So we arrive in Portland in the early afternoon.
We get settled, and talk about the upcoming days and what's in store. I very gently mention there's just a place or two I would like to see, and that if anyone wanted, I had some "notes somewhere". For whatever reason, no one knew what this really meant. No one surmised that I had a several-paged document, complete with Youtube links and lists of important food to try in order of my desire to eat them.
The next morning, we head out to downtown Portland, straight to the Byways Cafe---Amaretto French Toast as well as fabulous hash, all with local coffee. We waited for almost an hour and ultimately sat at two different tables across the room from each other. This kind of sucked because it meant I could only try 4 meals, not 7. I got over it when I conned the rest of the table to order what sounded good to me. I expected at least a kid or two to defect before we actually got seated, but I think the cold December morning made them too weak to argue. When we got in, the meals were amazing, and I was redeemed. We had bellies full of amaretto-y love, and gallons of coffee coursing through our system.
Next was Powell's bookstore-one whole city block and several floors of books-new, used, and out-of-print. Nerd-girl caviar, literate love. Mecca, really. Everyone was on board with that, so another win for me. $300 later, we are headed back home.
I notice it's almost time for another meal, and I plead for a trip to Pine State Biscuits, but the revolution is at hand. They are more in favor of laying around playing a dumb old take-over-the-country-with-little-colored-pieces game, than engage in the shoveling of the Reggie-a biscuit covered with fried chicken, bacon cheddar cheese, and gravy. It's like I'm traveling with strangers. Mean, grumpy strangers. That hate food.
This was the first time I didn't get what I wanted. Things were taking a morbid twist, and I didn't like it. We had to go back to the house, because the boys wanted to play their stupid game. Everyone was on board for leftovers for dinner. LEFTOVERS! This meant I might miss on of the meals I had so carefully planned out in Word Table Format.
Ultimately, some of the gals took off to the Portland Children's Museum though, so I was able to see more things, and get some good ideas for work, so all was not lost. And the little girls got their energy out which turned out to be beneficial for them. Maybe I could sneak in a "oops, sorry, I made a wrong turn, oh look! Is that a biscuit place?" trip to Pine State.Instead, I ended up trying to navigate without her knowing, but my sister-in-law knew her way around too well to fall for that. She responded with a friendly, "oh, don't follow that, I know the best way back." Foiled.
The next morning, my niece and I traveled into downtown to secure a variety of Voodoo doughnuts. I wasn't going to miss a glazed fried hunk of dough filled with raspberry "zombie blood". No. Fucking. Way. We came back to the house, entering like heroes home with the spoils of a victorious battle.
Later, we would be traveling to an indoor waterpark, with a seriously inadequate adult-to-child-ratio. And waaaay less liquor than should be mandatory.
So it's into the minivans, with a stop for new earphones to the littlest of the little ones can watch a movie, thereby reducing our desire to choke them before we get to the waterpark.
Then, we arrived at what can only be described as an amusement park designed to overstimulate you so much, you will willingly pay $15 for a margarita in the "adults only" bar, while your unattended children run rampant through the entire hotel waving a plastic wand at every inanimate object, hoping it's part of their "magical quest".
Stay tuned.....
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