Drinking

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First off, how does anyone not love a place this handsome? I mean, seriously, Portland, you are dapper AND nearly equidistant from mountain and sea!

Second, bridges! I love bridges, and Portland’s got them in spades (with another on the way, I might add), including my all-time favorite, the Saint John’s. Oh my dear, what a beauty you are.

Third, Portlanders are pretty cool. We care. We are creative and have fantastic art and music venues. We read a LOT, with the greatest number of books circulated for a city our size. We are open minded enough to elect an openly-gay mayor and smart enough to take him to task over some less than brilliant behavior, and, in my case, almost wish he was running again.

Fourth, we’re quite green. We have the urban growth boundary to keep sprawl in check. We like alternative energy sources, wind and biomass anyone? We drive (very politely, I might add) hybrid and straight-up electric cars, share cars, and ride bicycles everywhere and have a counter to keep track of the legions crossing the Hawthorne Bridge (the hubster has a knack for being a number ending in 74: 1974, 1774, hmm…). We reduce, reuse, and recycle like the dickens, even things like yard debris, kitchen scraps (however smelly), and motor oil, right at the curb! Because whether or not global warming is real, wasting resources is d-u-m-b.

Fifth, we are crazy about food and beverages! We care about the quality and the people who bring it all to us. We are vegans, omnivores, and uber-carnivores. We love LOCAL! We make cheese, pickles, sausage, whiskey, wine, beer, cider, and so much more. Being good stewards of the land and treating animals kindly, even if their ultimate end is on our dinner plate, is important. We also like food carts and have literally hundreds of them, with fabulous chocolate caramel potato chip cupcakes, Korean tacos (as yummy as they look), and beyond delicious gentle man-made crackers with artisan salami and cheese.

Sixth, we’re a little wacky. You can wait with your lover (hair resembling a My Little Pony doll) in a long line to buy a doughnut where, “The Magic is in the Hole.” It might be in the shape of a penis! Or, as is my favorite, the Grape Ape, be sprinkled with grape dust. We have Zoobombers (probably not what you think) and naked bike rides, the Portland Urban Iditarod, the Adult Soapbox Derby, and many, many tattoos (though the hubster and I remain hold-outs). I once saw a guy riding a unicycle dressed as Uncle Sam. He bowed before opening the door for me at Fred Meyer. So gallant!

On the downside, at least for me, we have miles of unimproved roads, lots of pot holes, and under funded schools, but damn it, don’t you dare think about raising taxes on our beyond amazing local micro-brews. We have strip clubs and creepy massage parlors and prostitutes galore! We still shoot unarmed black folks in distress. We beat gay men for holding hands.

The long and short of it? We are beautiful, brilliant, and flawed. Oh, and wet! Did you know that it rains in Portland? Yup, something like 38 inches a year, though not at the moment. The sun is shining!

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Not Whiskey?!

Nash Metropolitan

Kelly’s Olympian

Big Pink

Thirty-Two

Leaf Sculpture

Neon Loans

Zoom Zoom

Favorite Driver

 

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For my final post on Montreal, welcome to our home away from home, Rue Tourville, tiny and easy to miss.

A cool painting hanging on the wall of our rented abode and one of the highlights of the trip: CIDER! This is ice cider, some of which is made from apples allowed to freeze on the tree before fermentation, while others are made from juice that is allowed to freeze. In either case, it is delicious. The hubster and I decided it is the port of apple ciders, sweet and kind of potent, meant for slow sipping (or pouring over ice cream!). In addition to this rather fancy bottle, I also nearly drank my weight in regular hard cider (dry not sweet), though to call it regular is a shame, because damn, Canadians really have a way with it, and as a big fan and consumer (second only to my love for whiskey), I feel I can say this with some authority.

More shots of our abode. Silly and a tad glamorous at the same time.

Saint Zotique, a neighborhood jewel.

Red mail boxes. Classic.

These are the buildings in the neighborhood.

Place Saint Henri Metro Station, dreamy.

He played Led Zeppelin in the most unexpectedly beautiful way, and I felt lucky to hear it.

Cafe Saint Henri, really good coffee in divine light.

The Marche Atwater, a very cool public market reminiscent of Seattle’s Pike Place, though this seems to be strictly for food,

like dark chocolate cake,

and macaroons. The pink was my favorite. I like it when pretty and yummy collide.

 And then poutine (twice: once the traditional way, the other with spicy peppers and sausage, the best), with beer for the hubster and cider for me, but you saw that coming, didn’t you?

Winter is coming…

Merci mille fois, chere Montreal!

 

 

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My uncle paid us a visit this weekend, one of those run and dash and laugh and talk all over the town kind of trips, summer idealized. The light was like a fil-um with three lovely stars. It was hot and blue, and we couldn’t stop smiling. We took in the sights and a beautiful car. We ate at new-to-us places and visited old ones with very new eyes. I baked a lemon slice pie, and it smiled at me, grateful to be part of something so magical, three days that were beyond grand.

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Hi there! I hope you are ready for a slew of Denver photos, peeps. Because they are a-comin’! Starting with a Friday afternoon adventure downtown and over the bridge, with my handsome brothers, walking, talking, lauging, and smiling.

I used to work in the tall building, the Republic Plaza, up above that second black line, on the 36th floor, with stellar views of the city and Front Range. It was a mortgage company, and I was in college, a full-time student, worker bee, and romantic, dating a certain cutie-pie who I am now beyond proud to call the hubster.

On the Sixteenth Street Mall with that fine contrast of old and new.

The piano player had a sweet voice and a light touch on the keys. I tipped her and got a dazzling smile.

A glass elevator with no Chocolate Factory in sight. Too bad.

We are headed just to the left of the church, to a place I spotted on my way to Grandma’s house, roaming the streets in my thumping-bass rental car.

I love architecture and bridges!

Everyone is reaching for the sky

And happy for sunshine.

The Platte River

The sculpture looks like a giant pile of intestines, but is cool, nonetheless.

Live wire, eek!

We’re all fine now.

Horsing around.

Finally made it.

The Colorado flag whips and snaps,

over a small French Bistrot,

Z. Cuisine.

Aaron tries the absinthe.

Chris is not so sure.

I am, however. Gimme! Gimme!

Sneaky sister.

I love my brothers!

Happy, happy 19th wedding anniversary to me and the hubster! I still get giddy when I think about us, truth be told. Our bright-as-a-penny love, better than just about anything good (kittens!) and sparkly (stars!) and fine (whiskey!). Yup, yup.

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