Skip to main content

Anniversary in Portland



This weekend Rod and I took time to celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary (without breaking the bank nor taking time off from work). Though we both would've liked to left for far flung places on Friday night, we opted to take the evening easy and leave at first light for our overnight in Portland.

After searching online for days, I found a delightful Victorian Bed and Breakfast called The Lion and The Rose located in the historic neighborhood of Irvington, near the Rose Quarter. It was a good choice and turned out to be the time of year to get a great deal. Since we knew we wanted to bop around eating at local places we opted out of the breakfast portion (though we suspected it would have been wonderful to eat among those wonderful antiques in that opulent diningroom). This decision made our room cost a mere $99 for the night and our room, the Garden Room, was so cheerful, light, and warm that it felt special for having made it as a married couple for the past 10 years.

After dropping our bags at the B&B, we set off to discover Voodoo Donuts and the Saturday Market on the waterfront near the Burnside Bridge. The sad part of Portland is the pitiful homeless/panhandling problem. There's nothing like feeling guilty for standing in line outside of a bizarre donut shop while having to listen to a sob story that is obviously a ruse to gain some of your hard-earned cash. (I say this is an obvious ruse b/c on the heels of this guy's sob story he starts bantering with a passing buddy and contradicts his claims made minutes before.) Rod donated despite the signs that warn against encouraging this behavior. It's probably our first and last visit to this unique establishment despite my draw to the queer and unusual. The Saturday Market featured many local artisans plying their wares and I could have spent more time gridding through and enjoying myself but Rod's light jacket wasn't adequate to keep him warm while walking at my pace. We passed through, garnering a little flavor, and moved on to begin exploring the city. We opted to drive our car to our varied destinations around downtown, paying for parking which turned out to be a pretty good idea. We were able to warm-up and duck the intermittent rain showers, emerging from the car or basking within it when the sun came back out.

To my surprise, Rod took up a mission to take me to yarn stores located about the city. When he suggested stopping at a few the night before, I thought he was humoring me but played along, writing down some store addresses and phone numbers. It turned out that he gladly drove me from shop to shop and patiently waited while I drank in the color and textures of fiber in an unfamiliar city. It felt like my very own "Yarn Tour" and indeed, I found out about the Portland Yarn Crawl, which I had missed a mere month before. Touring yarn shops led us around the city and gave us closer views of the Pearl District, the Alphabet District, Knob Hill, the Alberta Arts area, and the bohemian Hawthorne area.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I Remember...

I remember catching fireflies,  putting them in a jar, as a girl of five. I picked pears off a tree that overhung an alleyway on my route home from school, then enjoyed the forbidden fruit. .I had a golden cat who chased a gray mouse through our living room sending my mother, 3-year old sister, and me screaming atop the sofa and chairs. We lived in a farmhouse and I watched Romper Room. A daddy longlegs skittered across my dirty kid legs as I teeter-tottered on a broken kitchen chair back. I played grocery store and laid out a bedroll for group nap time in preschool. We lived in an apartment attached to a bakery. My maternal grandparents visited and a photo was snapped. Grandma held Dawn and Grandpa held me. I held Grandpa's chin. Walking through the back of the flour-caked kitchen, I saw scrumptious pastries and colorful toys stuck in the cupcakes with my hungry kids eyes. We lived in a two-story apartment building next door to a large farmer's field.  That field was my...
3 comments
Read more

You're Not You...Me, Too!

1 Wow! Spot on...In so many ways.  Granted I wasn't in the the same socio-economic circumstance, and neither do I play piano but I was passionate about knitting and I lost the ability to engage in my passion practically from the onset of the ALS. Symptoms first manifested in my right hand as well. I was big on juicing, supplements, and did not worry about fats nor calories. But ALS advanced relentlessly. I hired friends as caregivers and had to bear the humiliation of being toileted by them.One of the worst hurdles for me was allowing a long time male friend wipe me following a toilet. My mother, stepfather, and sister all toileted me as well. Of course, my husband had to attend to all of my most delicate needs, showering, dressing and make-up application. I could really relate to Hillary Swank's character, Kate, in all circumstances except, she chose not to use the bipap (breathing apparatus).  I don't really get why somebody would opt out of a non-invasive solution to...
3 comments
Read more

Kate

I think about my friend, Kate Struby, who died from this horrible disease in 2013. She lived here at Bailey Boushay House before I did. I reached out to Kate online through FaceBook because I loved her photograph with her head thrown back in laughter. I also loved her posts. I guess I just loved her spirit. I got to finally meet her one month before she died. I happened to be at the University of Washington Medical Center for my quarterly appointment when I saw her FaceBook post. She was awake and in the medical ICU. She was a mere few floors down. I would not be stopped. Relativeor no, I would meet my FaceBook friend. Thank God I did. I rolled into the room to find a beautiful, ethere.al woman flanked by two friends. Although it was an impromtu visit, she said she knew me immediately.I was in awe of her with her fiery spirit despite the ravages of our shared disease. She, unable to lift even a finger, lifted my spirit.
2 comments
Read more