A Meaningful Life

I initially wrote something drifty and pretentious on this subject and I would like to strike it all and simply say - sometimes it is hard to take a leap into the unknown but the rewards are worth it. I made a change from a large, mature company to a young, developing one. They say it takes 6 months to acclimate to a new job - I laugh in the face of whoever came up with that one. The part of me that loves manic, insane challenges is doing a happy dance.

The Shining

I have no idea why I do this (yes, I do) but sometimes when I am alone I start imagining my life as the setting for a horror film (cue the time my babysitter took us to a showing of The Shining when I was six years old. Would love to say she never babysat for us again but sugar babies and coke with crushed ice was involved and let's just say the bribery worked - until guilt and nightmares had me spilling the beans to mom.)

So give me an empty house like tonight and I suddenly hear weird noises from the basement.

Somehow when my son is around, my thoughts never go to a dark place. Some kind of momma bear instinct keeps me from ever letting the boogie man take up even a millimeter of space in my musings. The keeper of safe dreams cannot be a wimp!

On business trips, however, I find my thoughts often take a more fanciful turn. I usually go to the same cities and with three main time zones to work from, every hour is taken up with work. I keep thinking about returning with the family for a proper exploration - but who wants to vacation where you work from?

So I tend to fit my sightseeing in on walks around my hotel. Sometimes for an early morning espresso but usually for a late night decaf cappuccino when I can't sleep (time change) and I figure I'll walk a few blocks to mingle with the homeless, the students and weird sleepless strangers like me. Maybe its these tiny cracks of exploration into a new place that gets my imagination going. Maybe its being on my own away from the familiar (and my husband).

My latest trip had me in a new wing (new to me but ancient-old for the hotel). They were booked up with conventions and I was tucked away on a floor where I saw absolutely NO ONE else on that floor for three days. Apparently it is the last area to be remodeled.

Sometimes I would hear voices but never actually saw a single person.

To make the situation creepier, the entire floor reminded me of...(you guessed it) The Overlook Hotel, aka the hotel in the movie The Shining! If you don't believe me, have a gander...

My room was at the end of a hall right next to a creepy metal stairway. One night before turning in I peeped through the keyhole and just freaked myself out by imagining something white move very quickly past my door. Cue palpating heart and moving desk chair in front of the door.

Like that would help! I've seen enough films to know for fact that if a crazy, psychotic fiend wants to chop you up with lawn tools, they have a way of making that happen.

So I ignored it. But not before taking a picture in hopes of preserving my silly bout of imagination for morning chuckles. It did the opposite. The next night I stepped out of the elevator in total silence and walked calmly about six feet before shedding my heels to hightail it with barely suppressed squeals all the way to my room with shoes, briefcase and card key in hand. Darn that babysitter and Jack Nicholson's crazy eyebrows!

For some reason my hotels are frequently surrounded by addicts who get more aggressive at night and often follow me down the block chanting "...gimmemoneygirlgimmemoney
girlcantyouhearmeIsaidgivememoneygirl" while I am clinging to my Starbucks cup (fake, polite smile, check! No eye contact with the strange limping man on my left, check!) and trying hard to pretend to be Mary Moore on a sunny stroll while considering where to toss the coffee if anyone actually tries to grab me. This happens in well lit streets with police officers on every corner so its not like I am walking down alleyways.

Before you think me totally heartless, living in New York for so many years has taught me never to give money to strangers at night - it is a bit like the children's book Give a Moose a Muffin? It is creepy to be followed by someone who also text their friends down the block to note you are a sure thing and otherwise make you regret the impulse - especially when they look at the three dollars you have given them and begin a discourse on inflation and the cost of failing the homeless in distopian societies. So I stick to daytime assistance.

Enough getting off track! Not sure why I work myself up yet reading this post I think I will avoid late night wanderings for coffee and see if that doesn't stop the over active imaginings from taking a hike. I am also going to tuck a chair beneath the basement doorknob and check the alarm - just to feel better.

Sheryl and Martha

So I've been doing some deep cleaning and gathered a ton of old magazines for the recycling center. Struck by the contrast in a Time cover on a leading business woman and a famous guide for serious homemaking, I snapped a photo of the two together as they seem to reflect the contrast (or duality?) of my interests in some strange way. That sounds pompous and far too self indulgent - do over - let's just say that it seemed ironic. I have a switch that allows me to be both work focused and Mommy minded very easily - although rarely at the same time. I am getting better at switching between the two much faster.

Lean In by Sheryl Sandberg is old news but certainly earned its PR stripes. Valuable thoughts yet not very innovative. My own takeaways are that we have to stop looking askance at older men mentoring young women, that we women tend to build our own stumbling blocks and when you are invited to the table, take a seat. Many more.

It is admirable when the Sheryls and the Marissa Mayer's of the world succeed. Succeed big. I unfurl my girl flag and woop it up (figuratively.)Yet I also know like I know my name that they did not succeed BECAUSE they are women. It is great that they may, and the world may, identify their success with their gender. But the truth is that these are exceptionally intelligent and talented people who work very hard.

Perhaps I am naive yet beneath all the layers of influence defined by generational and cultural messages I think a greater truth exists - a natural understanding that we are equal contributors valued by our individual talents and drive. And isn't that what is truly amazing?

Routine

I am grateful that most days feel very different and always interesting. Every day is a choice. A choice to be giving. A choice to be kind. A choice to avoid the merry-go-round of negative thinking and to rejoice in all the positive that surrounds us all if we only look for it.

It is not always easy. Last week for example, I found myself in Brooklyn for a deposition (not personal) and one of those giant, union blow-up rats was parked outside the office I had to visit. Traffic had been terrible and I was not looking forward to the next several hours. Yet I noticed the Brooklyn Bridge and thought how marvelous it looked in the morning light.

 

 

 

Even normal routines are full of grace. The strangers who wish me a good day. My child's first warm hug good morning. My husband's terrible jokes and excellent timing. An uplifting chat with an old friend.  Finding a solution that simplifies the complicated and saves time and resources. Partnering with a smart colleague over a challenging project. Intellectually stretching in all the areas that hold my interest, even those that lay dormant for this moment in time. A new song that captures some elusive tie to a million happy moments.

 

 

The chance to improve and grow into the best self I can be. My normal routine is never actually "normal" as much as it is embracing the amazing in the ordinary. Sometimes I enjoy the rush and juggling so much that I forget to breathe. And in those seconds when I do stop and notice all the small things, I see how the small things make for an excellent life that I am grateful for.

Manners for Children

Most recently, we've had a refocus on good manners in our home (any mother of young boys understands why the focus!)  So I was very happy to discover a series of books written by the great Wilbur Munro Leaf (The Story of Ferdinand) and boy how I love these! I first found a couple of these from the library before locating the entire collection on Amazon and eBay.

Written in the 1940s, they predate the embrace of individualism and entitlement

our culture has experienced over the last few decades. They strip it down to the valid truth that it is important to get along well with other people. None of us can thrive to our full potential alone in a bubble.

In a time where it is so easy to be plugged in and tuned out from living people,

the critical skills of socialisation and self -discipline seem lost. We want to teach him the value of a good strong handshake and the importance of honesty, fairness, strength of character and wisdom. How to Behave and Why covers these topics charmingly. We have other books on manners but these are so simple and clear, with fun illustrations.

There is so much magic that happens when people connect, support and

share their knowledge and friendship. He is already learning the lessons of teamwork but in time he will need to work on many teams with many different personalities.

Manner and good behaviour go beyond 'rules', incentives and "because I said so" - it is a personal choice that we all make and I hope he learns that manners go beyond chewing with his mouth closed or elbows off the table. It is understanding that manners are also about other people (gasp!) and the the value of actually caring what others think about us (double gasp!) and setting examples. And let's be honest, it is also a little bit about putting the cap back on the toothpaste and using a napkin. :)

Books with Boys

How I love the scent of new books! As far as I can remember I've loved to read. Biographies, novels, subjects that pique my interest (most recently my bedside table is covered with books on handwriting analysis and juicing although anyone looking for a good read should try Angelfall by Susan Ee) - there is little discrimination. Anyone visiting my home would agree that books figure prominently in my decorating scheme - and not in a deliberate manner.

 

Books on shelves are in order of subject and author but those stacked on floors, tables and chairs are fair game and only in order of when they were last picked up. It is the only area that I allow a bit of latitude before conducting bi-weekly book sweeps of our home, placing everything in temporary order. And now that our son has discovered a love of reading we are finding his books all interspersed with ours. It is a lovely discovery and so nice to experience the wonder of books all over again through his eyes.

After reading many, many books to, with and by our son, he finally got the reading bug with the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series by Jeff Kinney. It is the first book collection that he had avidly read over and over again, on his own and just because it's fun.

 

After many happy hours spent with Harry Potter, Encyclopedia Brown, Ralph Mouse, the Ingalls and Percy Jackson this is the series that grabbed him the most. They are pretty funny so I appreciate his taste - although what matters to us is that he organically develops a LOVE OF READING. It will serve him his entire life and can never be forced or he will always avoid it - perceiving it as a chore, which would be such a sad shame.

 

Stories open us to worlds we might never explore, people we might never have known and adventures beyond our own lives. They teach us to be humble, to appreciate the vantage points of other people and teach lessons usually only learned through personal experience. Yea, reading!

 

 

 

Best Coffee Ever

I've said it before and I will say it again.

Stumptown = Best.Coffee.Ever.

Beginning Spellers

So I was at the market wrapping up a short shop when I spied the last item on my list.
I laughed so hard strangers began giving me a wide berth.

 

Apparently our second grader didn't want us to forget brown sugar for his oatmeal.
I imagined him climbing up with a step stool to reach where we tend to keep this.
And yes - our on the go handwriting really is this messy!

American Road Trip!

This post is a bit late, yet wanted to share our road trip to the Midwest to visit family over Christmas. I had our tickets booked but my husband wanted an adventure (insert cringe here*). It has been a number of years since our last road trip and I think time had wiped out the memory of his last declaration after the 1,400 mile each way journey ("We will never drive that again!"). Twelve hours a day for two days was the goal in each direction, starting off at 5am to stop by 5pm.

For weeks we looked at atlases and historic sites along the way. He made some good arguments. This is an educational experience for our son! Getting him out on the open road, breathing that American air, seeing the vastness of the land...an agenda was hatched. We would make stops at historic spots such as Lincoln's log cabin, the St. Louis Arch and the house Laura Ingalls Wilder lived in (we could see Pa's violin!). Yet it wasn't until he threw in the rented luxury SUV, four star hotel stay with indoor pool and hot tub that I agreed.  If we were going to be driving all day, at least we would be able to exercise the kinks out at night- I would just have to ignore the germophobe within for the sake of childish fun. The overall trip would be more expensive than flying but would be a memorable family experience.

My husband is a stubborn man. Really, really stubborn. Although I offered to drive many, many times, he had it in mind that if he let me take a turn, even for a few miles, then he would no longer have the right to claim that he had driven us the entire journey. I respected this in the manner that he respects my need to check the stove ten times before leaving the house. Sometimes in a long and happy marriage you just have to compromise. Plus this worked in my favor...I tried to staunch the guilt by keeping him entertained - but it turns out that singing Gangham style thirty times in a row at the top of your voice is not what he finds entertaining. Nor is beat boxing on a lap tray or distracting him with lots of geography questions.

It turns out we had a LOT of fun. It was found in unexpected places. The bathroom breaks in small towns. The rough housing breaks in truck stop parking lots. The laughter over big poppa pickles and funny bumper stickers. There was an intimate family joy in marveling at spectacular sunsets and gorgeous sunrises.

I was prepared with tons of car games, DVDs and scavenger hunt ideas yet the best times were spent in simple conversation. Yes, we did manage to locate a lot of state license plates (although mom and dad were more excited about adding license plate stickers to the state atlas than Monkey.) Trapped in a small space for ten hours a day led to organic connections. Monkey talked about his friends at school and asked truly soulful questions we hadn't realised he thought about. We enjoyed each other's jokes and stories without the distractions of "what has to be done" or the thousand and one other things that compete for our attention.

I once again appreciated the beautiful Midwestern sky under which I was raised. My family traces back nine generations born within the same 50 mile radius. Really and truly. Before (and during) that we branch off into Cherokee Indians (both sides of my family, those romantic lots), French fur trappers from Canada, English settlers, Dutch adventurers and Scottish ancestors. There is even a rumor of a bit of Irish somewhere - like many Americans. They were US Marshals and farmers. Soldiers who have fought in every single American war since 1776. Safe house operators for the Underground Railroad, cowboys, mischief makers and survivors of the Great Depression. Business owners and not so simple people who took chances and put down roots in a wild territory. Is it any wonder than tenacity is my greatest characteristic?

It made me appreciate the vast dome of sky that is missing from New York's mountainous, populated region. Although we passed through 6 states, there was a commonality to every town we passed through. We remembered that people are really nice in America. They hold open doors to pass through and wish you a good day with sincere smiles. People in New York are nice too - there is just a protective wariness about them that often prevents unsolicited kindness. New York was the first time anyone asked me where my "people" came from. It was years before I realised this was because there were so many second generations in New York, the melting pot and traditional gateway to America.

The best part of the journey, however, was reaching our destination. Seeing the folks and hanging out with the cousins. Listening to my dad whisper to my son and the utter adoration my son has for my parents. It was weird passing by my old high school and seeing how much things change while your memories stand still. I love seeing how my foreign born husband melts into the landscape. How much heartfelt joy he demonstrates for his adopted country. Although a US citizen for many years, it is still a surprise how much he enjoys our history and defends our missteps. How effortlessly he is part and parcel of our extended family and how he shares my love for them in equal measure. It was sad to leave them, holding close for one last hug before hitting the pre-dawn road.

Coming home was more relaxed and we had a new GPS to play with - which actually got us lost in Ohio. We were alone at the hotel's indoor pool and had a blast being as carefree as we liked. The weather turned rough but we thought of the pioneers who first crossed the same land years before us. How had they driven animals through this wind and ice? How did they make camp without bathrooms and kitchens or soft adjustable beds - for months on end? Drive wagons over uncertain paths instead of smooth interstates with signage? Once again, it made us value what sacrifices the people before us made in order to map out and build our country and how meaningless the little conveniences truly are. How important human connections are. 

It turns out that the road trip was one of my husband's best ideas. Even the challenges turned out to be fond stories (ex; pulled over for a missing light by a state trooper in Illinois who turned out to be a really helpful person.) We enjoyed the entire trip so much and it turned out to be a great learning experience for Monkey. That is not to say we did not all dive individually for laptops and iPads upon our return home. A little bit of space is valuable in so many ways.

Charles Dickens

Between sports, play dates and other extracurricular activities, January is pretty full. We are still squeezing in time for a trip to the New York Public Library next weekend to view the Charles Dickens exhibition called The Key To Character. Mainly to view the illustrations yet also to demonstrate appreciation that the library is continuing its efforts to  explore the man and works of C.D. - one of my favorite literary historians. His fiction is such a rich reflection of the Victorian age and London/Paris map in those early days.

We watched most of Oliver Twist with Monkey in November. I say most because he is still too young to be exposed to the worst of Fagin and the fate of Nancy so there were quite a few fast forward moments. He truly enjoyed it and was thoughtful over it for weeks. I can't wait until he is old enough to appreciate his other novels. My favorite is A Tale of Two Cities. So exquisitely sad and hopeful all at once.

Gratitude

Reflecting on all the things I am grateful for tonight. 

Top of the list is my healthy family. 

The list is really long.

It includes love. 

Sweet kisses and jokes about burps and zombie cows.

It includes perfect lattes and pumpkin muffins.

It includes blue skies and fluffy clouds over a soccer field.

A sweaty, happy, triumphant boy who loves school.

A man who makes me laugh and reminds me of everything right and good.

Holding hands three across.

It includes the first autumn breeze wafting through our shutters.

There is so much to be grateful for and my heart is full.

The Cost of Crazy

I hope this is not a sign of age, yet lately it seems as though the world has gone crazy. I suspect a great deal of my perception is based upon all the negative stories and images available thanks to hyper competitive media sources. For the past several weeks I've been afraid to access a screen anywhere (including online) because of all the "Zombie" stories and images.

Since elementary school when I first saw the infomercial of a frying egg ("this is your brain on drugs"), I've been pretty aware that drugs are bad.bad.bad. So why are people still making such dumb choices? Although there will always be terrible stories to tell, my repulsion is in why the media is showing such graphic imagery without providing a choice as to whether we want to see it or not. Are ratings so important - and what does it say about us as humans that so many of us are clearly clicking on these links (or they wouldn't keep providing them).

I used to love scary movies - before they became grotesque. Now I refuse to watch any scary movie. Remember the campy thrillers from the 70s and 80s? The suspense building up to a crescendo while you tensed in dread for the moment when the bad guy was going to jump out and kill teenagers about to "make hay"? Today's villain makes Jason look like a boy scout. It seems as though cinematography and technology have advanced dramatically and many images and story lines include a ton of realistic gore/horror as well as a callous disregard for human life or boundaries. I believe the Blair Witch Project was the movie that cured any interest I will ever have in scary movies (I know, I know but we saw it opening night with friends before word got out that it was a 100% fake documentary. The last five seconds of that movie had me sleepless for weeks.)

Yet I can choose to see a film - bloody images and stories plastered on newsy web sites feel much more intrusive as I am not expecting to see them pop up. Some of these sites are not offering a link with a warning - which limits my choices. Whereas I could visit a site and not choose to select, see or read about cannibalism or murder (title tag only), now my choice is being narrowed to whether or not to visit the site period.

This is also why reality TV has no interest to me. I already know how terrible people can be. I don't need to witness how heinous people can be when trapped on an island, a house or on a stage. We watched five seconds of a funniest videos show last week and it has changed considerably from when it first came out. A lot meaner. A grown-up hitting a kid in the head with a bat is not funny. Anyone getting truly hurt where they can't get up is NOT funny.

To be honest, we began watching the Bad News Bears recently with our son when I had to turn it off. PG apparently meant rated R in the 70s. Another indication of how our sensibilities have changed. It seems we have always had a penchant for the dark side yet our thoughts as to what is appropriate for general audiences has shifted. I'd like to declare that I am not a prude, nor am I a cowering flower. There are shows with violence I will watch because the content is intelligent and keeps me guessing plots. I just want to preserve the boundaries of decency and respect for human suffering.

If I do turn a screen on, it is not an indication of interest in bloody images and news featuring the worst stories imaginable (and some that are not.) There is a cost to all this crazy. Numerous studies indicate that teenage anxiety and depression have risen dramatically in the last 10 years. My hope is that the youngest generations will be turned off by the extremism of our current media culture. Although not a fan of censorship, today's unprecedented access to data requires a certain self discipline in what we fuel our minds with. History has shown a societal cycle of returning to grace after periods of more callous dissolution. It typically started with smaller voices declaring that it was enough - today it may be as simple as turning away from the things unhealthy to our spirits, including toxic people and programming. At the end of the day, the cost of crazy is a voluntary price.

When to Divorce Your Work Spouse

Divorce is never easy. When it is someone you work with, it can be downright traumatic. Occasionally there are even "custody" arrangements of direct reports or a polarization of colleagues to work through. A work spouse can be a man or a woman, same or differing gender. It is the person you work closely with and typically someone similar enough in personality to create chemistry (the unromantic variety) yet different in ways that allow you to complete each other. For example, one may be great with numbers while the other is great with presentations. Perhaps one is more big picture while the other craves a life of details. In short, this relationship is a partnership of sorts.

A work spouse is a blessing and a curse. There is true value in actually enjoying the time spent with work colleagues - often this time is much greater than we spend with our own spouses and family. There is a camaraderie in sharing work stories and lunches with someone who you can also share your personal life with. Someone who remembers your birthday, anniversary, your birth stories and how you like your coffee. Who knows your mood by the way you say "Good Morning" - or not. Who you can borrow a lint brush from or check for salad between teeth before a meeting. Someone that picks up the slack on bad days and who challenges you to do your best every day.

I've had two such "marriages" in my career, and what I know is that they tend to run their course, eventually evolving into friendships from afar. Ideally this will be caused by one person's promotion or transfer - or perhaps even a new job that effectively severs that every day connection. Less ideal is when the relationship begins to sour - leading to the type of resentful bitterness seen in the movie War of the Roses. Just as in a real marriage, this can begin with one person changing course and leaving the other person struggling with the change.

Emotional maturity and professionalism is the antidote to this type of negative energy. But what to do when a work marriage begins to truly sour? Although I have never had to deal with this, I know plenty of people who have. What I have observed is that it is usually best to simply sever all personal aspects of the relationship. Maintain a friendly manner yet keep all conversation topics to work related matters.

Unfortunately, such a transition can be awkward in the short term. Consistency is key and time will eventually lead to new connections and habits. Although the rewards of a healthy work relationship can be tremendous, severing ties with a once close partnership is uniquely challenging. Any conflicts play out in the place that pays your bills and puts food on your table. The good news is that, unlike a real marriage, your house, child custody and alimony is never on that table. Keeping a work spouse divorce in perspective is essential to successfully navigating the dissolution.

Beach Weather

So grateful for some recent R&R on the beach. Grateful for clear water, almost no pesky sea gulls and no crowds. Grateful for fun family time and the amazing dolphins we were lucky enough to spend a little time observing. Grateful for sing-a-longs, frozen cherries and lots of all natural vitamin D.

Mamma Bird

The sweet little birdhouse built by Monkey and Daddy in cubscouts is now home

to several little eggs. When they lifted the hinge to peer inside (they promise not to

going forward), little mamma didn't so much as flutter a feather.

She fixed them with a very stern "go away" glare until they dutifully closed her ceiling.

Mammas do love their babies...

Photosynthesis and Bike Rides

The swans and ducks are bobbing in our nearby lake and the forsythia is bursting forth in sunny abundance! We just spent a perfect afternoon on a nearby bike path and enjoyed the unfurling of Spring.

Monkey is a pro now on his bike. He's had training wheels off for quite a while yet something in the fresh air had him deliberately crashing his bike into soft piles of leaves every fifteen minutes or so. He always came up laughing so we guessed he was practicing wiping out  - is this a boy thing?

The section of bike path we like best crosses through the New York State water reservoir and it is just so peaceful surrounded by nature. So many trees were damaged in the October ice storm yet you can see saplings sprouting in the sudden sunlight.

 I've seen fields full of jonquils and early tulips everywhere lately - yet there is something about the small things growing in the midst of winter remnants that just tugs at my heart.

One feels fortunate to witness their small victories - lovely wonders of photosynthesis. Nature's way of reminding us that seasons will change and the small things will grow as they should. A bit like watching our children, laughing faces raised to the sun. I am trying not to look forward to Summer, as much as I love it. I'll miss these cool days filled with sunshine. Spring has arrived and it is full of crazy fun bike rides and magical anticipation.

Portland

For the longest time I have wanted to see Portland, Oregon. Maybe it is all the books I've read on gardening roses (Portland is famous for their rose gardens) or maybe it is the coffee and music culture. I am crazy for both. Last week I had another week of travels - LA to San Jose for three days and then to Portland for 24 hours.
My son gave me a lovely virus the weekend before my trip and it turned into something worse for me. My awesome doctor called in a Z pack and I was able to make it home on a red eye. Pneumonia that is now just bronchitis with the help of steroids and other stuff I hate taking (although I am very grateful for modern medicine when you truly need it!). So by the time I made it to Portland I was well and truly just trying to get better so that I could make it home. My one morning free, I spent an hour and a half walking the neighborhoods before being picked up. Portland is noted as the greenest city in the US and I could easily understand why. The business purpose was amazing and well worth the misery yet that last day was a bit of an unexpected surprise. Here is where I spent most of my one day in Portland:

During my hour of exploration, here are some things that captured my interest:

Green moss on most trees - and that most trees were in bloom a bit earlier than we were on the east coast.

Noticed how clean Portland seems to be (it rained most the the time I was there).

Also noted a ton of bikes and electric vehicles around.

The many restaurants and odd food spots. I saw a barbershop/pub. Wonder if the barbers imbibe on the job? One fascinating food stand sold grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

The unexpected surprise I referred to was actually an amazing gift from a colleague who was born and raised in the area and who spent several hours with me prior to my flight. I can't even thank her enough.  After getting some work done she began driving us on an old highway nearby. Although I was a coughing, delirious mess, she gave me quite an entertaining education of the topography and history of Portland and her enthusiasm was delightful. Here is what I mean by gifts:

Location of "Prom" in the first Twilight movie - it's been badly burned and I didn't even know about its history until we were on the road again. I would have looked a bit closer! Glad I took this one snapshot.

So the best thing I got from my strange, brief visit to Portland was simply an appreciation for the kindness and generosity I felt from so many people there. My co-workers in that part of the country are inspiring and it was a pleasure to walk in their shoes. Even the hotel doorman and pharmacist were complete sweethearts and having that experience when you are at your most vulnerable is priceless. We are definitely planning a trip there as an entire family to do some hiking. Can't wait to visit again when feeling a lot better! Portland is a pretty special place.