Yellow Buttercup, Helicopters, Orange Buttercat....

Chasing after
The crazy bee
Mad about somebody...

And the summer has come to an end amidst a myriad of music, wine, new friends and a little something called love.  I’ve learnt that America is better than Canada in a lot of ways and a casual arm around the shoulder at the end of an exhausting day can lift one’s spirits and keep them awake and sane for a few more hours.  I’ve fallen in love all over again with the voice and body of my youthful dreams and realised technically excellent does not always translate into mind-blowingly amazing.

Yay Photoshop!

Our trip to Portland started in a whirlwind of funny cookie and misinterpreted directions. When we finally reached our destination for the night, the mishaps continued with a broken glass and no cheese, yes my friends, NO CHEESE. I invite you to imagine a scenario with two tired, slightly high individuals discovering that there was no cheese to be had after spending more than enough hours in a car, on multiple highways, driving aimlessly in America. You’ve got that visual? Good. Now throw in fifteen generous pours on a wine walk with very little food over a two hour time period. Everything you are seeing in your head right now is accurate. My normally stoic and reserved Bestie was giddy with excitement to sit on a random tractor in the dark with thunder and lightning all around while I snapped pictures completely oblivious to the fact that I couldn’t see a bloody thing (apparently neither could the camera).  And that was after we had some fabulous cheeses and other yummies that made up our late dinner.  We arrived back to our hotel just as the rain started and went swimming. Two grown adults loaded with wine, cheese and other delicacies flopping around in a pool at midnight? Check A for Awesome. 

The next day we were off to Portland. We arrived in small neighbourhood called Hawthorne at the home of Dances with Bass’ eccentric friend, Super and his lovely family. We coloured, drank beer and enjoyed a peach and bacon pizza. Once full and slightly buzzed, we headed off to the neighbourhood block party. It seems like every person in this neighbourhood either plays an instrument or their vocal chords. There must have been twenty people on the makeshift stage at one point. Kids were singing, dogs were barking and the neighbours were getting more and more inebriated as time slipped past. If and when I move again, this is the neighbourhood I want to live in. The laissez-faire attitude toward parenting was impressive and everybody just seemed to get along without any ill-will. Super and DwB even managed to walk up to the door of a neighbour at 11:30pm and ask the fourteen year old babysitter if there were any other young girls in the house (they were looking for Super’s twin daughters) without any alarm bells sounding except maybe some strange looks from the babysitter.

I woke up the next morning to Dances with Bass peering into the bedroom. It’s weird how somebody doesn’t need to make a sound for you to know they are there. After some coffee and goodbye hugs, we were off to downtown Portland for some biscuits and a Farmer’s Market. The delights of the market are immeasurable; jellies, vinegars, wines, fresh produce, chocolate, it was all there for the sampling. If you have a really keen sense of smell like me, you can also be lucky enough to catch the overwhelming odour of patchouli and unwashed armpits. Damn hippies. After indulging our senses, we made our way to our hotel, took about half hour to find THE ideal parking spot and then forgot both keys in our room when we ventured out again. Yup, we are that awesome. We shopped, we ate, we drank, we ate some more! We tried on hats, sweaters, dresses, slacks but mostly we walked which is a good thing considering our last stop for the evening…Voodoo Doughnut. I barely managed to gobble up something called an Ol’ Dirty Bastard while DwB tried his hand at two of these monstrosities: the Grape Ape and the Orangatang [sic]. Fuck. The best part of the evening award goes to an interactive moving sculpture we played with for a decent amount of time on our trek back. I’m pretty sure we were both reduced to giggles, inasmuch as two people as cool as us can giggle. *wink*

Perry and Dave

Sunday brought us to some unknown town called Ridgefield, home of the Sleep Country Amphitheatre and Uproar Music Festival aka The Jane’s Addiction Show. I say this because Jane’s blew every other band out of the water; start to finish, every song was tight. Perry Farrell and Dave Navarro were in full strut mode, both looking healthy, fit and happy. From the opening bass line of Mountain Song through Three Days, Been Caught Stealing and into Ocean Size, Stop and ending with Summertime Rolls, I didn’t stop moving, singing or stomping. As I relived my younger years, I fell in love with the band all over again. We saw and sat for Circa Survive and Coheed & Cambria, both awesome in their own way but nothing too outstanding or endearing. Last on the night’s list was Alice in Chains, a band I was really looking forward to seeing. I was pumped after the Jane’s set and ready to rock but found it difficult. Technically, the band was excellent. They powered through all the hits and some new material but there was just no feeling in it. I preferred the visuals provided by the lights and screens over watching the actual band. DwB managed to upgrade our seats to third row so our view was flawless with the exception of the security dude blocking the pit. It was a wonderful evening with great music and an even greater companion.

Dances with Bass

Our last day found us both weary and tired. We made a half-hearted attempt at shopping in the outlet mall but our hearts just weren’t in it, well mine wasn’t anyway. I only came back with one pair of shoes for me. Dances with Bass fared better than I and will look amazing when he puts it all together. I truly envy his purchases. I was happier in the car, singing out of tune with my hand-picked playlist, talking nonsense about nothing in particular and occasionally tipping my head back, opening my mouth and nodding off. We capped the day off with a very late dinner at Denny’s before crossing the border for the last leg of our journey. While I was sad to part ways with my most cherished friend, I was eagerly anticipating seeing my very ill man-person, my baby punky and of course, my Sophie. I crept in to the house, quiet as can be and was met only with a panting doggie wanting some pets and a snoring child on the couch; nothing had changed and it was good to be home.

So while summer may continue for another few weeks, I truly believe it ended with the last notes of Summertime Rolls and a fervent hug goodbye for my best friend.