What a difference a day makes. This is what I told my Gramma last night on the phone. She called to see how I was "coming along". We talk everyday now. It's easy to make her laugh. I said "much better! what a difference a day makes!" and she laughed and I explained the glorious slow pace of my day. I feel like I am parting curtains of warm, thick air and easing my way through them just to do it again with the next step. There is a bit of reality in this metaphor. Portland in the springtime is a dreamland. The weather confounds itself. Everything is in bloom except the sun. Blosooms form and fall from every height, coating the street with pin-pricks of color. And behind the blooms are thickets of green, layers of green, shades of green growing higher by the hour. But the rain persists. It feels it belongs in this season as well. And so the days are muggy and lush with dark light and warm rain. Unbelievable. Today I head to Bellingham for two FOF events.

Tonight from 5-8pm at Annie's (1601 E. Street) and Tomorrow from 12-3pm at Teresa's shop Texture (1425 North State Street)

I will be in Bellingham until Monday morning so if you can't make it to the scheduled events, come on by Annie's Sunday evening for leftovers. Sometimes those taste the best.