Measure your life in love

I owe such gratitude to so many people I almost don't know where to begin.

Massive thanks to Kim and Brandon for the incredible birthday cake;



to Sara for the lovely made-to-order German chocolate cake; to Bobby for renting a super amazing disco light thing for my party (and for being awesome in general); to Weatherly for texting at 7:30 AM my time just to be the first to do so; to Tara and Marissa for getting the party started ahead of schedule with an impromptu barbecue; to Jonathan for making this fantastic candle by which "to remember us always" (as if we won't be in the same retirement village some day, criticizing other old people's outfits);



and to all my friends who called, texted, emailed, or joined me in person for the numerous festivities in my honor. This has been one of my best birthdays ever. The secret is to let it happen, not to obsessively plan and worry that it's going to be terrible like so many of my past birthdays have been. That kind of attitude is what yields broken faces.

As they often do, my birthday celebrations have stretched for eight days. Bobby and I spent last weekend in Seattle, followed by dinner with his family on Monday, the Magnetic Fields with Alex and Iain on Wednesday (and a feature in their tour blog!), Conor visiting my birthday lunch at work on Friday, and a huge party on Saturday that lasted until 3:00 AM. For my actual birthday, Bobby and I intended to have breakfast at Broder. What possessed us to think getting up and dressed at 8AM following a dance party was a good idea, I do not know, but I swore up and down at my alarm clock and didn't get out of bed until well past 11. We finally walked down to Delta Cafe for some grits and beignets and iced tea in mason jars around noon.





We rounded out the evening with dinner at the Farm, attended by Bobby, Tara, Lorien, Jonathan, Conor, and Breylan. Thank you everybody for the immense outpouring of birthday love, and for making my life as great as it is. I couldn't do it without y'all.

Without further ado, photos from my fabulous dance attack birthday party:

Escape to Seattle!

With my birthday showing up (whether I like it or not) next Sunday, I decided it was time to start celebrating. Bobby and I, intent on escaping our regularly-scheduled lives, tossed overnight bags in the Cube and hit the road toward Seattle.



We met Alex for second breakfast (we'd already had pastries at Grand Central Bakery before leaving town) in her neighborhood, and went to check into our hotel. Then it was off to the Experience Music Project (which I swear is not as lame as one might think) to see the Nirvana exhibit I'd been meaning to visit for the last year.



Bobby and I wandered through the exhibit. He got ahead of me, as I was pausing to stare at just about every artifact and handwritten note tucked behind the plexiglass. Toward the end, I ran into one of these:



The museum happened to have two of the actual anatomical angels from Nirvana's In Utero tour. I was completely transfixed. I stood staring at this chunk of plaster for quite some time. Maybe I was expecting it to talk to me - I don't know. In seventh grade, I had a Kurt Cobain memorial t-shirt that Erin's mom had bought me for Christmas or my birthday, I forget which. I wore that shirt at least weekly for an entire year, and made sure to wear it when visiting the memorial outside Kurt Cobain's house in the summer of 1995. Years ago, I let somebody borrow it and I never got it back. I'm sure the thing would be ill-fitting and threadbare by now, but I still wish I had it.



Here's a color version of the image from twelve-year-old Caitlin's favorite shirt:



You can see the angels in the background of this video:



Needless to say, I was having a moment. The exhibit had a small sound booth where fans could record their personal experiences/memories related to Nirvana. I thought about participating, but I decided it would make me more flustered and emotional than I care to be while on vacation. For the Cliff Notes version, I have a hard time understanding how most people cope without something like this in their lives. In lieu of the confession booth, we took a walk around the Seattle Center in the sunshine (!!!)





Finally, it was time to head back to the hotel and continue our evening. We grabbed a couple of drinks in the onsite bar before hopping a shuttle over to Capitol Hill. Broadway was unusually dead, especially considering the holiday. I assume all the drunk idiots were pounding their green beers downtown instead. Fine with me. We ate sushi for dinner and walked down to Julia's on Broadway to wait for Carissa, my dear friend from Palm Springs who would be joining us for the remainder of the evening. At her suggestion, we were attending Le Faux, which is Seattle's very best drag show. Carissa wasn't kidding - the show was incredible! We had a fantastically marvelous time, and, for a mere 10 bucks, we got to take a photo with the cast at the end!



After hugging Carissa a bunch, we caught a bus back to the hotel around 1 AM. Buses in Seattle run late! What a convenient novelty. Woke up this morning, dropped by Alex's for hugs goodbye, and got back on the road to avoid the projected snow. We were going to go to the zoo, but it was drizzly and cold. Another time.

Now I'm back in Portland ready to continue the birthday festivities for the next seven days. Bring on the party!

Back to the good life

Years ago, when I was a roller girl and Bobby was a DJ, we spent most of our free time seeing friends' bands play in smoke-filled bars, dancing in speakeasies and restaurants-turned-clubs, and roller skating in lofts along the waterfront.





Lately though, with demanding schedules, we've been staying home or going to sleep before midnight. Taking vitamins and eating our vegetables. I'm ashamed of myself. When did I get so terribly old?

Friday night, an opportunity arose. A friend's band was playing a show in the basement of an Ethiopian restaurant. It was like stepping into a time machine to 2006. Along with many friends from those bygone days, we crammed into the tiny venue and caught up with our better selves.

I don't have the energy to live like this full-time anymore, but it's nice to pretend.

When did March happen?

I've been busy. Bobby's been busy. Everybody has been busy. With winter barreling to a close, the city of Portland has begun stirring awake. There are concerts to attend and review - I've seen Neutral Uke Hotel (excellent!) and Atlas Sound (terrible!) in the last few days. We had the usual crew over to watch Velvet Goldmine last night, and I spent quite a bit of the movie exclaiming, "OMG I need those shoes!" What I would do with purple go-go boots, I do not know, but I'd find a place to wear them.

The sun graced us with its presence today, so Bobby and I decided to have a walk around the neighborhood (after meeting Tara for breakfast at the Tin Shed, of course). We wandered down to Reed College and back up Woodstock, and when we stopped for iced tea, we discovered treasure!



One of the Girl Scouts asked me if I'd like to buy a box of cookies. I said "no, I'd like to buy three boxes of cookies, please." They were thrilled. We nabbed the last box of trefoils, as well as a couple of other varieties, and wished the young ladies luck with their sales. It's important to support good organizations, especially when those organizations sell cookies.

Finally, I somewhat unexpectedly bought a new car. It came all the way from a family dealership in Greeley, Colorado, and arrived at my door on Monday. When I asked my dad for new car advice, he strongly suggested the Nissan Altima. However, I've had sensible grownup cars all my life. At nearly 30 (and clinging to my youth and cultural relevance by my fingernails), I decided it was time for something ridiculous. Enter: the Cube. Here I am giving it a hug shortly after its arrival:



Here I am sitting in the driver's seat with a big stupid grin:



Here is my new car living up to its name, Ice Cube:



I've driven it around town quite a bit, and I totally love it. Hooray for absurd vehicles! May it last me many years.

Other than the new car and the quarterlife crisis that prompted its purchase, I'll be turning 29 in a matter of days. I'm formulating plans for proper celebration, but it won't be anything massive. I'll save the fanfare and international travel for next year's party.