Found

I'm back.
I blame my three-week hiatus on messiness involved in relocating to house #33 location: Portland, Oregon. Yes, we've moved yet again but this time we hope for a longer stint in the Pacific Northwest. A brief synopsis of our last weeks include; a comical dance with a 45-pound-ill-fitting trailer hitch; a finale fire in our beloved fire pit along with bowls of homemade huckleberry sorbet; a weekend yard sale; hours of head scratching moments of Where did all of this crap come from? chased with mad packing; highly unrecommended chlorine aromatherapy; repeated shuttles to local booksellers and the Goodwill; and a mind-numbing 12-hour night drive to the place we now call home.

And now that we've been here a week it's beginning to feel like home. Our little house is situated in the historic neighborhood of Laurelhurst right off the main drag of Burnside Street, the divider of the north and southeast regions. All this means is were relatively centrally located with the quiet perks of neighborliness. A portrait of the workhorses:

Now imagine the Jeep towing an overburdened 5' x 8' U-haul trailer Edo as pilot, following the taillights of a road weary red Civic. In the pace car, podcasts of arcane history about the Tuskegee airmen, Blackbeard, Bonnie and Clyde and a paper mache deer strapped in the front seat. The backdrop of night peppered with a few broken walkie-talkie chats and you have our Missoula-Portland trek in a nutshell. Welcome Home.