So I already packed up my pie plates, and yet the rhubarb still begged to be picked. So I (gasp) bought a storebought crust as I also had a big ass bunch of strawberries from the farmer’s market last week that needed to become pie. So I pulled out my copy of A Year of Pies by the awesome Ashley English (if any of my longtime readers are reading this, she participated in my EcoGrrl Interview series back in 2013) and did my own version of her Rhubarb Lemon Vanilla pie, adding strawberries and omitting the top crust, then chilling it so that it would have that awesome sorbet-like quality when you cut into it. SO good. And now I’m out of my homemade vanilla. Grrr. PS – check out Ashley’s blog.
As our goal until we leave is to not try anything new as far as restaurants go, so that we can absorb our favorite places as much as possible before moving, I dragged my husband to my favorite hole in the wall pizza joint, Escape from New York Pizza, for the only slices worth eating in Portland. I’ve been going here since high school (evidence: this photo taken of me at age 16 at their long-gone downtown location) and it, along with Stanich’s, are really the only places that still have literally the exact same vibe that they did when I was a kid. Hometown Love!
And this week is definitely one of numbers. First, I am super stoked to have filled five positions with my new client, and now engaged for 2 more recruitments with them, yay! Q2 is definitely an improvement after a slow Q1, and for that I am grateful. Once these two are filled, we will have all the money in the bank for the adoption. But speaking of domestic adoption, as we near the one-year wait (after a two year wait for Ethiopia which took our money but left us with nothing when they closed their doors) with this agency, our monthly update shows that 110 profile books have now been checked out, while we remain childless. They say we are “number 5 in line”, meaning there are 4 other couples who have been waiting longer than we have (two months ago we were at #13 so perhaps that’s good…although since it’s not like you’re assigned to a birth parent, you get selected based on your book). It’s been so long since we first started out on the road to parenthood that we don’t think about being chosen anymore. We’re not negative, we’re just trying to continue breathing and progressing in other areas of our lives that don’t remind us constantly of our dream that still has yet to come true.
In our frustration around still not having found a place, we decided to try another area of the state – the lower Willamette Valley around Cottage Grove / Lorane area (the land of wine country, rivers, covered bridges and great bike paths) – and looked at several 4-5 acre properties, two of which were incredible and both in our price range…but not the Northwest Coast. It was hard for me to admit, because one in particular had the layout, the sun and shade, and a 100+ year old barn, but the town and the lack of proximity to the ocean was just too hard for me to bear. Honestly, that part of the state, this gorgeous home state of mine where SO many areas are beautiful? It’s just not “me”, and it definitely wasn’t Dan. We aren’t just Oregonians, we’re Northwest Oregonians, and the Astoria area just clicks in so many ways for the two of us, not only the town itself but the proximity to where we were married, the people we’ve already met thus far who make us feel right at home, and the cooler climate that works so much better for moi. It’s an odd thing looking for a home in one’s 40’s & 50’s as you don’t think “gee let’s buy this for now and in 10-20 years we can move if we want”…for us at least, we want this to be our final home, and that’s a hard thing to admit. But we admitted it, and were glad we checked out the town and met some of the people, and are now, happily, back on track with our search. If it takes longer, it takes longer, and we have to accept that it will be worth the wait to find OUR home.
Oh yeah, and there was Sunday. I don’t have it in me to write about Mother’s Day, it’s a fucked up holiday when you’re “CNBC” (childless not by choice) and while I had ambitions to get out there and go to breakfast with my husband and meet up with a fellow CNBC’er I’ve recently connected with, I just fell apart emotionally and emptied my schedule before we headed out of town. I managed to lie on the grass of Peninsula Park and look up at the clouds and breathe, but as far as the rest of it goes, it was not a day I wanted to think about. Is what it is, and I’m glad it’s over. PS – did I mention my ultrasound came back clear and because PP couldn’t diagnose my 8+ weeks of bleeding, their technician (who I’ve never met, the doctor I guess couldn’t be bothered to call me herself) left me a voicemail suggesting I get on birth control? Fuck that shit. You just don’t read someone’s chart and suggest that…especially after you forced her to take a pregnancy test in order to do a test on her. Fuck that shit.