Isabella Bird Miscellany

tonalli's doughnut shop on the corner of ne alberta, pdx each morning they’d meet at the coffee shop on main street, the one located between the bank and the barber shop the counter was covered with turquoise laminate sprinkled with what looked like leftover toast crumbs black vinyl swivel stools waited for patrons it smelled of black coffee, fried eggs and doughnuts white, thick-rimmed mugs were etched with coffee stains the neon sign flickering “open” clicked on at 5:30 each morning one by one, they filtered in, taking their designated seats …and the banter began it was a game the old guys played every day, at the coffee shop We all like having a spot to go, to belong, where we find our friendships. Today, we call them meet-up groups or intentional community.  What used to just happen organically, now takes scheduling and might not happen for weeks on end. Case in point, I'm having lunch with one of my sisters today that I haven't seen...

life in a crack We left the city yesterday, wet leaves covered sidewalks; brown and at the end of their season. It had been nice to walk neighborhoods, dart into cafes for coffee or a drink. It was grey in a melancholy sort of way, with a fresh breeze. Being reminded of traffic, activity, and people. The places we gravitate filled with the not-mainstream people. I’m intrigued with their stories and thoughts, often different from mine. Bridges and highways, buildings old and new, some dilapidated, others restored. The rush and crush continues, all covered with leaves set in grey. Written in Seaside, about Portland while in our hip, urban loft-esque industrial hotel. Missy If you have been mildly amused, challenged or inspired by what you have read, please pass on my blog to a friend, colleague, family member or even random acquaintance