Why Eugene?

Just a brief post today—Michael and I have an evening of pizza eating and movie watching in front of us (we’re tired).

Yesterday, Michael heard from his dear friend Josh that he and his wife were near Portland. We of course jumped at the chance to have dinner with them and road trip to a new city. The four of us met up and found an Irish Pub downtown for beer and fish & chips. It was good for the heart to see old friends in an unfamiliar place. I was grateful for the easy conversation.

Ok, so Portland. Woah, what a beautiful city. We drove in around dusk, so the full moon was rising over Mt. Hood and the sun was setting. Mountains. Winding roads. Pine forests. Woah.

Back in the spring when we told people about our moving plans we fielded questions about “why Eugene” and “why Eugene and not Portland.” Our response came easily: Eugene has a university with a pretty darn good education program for Michael. Done. Sold. Away we went. Personally, I had the subconscious fear that no city could please me. I think my ambivalence with Grand Rapids cultivated this. I also knew I was romanticizing the notion of both Eugene and moving to Eugene. The mix of expectations and fears made me reticent. But! Eugene is perfect. We drove around Portland for only a couple hours and realized that it’s too big, that we love our new, small city. I can ride my bike anywhere I need here. The library, bookstores, brew pubs, coffeeshops, theatres, are all within walking and biking distance. But when we want to hike, climb, or fish we have (literally) hundreds of options within decent driving distance. I did not think any town would have the perfect balance of country and city, but I found it. Now, Eugene is not all glorious. It’s ranked second in bike theft. And generally, the theft problem here is bad. And there are some funny characters. This morning Michael and I were in Goodwill and some guy looking at pants spilled his beer. Some guy: “Damn. I’m sorry dude. I spilled my beer. Shit. I’m not supposed to have beer in here. I’m sorry.” Goodwill clerk: “Here” (throws rag). 

Michael and I are inches away from moving into our new place. Today, we frequented the thrift stores in the area where we found some pots and pans. Also, we saw a beautiful typewriter. A Remmington. It came with a case and was 16 dollars. I already have a typewriter, so I said to Michael “I need to walk away.” You know what he did? He bought it! I’m trying not to covet, but my husband has a better typewriter than me. When he brought it to the counter you want to know what the cashier asked him: “Are you a writer?” I exclaimed “No!” on his behalf. I need to get over it. Here’s a picture:

Tomorrow Michael flies to Portland with his boss, who owns a 1940s era plane. I’m sure it has a specific name, but we don’t remember. Pictures from that adventure to come. 

Love from the West,

katie and michael