When the massage therapist arrived on Wednesday night the first thing that she said to me was, “Hey. Did you notice that it’s fall now? Do you remember when that happened?”
“Yeah. At 3:00pm.”
She laughed because I was right. It is starting to be tradition for me to write about the onset of fall. Two years ago I wrote “Fall fell.” after riding home from work in a taxi cab while the sky got just a little bit more inky and the leaves skittered along the lonely streets of SOMA.
It’s always like that for me. One minute it’s still summer and then, bam, fall. Wednesday at three o’clock I turned in my office chair and looked out my window toward Mt. Hood.
“Oh my god.” I said quietly, “It’s fall.”
And it is. The sky is a different shade of blue. There are leaves everywhere.
And last night it poured rain. Glorious, thick, amazing sheets of rain. I put on my green Marmot jacket, pulled the hood down tight and walked down the street to meet Sherry for dinner at the Hedge House. She was on the porch decked in full rain gear (having ridden her bike per usual), sipping a strong beer and waiting. She’d come from a city meeting where they had discussed a proposed bike plan for one of Portland’s huge main drags.
I hugged her and we went inside.
I’m a sucker for the Hedge House. True to form, it’s built in an old converted home. They serve beers from Lompoc Brewery and hearty, homestyle food. Big bricks of sandwiches, hot soup, pita plates, and fantastic salads. On a normal night I eat the Hedge House salad which is loaded with beets, blue cheese, hazelnuts and chicken. It’s my staple.
When you walk in it’s warm and inviting. Honey colored wood booths and the low hum of local diners packed wall to wall. We ate the best macaroni and cheese that I have ever put in my mouth (no contest) and talked about the Race for the Cure on Sunday. She gave me my race t-shirt and I gave her this fabulous bicycle t-shirt that I picked up at Threadless. We talked about her husband’s mother, who is a cancer survivor and my aunt who passed away in 1993 when I was 15 and her daughters, my cousins, were 13 and 7.
We’re excited to throw ourselves into the massive, crazy, semi-drunken cluster that is the Race for the Cure. It’s this Sunday and as a member of Sherry’s team I raised $200 of my $225 goal and I plan to make up the difference today and tomorrow. If you would like to support me with a donation, please shoot me an email and I will send you the link. I am running this Sunday in memory of my Aunt Ann. Portland boasts the 4th largest Race for the cure in the United States… not bad for a little po-dunk down on the west coast, eh?
Stay dry. Fly high.