Oh. Hi there. Please, come in. While you do I’ll cinch up my robe just a little bit tighter. I know you weren’t planning on visiting the gap. There. That’s better, I hope.

Welcome to my humble cabin in the woods here on Mount Hood. I like to call it our Mountain Bungalow. Why? Anything that starts with “bung” has gots to be good. At least that’s what the Theory of Smuckers tells me.

You’re right on time. My Casio wristwatch tells me that it’s oh-my-god-it’s early. I couldn’t sleep, either. There’s a dead calm nestled heavily in the forest surrounding us and the first feeble rays of morning light are just starting to creep in and tickle the treetops. But down here, on the forest floor, it’s just the right amount of mood lighting. Yawn. I guess you don’t really appreciate the sound of those incessant Portland trains until…