Weekend Update, And They Call It Coastal Love Edition

This past weekend was a full-to-the-brim sort of weekend, laden with dear friends and group meals, hilarious lines from three hilarious kids, and time spent at a place I remain convinced is one of the most gorgeous locales this planet has to offer.

An overnight at Cannon Beach never fails to rejuvenate my heart, to make me forget every bundle of “to-do” I was carrying on my shoulders, every stress and every fear. But really, five minutes at Cannon Beach does that for me. For me, the coast and its rocky shores are a sacred place, more spiritual than any church, more steadfast than any promise, untouchable by loss or grief. I can think clearer sitting in front of crashing waves than I can anywhere else. I can smile broader, and walk longer, and remember stories I want to tell.

I typically don’t come to Cannon Beach in July, or even August, unless for some magical reason I don’t have to work on weekday. During the height of summer, the traffic through the typically quaint downtown is bumper-to-bumper, and parking is mostly nonexistent, and while I don’t think the beach could ever feel too small no matter how many people were simultaneously occupying it, I know I prefer the mellow simplicity of the off-season. I don’t need the beach to be hot, or even warm, to enjoy it. I just need to be standing on it.

Having spent so much quality time at Cannon Beach over the years, especially when my sister and her husband were living there, it’s admittedly hard to share the coast with the throngs of tourists who come through every year to wander the beautifully unique northern coastline, and take pictures of Haystack Rock, and buy postcards and prints that never do any of the sights any justice.

But it’s never hard to share the coast with friends.

In fact, Cannon Beach is one of the first places I will offer to take anyone who comes to visit Portland, never mind that it’s an hour and a half drive away from the city. What’s waiting for you just off Highway 26 is worth every windy mile stuck behind a motor home that can’t seem to drive faster than 45mph.

Camp Dykstra stayed in a(n adorable) beach rental on Cannon Beach most of last week, and they so graciously invited me out to spend a night with them and revel in the beachy glee.

Following is a smattering of my favorite pictures and moments from my coastal inspired weekend.

Angella and Amanda at Deschutes on Friday night:

Photographic proof I have not yet mastered the art of the self-take group shot. But everyone IS actually in this picture, and as a bonus, we can start a new photo game called “Guess that chest!” Or…something.

From far left (sliver of hair) to far right (sliver of cheek): Sarah, Vahid, Amanda, Rhi, Angella, Me.

Pre beach run:

Post beach run:

During our first beach excursion on Saturday Nathan asked me what was across the ocean, because he wanted to go there. “Korea,” I said, and his face lit up as he decided, plastic shovel firmly in hand, he was going to dig all the way to Korea. That plan soon changed, as Nathan, Graham, and Emily each decided they would dig to separate locations, and then see who they could entice to accompany them. Nathan: “Do you want to come with me to the African volcano to die?” Emily: “Or to Paris with me to speak French?” Graham: “Or to Mexico with me to swim?” Decisions, decisions.

Nathan and Graham, digging to Africa and Mexico, respectively:

Pretty girls (This might be my favorite shot from the entire weekend):

Nathan, after a half an hour on a very windy, very chilly beach: “My brain hurts.”

The boys:

Awh, yeah.

I don’t know that there are words for how much I love this picture. It’s just so them:

Emily is pretty much Iggy’s biggest fan. She’s also not afraid to tell him, “No paws on the table!” Atta girl.

When I said goodbye to the beach-combing crew Saturday afternoon, Miss Emily started crying. It was so unexpected, and so incredibly sweet, that I had to quickly saunter to the car after giving her big hugs and telling her I would see her sooner than later, before I started crying myself, thereby not helping anyone.

It’s amazing to have friends that really can and do feel like family.

It’s also amazing to have so many friends come to visit (me! and) Portland, thereby providing me ample opportunity to get out of my apartment and traipse about my favorite city with some of my favorite people.

On Sunday I met Terrell and her fella (and her awesome cousin Shelby) for brunch, and didn’t need to be but was instantly reminded how lucky I am to have such amazing friends in so many cities, with a heaping dose of amazing being conveniently located in Seattle, where Terrell (also Jen, Sizzle, and Andrea!) happens to live. (Just to clarify, Terrell was in Portland this weekend. I did not drive three hours just for brunch, though really, it’s not out of the realm of possibility for me. What can I say? I love my friends almost as much as I love a great Eggs Benedict.)

All in all, this weekend was one of my favorites of the summer, just like last weekend and the weekend before that, and I’m already looking forward to much more friend and family-centered excitement on the horizon.

Coming soon: a trip to Seattle, bachelorette river rafting, GETTING TO SEE MY SISTER*, Rhi’s wedding which also means a long weekend with Kristin!, and Step Up 3D.

Before you start laughing at me, I dare you to watch the afore-linked movie trailer and not think the dancing looks UH-mazing. I actually think this might be the first movie worth watching in 3D. Also: Yes! That’s totally Twitch from So You Think You Can Dance and! Harry Shum from Glee. I can’t help myself; I’m beyond psyched to see this movie.

*Also clarifying: My sister is coming home from Korea in August, lest anyone think I (won the lottery, and) was flying back to Korea.

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OK, I’ve officially rambled long enough. Tell me about your weekend!

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Stories I said I had. Tangential stories and life-changing ones.

Until today I haven’t known where, exactly, to begin. And so quiet this space has mostly been because some beginnings are tricky. Sometimes it’s quite impossible to denote where something ended and something else entirely began.

I’m not going to be able to tell you everything, but then the best stories never really do, do they?

(That’s not a trick question. I promise they don’t.)

(Unless the story was penned by Henry James, in → Read more...

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This week I’ve been finding pieces of writing long lost and forgotten. Unearthing words belonging to me, and words penned by some of my favorite of all literary voices, collected and saved and scrawled excitedly on pages littered with foggy memories of past lives, obscured now in light of all that was and is and is to come.

Of the words not belonging to me, Lucille Clifton’s were the ones I found most often, recounted in notebook after notebook, or inked → Read more...

Shari-Romancing A Stone

They say water changes stone, carving it over time to angles and dimensions in harmony with water’s need to reach the sea; but sometimes, stones change the watercourse instead.

-The lovely and eclectic Shari

On Hoarding

I’m collecting my favorite corners, like the one with the stunning oak tree on display for an entire neighborhood to see, its limbs shading a bustling crosswalk shooting confidence into pedestrians like electric currents of white light, fresh graffiti on a nearby curb: an infinity symbol, black and simple.

I’m collecting stories about the apartment window filled with small elephant figurines along one of my favorite walking routes. So many trunks standing side-by-side and none of them alive.

I’m collecting the surprisingly → Read more...