Born and raised in California and then Texas you’d think I’d be used to a little heat and a dash of humidity…  Well no.  I’m not.  I’m a spoiled Oregonian.  I listen year round as other Oregonians (natives and transplants alike) whine and complain about the rain, the clouds and the cool air, and then the first day the thermometer hits 80 I hear complaints about the heat.  It seems people just can’t be pleased.

Right now?  I’m so one of those people who can’t be pleased, but it isn’t my beloved Portland letting me down.

I don’t understand how people survive the Midwest.  With its heat.  Floods.  Humidity.  Giant bugs.  Weather warning alarms going off at all hours of the day.  And the heat, did I mention that part?

That’s just a summer list… I don’t know how y’all do it.  How you survive year after year.

Though I do totally understand the church’s more dominant place in Midwestern culture because this weather? This environment?  It’s biblical in proportion.  The heat could bake you alive if you stayed out in it.  The humidity seems just right for roasting flesh from bone.  The storms (which are my favorite part of life here, I love a good storm) shake houses, flood streets and scare the hell out of animals and people alike.  It would make sense to turn to a higher power and a sense of strong community here.

So what is it that has me in this seemingly god-forsaken place?  Family.  I do so love my family but every time I come here I think they’re crazier than on my last visit.  Why?  Because they’ve lived here for years and after less than a week I’m already losing my mind.  Good company, fun things to do, amazing meals and drinks all aside this place has me curled up into a puddle of over-heated, bloated, dehydrated, whiny goo.

So Portland, in case I haven’t said it often enough, I <3 you to bits and pieces.