What is there to say right now, I mean, really. What could I say that wouldn’t simply be responding to the intentional distraction of this rotten, wormwood system we’re so afraid to burn? Nothing. And since I’m exhausted of just seeing my twitter and facebook feeds – even when I agree – I thought, what can I talk about? To what memories do I keep returning?
Erm. But, you know…except in my memory my son isn’t making ridiculous faces. Which, let’s be honest, is almost never. He’s nearly 11, y’all, and I cannot.
So we’re not all facebook friends so you wouldn’t know that at the beginning of last month (WAS IT REALLY SO RECENTLY?!) I was in Portland to see my sister Jen-the-Twin and
her my boys! Of whom I apparently feel squicky about publicly posting pictures! So there’s that ridiculous picture of Ez and I before or after we had an amazing easter pie from …wait for it…Paiku. A Portland food truck. That serves pies, both meat and dessert. Called Paiku. Because OF COURSE. Portland gon’ Portland, y’all.
But if you’ve clicked that link and gone to my sister’s style blog, you already know why Portland exists. For thrifting. And as someone who has drooled over Jen’s various (and numerous) finds, she did what any loving sister would do and hooked. me. up.
Yes, please, $3 jeans. Snatch that, $1.75 skirt that made me feel like a kindergarten teacher from Maui. I bought several-many skirts and they are all wonderful and I have worn them all and there are no pictures BUT.*
This is my actual favorite. Not because it’s blurry, DADDY. (I know you’re reading this.) And not because my husband is totally hilarious. But because WILL YOU PLEASE LOOK AT THIS DRESS?! And, on the very off chance that you are not breakdancing in solidarity with me right now over this almost criminal and obscene gift (did I mention my twin is EVERYTHING?)….I can’t make you love me, if you don’t. You can’t make your heart feel…something it won’t. But there’s the door.
Portland. You sly little rodent, burrowing into my heart and making me consider things I shouldn’t.
And this post wouldn’t be complete without mentioning the lovely Mother Murphy, who took me thrifting in her corner of Quebec last week and who just gets me.
Thrifting does the body good.
*Okay, there is something that I found that LITERALLY (nope) set the rain on fire but I refuse to mention it until I have an accompanying picture because I cataplexy-ed OUT in that thrift shop. Also I need to picture more.