IT IS BEST TO START FROM THE BEGINNING, SO I RECOMMEND READING THE TWO BLOGS BEFORE THIS IF YOU HAVE NOT ALREADY
An excerpt from a letter.
What follows is one hundred percent fact. I would swear to that, if it were not for the two relatively minor embellishments for literary effect. See if you can spot them.
Due time has arrived.
Now for the final explanation as to why my toes are swollen.
We come full circle back to Pseudosix.
As you might recall, they were the band I first went to back in June with Amber. They had a concert last Friday evening with another band I enjoy, Viva Voce.
As the concert approached, I grew in excitement. Amber decided she was interested in going with me. We had a nice dinner before the show.
You see, the weekend prior to the concert, Amber and I participated in a fairly organized scavenger hunt through downtown portland. We ran around solving clues either on our own or with the help of street people and friends via telephone.
While we didn't win., we did walk away with a few gift certificates, one of which was to the italian restaurant that we went to before the concert. After enjoying pasta, bruschetta, sangria,
and yumminess, we decided to walk to the venue for the show.
We arrived on time.
We stayed through the whole show.
I did not see any ghosts from my past.
All in all it was a great concert.
On the walk home we took off our shoes and walked down the middle of the street barefoot,
stepping gingerly so as to avoid injuring our feet.
As you might suspect, I am about to unveil how I hurt my two toes.
Well, you suspect wrong.
We got to her place safely and undammaged.
The next day was relaxing and productive. Late in the day I made plans to hang out with Ula. It evolved into a makeshift pajama party.
We sat on her porch drinking wine. She was in her Eyore pajamas
and I was in my penguin pajamas. We talked late into the night, taking breaks only to laugh. This has nothing to do with my toes, but it was a pleasant sidestory. My toes were safely covered by my University of Oregon slippers.
I walked home later that night, and fell asleep, not waking until late Sunday afternoon. When I awoke, I spoke to amber about a house warming/Game night party at my friend Johnny's. She sounded interested in going, so I picked her up and we walked to his place. There was plenty of relaxing fun to be had. We played scrabble (a favorite of mine) and boggle.
We also barbecued up some brats….brawts…however it is spelled.
So few things in the world are as great as putting some brats on the grill.
That being said, it was a delightful evening. After the gaming and grilling Amber and I walked to her place.
The next morning we had coffee, at Portland Coffee House
… a fairly regular morning ritual for us. As we waited for the barista to finish pouring our drinks, I swept her into my arm, where we danced around the coffee house.
It was an unusually slow morning, so we had the place to ourselves. As we swung around the place, our barista smiled at us, saying how cute we were. Magic poured out of us, settling on the floor, to be kicked up later in the day by some unsuspecting patron… who imaginably would later find themselves falling asleep that night a smile on their face.
Magic… It is what the two of us have always spread, be it intentional or unintentional. I remember once running around town, asking couples if the were in love. If the said yes (which they all did), we handed them a beer, compliments of the beer fairies. When the two of us travel on the same wavelength, we glow magic for those around us,
be it our baristas, random commuters, or some guy ordering a burger from a roach coach.
Lately though, the smoke has disippated. The mirrors have broken…
and the magic that we once had, has dissolved to the work of amateurs… But it still surfaced once and awhile.
And do you know why?
Magic
Does
Not
Die.
That afternoon I got off of work with intentions of heading home. Amber happened to be getting off of work at the same time… such is the life of the nine-to-fivers of the world.
We decided to take the max home together.
I had resolved to go home and write.
Amber asked me to come over for dinner. She was making pesto.
A quandary. I was tired. I had spent the last few evenings with her. I wanted to write.
But…always a but… she was offering to make me a dinner, and watch an Audrey Tautou movie with me. It meant I would not get a chance to write… But it also meant I would get a delicious home cooked pesto dinner.
The pen and paper would always be there.
Pesto, Audrey Tautou, and Amber would not.
I opted to join her for dinner.
But I was tired.
We arrived at her apartment, where she set to work making homemade pesto with pasta. I layed down on her kitchen floor, as I had many times before. We talked a bit, but I needed a nap. I retired to her bed.
As I was laying there, I started to think back to my summer experiences with her. She was a good friend.
She was my coworker with my some of my architecture.
She was one of two financial donors to my "Sand in The City" cause.
She was my support at my ten year high school reunion.
She was my photographer and biggest fan at my softball games.
She was my summer concert goer.
She was my midnight barefoot walking cohort.
She was my game playing, brat grilling, party going friend.
She was my coffee regular, and fellow magician.
And she was my dinner cooking fellow film critic.
She was my summertwin.
I leapt to my feet to tell her how thankful I was that she was my friend. I ran to her to proclaim my sincere gratitude to her, for her presence in my life. As I ran to her, I slammed my foot into her pink gym weights.
I crumpled whimpering with my feet in my hand. She came to my aid, without laughing.
That is how I hurt my toes.
