so i’m back. and i missed this here little blog.
that’s not to say i wish i would have been writing it instead of walking down burnside or watching the bridges break to make way for the barges or apparantly doing exactly what donald miller does,
“if you want the best food, I’d take you right back to Portland. I’d get us a morning table at Mothers Bistro, and I’d have them bring out the French toast. Then I’d watch you fall in love.”
i read that on his blog this morning and laughed. i just did that. twice. sat at the bar with brandon and jon, a spanish coffee with stupidly dense whipped cream and a plate of their french toast wrapped in corn flakes. pear compote sitting on the side while we relished in portland mornings spent under vintage chandeliers.
i did fall in love. with the french toast, with mothers bistro, and even further with portland.
on the train ride there i wrote. on the train ride back i wrote even more.
and it will undeniably leak onto these pages, but right now, i’m just going to adjust myself back to canadian air and keep my nose in my brown stumptown coffee roasters bag filled with organic ethiopia mordecofe.
if there is one thing that is absolutely certain, it’s that the smell of stumptown will solve anything.