I invited a group of friends over last night to let people know I was back in Portland. It was nice to see everyone, but it was a little strange to set up for the party. I went to the grocery store and could read everything without having to think about it. I’m also out of practise throwing parties here, so I really had to think about what we needed and where to get it. Now the thing I loved was that I biked to the stores. Oh, and people showed up on time. What’s up with that? Don’t they know that parties start an hour to an hour and a half after the scheduled start time. Actually, I had everything ready waaaay ahead of time, because I have gotten used to having that buffer in Iceland and, knowing I wouldn’t have it here, I overcompensated. The party definitely made the house feel more comfortable, but I spent most of the party feeling like something was missing.

Rob and I talked yesterday and he said that he keeps wanting to come back to Portland. Without me there, he is wondering what the point of being in Iceland is. I said, funny, I have the same feeling about wanting to go back to Reykjavik. Our friends are very dear to me, but the friends and the house aren’t where home is. The party was fun, but I’m still not home.