A Green Christmas

It's been seven years since I lived in the Pacific Northwest during the winter, and I have to say, as much as I hate the snow it's a little weird to be coming into December without it. 

And Then There Were Four

I attended my very first concert in 2007. Snow Patrol, a new listen for me, and OK Go opened the concert for them. It was a cold March night in Salt Lake, and I went with a boy who'd broken up with me a month before, but we were still friends. The concert was loud and overwhelming, but so fun, and the lead singer shared a great anecdote about singing Set Fire to the Third Bar in San Diego.

Really crappy photo taken on a phone before the iPhone existed.

My next concert happened a little over a year later. In May 2008, while home for the summer, I drove with Kirs and her good friend Sarah out to Bend to see Death Cab for Cutie, with The Decemberists and Mates of State opening. As we waited to get in we could hear the band tuning, and as they ran through What Sarah Said it started to rain and the entire line began to sing along with the band. It was magical.

Kirs and I waiting in line.

Sarah and I at the concert. We were smashed up in the front.

My last concert was probably the most fun. While I was in Jerusalem Kait and Erik started dating, and they got engaged the following May. I discovered Erik's love for Kelly Clarkson on Kaitlyn's birthday, and that spring of 2009 when Kait was home in Oregon but Erik and I were still in Provo I accompanied him to the Kelly Clarkson concert at UVU. I have only seen Erik more excited one other time in our friendship (the day he and Kait got married) than when we went to that concert. He was beaming; it was just as much fun to watch Erik as it was to watch Kelly Clarkson. And her live version of Miss Independent was better than any recording possible.

A double rainbow over the stage. The rain was rockin'.

Tonight will be my fourth, and quite probably best, concert. At 7:00 p.m. in the TD Gardens, McCall and I will dance like crazy people while listening to Coldplay. I finally get to wear the glow-in-the-dark musically-coordinated bracelets, and see the patented Coldplay confetti. I can't wait. 

Flying Cross Country

When you're traveling for freaking twelve hours, you really need some quality entertainment. Today's will include the following:

Books, obviously.

And perhaps when my eyes are tired, some tunes.

And perhaps some shows.

Happy travels.

I woke up to the sound of rain

I'm learning an odd phenomenon about Boston: it precipitates quite frequently in the summer.



Unlike my beloved Oregon, Boston is still rather muggy. Though, the rain does break the humidity to a certain extent. But as I walked to the T with my umbrella this morning, I was forcefully reminded of a conversation I once had with Malone. We were sitting in Room 155 in what must have been June, and a few newspaper staffers started complaining that it looked like rain. Malone turned to me and said, "You know how there are people who get depressed when they don't see the sun for long periods of time? I get grouchy if it stays sunny too long. I need the rain." And sure enough, when it started to pour an hour or so later, he had a huge grin on his face.


As I walked to the T with my umbrella this morning, I couldn't stop grinning at the rain.



Image from CC Secretly Ironic on Flickr.

Lovin' on Portland

We did a lot of fun things while I was home: Burgerville seasonal shakes, The Dark Knight with Tanner, Murry's puppies, Boggle, delicious berry cobbler and a goat, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part I with Jessie, the train game, Psych. But I think my favorite fun things happened in Portland.

On Saturday we went downtown and rode the streetcar from OHSU to NW 23rd Street. It was rainy, which was perfect Oregon weather (even if 3/4 of the family complained).

Dad and the Jessiebelle on the streetcar.

Jake's for lunch. A Portland landmark. Also a place that displays real desserts, not plastic ones. Tanner wasn't aware.

We tried on hats. Cowboygirl Jessiebelle.

Charlie Chaplain?

I told them to be in character. They did well.

Kentucky Derby, here we come.

Portland's version of the T. Except that that's really MAX. This was more fun.

View from the OHSU tram.

From the tram again.

I caught the other tram as it passed! I am a speedy-fast-like-a-jackal photographer.

Dad and Megan on the OHSU tram.

Lunch was delicious, and the OHSU tram was not nearly as terrifying as I thought it would be. In fact, it isn't terrifying at all. I'd ride it again.


Tuesday following I drove up to N Mississippi Street to have "coffee" with Malone (he drinks coffee, I drink hot chocolate). Never been there before, but I found it without incident and even parked on the curb. Of course, finding my way to a parking spot in NW Portland afterward was not so easy; I panicked and stopped six blocks too soon. But I was able to spend a lovely lunch with my kind of old but really more new friend, Charlotte. We both love blog stalking, Gilmore Girls, proper punctuation, and Bones. It was meant to be.

And what's a trip to Portland without a trip to Powell's?

Incomplete, that's what. Hello, three Salman Rushdie books for $27.

I don't blog while on vacation

At least not this one.


But I'll need something to help me stay awake through eight hours of work after a red eye tomorrow, so heads up for

Portland
Voice recitals
A lame goat
Puppies
Boggle
Burgerville
Powell's

My bags are packed, I'm ready to go

Lovely little coincidence I realized: it's my movingversary!

I am leaving on a jet plane in 9.5 hours to go stay here for six days.

Minus the Honda Accord that was my transportation summer of '08. And minus the rhododendron bushes that were transplanted to the back yard.


Eleven years ago I left this house to go to that one (sans Honda and rhododendrons).

Photo taken from Google Maps.

But they painted the house and ruined the yard. When we lived there it was white with black trim and had a lovely red front door. And the grass was alive. And there were flowers.


So I'm traveling on the same day to the same place, I'm just leaving this house instead.

Also taken from Google Maps, because apparently I don't have a photo of my own house.

Bye, Boston.

In Memoriam

Photo of Provo City Cemetery found here

I’ve always loved Memorial Day weekend. Not because of the weather or the day off or the soldiers (sorry). No, I loved it because it meant a weekend with Dad.

Every Memorial Day weekend that I can remember existing meant Mom would pack a small bag of clothing, a large bag of photos and paper, and fly to Provo, Utah, to spend three solid days scrapbooking and eating M&Ms with Krista and Shelly. While she was there, we would play games and go on adventures with Dad, often involving a trip to Sweet Tomatoes and maybe a bike ride. The best part, though, was that on one night during the weekend, Dad would let us eat ice cream in his bed!

(DON'T TELL MOM!)

In later years, my favorite part shifted from the bedroom ice cream to the small Memorial Day service held at the Winona Cemetery. Some things are said by the cemetery committee, Taps is played, fighter planes fly overhead. We were always given small red poppies to wear. And sometimes cookies to eat.

The two summers I spent in Provo I was sad to know I wouldn’t be going to the Winona Cemetery or eating ice cream in bed. I was able to participate in the scrapbooking weekend (albeit somewhat begrudgingly included by my mother), but it wasn’t quite the same. The Monday following Memorial Day, though, I went to the Provo City Cemetery with my ward to clean up all the flowers left there the week prior. That was always a good experience, particularly when they let me drive the truck with the bed-load of flowers to the dumpster.

This Memorial Day I’ll be heading to the Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge. Gotta keep some traditions alive, right? Maybe when I get home I’ll eat ice cream in bed.

I love my Ducks

One of our favorite Christmas treats in the Mitton home is the Burgerville seasonal chocolate peppermint milkshake. The balance between the chocolate and peppermint flavors is beautiful, the peppermint chunks are just the right size, and the shake is always thick and creamy. Delicious. So when Mom and I were returning from a semi-successful shopping trip yesterday, we stopped at the drive-thru to get Yukon Gold fries (also delicious) and check if they had any chocolate peppermint shakes left.

They didn't.

However, the voice in the machine did inform us that they had a peppermint shake, "just arrived today," said the voice. "It's green peppermint, and it comes with yellow sprinkles." My mother looked at me dubiously. "Should we try it?" she whispered. I nodded, stipulating, "Let's just get one and share it."

We really ought to have more faith in the institution that is Burgerville. It came out all lovely, tasting like a sip of Schwan's peppermint ice cream in liquid form (because we all know they have the best peppermint ice cream). We were puzzled a little by the specifications of green peppermint and yellow sprinkles given by the voice, until I read the receipt.

Yes, even Burgerville loves our Ducks.

Murry, Murry, he's so furry

Brinkley is my dog. He loves the streets of New York as much as I do; although he likes to eat bits of pizza and bagel off the street, and I prefer to buy them. Brinkley is a great catcher and was offered a tryout on the Mets farm team, but he chose to stay with me so he could spend 18 hours a day sleeping on a large green pillow the size of an inner tube.

 So says Joe Fox. F-O-X.

Murry is my dog. He has never been to New York, and he does not eat bits of bagel or pizza. He does like the streets of Tualatin, though, as well as Tillamook cheese.

Normally, Murry is a happy, bouncy, well-behaved pup. But today he looked more like this:

Megan is gone and the kids went back to school. That means no one to play with except me and Mom. But Mom gets busy and I run out of dog game ideas.

Poor Murry.

Jessie and I tried to cheer him up.

I don't know if we succeeded or not. He ran away from us. Occasionally he's a taciturn dog.


We love him anyway.

Home for Christmas

So after a very long day of travel with these distractions

I made it home.

I think I like the Salt Lake--Portland flight much better than I like the Boston--Portland flight.

Either way, I'm here. And I've started compiling a list titled, "Why Christmases in Oregon Are Better than in Any Other State---Or Anything in Oregon, for that Matter"

• Weather in the 40s. You don't freeze while walking the dog!
• Lots of green, so the whole city looks like Christmas.
• People put up lights. (They don't seem to do this in Boston.)
• Chocolate peppermint milkshakes at Burgerville.
• They have egg nog milkshakes too, but I don't like egg nog.
• You can go to the coast and have the same weather as in June.
• A trip to Powell's with Christmas money (or other money).
• Contributions, cinnamon rolls, fudge, caramel, clues, and other Christmas miracles.

Although that last one might go under the list titled, "Why Mitton Christmases Are Better than Any Others".

DC Day Dos

This whole humidity thing is not so fun. Maybe the Universe hates me; they say it's been really nice up until I got here.

But even with the humidity, yesterday was a good day. Worked on some publishing stuff in the morning and the Andy played hooky and went into the city with me to meet up with uncles Ryan and Land Baron Bruce. (He didn't really play hooky, he just got shingles and his principal didn't want him teaching a bunch of kindergarten girls. Haha.)

We saw some pretty cool stuff, and it was a great group to be with to do so. Our first stop was the Department of Treasury where we got to take a tour to see how money is made. It is made very similarly to Nike signage and gift card packaging; I felt a little like I was out on the floor at WG&D/PC. It was amazing to see all that money and all the stuff they do to try to secure it. We also got to see the new 100 bill, which should be coming out on 10 February 2011, although the security guard in the gift shop said they might have to delay it a bit.

Next stops, two more museums. This has been a museum-filled week. Smaller ones that none of us had seen before, the Freer and the Hishhorn, which contained a lot of Asian artwork and pottery and then a bunch of modern art. The Freer had a tiny Egypt room as well, but it sadly does not compare to the MFA. I think one of our favorite Hishhorn pieces was probably this one:

We could touch it and didn't set off any alarms. Although that's probably still frowned upon.

After parting ways Andy and I walked around the mall a little bit (not the shopping, the historical one) before heading back to his apartment to meet up with his roommate for dinner. We took the metro to Alexandria and wandered around before they forced me to make a decision on the restaurant ("You chose to visit, you have to decide. If this were your last meal, you'll be executed in a few hours . . ."). We went to a Spanish place and ordered tapas. Some of them were really good, others not so much. The salmon and asparagus were particularly delicious. But I really liked Alexandria, Kevin called it quaint; lots of brick buildings, trees, a lot of small shops, everything felt older. It was nice. We also talked a lot about the Masons, and apparently we know very little.

Andy and I spent the rest of the night watching TV, eating Ben&Jerry's Chubby Hubby ice cream (so, so good), and talking about important things in his life, and in mine. It was relaxing, and it was nice to actually have a real conversation in person. We usually only see each other for a brief time at Christmas.

Lincoln City

Three days in a house with thirty people, sixteen of those under the age of sixteen and ten of those under the age of ten?

Ten under ten. In one house.

One house.

I'm not quite recovered yet, although it was not nearly as bad as it sounds. But it was as loud as it sounds.

We did all the Oregon Coast traditions: Mo's, Depoe Bay, salt water taffy, tide pools, sea shell hunting, walks in the windy rainshine.

We did all the Mitton traditions: pinochle, contribution night, cinnamon rolls, puns, and the general jest and merriment of the uncles together.

It was a good reunion with no major physical or emotional injuries. Although, Tanner, I am sorry I did not bid on the double pinochle. I wasn't thinking. I promise next time I get one I'll take the hand, regardless of my other cards.