In an effort to return to my neglected blog, I've decided to chronicle our summer vacation.
In just one short week, Paul and I will be on a plane, starting our Westward Journey. We've planned a pretty badass itinerary -- we're flying to Calgary and renting a car, then driving to Edmonton and Banff, then coming back to Calgary, then driving to Seattle, then Portland, and then Vancouver.
I'm excited for the entire trip (cowboy hats! mountains! family and friends!) but real talk -- the climax of this journey will be Portland, the birthplace of all things that are wonderful in this world:
My hipster headband is packed.
We leave in a week and in an effort to fully appreciate all the Pacific Northwest locales we'll be seeing, I've been watching and reading everything I can find set in the Seattle/Portland area. This includes, obviously, Portlandia (sanctimonious hipster Portland), Ursula LeGuin's The Lathe of Heaven (dream-altered dystopia Portland), and The Ring (gloomy murder-tape Seattle).
It turns out that Paul has absolutely no cultural reference point for The Ring. Like, not only has he not seen it, he apparently didn't consume media the entire year of 2002. This led to a really awkward moment the other night when I was putting the DVD in after dinner and whispered "SEVEN DAYS" (as one does). Paul was like, "What's in seven days?" and I was like "Oh, you die," assuming that at the very least he was familiar with the most quoted line in the movie. Turns out he wasn't, and, needless to say, was pretty alarmed at me nonchalantly predicting his untimely death.
He's still willing to travel with me, though. So that's good.
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