Justin had to come up to Portland this weekend to do a broadcast for a basketball game. So the kids and I decided to tag along and have a little fun before the game. When we left the house around 8:00 a.m. the air was thick with a dense fog. By the time we pulled into Portland three hours later, the sun had burned through the fog, it was about 65 degrees, with nothing but clear skies and clear views of beautiful Mt. Hood. It was going to be a glorious day!
Our first stop was Pine State Biscuits, which is a biscuit joint Justin and I saw on Diner's, Drive-In's and Dives (love that show). It was started by three guys from North Carolina and has big beautiful biscuits, gravy, fried green tomatoes, grit cakes and basically all the delicious Southern food I love but can't have, so stopping there was a must.
It was a tiny, little shop with a cool vibe, but it only had a few tables and the line was out the door. So we got our bag of deliciousness to go and took it to a park about 2 blocks away. The first 10 minutes or so I didn't even look around, focusing on my little bundle of Southern goodness. But as I wiped my mouth and polished off my orange juice, I lifted my eyes and kind of became more aware of my surroundings.
It was a beautiful day to be sure and people were out. And while it was still enjoyable, it kind of was a healthy dose of "you're not in the South anymore Toto". A woman, her mom, and child lazed in the grass together, with half of her blindingly-white butt crack hanging out. Not that I'm hating on white. I too am blindingly white, but a.) my butt crack does not hang out and b.) if I had seen a butt crack in the South it was more in a chic "I'm-so-cute-I-even-think-my-tan-little-butt-crack-is-cute-and-okay-to-show" kind of way. Not the case here.
I also noticed that the kids clothes were totally mismatched and hair uncombed. Some were still in jammies at noon and had just thrown on their wellies before heading out into public. I thought "Hmmm, I guess that's kind of nice that their parents are letting them be independent and dress themselves?" Knowing in Georgia the children would be dressed and groomed. Not a ringlet or big bow anywhere in sight. Then I looked at the parents and they too were disheveled, uncombed or looked like their dog had picked out their clothes at random. Just so you know, I am just a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl. Nothing fancy, but I comb my hair and wear make-up...which NO ONE else was. I was just kind of taking it in, not necessarily judging, but noticing that the styles were WAY different here.
Then we headed down to Saturday's Market at Waterfront Park along the Willamette River. It was gorgeous out and the streets were teeming with people. The whole time I lived in Vancouver I never went to Saturday's Market and wanted to check it out, thinking it would be fun. The first thing that happened when we got there, pressing through the throngs of people, was to be accosted by a nice but overbearing college student who wanted us to join Greenpeace. As the kids squirmed through her schpeel, I caught bits and pieces of "Palm oils ("They put it in MAKE-UP!! Isn't that AWFUL!!!"), deforestation and orangutans being burned alive." I was kind of stunned this was happening as I was trying to just enjoy a day with my kids and husband. "Please join our cause to fight this injustice!" she pleaded wanting to sell us a Greenpeace membership. I was so annoyed. No, I don't want orangutans being burned alive, but dang it lady, this was neither the time or place. Just leave me be!
Justin politely disengaged us from the situation and we pressed on through the throngs of mismatched, uncombed, unbathed, dred-locked, odd-ball groups of people around us. Only to get to a corner where we were again trying to be recruited with all the youthful zeal of one's early twenties to "PROTECT WILDLIFE!". I'm glad people are passionate about things and work for causes, but dang it I just wanted to be left alone. We crossed the street as we headed towards the river where some nut-job was preaching hell, fire and damnation. Justin and I looked at each other with knowing eyes that said "Let's get the heck out of here." without even saying a word. We got the kids balloons from a guy, since we told them they could get something and high-tailed it out of there.
Next stop on my to-do list was go to Powell's Books. It's a cool, giant book store and I wanted the girls to pick out a book or two to celebrate our day out. We circled again and again. No parking anywhere...streets full, lots full. I felt myself getting tired and impatient as we circled. Noticing the many, many odd people and get-ups on the streets around me. (One girl had on fish-net stocking thigh-highs with a petticoat that barely graced the bottom of her butt cheeks and unmentionables with GIANT platform, lace-up, knee-high boots... not really a typical daytime look, but whatever, that's not even mentioning the top half of her body. Another was wearing what looked like shoulder pads (the kind football players wear) of scottish plaid spraying out of her neck like a severed artery... that's just the start...the 'fashions' are a whole post in themself) On one of our times around I noticed protesters camped outside Powell's. Time to nix that. I had neither the energy or patience to walk forever with three kids only to be accosted again by some nut-job.
The next stop was to be at Voo-doo Donuts where I had never eaten but read in Bon Appetit was a winner. We circled and circled looking for it in a maze of one-way and no-enter streets until we finally found it. But of course no parking and lines down the street. Across the street from it was a building that had "KEEP PORTLAND WEIRD" painted on the side of it. Well, that wasn't a problem, no lack of weirdness here.
Tired and fed up, we checked into our hotel, which thank heavens was normal-thank you Marriott! We had an early dinner of pizza before Justin had to head out to work. We were disappointed to get some of the weirdest/worst service ever (while I'm giving my order the dipstick behind the counter wanted me to bang on the window and yell to get another customer's attention outside for him...Embarassed, I gave a half-hearted arm-wave and the girl looked at me like I was a lunatic. Dipstick was irritated he had to do his job and go talk to the customers himself. He then proceeded to take my money and give me no pizza, no salad, and no drinks and no explanation as to when or where my food was coming from and continued to help other people while I stood there dumbly.) And of course we had to pay for parking. Long story short, as beautiful as it was today I think we are so ready to blast out of here. And if I don't see a stinky, dred-locked, "free hugs" sign waving, didgeridoo playin', loudmouth protesting hippy for a good long while, well...I'm okay with that. Portland, you are a beautiful, amazing city...overrun with nut jobs.
My mom knew that simplistic, little me had been craving the perfect set of basic white dishes. I love food and for me personally when I look at a plate, I want the food to be the centerpiece. So when my mom pointed these out to me in the Deseret Book catalog I was smitten! They fulfill the very basic, white element I want but also inject some special meaning in a subtle way. The dinnerware has a Beehive on the top of the plate and it reminded me of when I went to Utah and toured Brigham Young's house. He used the Beehive to symbolize the importance of a strong work ethic. I loved touring that house, the Beehive House, seeing how they lived and imagining the lives that unfolded there. The best part though was seeing the Bronze bust of 'Uncle Brigham' when I was touring the Conference Center and looking at his forehead and laughing, realizing it is the EXACT SAME one as my husband's. It felt really special to be able to tangibly see and touch pieces of Justin's family's past and know that same blood that ran through the veins of the people in that home now runs through my girl's veins. It was pretty awesome.
