proteanme

Rain.  . . I went for a  walk anyway.  At the end of my work day, I put on my rain coat and a baseball hat and trekked over to the bank on Hawthorne. I was soaked by the time I got there. Huge rain drops on the back of my neck. The teller at the walkup window smiled at me. On the way home I stopped at New Seasons and got 4 things, which I carried home in a brown paper bag that was pretty much disintegrated by the time I crossed back over Powell. But 4 things are easy enough to carry and this is my plan this year. To walk anyway. Or ride anyway. To not drive as much as I can. Moving my body is good for my brain and I want to be a better friend to my brain.

Before it started actually raining this morning, it smelled so much like it was going to rain that I got a little wistful for Indiana. I don’t notice the “rain smell” very often here in Portland. Definitely not like at home. Maybe because it rains so much in Portland that the smell doesn’t have time to accumulate into an actual thing you can smell. I would put missing that smell right up there with missing fireflies and thunderstorms and . . . well . . . alright, I’m not going to do this to myself right now. I have been thinking of home the last several days. Nothing concrete and for no particular reason that I am aware of, just how really nice it would be walk around Bloomington and go to breakfast and see everybody.

On a totally different note, I have a small and secret crush on one of the bike valets at work. He’s blond and young and clean shaven and not that much taller than me. We always talk whenever we have the chance and it’s never just dude talk although it is a lot about bikes. My small and secret crush makes me feel very gay in a sweet way, instead of the kinda raunchy way I felt walking around NYC and getting checked out by gay dudes.