Dating my husband in Portland, Oregon.

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Mario's work schedule has been civilized the last several weeks, at least as far as these things go, with most trips lasting only 3-4 days. His last business meeting necessitated a Saturday morning departure, and despite a Tuesday night return date, it felt looong.

I felt more separated and disconnected from him than usual, likely because we sacrificed our weekend together and were reunited smack dab in the middle of the week and all its natural busyness. It was kind of like Hello! I missed you! Quick! Go to sleep... it's past our bedtime and we have to be up at 5:45a to get Kiddo ready for school!

I tend to have a low threshold for marital disconnect these days. Not be confused with marital discord, this is more the feeling that we are living separate day-to-day lives. You know, Kiddo and me with our daily routines and Mario with his own work and travel routine, one scarcely resembling the other. It's the nature of the beast when one person in a relationship has an unconventional work/home life. We've been doing this song and dance for 11 years, which is nearly our entire relationship, so I suppose I'm growing weary.

Mario is pretty much the funnest (most fun?) person I know and I miss his face on the regular. There are definitely worse places to be marriage-wise.

At the end of the day, we are great at stealing moments together. So while yesterday was a school/work day, we set about spending it as a duo. Because let's face it: if I'm going to spend the day sitting in front of my computer, I'd rather he be on the other side of the table.

And so we set out to explore Portland in the most productive way possible. 

First stop: Barista (Pearl District). The seating is limited to a few tables in the hallway, but we were lucky enough to score one quickly. But more importantly, the coffee. Oh, the coffee. Guys. Hands down the best latte I've ever had. Ever. (Which is saying something, as I've worked in my fair share of coffee shops and consumed precisely one million cups of Joe over the course of my 33 years on this planet.) It was perfectly balanced and the flavors were smooth and complex. Look at me sounding all pretentious.

Also, there may have been a brief visit to the Keen flagship store next door... (Husband in these boots? I mean, Come. On. How have I never hijacked his feet and forced them into ankle boots before? Swoon.)

Lunch: Súpa. The menu is simple: a handful of homemade soups and gourmet variations on the grilled cheese sandwich (dubbed "melties"). We each picked a soup (tomato basil for him, Thai coconut chicken for me) and shared a grilled cheese (the "Piper" with Hatch chillies). If I were teacher, this place would get a check plus and a smiley face sticker.

Oh, and how about those eyelashes? (They're real.)

Okay, so I might have proposed that particular part of town for our day date so I could hunt down a shirt at Anthropologie. (I blame Lauren.) After having the sales lady dig it out of the back room (why were they hiding it?) and making Mario wait for ages (a saint, that one), I stumbled upon The Perfect Shirt. It's impossibly soft, impossibly flattering and perhaps the most comfortable shirt I've ever owned. It's like those magic jeans in The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.

I'm pretty sure it's also the most expensive shirt I've ever owned. But there were declarations that this shirt would be The Perfect Shirt to wear to a job interview and surely it would ensure me my dream job and Husband stared at me blankly before replying "Shouldn't you start looking for a job first?"

You get it. I know you do.

Then there was a little meandering. Just a little. Before selling our firstborn to Whole Foods for the sake of local hard cider, fresh pasta, and the opportunity to grind our own Nutella.

This city! This man! My cup runneth over. 

The End.

(P.S. Was this anything like Adventures in Babysitting? I've always aspired to have such a glorious story to tell. I have the perfect camel trench coat standing by should such a caper present itself.)


  1. Over 15 years ago, I met and dated my husband in Portland, Oregon. A place, I call home. I miss it immensely. Thanks for the lovely post. Esther Norine Designs

    1. That's amazing, Esther! I think Portland may just be the perfect place to rekindle some lost romance. We love it here.


Comments make my heart go pitter-patter. Make sure you are not a no-reply blogger!