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Newberg and Mr. Canada

March 30, 2017

So, I’m in Newberg now.

Living with family. Sleeping on an air mattress. Looking for work.

This is a cute little town, but this whole area is constantly tinged with cloud cover and a drizzle. I think I might be getting used to it. I’m not sure.

I saw Mr. Canada again. He drove in last weekend. We stayed at a motel just outside of Portland proper. I think we walked all of downtown Portland. Lots of food trucks and girls with blue hair.

We had fun together. We always have fun together. It’s on the phone that things get dicey sometimes. He gets on my nerves and says the wrong thing too often. He makes me anxious. We had something of a big fight while I was on the road trip. I wasn’t sure it was going to work out. But…so far, he always seems to know how to pull out of it.

In person, I can’t stop looking at him. He’s so goofy and ridiculous, yet he has this dignity and elegance about him. I wanted to kiss him all the time. I felt at home hugging him tight against the drizzle as we waited for a train. I like being with him.

He wasn’t as great with directions as I assumed he would be. That was funny. We fumbled our way across downtown, often walking in circles.

On Saturday, after a morning of walking we went back to the motel for a nap then headed back for dinner to get oysters at a place we had spotted during the day. We passed by a strip club. I suggested we go in after dinner. He thought I was kidding.

Portland is known for its many strip clubs. They consider it performance art. I had never been to one before. It was among other cute little restaurants and bars in a sort of alley with street lights strung across it. It was called the Kit Kat club. I couldn’t resist.

It was less sad than I expected. More funny and entertaining. It was interesting to watch the different methods of attempted seduction and physical skill on the pole. It was like watching Michelle Kwan….but not really. I thought the best one was the blonde who took a more Marilyn Monroe-Josephine Baker approach. She was old school sexy instead of raunchy.

Now, I’m curious to see others. I mean there’s got to be levels, right? Some more talented, more…professional?

Anyway, we had fun. Friday I’m driving to Vancouver to find out just how much his studio apartment smells like cat litter.


Speaking of cat litter.

So, it’s been a week since I arrived. It took a while to feel comfortable in my daughter’s house, as is expected. The kid (as I will call my grandson) is always in trouble and it’s often tense in the house. It makes me uncomfortable. But, Lori and her husband are pretty silly and loving, so when he’s not in trouble it can be fun place to be.

The space I was in was a bit cramped so I rearranged it, went to IKEA and got some storage boxes and arranged all my clothing so I can find things without rummaging through suitcases now. It’s getting better.

I love Mr. Kitty and I’m growing to appreciate the dogs. The roomba Mr. K bought them helps a lot! But that kitty litter. I’m sorry but there is just no amount of litter-science or upkeep that can completely eliminate the undercurrent smell of ammonia. I hate it. I am just not a kitty litter kind of person. That’s not how we rolled on the farm.

The housing here is crazy expensive. I’ll be lucky to get a decent room for $500. A studio apartment will run me a minimum of $800. That probably doesn’t seem like a lot to most of you, but I was renting a huge apartment downtown for $525 in Lafayette.

I told myself I knew how to do this. I’ve started over before.

And this time it’s easier. There’s no divorce. No hateful e-mails and lawyers and emotional drama. It’s just me this time and Mr. Canada bugging me to spend time with him and driving me nuts on the phone.

If I can just get a few freelance gigs under my belt, save some money, build a reputation…..maybe I can springboard from that.

And get used to not seeing the sun.

We’ll see.


From → Rantings

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