The "vacation" part means that you can do any combination of relaxing and sightseeing and socializing that will make you, personally happy. Wait, no, that's the "all by yourself" part. That's the part where you can whimsically decide to spend an entire day driving around wine country. Or maybe not feel obligated to look at every single rose in a very big, very overheated rose garden.

Then there's the "new city" element, which means that you are going to see a lot of things you've never seen before, and you can do research and pore over guidebooks and the internet but no matter how prepared you are, everything will be a brand-new adventure!

The last time I took a vacation alone (a visit to Los Angeles, where I am staying with my family and seeing as many of my friends as possible in a tiny span of time, does not count) was when I went to New York four years ago, as depressed as I ever get, dragging my red balloon behind me. This time there was less sad wandering around the city streets feeling like a very special Felicity, and more excitement.

Exciting thing number one was that I rented my very first car, a sporty little Chevy Aveo. It's sort of thrilling to rent a car. They give you a car! To drive around! I felt like a kid getting her hands on a big, dangerous toy. And was the toy extremely fun to drive? Why yes. Yes it was. And it was shiny and bright red and got a lot of attention from bystanders, which was also fun.

This is the car that I'm considering buying after I ditch my Jetta and save up some money. (I get a substantial discount on GM cars, and these are cheapy cars.) So the weekend was sort of an extended test drive. I have a few problems with the Aveo, such as: a giant red hazard light button on the dashboard, overpowering the interior of the car with its red giantness. There might as well be big red letters: PUSH ME or EJECT or SELF-DESTRUCT. I wanted to push that button every five minutes.

There's also a warning light that came on and said DRL, freaking me out until I realized it meant the daytime running lamps were on. Which, why? Why do you need a warning light for that? Just to make me nervous, I guess. And then the shifter moves very nicely from drive into reverse, but getting from reverse into drive is some kind of weird wrestling match with the sport shifter. If only it worked better, that sport shifter would be a blast. And of course the car has barely any power, but that's to be expected with the Geo. I mean Aveo.

I forgot to mention that I flew in early Friday morning, and flew out late Saturday evening. It was a whirlwind, 36-hour trip. So the first thing I did was head to the hotel and see if I could get an early check-in, which I could. And then all I had to do was consult my own feelings. What did I want to do first?

Well my first, and only, appointment of the vacation was to meet someone called Shannon for lunch at a place called (greatest restaurant name ever) Veritable Quandary. I put on my new floofy blue skirt, which I feel makes me look both important and creative. I neglected, however, to bring tights or to shave about 15% of my legs. I did not notice this until later.

I got to downtown Portland with about an hour to spare, so I decided to wander around. After consulting my map, I realized I was very near to the world's smallest park, so I went there first. I was disappointed! I was expecting a tiny fence, wee little trees, a miniature park bench, and maybe even an itty bitty swing set. But no. It's just a flowerpot in the middle of the street!

Then I went to something I had listed as the "Michael Graves building" and my faith in sightseeing was restored. I saw the gorgeous sculpture called Portlandia ("The Spirit of Portland") which the sculptor has apparently copyrighted to within an inch of its life. It's not allowed to be in guidebooks, on postcards, in movies, or in any commercial form. Therefore Portland is denied of what should be a glorious city icon. Which sucks. But the building is cool and the statue is awesome, and I took pictures. Take that, Captain Copyright!

After the wandering, around, it was time for lunch. Shannon was nice enough not to notice my weird legs, and we sat outside on a gorgeous summer day and had delightful bread, salad, iced tea, and yummy things. And also delightful conversation. She did not attempt to murder me with an axe or plant heroin on me or anything similar. Success!

Next, it was off to be an artist. The raison d'etre for this trip was to go see the Visual Verse exhibit at the Hoffman Gallery, which is a project that I am involved in. The way it works is, poets were paired with visual artists (in my case, Karin Carter) and art was created based on some aspect of the poetry. The poems are printed in a booklet that people can carry around with them and read as they view the art.

I didn't know what to expect, as I had not seen any of the art before. The pieces were phenomenal. I can't even begin to tell you how excited I was. There were three of them; two based on a poem called "Curves" and one based on "Garden Of." Both poems are from my thesis manuscript.

My sister will appreciate this story: I was asking the curator some questions about one of the pieces and she was saying "isn't this exhibit great?" or something like that, and I couldn't resist saying, "You know, there's a typo in one of these poems. And I know that because... I WROTE IT!" And she looked at me and said, "Aah," and then walked away.

That's right, she couldn't care less! I felt like such an dork. But hey. A lot of people would have done the same thing, right? It was very exciting to have my name (misspelled) next to the art. I lost my head.

After that, I high-tailed it out of there to my next stop, the nearby Washington Park. I wanted to see the International Rose Test Garden and the Japanese Garden.

I've never heard of a Rose Test Garden before. They try out various varieties of roses, and give them numbers, and judge them for a while based on color and clarity or whatever you judge roses on, until they decide "yes, this is pretty enough to be an official new variety of rose." I had no idea roses were such a serious business. (I've always been a fan of tulips myself.)

There was also a section for prizewinning roses, which have names and years, like wine or something. I took a picture of one called "Bobby Charlton 1980." A lot of them had names like... I don't know, "Red Gold" or "Princess." I liked Bob, though. You've gotta respect a rose named Bob.

Something else I didn't know is that there are five different styles of Japanese garden. All five of them are represented in the big, incredible Portland Japanese Garden: Tea Garden, Strolling Pond Garden, Natural Garden, Sand and Stone Garden, and Flat Garden. I wandered around and tried to clear my mind of everything but the feeling of tranquility. Here, you try!

After that, I had been wandering around for most of the day, and it was hot. I had dinner plans, so I thought I'd go back to the hotel for a bit. I got some ice cream, read my book for a little while, took a long bath, and took a nap. Perfect. Perfect.

I met up with some Portland Suspects (Philip, Teena, Berossus, Slam and Mr. Slam) for dinner and drinks. We went to a Thai place called something-or-other where I had excellent lemongrass chicken, and then we went to a bar called XV that had a disco ball, whereupon we met a lot of random and fabulous people, such as Elaine-- hi, Elaine! Had a series of increasingly delicious beverages, that much I remember.

The next morning I woke up early for breakfast with the Slams, which was perfect because it prevented me from sleeping in too long. We went to a diner called something-else-I-can't-remember, and I got a present of peach-lavender preserves, and I had much glorious coffee. I was so happy to spend more time with the Slams; I had met them in Vegas, but barely said more than hello. They are a delight. (That was my Will Ferrell as James Lipton voice.)

After breakfast I went to check out of the hotel (of course I hadn't gotten up in time to pack and everything) and put all my stuff in the trunk of the Geo. I mean Aveo. And then? Then I went to my own personal Mecca. Powell's City of Books.

Considering the anticipation that I felt leading up to this moment, you'd think it would disappoint me. I mean, Powell's is on my escapades list and everything, and it's "only" a bookstore. But it was glorious! I spent two hours wandering around, reading things, looking around. I ended up with $100 worth of books and stuff, mostly stuff.

I did get some Books & Pie little golden books, one of the Ramona books (in honor of being in Portland, where Beverly Cleary lived), a book on rhetoric, a romance novel (because the dedication page mentions Buffy), a Henry James book, and two limited-edition chapbooks by two of my favorite poets, James Tate and Russell Edson. (The Edson book was disappointing; the Tate book was marvelous.)

I also got a panda sushi cell phone charm that I have become rather attached to. I have been saying to people, randomly, "Look what I have! A sushi panda!" They all look at me with the same look. Possibly it is the look you have on your face at this very moment.

I got a fun wall decoration (an old radio advertisement), some stickers, and a Powell's T-shirt of course. I loved Powell's.

After that, I had plenty of time to do things. I decided that I wanted to go to wine country and check out some more Oregon wine. When I went to Ashland this year for my birthday, I visited one winery and came away with a lovely Viognier. If I can anticipate myself for a moment here, let me say that my favorite wine on this trip was also a Viognier, from Elk Grove winery. (Oregon Viognier is delightful and up-and-coming; you heard it here first.) I didn't buy it because it was the first stop on my trip, and it was a little pricey. In the end, I didn't find anything else that I liked nearly as much, and bought nothing. I should have gotten it after all.

Driving around wine country was, again, a perfect experience. The weather could not have been better, the car was a blast to drive, the scenery was magnificent, the wine was delightful. You get the idea. I realized how much I love wine country, all those beautiful vineyards, and Oregon wine country is particularly friendly, no tasting fees, very down-to-earth.

I hit a few wineries, took some pictures, visited the creepy Wine Brotherhood Museum...

...and made it back to the airport in plenty of time. In fact my flight was delayed, so I had enough time to sit in the terminal and read another hundred pages or so of my book-club-book, Carter Beats the Devil. It's a great book, so I didn't mind too much. Then I flew back to Sacramento. (I flew in and out of Sacramento because I was able to get a $33 flight special. Fortunately, Beth and Jeremy let me stay with them on Thursday night, and Ian picked me up on Saturday. Sacramento was--and here's the voice again--a delight.)

And oh my stars, I think this entry is finally done. I didn't go to Portland with the notion that I was particularly stressed or crowded in my life, but I came home feeling utterly relaxed and at one with the universe. I didn't do any soul-searching, I didn't do any worrying. I just spent some time doing my very favorite things, with one of my very favorite people--me!