale’Inn, a bar and grill that caters to the UFO crowd with whimsically cheesy decor and, of course, a gift shop. The place looked familiar to me as soon as we walked in, and I quickly realized they had filmed a scene from the movie Paul there. After chatting with the female bartender-slash-owner, who was quite the character, and buying a few souvenirs we were back on the road, eventually hitting Vegas about 2:30. We stopped for lunch at Raising Cane’s, the chicken finger joint I loved so much in Nebraska, before checking into our suite at the Mandalay Bay Resort. Tara had found an excellent deal online, and we ended up paying about $25 each after taking advantage of a coupon she had. Viva Las Vegas!

The hotel was gorgeous, and our room very nice. Especially the jetted jacuzzi tub. I was eager to walk The Strip, so we headed out, visiting New York, New York first, before ending up at the Bellagio, where I made a $50 donation to the City Of Las Vegas. Damn slots! Tara, at least, came out slightly ahead. Oh well, it was fun to actually gamble in Las Vegas. Darkness had fallen when we left, and we stopped to enjoy the Bellagio Fountains before making the trip back to the room. I was overwhelmed by the glitz and glamour of Vegas, and the massive throngs of people walking the streets, even on a Monday night. Despite that, I loved it! We drove out to Henderson to meet up with Tara’s sister Maggie and her friends Betsy and Josh for a late dinner and cocktails before finally returning to our suite. What a busy and fun day, the only downer being that it was our 9th and final night together.

Tuesday we slept in until 7:15, but we had places to go and things to do before that dreaded trip to the airport. After grabbing coffee and scones at Starbucks we bought tickets for the Mandalay Bay Shark Reef, and the Titanic and Bodies exhibits at the Luxor. We toured the aquarium and then, on the way back to the room as we were stepping onto the elevator, a black man with a sideways baseball cap and a large clock around his neck got on. Tara was practically jumping up and down with excitement when she realized it was none other than Flavor Flav, the 80s rap star and member of Public Enemy. I don’t think anybody else on the elevator even knew who he was! We checked out of the room and hit the Luxor for the other two exhibits. Loved them both; Titanic was filled with artifacts from the doomed ship, and Bodies contained the preserved remains of actual cadavers, and was very informative. We stopped at Smashburger for lunch, and then…sigh…made our way to the airport.

Those goodbyes just plain suck.

We Belong Together

I came to a realization during this trip: Tara and I belong together.

That may not seem like an eye-opening statement, but when it comes to relationships there’s a difference between merely being together and belonging. I truly feel like we were meant to be, and our nine days together cemented that. Spending nine days in each other’s company was the perfect litmus test for what it will be like living together, and not only did we not get sick of each other, but we had an amazing time and didn’t want the visit to end. I felt comfortable around her friends and family, and accepted by everybody. We have a wonderful relationship that has blossomed and grown quickly, and I have no doubt it’s the inevitable culmination of our long and enduring friendship. I am eternally grateful that we took a chance on this, because I simply cannot imagine life without her. This feels right in a way that nothing else has, and on the flip side, being apart again like we are now just feels wrong.

So, bring it on, 2012! I’ve never been so excited for a particular year.

Tara lives on this street in Ruth, NV. For a few more days, anyway.

Getting into the spirit(s) at the Bristlecone Convention Center.

Uncle Ward's ranch.

Cruisin' down the Extraterrestrial Highway.

Rachel, NV harbors all sorts of residents...

Must've been illegally parked.

What, no valet service?!

There WERE some odd-looking characters in here...

Inside the Little Ale'Inn Bar. We added a dollar bill to the ceiling.

The infamous Area 51. Notice that weird-looking beam of light coming from the sky?!

Our suite was on the 16th floor.

Vegas, Baby!

The Manhattan Skyline...in Vegas

The Bellagio Fountains coming to life.

Lady Liberty in the desert

Tara rapping with Flavor Flav.

Idaho Meat and Greet

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Friday morning, I foolishly set my alarm for 5:30 AM. Did I really think I wouldn’t be up before then, ready and raring to go?!

Ha. Silly Mark.

When I woke up automatically and checked the clock, it was 4:30. I closed my eyes again in a half-hearted attempt to fall back asleep, but gave up that pursuit eight minutes later. The open road, and the promise of a wonderful weekend with Tara and the kids, was impossible to resist. By 6:30 Audrey, Rusty and I were on the road, the Family Truckster chewing up the miles as we headed east. Direction: Idaho.

The Columbia Gorge was ablaze with fall color, big-leafed golden maples offering a beautiful contrast to the evergreen-carpeted hillsides and affording me with scenery different than what I encountered on my previous trips over the summer. And then we hit dense fog, and freezing temperatures. It was 26 chilly degrees at the first rest area where we stopped. I thought back to my road trip earlier this year, where 90s were a constant and the humidity made me drip. Talk about the difference between night and day.

Then again, so much has changed since then. In every possible way. And all for the better.

We arrived at the hotel in Boise shortly after 2:00 – just fifteen minutes ahead of Tara. The kids and I hung out in the lobby, and suddenly she was there. I swear, {cue romantic sweet talk} just the sight of her makes my heart flutter. That shouldn’t come as a surprise considering all the “you’ve got it bad” comments on my post last week. Yeah, whatever. I admit it! We hugged and kissed, and I introduced her to the Petruska offspring. “I can’t believe I’m standing here in front of you guys,” she said, and it was every bit as surreal a moment for me, too. She’s “known” my kids for many years, since they were 7 and 2, and pretty much watched them grow up…online, of course. Having everybody together in person added a whole new dimension to our relationship, and kicked the “serious” factor up several notches!

After getting settled into our respective (and, I might add, separate – the kids were across the hall) rooms, we headed down to the pool. The hotel was really nice – far better than the Super 8 I stayed at across the street on the 4th of July – and the swimming pool was no exception. It was large, indoors, heated…and filled with saltwater, as we were soon to discover. I hadn’t been swimming in years, but had a lot of fun, even though a certain girlfriend who shall remain nameless decided it would be a hoot to dunk me underwater when I was least expecting it. Turnabout, of course, is fair play. We played a bit of water volleyball with the kids and enjoyed a dip in the hot tub. You know what? Being on vacation is nice! I could get used to the lifestyle.

It was getting late and we hadn’t eaten since before the sun had even come up, so we returned to our rooms, showered, and then headed out to dinner. Our destination? Big Jud’s, a hamburger joint featured on Man V. Food. Tara and I are fans of Adam Richman‘s food series, and actually, the first time we met we went to lunch at Salvador Molly’s in Portland, which had also been one of Adam’s stops. The place was packed full of Boise State Broncos fans, gearing up for the big game on Saturday. Actually, the whole city was awash in blue and orange. They love their college team, those Idahoans do! Big Jud’s claim to fame is a 2-lb. cheeseburger. How could we resist? The burger, a basket of tater tots, a basket of fries, and four drinks only set us back $27.99 – not bad for four people. We split it into quarters, leaving us each with about a 1/2 pound, and somehow managed to devour the whole thing (thanks to some help from Rusty, who is the quintessential teenager-with-an-appetite). The food was delicious, and it was great fun watching everybody get to know each other. We hit a grocery store after dinner, then went back to the hotel for a game of Phase 10. The cards were a great icebreaker (not to mention the beer we had (yes, including me) (but not the kids, of course) and the cookies (Audrey and Rusty devoured the entire bag) and the old-school rap music that Tara fired up) and everybody was getting along wonderfully by the time we finished. We followed that up with another dip in the pool and jacuzzi before returning to our rooms. The candles and mellow music Tara surprised me with made for a sweetly romantic finish to a great first day.

Saturday morning dawned cold and clear; it had rained overnight and then froze, and a dusting of snow covered the Sawtooth Mountains on the outskirts of town. Again, a big difference from my last visit when it was so hot I could barely stand it. None of us had ever been to Cracker Barrel before, so we decided to check them out for breakfast. The food was so good, in fact, that we stopped there again the next morning – but only after learning that Idaho has this lame law where they don’t serve alcohol before 10 AM, killing our hopes of a Bloody Mary before we hit the road. After breakfast we drove through town, stopping at Union Depot for pictures and cruising by the state capital building before heading to Bogus Basin Ski Resort. The lifts weren’t open, but the drive was scenic and we got a chance to play in the snow for a little while. Then it was on to the Old Idaho Penitentiary, an architecturally stunning prison dating back to 1870, when Idaho was still a territory. It housed convicts until 1973, when the state shut it down, and was placed on the National Register of Historic Places. We thought it would be fun to tour the site, especially considering it’s allegedly haunted, and sure enough this was probably the highlight of our trip. We wandered around the place for a couple of hours, checking out the various cellblocks and other buildings, and got to see the gallows where a few condemned convicts were hanged. It was a very creepy and cool place! After returning to the hotel to freshen up, we decided to go see a movie, so we headed to the nearest cinema and caught Real Steel. The film was better than we’d expected – how can you go wrong with boxing robots?? – and we all enjoyed it. It was dark when we exited, and dinnertime, so we headed to a local pizza joint called Flying Pie that was – you guessed it – featured on Man V. Food. The place was crowded and we waited a long time for our pizzas, so when they arrived we scarfed ‘em down. Good stuff, and worth the wait. When we got back to the hotel it was late and we were tired, so Tara and I went to bed. The kids, of course, spent more time at the pool. Guess they had a little more energy than the old folks in the group.

Sunday brought us to the inevitable end of our trip. After breakfast we said goodbye in the parking lot. On the plus side, we only have to go ten days without seeing each other this time around – Tara will be flying into PDX next Wednesday for Thanksgiving, and staying five nights! On the downside, saying goodbye is never going to be easy. When you’ve found somebody you are so compatible with and whose company you enjoy immensely, you don’t ever want to part ways. I’ve been in love before, but this time feels much different. She makes me feel complete to an extent I’m just not used to, which is a wonderful feeling, but it means when we’re apart I feel like there’s a big, empty void in my life.

Alone in the car with the kids, I immediately pounced on them for feedback. They had a great time and like Tara very much. I wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear this; my kids are smart enough to see how awesome a person is, especially one who makes their dad so happy. There was never a doubt in my mind that they wouldn’t fully accept her into their lives.

It feels good to have the initial meeting out of the way, regardless. Next up: my parents!

The 2-lb. burger from Big Jud's. Yes, we ate the whole thing!

Downtown Boise and the adjacent snowcapped Sawtooth Mountains.

View of Idaho's Treasure Valley from the drive to Bogus Basin.

Look how happy and extraordinarily cute we look.

The Old Idaho Penitentiary.

Walking the perimeter of the Old Idaho Pen.

The oldest cellblock in the prison, dating to the 1800s.

Those convicts and their wacky sense of humor!

The gallows were especially creepy. Raymond Snowden died here in 1957, and his ghost allegedly haunts the prison.

Love the architecture!

Poor Cloud Eight

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I’ve been thinking about the phrase “on cloud nine” lately.

Probably because I’ve trotted it out myself recently. When a person is in a state of euphoric bliss they often describe themselves as floating on this aforementioned ninth cloud. Practical logic aside – how exactly does one remain suspended upon a cloud, which is nothing more than a visible mass of water droplets or frozen crystals, unless they’ve got a jet pack strapped to their back? – it’s a nice little phrase that denotes pure happiness. And I don’t know if anybody has picked up on the subtle clues I’ve scattered around my blog, but I’m kinda, sorta in a happy place these days.

On cloud nine, in fact.

Cloud 9 gets all the glory! (Courtesy of mac1388.deviantart.com)

Which is all fine and good, but I’ve started feeling sorry for cloud eight lately. That poor guy is every bit as lofty as his more famous sibling, #9, but will forever remain in his shadow. Nobody ever talks about cloud eight. He’s like the overlooked middle child, the underachiever, the Jan of The Brady Bunch world. Try as hard as he might, he’ll never be as loved or respected as Numero Nueve, even if he conjures up an impressive lightning display or makes it snow in Florida or dumps rain on a drought-infested country or an out-of-control forest fire. It’ll never be good enough. He’s probably got a complex a mile wide.

Even his other brother, #7, has experienced accolades in the past. During much of the 20th Century, if you were happy, you were on cloud seven. How bitter #8 must feel. I’ll bet all the deadliest hurricanes and tornadoes are the result of cloud eight. I’d lash out a little too if I were him. Hell hath no fury like a cloud scorned.

What can I say? I’m a sympathetic guy. This isn’t the first time I’ve felt sorry for a cloud. Maybe I’ll try to coin a new phrase incorporating my overlooked buddy. Perhaps if I read a really good book or eat a delicious meal I’ll say “that was cloud eight, man.” Only…no, that won’t work, will it? There’s still going to be the perception that if you are only willing to elevate something to cloud eight status that it is somehow lacking. Inferior. Not as good as it could have been. “Dinner was amazing. Your pot roast was cloud eight,” for instance, is intended as a compliment to the chef but could be misconstrued instead, leaving the person who did the cooking bemoaning the fact that they were a little heavy handed with the rosemary, or the meat wasn’t quite tender enough.

Sorry, cloud eight. I tried.

Speaking of clouds, I’ve been watching them carefully all week. Tara and I had tentatively planned a trip to Boise this weekend. The kids have no school on Friday, thanks to Veteran’s Day, and she and I have reached the point in our relationship where it’s time for them to meet each other. True, she’s coming up for Thanksgiving in two weeks, but we thought it would be nice to have a fun little weekend together ahead of time, since the kids will only get to see her for a few hours the day she arrives. The capital of Idaho is a convenient meeting place, being roughly halfway between Ely and Portland (it’s 430 miles from me, 382 from her). Though we talked about this a month ago, we didn’t want to make any solid plans because the weather in November can be iffy. I have to traverse two mountain ranges in eastern Oregon, and snow could be a factor. So, we took a let’s-wait-and-see approach depending upon the weather, deciding it wouldn’t be a big deal if the trip never materialized since she’ll be here soon after anyway. The only problem with that? Missing each other during the interim. Though it’s only been sixteen days since we parted ways in Seattle, it’s been a long sixteen days. As we’ve gotten closer and closer to Friday, we’ve wanted this weekend more and more. Last night, we decided to make it official. The weather on Friday looks good. Sunday, when we return home? That’s a little more uncertain. They’re forecasting a chance of rain and snow. I don’t think it will be bad…but then again, if cloud eight is in charge, who knows? Let’s just say we want this badly enough to go for it. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like Rusty and Audrey and I are going to become snowbound somewhere and go all Donner Party on each other. If we encounter bad weather, we’ll deal with it.

In the meantime, we’ll have Friday afternoon, all day Saturday, and Sunday morning together in Boise. We’ve got a bunch of fun activities planned. I’m excited for everybody to meet, and am confident that my girlfriend will win the kids over, and vice-versa. They’re pretty good, as far as kids go – friendly and polite, open and accepting, used to their divorced parents dating and, in their mom’s case, remarrying – and Tara is awesome. I have no doubt that everybody will get along wonderfully, and we’ll have a great time.

Cloud nine? Not good enough. I’m aiming for cloud ten now.