Been There Done That: Portland Edition

Dearest Daughters,

Let's start at the very beginning; it's a very good place to start.

A long time ago, about four weeks ago, we visited Auntie Katherine's parents in the Northwest.

Babybel, Danjo and I flew in a "hairplane" (as Babybel calls it) all by ourselves. It was only an hour and a half flight so I only had to have two glasses of wine to survive it. The girls shared a glass between them.

Upon arrival, we visited with our dear friends, the Sterretts, in their lovely, lovely, lovely house in their lovely, lovely, lovely neighborhood in Northeast Portland. I burn, I pine, I perish. I want that beautiful Craftsman for my very own. 'Twas a lovely visit to match the loveliness of everything else . We played in the attic playroom while unicorns and fairies serenaded us and brushed our hair. I expect nothing less from the Sterretts. Alas, we had to leave the giant porch and tree swing and magical basement of endless storage capabilities, I mean, our dear friends, the Sterretts.

Then, we visited with Auntie Katherine's parents, not in Portland, actually, but in Vancouver, Washington, just across the Colombia River. They also have an enviable home of which I am envious. More importantly, they have fun toys and good food and a dog named Otis. Auntie Katherine also showed up to play with us, having hopped, skipped and jumped up from Los Angeles for Memorial Day Weekend.

So, here's the thing. Can't find a single photo I took during that trip.

Just imagine alternating rain and sunshine in a land free of sales tax (Portland, at least). Long walks down tree-lined streets in search of puddles to jump in. Finding instead robin egg shells and blooming flowers. Harassing Otis and eating gourmet cheese. Testing limits on staircases. Sleeping in luxury, you in Auntie Katherine's old clown comforter and I in vintage-y beautiful white jacquard dot linens so decadently exclusive they are no longer available to the public, also known as SOLD OUT. Watching and listening to birds. Eating home-caught and cured gravlax and other delicious, but simple things.

Visiting Grandma Jane and Grandpa Jane's house is like coming home. Except my home was never like theirs. So, it's more like going on vacation. Yes, their home and yard is beautiful. There is delicious freshly brewed coffee and the New Yorker. There is comfortable AND beautiful furniture, Oriental rugs and timeless wallpaper. Also, cocktail hour. But, their home doesn't feel like a museum, the way some stylishly-appointed homes do. It is warm and welcoming. And guess, why? Because of the people!

I'm made to feel at home. Neither a fussy guest nor a guest to be fussed over. No one goes around being persnickety (a term I picked up from Auntie Katherine) over toys and a package of wipes left on the ground. The dog eats the food Danjo drops on the floor. No one minded moving the Elmo potty seat when Otis needed a drink. While orderly and serene, their home is well lived-in. Not to mention the extra people to entertain my children. So, going there truly does feel relaxing and refreshing.

While I lust over the real estate in the Northwest, what I realize is truly important is the way that the Sterretts and Grandma Jane and Grandpa James welcomed us into their homes. Subsequently, I am also inspired to whip out the vacuum more than once a month and maybe try to do the dishes before they grow hands and wash themselves (one can always dream!) in hopes of maintaining a semblance of an orderly home. Though, then I would find little time to actually sit and read the New Yorker in my peaceful abode. Therein lies the rub. Until that glorious day (when either my children are long gone, are able to keep the order for me, or the dishes grow hands), I command myself to neither focus on fine furnishings, nor fancy food, but rather, on alliteration.

On being a helpful and heartfelt hostess, not haughty or heinous, of an honest home serving hourly humble, but healthy and hearty hors d'oeuvres, hinting of honeysuckle and hamburger.

Love,

Comments

[Mommy (not yours, but theirs)]

Me too! Me too!

[Auntie Katherine]

Aww, it is pretty nice there! Now I want to go home.