When the Husband's Away, the Wife Will....

...work like a dog.

Ok, ok, so I played a little too. J had a whirlwind business trip to Florida this week and I had the apartment all to myself for three days. I dropped him off at the airport on Sunday and had a "play date" with Carolina, a good friend of my friend Ann in D.C. Carolina and her husband moved to Portland this spring and she is quite the avid knitter and jewelry maker. We had an afternoon of crafting and I made quite a bit of progress on my cathedral windows blocks for the joint quilt that my Mom and I are making.

On Monday, I was still in the crafting mood, so I spent most of the afternoon finishing up that mystery project (the one with curved piecing) and working a bit more on the cathedral windows blocks. At the same time, I finished up season 4 of Grey's Anatomy and indulged in a few episodes of Dynasty that CBS is now streaming on their website. Dynasty has a warm spot in my heart, partly because I know the theme song by heart from listening to it as a child, but also because I spent one of the best Halloweens ever dressed as Mrs. Krystle Carrington. My friend Lauren dressed as Ms. Alexis Carrington (Krystle's nemesis) and we thoroughly enjoyed the spotlight. As a side note, it was one of Jesse's least favorite Halloweens because he said the red jumpsuit creeped him out. Whatever. I was fabulous.

I knew that the fun couldn't last and was determined to be productive around the house before J came home. I woke up early on Tuesday, had a nice hearty breakfast and got pumped to clean and organize. I was so busy yesterday that I never slowed down, hence the lack of posting. Aside from the the normal duties (like loads and loads of laundry, vacuuming, etc.) I also finally sorted through our pans and hung a shelf above the stove. It felt pretty darn good to step back and see everything finally in its place. J was quite impressed at all of the improvements and we are excited about having a tidy apartment again.

After his long trip, J needs a break. Luckily for him, instead of putting him to work washing dishes and making the bed, we can focus on something fun. Like finally making those holiday cards!

Friday Night, or Why I Am Not Hip Part 2

We hopped on the #20 bus to Doug Fir on Friday night and were chatting about the concert and our dinner and how sweet it was to get out for an evening. We sat in two empty seats near the back of the bus, right behind a plastic partition that separates the lower level and the stairs. Unbeknownst to me, my feet were wreaking havoc on a young man's soul as we enjoyed our ride down Burnside. Just as we crossed the bridge he ripped off his headphones (that were blaring music) and yelled at Jesse to stop kicking partition because he could feel every kick on his body and it was driving him "batshit crazy" (I think he threw in a fuck or two for good measure).

Ok, first, Jesse wasn't kicking the partition, I was -- the space was tight and I guess I was shuffling my feet around. Secondly, the jerk-face was leaning on the partition and lounging over four seats like a couch, so if he sat properly in his chair this wouldn't have been a problem. Finally, there was a bus full of empty seats that he could have moved to, but instead chose to yell at a perfect stranger. I didn't say anything, and neither did Jesse, because clearly he was crazy. However, I couldn't help tormenting him just a little for being such a little shit. We only had about four stops to go, so intermittently I would kick the partition really hard and would see his shoulders tense up. Then, as we neared our bus stop and stood up to leave, I made sure to do a drum roll with my feet. I know, I'm also a jerk, but it was fun.

As I mentioned earlier, my concert at Doug Fir was sold out so we walked over to the East End determined to have a fun night out. People watching was an experience. There were quite a few more dudes than ladies at the East End and they were all dolled up in their Friday night best. Clearly, I am no fashion expert when it comes to what the cool kids are wearing these days and was puzzled to find a surprising number of men walking around dressed as early 19th Century country gentry. If you swapped out the breeches for a pair of insanely form-fitting black jeans (tight to the point of possibly having to grease their ankles to slide them on) and cut off the tails on their waist coat this figure would be just about right. As a form of entertainment (for myself), I started imagining which A&E miniseries they would be most suited for, if I had full control of casting.

Most of the characters were not dashing like Matthew Macfayden as Mr. Darcy, but were more along the lines of A&E's version of Mr. Knightley -- complete with awful hat hair, but lacking the top hat as an excuse. I was pleasantly surprised when the lead singer of the second band turned out to be the guy I pointed out as Mr. Willoughby (good looking, but a bit of a cad) from Sense and Sensibility. I have no idea what he's like in real life, but in my East End narrative, he definitely will jilt Marianne (dancing seductively in front of the crowd) for a chick with a giant yearly allowance.

Since I am an old lady, around 12:30 I was ready to go home, but needed swing by the restroom before our bus ride back to the northwest. The line was insanely long and I found myself standing behind another "man of leisure" who was a dead ringer for Mr. Collins (the buffoonish clergyman from Pride and Prejudice). I think he caught me staring at him and he asked me if it was normal for four women to go to the bathroom at a time. This was as we watched a second group of ladies exit together from the single-toilet restroom. I shrugged my shoulders and told him that sometimes it helps to hold hands while you pee. He nodded his head (in earnest) and stroked an errant hair from my face. Really. He touched my hair. Mr. Collins then asked how I kept it so straight and shiny and complained about the little curls that were springing up around his ears from the humidity. I told him Static Guard. He adjusted his (popped) collar and seemed indignant about his styling product that cost a fortune, made his hair look unwashed, and yet would still not contain his boyish curls. I told him his curls were charming and he let me cut him in line for the bathroom.

Maybe Mr. Collins isn't such a boor after all. Weird, yes, but a perfect gentleman.

Friday Date Night or, Why I Am Not Hip Part 1

This was an awesome Friday. We had delicious food, good drinks, and great entertainment. I have to say that this may have been one of the better evenings that we've spent in Portland so far. Jesse and I made a pizza that was surprisingly good. We had drinks that were delicious. And we went to a concert that was sold out, but ended up at another concert that was pretty cool.

Despite how awesome I think that I am at home, tonight's concert venue solidified that a) I am old b) I am totally not hip and c) if given enough bourbon I can envision a rich fantasy world that nullifies both (a) and (b). But first, the part where I am a rockstar and my husband is a total dork -- in our own apartment making dinner.

I made the pizza dough earlier in the day and Jesse helped out by chopping onions, mushrooms, and olives for the topping. He then proceeded to make a killer pizza sauce while I figured out the Portland bus schedules (to get to our initial concert). His chopping technique is only intensified by his sense of style in the kitchen. Not a tear was shed over onions this Friday night.

In D.C., we often held true to our "pizza Friday" tradition by cutting out of work a little early and getting the happy hour special at Duccinis. Since we have yet to find such a deal in Portland, we decided to take a stab at our own version at home. Miraculously, the pizza dough turned out really well and I can't imagine a more fabulous tasting alternative. In fact, we have plenty left over for breakfast tomorrow. Both Jesse and I can't wait to go to bed so morning will come that much faster!

After dinner, Jesse prepared a little treat to keep us going through the concert -- two glasses of "Cunningham's London Fog." It consists of really strong coffee, bourbon and vanilla ice cream. Once given a half-hearted stir, it turns into a delicious, creamy treat. As we enjoyed our pre-concert beverages, we talked about the day and how I managed to convince Jesse into escorting me to an all-woman-singer concert.

Then, the night took a turn. We arrived at the Doug Fir to a sold out concert -- MY all-woman-singer concert. So, we walked down the street and ended up at the East End to see a band that Nightrain recommended earlier in the week. We headed to the bar, grabbed our drinks, and retired on a couch to people watch. It was at that point that I realized how much I missed in D.C. (in terms of the 'eclectic' hipster youth) and how un-hip I really am.

Look, I acknowledge the fact that I am an old man at heart, but seriously, I was out of my league this evening. I didn't have the right (Daniel Vosovic) hair cut, my jeans were not nearly tight enough (or awkwardly hung on my butt), I lacked a studded (and/or giant white) belt to hold up my non-tight/awkwardly fitting pants. Oh also, my face was not pouty, my feet didn't turn inward when I danced, my shoes weren't flat enough, and I was missing a bracelet (or fifteen) on my arms. Don't get me wrong, Daniel Vosovic rocks the coif, but it's not for everyone. And I do mean EVERYONE.

So, that concludes why Brasilliant is not hip Part 1. Stay tuned for Part 2, which includes: provoking a jerk-face on the #20 Trimet bus (in my own passive aggressive way), my comparative (and pictorial) analysis on hipster style and Jane Austen characters, and a colorful conversation from the bathroom queue.

Goodnight. And Happy Friday.

Cold Averted (thus no good excuse for lack of posting)

I have officially bumped the cold threat status to Code Yellow (or elevated). In these hostile times (November = cold/flu season) I feel hesitant to bump the threat down to blue (or guarded). There's plenty out there to fear, so I'm not putting away the neon drinks just yet. However, for this particular bout, I feel that the loads of veggies and garlic played a large role in pulling me out of my slump -- like Tuesday's leftover stir fry over an omelet. I'm convinced that the the curry and hot sauce was the nail on the coffin.

Yesterday it poured for just about 10 hours again, but I was feeling cooped up and needed to get out of the house. I initially wanted to go on a bike ride with J, but we decided that getting soggy on the way to any destination would be a total killjoy. So, we took the streetcar downtown to the Portland Art Museum for the afternoon and then picked up a book on hold at the library. I was excited about the art museum, but ecstatic about the book. I love side dishes and finger foods and appetizers. On our way home we stopped at the Pearl Bakery to get a snack and a coffee and I perused the book for things to cook this weekend.

Today was exceptionally beautiful and we got to take that bike ride after all. We had lunch with one of J's high school friends, David, and his wife downtown. After lunch we stopped into Stumptown Coffee to chat with Anna (who was looking quite cute today with a new haircut). She's nearing the home stretch in her pregnancy and seemed quite upbeat in spite of standing on her feet all day.

We woke up today and designated Thursday as our "clean the apartment day," but J and I have managed to avoid any cleaning tasks until now. J's conquering the dishes while I type and I'll take over the kitchen floor after dinner. I just heard him yell "Oh god! A secret-hidden-bonus-banana," which is never a good thing. I should probably get in there and mediate.

Fighting Back a Sneeze

For the past two days I have been feeling like another cold might be creeping up on me. The last cold I had was not even a month ago and it knocked me out for a solid week. I am mighty pissed at this near-cold and am doing everything within my power to nip it in the bud. My meals revolve around neon-colored fizzy "germ defense" drinks, lots of veggies, shots of orange juice, and dashes of Tabasco for good measure. I'm trying to smoke out anything that might be lingering. After struggling with a pounding headache all day yesterday (I never did make it out to run my errands) I finally gave in and went to bed early.

This morning I woke up feeling pretty good. My headache hasn't reemerged, but I'm not yet back to normal. That didn't keep me from running errands though, and spent most of the late morning at the fabric store and Target. Luckily I found a patch to fix Jesse's coat and also an 8-10 year old boy with this haircut. Seriously, his honest to god hair was cut like this wig -- only slightly less symmetrical. It looked like he may have started to cut it himself and then his mom finished up the rest, but then got distracted and just stopped. I was horrified and yet mystified. I actually had my camera with me in my purse, but thought it rude enough that I stared as much as I did, much less take a photo. The mom was also kind of burly and I'm pretty sure she would have kicked my ass.

So, now I'm back and will be mending Jesse's jacket and tending my cold for the rest of the afternoon. It's a good thing that I have plenty of indoor activities today because it is dreary and cold outside!