we’ll sleep when we’re dead


Raise your hand if you long for the weekend for slow, quiet hours folding laundry or watching a movie or sleeping in?  We certainly don’t believe in the phrase “slow down” at our house.  We spend all week looking forward to the weekend so we can rest (we’re full of good intentions), and then promptly make plans to fill every last second of our weekends with all this state has to offer, creating experiences, making memories and living life to its fullest.  Then the weekend ends and we’re left exhausted but with hearts so full they could almost burst.  After all, we’ll sleep when we’re dead… right?

Please tell me the lack of sleep won’t lead to that death because guys, the bags under my eyes are a real thing.  Also, please don’t be that person who tells me Preparation H helps with those bags because I feel like that is something you tell someone who is much older than I am.

At least let me pretend a few more years.

With February came Rocky’s birthday.  A chance for his age to finally catch up to mine, a chance for him to lament about how most birthday celebrations end unsuccessfully for him and a chance for me to try and change that course (typically unsuccessfully, not for lack of trying).  He’s typically good with a dinner in and that’s it for his celebration.  He doesn’t celebrate the entire month as I tend to try and get away with… or at least he hasn’t before.

2019 was different.

I wanted his 38th birthday to be all about him… we only live this life once, why not celebrate accordingly?

My plan was to treat him to a weekend in a cabin, a day in wine country, dinner at his favorite haunt and a day at the coast.  4 big weekend plans and 4 weekends to carve them out of.  2 out of three ain’t bad… right?

Wait… you don’t see 4 weekend plans above?  You can’t honestly expect us to do a fancy dinner out at one of Portland’s trendier spots AND a full day away at the coast or in wine country on the same weekend can you?  We’re 38… not 28.  That kind of gumption left us a long, long time ago.

While we didn’t manage to sneak in a day at the coast this month (but we did get a visit from his brother from Seattle, so it was a nice trade off), we did make it out to wine country on Saturday.  The skies were gray and the threat of rain was quite real (ahem, this is Oregon after all), but that didn’t stop us from marveling at this wonder.  Just 1 hour from our house we’re left gazing upon rolling hills, covered with vineyards and estates that look like they are plucked from the scenery in southern France and dropped right here in Oregon.

We didn’t truly discover this area until a college friend of mine visited last spring (hi, Taylor – we’ll send the bill for our new obsession soon) and we took her out there for some tastings.  One trip was all it took, we were hooked.  4 wine clubs and multiple trips later, we’ve officially become wine snobs.

No.  I’m not bragging.  It dawned on us last night as I was dumping out a $25 bottle of store bought wine – we’ve become wine snobs.  I almost sobbed at the problem this may create.  Gone are the days of “Just grab any old $20 bottle… it should be fine”.  Gone are the days of screw top bottles on the beach because they easily keep the sand out.  Gone are the carefree days of every beautiful label being a potential new favorite wine.  We’re relegated to simple labels, pricey bottles, but happy, happy mouths.

Can’t win for trying, I suppose.

So this weekend we headed out to Dundee on a whim.

To restock the collection that Christmas took a toll on.

To continue falling in love more and more… with our home in Oregon… with the simple complexity of pinot noir… with each other.

It was a great wrap up to a month long celebration of my favorite guy.

And who said the trip to the coast can’t happen in the month following?  No one.  That’s who.

PS – I’m trying to cook up a blog post about how I feel like I’m 15 years into a career that turned down the wrong road 12 years ago… stay tuned for how that one is going to turn out.  Should be truly inspiring 😉


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