One Year Out

Good evening, friends and neighbors!

​ The hint of fall is in the air as I sit under the blacked-out stars on the patio of the Space Room on Hawthorne.

Usually it’s a lot wilder, with hipsters celebrating the coming of Friday like the weekend was starting Thursday- “Thirsty Thursday” I think some people still call it. I always really liked this kind of weather, where you packed a light hoodie for the morning and evening, but crammed it in your bag during the hot sunlit hours. It certainly seems more pronounced in Oregon than it ever did in New Jersey. I suppose that’s because most of my autumns in New Jersey were home by the sea, not out in the Pinelands or anywhere especially wooded. Even in super-hip and compulsively urban Portland, you can’t forget there are woodlands out there. The trees are starting to change, littering the streets with scarlet and ochre leaves. It’s turning into the time of year that demands light music, whiskey, and warmth.

 

Well, I’m having a martini. Cucumber dill-infused vodka, a refreshing little twist. It’s my Friday. After coming home, stripping off the remains of my work of the last week and zonking out for about an hour, I decided that was break enough, and time to get out among people and back to work.

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I’m A Morning Person

Good afternoon, friends and neighbors!

I love bakers hours.

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“Well f**k you!”
No seriously, I do. People tend to refer to “bakers hours” as a curse or a lamentation, but I really like them. Granted, right now my hours are 6am to 2pm at my current gig, which more or less puts me on the night shift of the baking world, but they are still early enough to make a lot of non-bakers cringe.
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Yeah, I get that look a lot.

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