Being here.

I have been getting quite used to my life of funemployment in Eugene, also known as unemployment where you have fun. I've been finding little ways to continue to have adventures, and, importantly, doing a lot of re-connecting with friends, old old friends, the city itself - this concept of home, of roots. At least once a day something happens that reminds me in a new way of why I need to be here right now!

Babies are one really good reason! I will write an entire post later about this particular bundle of joy. I have had the delight of spending the past few days visiting with a number of people I have known off and on for the majority of my life.

Ian Awesome is a real-life fellow adventurer who I have known since early high school. You should definitely go check out his blog, because he updates it more than I do mine, and actually writes about current news items! He is currently on an adventure trajectory of his own that has brought him back to Eugene at the same time I am lackadaisically Here.

I spent a delightful afternoon visiting with Ian and the aforementioned bundle(s) of joy, and it amazes me how effortlessly our friendships rekindle. Hours and hours were spent at our respective parents' houses, discussing matters serious and lighthearted. At one point, Ian and I were beside ourselves with laughter. Connections and friends that exist in your life continuously from the time you are very young - that is the definition of family. It's wonderful. I'm finding more meaning in my being in Eugene. I needed to be here right now, for instance, because of my fellow wanderer. To have him, and Katie & Steve & Aislin, reinvigorate my life, my Sarah-Nelson-ness, and to hopefully give him a glimmer of sunshine or who knows what.

This week I realized that I needed to create new adventures in Eugene. Don't get me wrong, it is beyond delightful to revisit old stomping grounds, check in with former employers, meet college friends for coffee up by campus. But I've been gone for over two years, and I'll find sparse excitement in re-treading old ground in this town. This is a unique period in my life that finds me here, and so it shall be different from any other time I've spent living here - so who knows what it will bring!

Here is one adventure I have had.

Last night I rescued Ian from a date gone south, and we had an adventure. We tried to go to the Ninkasi tasting room, but it was closed, but we drove around the Whiteaker neighborhood trying to find it. The brewery arises out of the deserted street, lined otherwise with beat-up cars and abandoned shopping carts, a beacon of modern microbrew magic, all chrome and light and bright bold colors, promising delicious beer dripping from the taps inside. But, alas, tonight they were closed. So we moved our adventure northward.

Ian and I both have a very firm policy about which bars we will frequent in Eugene. I am slightly more staunch as to this policy, and it focuses rather on bars I will not frequent. Pretty much everything bearing the zip code 97404 or 97402 is out, and generally everything in Springfield. We have, however, had a great deal of fun over the past 36 hours at the expense of one bar called Shooters. Shooters is, thankfully, out of the attendance area of our high school. Located on River Road, it is the closest bar to my parents' house and Peggy's house, where he has been staying. Peggy and her husband frequent Shooters, and quite enjoy it. At this point we realized our error in writing off Shooters - it's the closest bar! And it has the Jillson seal of approval! If nothing else, it will be an adventure that we can have while laughing to ourselves.

And an adventure it was, much as we had expected. Monday night, football game blaring on several TVs. Regulars crowded around the bar or pool table, a few already slurring their words. We walked through the smoking platform on the staircase before entering the bar, greeted by a list of daily specials. Shooters was the last bar in Eugene to give up smoking after the indoor smoking ban, and you could certainly envision smoke wafting through the open room. The fry cook conversed freely with customers, greeting even us, the outsiders.

I should add that, since we are in Eugene, we had our choice of eight or nine taps, half of which were west coast-produced microbrews. Ian had a pint of the sought-after Ninkasi. I had Moose Drool from a brewing company in Missoula, because I was born there, and wished I'd chosen the Ninkasi.

A young man to the right of us across the bar eyed us (me). A guy to our left down the bar, in response to something on the television, began ranting about the Phillies. Ian and I decided it was time to leave.

We returned to the mini-mall, descending the staircase over the mediocre Mexican restaurant. Slogging through Oregon December puddles between the two hair salons and the gas station, we returned to my car, where I piloted us safely back to suburbia.

P.S. Read Ian's blog: http://oneangryqueer.blogspot.com