I write this not knowing when I will next be able to communicate. I’m trapped in Lake Oswego with no apparent means of escape. There’s half an inch of snow on the ground, the entire Portland area is shut down, and we frankly may be reduced to eating the weak and the sick if conditions don’t improve soon. Judging by the local news channels, vigilantes are roaming the streets summarily executing those suspecting of stocking up on wine and cheese looting.
Things aren’t looking good. No coffee shops are open, the newspaper hasn’t been delivered, and we may have to resort to rationing the remainder of the Riesling and Prosciutto. I’m not used to roughing it, and I fear I’m not dealing with adversity well. If this is my last communique, know that I held out as long as I could once we ran out of French Roast. Pray for us….or, even better, send lattes….
Oh, the humanity….
