My flight out of JFK was in the evening, March 15, 2015

It was on Jet Blue. I’m still mad at them over the “upgrade” seat they offered., I’d already paid an extra $100 for my “cat fare”. I moved up for $60, only to find that this would move me into the aisle with the consoles under the seat, which used to be an illegal placement for a cat. It gives them less space and it’s too warm. They refused to change my seat. Henry threw up in his carrier and had to spend seven, probably eight hours in it, since I had to collect my luggage and then get to my hotel. Since I was arriving 2am local time (5am according to my East Coast body clock) I booked a room so I could have a quick nap, and check in at Ladd Towers the next morning.

The first thing I did was clean Henry up! But anyway, my arrival in Portland was actually on March 16th.

It was really strange living in a mostly empty hovel for the five days between the movers packing up my life and my flight. I took a couple photos in attempt to capture the “vibe”. I like to think of this first one as my memoir cover. Lots of room for the title!

This kind of pose was requested from one of my Astanga blogger friends

Handstand in The Hovel

Sir Henry is not amused. The frown!

In the cab, heading to JFK

Things certainly haven’t gone the way I’d planned here in Portland. But who’s to say that my decision to leave and 'figure it out' wasn’t just as 'probably significantly life-span shortening' as staying in NYC would have been? If  I’d stayed put, I’d have always imagined that leaving would have turned out 'so fucking great'—if only I’d had more courage. All signs pointed to me landing a job at Nike within six months of arriving.  See: fable of the Chinese farmer.

I would’ve had to go through Covid lockdowns with just myself and cat in that little, dorm-room sized studio. It didn’t even have a separate kitchenette divider going on. I likely would’ve have rediscovered making traditional media art, if sporadic. I certainly would’ve never had a #1 in the world Scottish Fold cat. Wouldn’t have done cat shows, or bred a few litters of kittens. Or entered into a relationship that would’ve spawned all these happenings.