Portland
(Yeah, this is one of those true stories)

Saturday morning
dreary
and gray
with a seemingly never ending drizzle
yet the Saturday Market calls

I hate it . . . I seriously hate it
there’s nothing about going to an arts and craft market
on a Saturday morning at that
that excites me . . . nothing
and we’re away
in a different city
without the kids
no noise
no worries
without any of the day to day stresses of DC
nothing but an opportunity to relax . . . and make passionate hmm,
yet the Saturday Market calls

She’s excited
and I’m like . . .argh! well that’s the best I can do
so we take the wet walk to the streetcar stop
then the mini tour of downtown Portland
ok, it’s not too bad
the food truck strip is kind of cool
different
then there’s Voodoo Donuts . . . “Hey, wait, I saw them on Food Network”
she smiles,
she’s working her magic on me again
you see she has this uncanny ability to get me to do whatever it is she wants
and enjoy it
so yeah, the Saturday Market calls

Now I’m halfway excited
because she’s excited
you should see her eyes open wide
all the goods being sold
the foods
the little trinkets
the paintings
the fabrics . . . she takes it all in
and honestly,
I get it now,
I get her excitement . . . but I’m not going to tell her
that the Saturday Market was now calling me . . . ARGH!