It's about this time of year when this little burg called Portland starts showing its bipolar ways.
'Round about the first 70-degree day:
Cars create crashes to stop for girls on bikes
Sunglasses get bought, or resurrected from their dark despairing depths in the glovebox
Everyone smiles at one another
in fact
everyone looks at one another as if their eyes have been glazed over with a funky grey haze for so long, they're not even sure what they're seeing is real
and there's a twinkle
and
complete strangers walk up to you in the grocery store saying stuff like
"i don't mean to be rude
but you look really hot in that shirt."
That's all good and all, but the trouble is, i've been wearing this shirt for months and no one has said a word; i've been trying to catch the eye of the hottie in the grocery store for even longer to no avail. I've been biking my ass in the rain and getting soaked, waiting to cross Powell Boulevard.
Now it's sunny and even hot outside and the opposite comes in, flowing fast as Mt. Hood melt. Dang, people, we are in serious shortage of Vitamin D, and it's abundantly clear how short we are when we start to stock back up.
I'm not suggesting that uninvited comments from fellow shoppers are not a slightly-creepy-yet-welcome addition to my day; i'm just saying that perhaps we could spread it around a bit. Like say it's the middle of February and you see a single woman you don't know. Don't go so far as to ask her out or buy her a floppy red rose, headed for the bargain bin; but maybe you let her know that you like her shirt. Maybe turn away from selecting the perfect 20-ouncer in the microbrew aisle and just flash a smile.
Perhaps we act like summertime is not the only time worth living.
Perhaps we do our best to imagine the grey funk is not all around us, even when it is. That would be nice...
