I caught up with an old friend tonight. I first met her in 2004, when we were just two of the hundreds of girls rushing sororities at the University of Oregon, trying to decide where we’d fit in. We picked the same house and formed an instant bond. (Cheesy! I know.)
Since college she’s moved to Boston to earn a master’s degree in physical therapy (or something that has to do with muscles), and I haven’t seen her much. (Actually, last fall I bought a ticket to Boston, packed my bags with brand-new super-cute outfits, and then had a meltdown the day I was scheduled to leave to visit her. I didn’t anticipate my unattainable copywriting deadlines and unfinished freelance projects giving me a full-blown panic attack, complete with crying on the floor of my office and popping a Xanex from my boss' purse. (What?) As one would expect, I didn’t get on the plane.)
Anyway, tonight we had happy hour at Journeys, a cozy wine bar in Multnomah Village with tables and chairs set up on an expansive porch and freshly cut lawn. I nibbled on a plate of extra-cheesy grilled cheese bites and shot the breeze with my friends until the sun began to sink.