I wrote you a letter last Friday but I never pushed “publish” and now it seems to have disappeared into cyberspace. When I thought to myself, “Why hasn’t Melicat written to me?” I checked the site and, to my horror, found that I was the egregious one. Apologies.
Let’s start with Horst Puff, who of course makes me think of Harry Potter. Jason and I took quizzes on Pottermore to see which house we would be placed into by the sorting hat. I have always considered myself a Ravenclaw. I’d like to be a Gryffindor but I don’t think I’m brave enough. In any case, Jason had taken the quiz a week before and got Hufflepuff. I was surprised and teased him mercilessly. He then watched as I answered each question and with each reply he said, “You are so getting sorted into Hufflepuff.” And sure enough, I’m a Hufflepuff. I was too kind in several of the responses. Alas.
I am still awaiting crocuses in Portland, but I did spy many in your windy city of Chicago. We had a lovely trip visiting with our pal, walking around the streets and eating delicious food. I was agog at the vastness of the city. The scope! I’d like to go back again, maybe with you?
This week has felt like a whirlwind. The temperature is rising, though it’s still chilly. The third quarter of school is almost over, but it still feels out of sight. I delighted in reading The Storied Life of AJ Fikry, such that I was savoring the last pages and not wanting it to end. I met your friend (now my friend) Rachel for coffee. I made brussel sprouts that were “on their last legs,” as my mother would say to describe soon-to-be-moldy vegetables. I saw my friend Max play a show at Slab, a pizza place downtown. I couldn’t walk for a day and a half after a too-effective osteopathic massage. I’ve been getting hot cross buns from Rosemont for breakfast one morning a week. I obsessively read sad stories about the passengers of the plane crash.
This is my first weekend in Portland without visitors or travel in a long while. I am headed to Brunswick this afternoon to see two dear friends at the restaurant where I worked my senior year of college, Frontier Cafe. Tomorrow, I’m planning on some major spring cleaning, reading and an adventure with my writer pal Sophie to check out the Palace Diner in Biddeford; I used to be in a book club with the chef before I moved to Barcelona. It is muy importante that I get some groceries and fill my fridge on Sunday for some cooking.
Missing you and thinking of you.