5

That's almost the amount of weeks it's been since I posted here but not quite.

I love J. to death, but this is how how his presents oftentimes go: Kind of a misfire. No follow thoruhg. But he does try. I'm thinking of a hot-air balloon ride he once promised me for another birthday -- maybe I was 25? 26? Granted, we only had one day off in common--Sunday--and so it had to be on a Sunday, when the wind was right and when the person who would be giving us said balloon ride (someone he knew) was available. We tried maybe 2-3 times, and it never ended up happening.

I'm pretty sure that guy is dead now.

So here's the deal with the drum lessons. Nothing was scheduled yet. This is a person who works with J. I had to ask J. 3+ times for this person's contact info. Then I got the card. Then I emailed the woman...who got back to me right away.

Oh, J. I love you, but...

Anyway, I emailed her and I might be going this Tuesday or next Thursday if all goes well.

I have to bring:

Drum sticks (size 5a or 5b) and a notebook for her to write in.

Okay, first of all, I didn't know drum sticks came in a size? I thought it was something you had, or something that came with a drum set, or...something that you eat off poultry. That makes me wonder -- what are drumsticks called in other languages? Are they called the same thing as what you play drums with?

Drumstick sizes.

Drumsticks.org, here I come.

More in a bit. I can't research and blog at the same time.

Digression!

Especially since I am sitting outside, on the porch, with my battery rapidly waning, but I don't care because Portland is so.damn.good-smelling right now! We have 80 degrees and so the stuff that normally you don't smell this kind of year (vine on the front gate, I am looking at--and loving!--you) is wafting and intoxicating.

These are the west coast smells I moved here for. The smell of star jasmine (about june or so) ,too. The smell of a west coast morning is ... I wish they could bottle it. More than anything, it makes me feel like I am finally home. Even though I only moved here 3 years ago, I feel that this is where I belong.

I should probably be more versed in local politics, history, that I should immerse myself in what was here well before me. But maybe that's the narcissist, maybe that's the intuition, maybe it's the can't-be-bothered-ness of it all, but right now, I don't care what was before. I am thinking now, and I am thinking about my future, but today it's more of the present, or breathing in this ... this now, and I love it. I have a porch I can sit on, with this smell, it's like...diving into sweetness, the sky is the kind of blue I've never seen back east, the colors are every shade of white and pink and blossoms litter the street like nature's new year's. Because that's what it is.

Good lord, how can spring not be anyone's favorite season?

Except I have wasps in the yard.

Okay, enough about me. And...my battery is low. Lates.