Return down under

Well its finally time to fly back to New Zealand. I now feel that I have two homes, one in Oregon and the one Traveler and I are creating in NZ. I guess I am more torn about this than I realized as I just missed my flight back --- for wonderful and rather silly reasons.
I spent all night worrying about how my baggage situation would work out (they gladly checked it all the way through to Wellington for me and only charged me for one extra bag once) when the real problem was that I forgot to look at my boarding pass and failed to realize that my flight was leaving 45 minutes earlier than when I booked it. So my best friend and I had a lovely breakfast together oblivious that my plane was boarding while we chowed down enjoying a few last moments together:)

Oh well, it gives me an extra couple hours at PDX with its great atmosphere and free wireless Internet while listening to a man chat on a cell phone with a voice nearly identical to Traveler's uncle.

And as I sit here I realize I have ample time to post a few post flood memories...

There was the impromtu gingerbread house making with my honorary niece Aiden, who not only bravely dove in to follow my fearless approach to sugar icing application but also tolerated me braiding her hair to pull it out of the sugar zone...

I do hope I get a photo of the finished project
Then there was my family's day trip to the spectacular Oregon coast. There are few coastlines that rival Oregon's for awesome scenic power. After the recent storm we weren't sure what we would find... there were plenty of subtle signs of the damage, but most of it had been already cleaned up. Saturday's weather was perfect. Not too cold and uncharacteristically sunny. What the Oregon coast offers up in beauty, it pays for in windy chilliness.
We were there on official family business; It seemed fitting to mark my 29th birthday by giving up my paternal grandparents ashes to the Ocean, as was their wish. It was a simple affair marked my father's brief words (with lengthier pontifications on the car ride down) that I think would make anyone proud.

In Ketty tradition, we ate a good meal together. My grandma was always giving you some cash to take yourself out for a good meal. My only food memory stronger than this was her insistence to send me with tin foil wrapped pork chops on the plane.
This beach is were I spent much of my summer childhood. I was sure I'd get married there. Instead its become a touchstone of key moments for me. It was were I went before my surgery that may have forever changes our options for growing our family. Its where I took Traveler to try to reveal a bit more about who I was as a kid. Now in spite of the sunniness above, Oregon is known for rain. I've read novels where people talk about how Oregon houses all covered moss. This is not something that I associate particularly with Oregon, but near my best friend's house I saw this:

And really, you know that you are home in the presence of the best friend ever when you wake up in her house long after she's left for work to see this.... ... she has not only saved a toothbrush she gave you on your last visit in anticipation of your return, but remembered where it was and laid it out for you to find when you finally woke.

Other memories include my day in the city with Mom... shopping our hearts out, although I did have the will power to pass on these boots that I guiltily desired but realized the money would bring me way more joy spent on food, or camping gear, or bike lights or... well a million things really.
And nothing is as priceless as noticing new things about your home. For example I never noticed that if you get high enough in the Gallery parking lot you can see the hills in the distance!

We selected a tree to chop

I attempted to recreate Alex and Sean's wonderful Peruvian Chicken Soup with limited success..
But it feed us until birthday cake time
I even altered my own pants, which really isn't as hard as I thought it would be. Pinning is a more useful activity than I've ever really let myself believe before. It also was a reality check on how much my body has changed in this past year. I've never really had to alter my clothes before (other than altering great Goodwill finds that a different sized body previously loved).

Which brings me back to my dear Grandma Ketty. Next to my mom's sewing machine was this box. I'm nosy, I peered inside. It was filled with sewing notions that belonged to grandma. Maybe its technically “the modern day” but I bet more of us women than you'd likely suspect have a sewing box tucked away in each of our houses. We may not use them often, but we often do have one...