I'm not sure where this "pressure" stems from, but I'll blame it on the competitive nature of my family. My brother in particular. We were always seeing who could make it to their destination the fastest, who could do the most with the least. Don't check your luggage, that would waste time, and we have places to go. Grab that carry on and run through the terminal, like we are on that reality show "The Great Race" or whatever it is called. Same with driving somewhere. We never wanted to stop for a nice lunch or get off the highway for a few, check it out, we needed to make the best time. I'm not sure why. It was more about the destination than the journey, and that is what I am needing to rethink here. So, here I am with my carry on, which weighs much more than a few outfits, some hair products, and a binder should. I left the laptop at home, it was too heavy, left the wine I was going to bring at home, too heavy. And now as I'm dragging this "carry on" through the airport, into the bathroom stall, pulling it along and balancing my coffee and purse in the other hand, I just don't understand the resistance to making life a little easier on myself.
Sitting at my gate in the Southwest terminal, I can finally relax, enjoy my mocha from Java City. Here comes a policeman with a search dog - great. He is coming towards me, towards my "had to have it with me" carry on bag. The dog seems to be dragging the officer over to me. All I can think of is "what in the hell is in this bag" - because God knows, it could be anything. I remember the time they poured all of the contents out of my toiletry bag because of the white powder, which really was Burts Bees baby powder, but they had to check it out all the same. Thankfully the German Shepard takes a few sniffs around and is happy to continue on down the terminal. Breathe.
I'm now here in Portland. Got my car, drive to my daughter's and off we go to lunch. It is gray here, and a bit drizzly. We went to the "Tao of Tea" and had spinach leaves and this incredible flatbread with dates, toasted coconut and honey. We sipped a delicious Chai Tea from a pot with little tea cups, not the "tall, grande or venti" that you get from Starbucks. It was delightful and I do appreciate Portland and all of it's foodie goodness.
Olivia (my daughter) had to work this afternoon so I went exploring by myself. Ended up getting lost last night. I was going to pick her up from work, but in the dark and in the rain, I ended up driving south on I-5, seeing the city lights off to my right, the bridges that connect the East side of town to the West side of town below me, and not able to find a turnoff or off ramp anywhere. I'm upset with myself for not getting that GPS at the rental car company - once again, I hear that little voice, "who needs a GPS, what happened to good old fashioned maps, I am Columbus the explorer, I am smart and strong, and I will find my way" - now my strong explorer self is crying. I call my daughter and tell her how I "hate Portland" - she becomes my mother and I her little girl. "Mom, don't overthink this city. It is much easier to understand when you live here. I love you and will come and get you if you want" - No, I just want to go back to my room. Pout Pout. I want to cry and watch "Grey's Anatomy". Things are always happening to those people that are much worse than anything I have to deal with. It would make me feel better to see their suffering. Right now I just want to be home, in Napa, in my safe little valley, where I know every back road like it is my own driveway. My mind is taunting me with the "maybe you are too old to be making such a major change", "maybe your life as you know it is good, and you should leave it alone" -
Back at my room for the night, going over properties to look at, I really don't have much lined up. Had to eliminate quite a few as they were second story lofts, or had no washer/dryer facilities or hookups, no storage whatsoever. I do have two scheduled to see tomorrow and I'm keeping my fingers crossed. I think I just need to sleep. It looks like my coffee shop diary is really just becoming a diary. Yikes.