Did You Say Coffee?

Not only do I have an amazing apartment to live in, I am right next door to a darling little coffee shop, Three Dogs. It will never take the place of First Cup Coffeehouse in Portland, with it’s fabulous Stumptown coffee (and it’s even more fabulous crew), but the best compensating factor is this: When I get up in the morning and let the dog and cat out to my little patio garden, I am greeted with the heavenly aroma of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. It takes a lot of willpower to not scramble over the 6-foot fence that separates our space, or rush around the corner in through their front door and scarf one down. I wish I could send you a picture of that smell.

And speaking of coffee, I am hosting a bunch of people over for coffee at my place this coming Sunday (tomorrow). People I hardly know, but who are a part of my friend Carmon’s circle. They gather every Sunday at someone’s house and catch up with each other. It’s a fascinating group of people in this town. Intellectuals, artists, vagabonds, settlers. I attended the first of these Sunday coffees last week, and we sat high up the hill on Sixth St in the front yard of Ed’s apartment, looking east into the morning sun. And in this vast clear high desert air, you could see for miles and miles and miles. Anyway, this coming Sunday, I will quell my faint hostess jitters with the knowledge that I will hear many interesting stories. And you know I love stories.