Being in Portland and taking Carlos' Nia class last night brought back good memories from my week here almost two years ago -- walking into the building on Yamhill and meeting Rone' there by the elevator, seeing Debbie (still the fashionista), dining after class at the bar in the Paramount, walking quickly through damp evening weather. Good stuff. It also reminded me how much of a Nia misfit I am -- I don't really growl or howl (well, some), and I'm not the yakker, despite having been told by another instructor not to talk so much. Still, I love it because it makes me smile.

People ask me if I'm doing okay having left Chloe at school, and I'd have to say I'm doing a lot better than I was during the preparation for it. Of course, knowing that I'll see her again at the end of the week makes it a little easier. That and having every little indulgence I want along the coast, through wine country and now here in Portland -- hot and cold running food and drink, an attendant husband, naps and more naps, scenery, gorgeous hotels -- it would be hard to call this suffering. There's just that tiny nagging feeling that the phone hasn't beeped or buzzed, and wondering if that's good news or bad, when it fact it's simply no news, which I've chosen to define as good, however unnatural a choice that is for me.

Hey, anyone who knows my penchant for color, if you're reading this: there's a key hidden beneath our grill on the back patio -- would you mind letting yourself in and taking a peek around -- reporting back on what you think of the entryway, living room and kitchen? Thanks!