The best (true) ending to a story ever

After a mightily expensive Thanksgiving holiday, the gent and I decided to spend the last two days holed up in the apartment watching Six Feet Under and not spending money. To keep ourselves from going totally insane we devised outings for each day. Last night he suggested we get all gussied up. I put on a dress and my most ridiculous earrings and high heels and make up and did my hairs. He donned his nice black shirt and white tie. Where did we go in all our finery, you ask? Erm... we went to Blockbuster for more Six Feet Under.

Today we decided to go for a walk. People always ask, "Oh, so you live by Mt. Tabor?" when we tell them our apartment's vicinity, but we've never actually seen the thing. We decided to head in its general direction, passing scads of cute Portland hobbit houses on the way. It's so weird for it to be on the cusp of December and yet have roses and dahlias still blooming. Flies are even alive here. I got bit by a mosquito, for goodness sake.

We kept hoofing it into further elevations above sea level, pausing every so often to look back at the mist-covered hilltops and mountaintops. Finally we reached Mt. Tabor Park, where a seemingly endless series of stairs cut into the hillside. Panting, we stumbled to a bench at the summit and encountered the most wondrous site through a gap in the pines. Snow-covered Mt. Hood was bathed in a pinky-orange glow, and there was so much thick fog that the 36 miles between the two peaks looked like a gloamy lake. A crowd of people paused their jogs and bike rides to behold it. The view was truly spectacular, and of course I didn't have a camera to capture it for posterity. This is the closest thing I could find on the interwebs:


Then, on the way back home, I found $15. No, seriously, I was just minding my own business when I saw three Abe Lincolns staring up at me.