A new favorite wine.

Becka and I are enjoying a bottle of 2006 Chardonnay from these fine people:

Papio Wines

If you're looking for a nice Chardonnay that isn't too dry, give them a sip. We like it so much we are discussing the possibility of getting a case tomorrow. Yum yum!

Happy Hour with Amber!

Happy Hour with Amber!
Originally uploaded by reseda76

Guess who now lives in the same city as his cousin and went to Happy Hour with her downtown today?

YEAH.

ME.

This is where we went. It was really reasonable and the view was magnificent!

Portland City Grill

Woohoo! :)

Hello Dinner!

C'est fini!
Originally uploaded by reseda76

I would like to introduce you to shrimp and veggie stir fry. This would be my first home-cooked creation in Portland. The veggies are from a really cool organic market we went to yesterday. Wrapping it with lettuce was suggested to us by a P.F. Chang's server in Boise when we stopped for lunch on the way here.

Becka said it was scrumptious.

I would have to agree.

Would you care to see some photos?

Becka and I went downtown to take pictures today. Here they are.

Portland Capers

It was so much fun and the weather was incredible!

HELLO FROM OREGON.

So I moved.

Totally.

OH HOLY CRAP I LIVE IN OREGON NOW.

I have pictures.

They are nice.

They are coming soon.

I have to unpack.

Lion Reunion.

We've all seen this today, but why not see it again? You know you want to.



*teary*

R.I.P. Estelle Getty

An actress known for her determination to succeed and far more roles than Dorothy's mother Sophia Petrillo on The Golden Girls (though that one is my personal favorite), Estelle Getty passed away today after a long battle with dementia. She passed away peacefully and quietly at home, and is now living it up on that big lanai in heaven with all her friends who went before her - at least that's what I'd like to think.

We are happy you are finally at peace, but will miss you.

Estelle Getty, 1923-2008

"Farewell, new friend" to you as well!

Look at this! Would you look at this??

From Calanan

I have to say I feel the same way. He is a really nice person (and a great photographer) and it's unfortunate because we just barely met and now I'm leaving.

Though, he's moving in about a year so I don't feel TOO much like a schmuck. Heh.

Thanks for the awesome tribute, Mike, and come visit anytime!

Mike's (incredible) Flickr photos here.

Sunday Morning Ritual

Steve and Miranda rounded the corner of their favorite ice cream shop. A very attractive young gentleman jogged past them in a stylish track suit.

"Good morning!" he said with a smile.

They both smiled back.

"What a nice man." beamed Miranda. "Too bad he's making me feel guilty."

"He reminds me of my ex." said Steve. "Except he smiles and is nice."

Miranda gave him a half smile as they walked through the heavy wooden door. This was their Sunday morning ritual. Breakfast at Saveur, usually the salmon and eggs, then ice cream at Heladito. Neither one of them were heavy, but they weren't that slender either. Gourmet everything certainly takes its toll after awhile.

"Eventually I'm going to need exercise on a regular schedule. I've reduced my indulgence as much as I can" whimpered Steve. "There's no way I could give up Sunday mornings. It's all the sloth I have left!"

"Don't make me obsess over that too! You know how easily I do that!" retorted Miranda as she ordered her cone. Steve stood behind her, lecturing to the floor tiles with vigor.

"I'm not mad at myself necessarily. But I've been letting myself go this past year. You know it's true. Honestly I have no regrets. It's been a delicious journey but now I have to go home and pay the bills stacked up behind the mail slot in the door - so to speak."

"Hey Steve. Shut up. Order some damn ice cream." It never failed to amaze Miranda how poetically Steve could insult himself. It was almost magical. She pushed him to the counter while taking a big bite out of her caramel cashew nut supreme.

The two made their way out of the store with ice creams in hand. The sun was out, but it was still chilly at noon. Steve zipped up his hoodie.

"Mark Twain." he said, turning to Miranda.

"Mmm." she nodded with a mouthful of ice cream.

Mark Twain had once allegedly stated "The coldest winter I ever saw was the summer I spent in San Francisco." Each time the sun would go on sabbatical and clouds would come crashing in from the bay, licking the hills with wispy tongues of dripping fog, all Steve or Miranda would have to do is say his name. The rest took care of itself. Like a secret code.

"I hate hot weather though." said Miranda once she had swallowed her ice cream. "It's so nice to wear a jacket in August, you know?"

"Yeah. The more I can cover up, the better I feel." Steve said, his mouth full of cherry chocolate fudge.

"Stooooop." said Miranda. "You look good in shorts. Trust me."

They walked past a men's clothing store. There were three mannequins on display who obviously hadn't heard of the quote by Mark Twain. One was in a tank top and shorts, the other was in a swimsuit, and the third sported a short-sleeve Havanera shirt with linen pants and flip flops. They stopped in front of the window.

"Someone should give them jackets. Or at least a blanket." said Steve.

"I think the one in the swimsuit is making eyes at you." smirked Miranda.

"Ha! Funny. Nobody makes eyes at this." Steve passed the pointer finger of his free hand around him in a circle.

"You can't be serious. Someone HAS to notice your hotness. I bet that mannequin would jump right under that blanket with you. Rowr." Miranda laughed.

"You're too funny." said Steve, deadpan. "No - really it just doesn't happen. I'm not...whatever. You know? It just doesn't happen. It's totally fine."

"What do you mean?" Miranda attacked the ice cream dripping down her fingers with one lengual swoop.

"Well, when I go into a group of other gay men, or when I see them around, none of them have ever "made eyes" at me. Ever." He crammed the last bit of cone into his mouth.

"How do you know that?? Are you constantly looking for it?"

"No, but I think I'd know if it happened. I'm not hideously ugly, I would never say that. I'm just not really that much to gaze upon. It's ok. Really! Sometimes it bothers me but usually I'm fine."

"I think that's ridiculous. I can't believe nobody has ever looked at you in that "If there weren't other people here I would rip your clothes off and throw you on the table" kind of way. You can't tell me that has never, EVER happened to you." Miranda's eyes narrowed.

"Well...ok fine. It happened to me once. That's how I know it hasn't happened since. It happened to me once and I've never forgotten it."

Miranda folded her arms, her ice cream hand dangling the tilted cone toward the street.

"Well?"

"It happened really fast - but there was eye contact so it felt really slow, you know? We were walking past each other and he looked right into my eyes and smiled the most wonderful smile I've ever seen. His kind energy penetrated my whole body and passed through my soul. It was good I kept walking because it probably would have taken out the taco cart behind me."

"Wow." said Miranda. What happened after that?

"Oh I just kept walking. I was late for a doctor's appointment."

She shook her head, unfolded her arms and finished her ice cream cone. "See? SOMEONE thought you were fantastic. You can't say nobody ever has before."

"Maybe he did, but it was just that one time. I can't accept it at face value either because I'm pretty sure he was a prostitute, or at least a coke dealer."

"Why? Where were you?"

"At the B.A.R.T. stop on 24th and Mission. You know, by the shelter and that McDonald's the Health Department shut down after someone found a finger in their milkshake."

"Oh yeah. He probably was then." resigned Miranda. "Damn."

The two friends linked arms and continued on their walk.

The Shopper and The Checker

It was the day after a very hot holiday. The supermarket wasn't very crowded, but you could tell everyone most likely worked the holiday and now took the day off. “Well.” thought The Shopper, “At least the store isn't crowded.” Navigating the aisles, he remembered this was the store where The Checker worked.

He really liked The Checker. He was alluring and beautiful in his own way. Some people probably would find The Checker unattractive, but not The Shopper. To him, everything about The Checker was charming. His dorky grin, his slightly crooked (but very white) teeth, the amber-hued stubble that gave away his unnatural hair color, his crooked soul patch, his richly tanned skin that was probably very white at the beginning of summer, the watch he wore that was easily two sizes too big, and the large gemstone bracelet on his other slender wrist. He was just cute. Cute and goofy and a little clumsy. With a big apron on. Absolutely perfect.

The Shopper got what he needed and looked around to see only two checkstands open. One of them was staffed by The Checker. Four people were waiting at that stand – two at the other one staffed by an angry woman he didn't want to deal with. “Damn. I'll take a lap and check back.” He wasn't going to let go of his chance to interact with The Checker, even if it meant carrying frozen food around an overheated supermarket in the middle of summer. Nobody would catch on...they would just think he needed more things.

Returning to the front of the store, he noticed the line had gotten longer. Longer? How could that happen? One more lap should do the trick. He rounded the vegetarian frozen goods. “When are they going to restock the tofu corn dogs? They are too good to not carry!” he thought to himself as though to prove to some imaginary friend in his neurosis that he wasn't thinking about The Checker. It was a thinly-veiled defense and failed quickly. He jogged to the front of the store.

The line was down to two people. Awesome. Time to jump in.

He had plenty of time to observe The Checker from the back of the line. As he got closer he could notice a faint scent of cigarettes covered up (unsuccessfully) by cologne. He loved that. This innocent checker had some otherworldly meanderings that defied his nerdy exterior.

He had to know what it was like to actually have a conversation with this guy. In times past, The Shopper would just stand there numbly, take the receipt, smile and leave. They had to chat this time. He had to find out, one way or another, if The Checker subscribed to his particular brand of intimate arrangement for certain. How could he do this? How could he find out in the 5 minutes they would have together without giving it away and/or creeping The Checker out? He needed to shop here – it was the closest store to his house. How could he accomplish this and be able to show his face in there again? How??

The bracelet.

He could ask about the bracelet. This would start a conversation. It was too perfect! Based on the enthusiasm of his response he would know if it was safe to proceed. Fantastic!

“I like your bracelet.”

“Thanks.” he flashed a goofy grin. “My girlfriend got it for me at Lake Havasu. She goes every year with her family. The stones are real and stuff.” The Checker poked at the stones with his free hand while he dragged a package of cookie dough across the scanner in the other.

Girlfriend?

Right.

He had a girlfriend.

Right.

Maybe he did, that was altogether possible, but it was probably for show. A decorative faux-girlfriend. A girlfriend wall-treatment. Some sponge-painted wisp of a woman buying him gaudy bracelets from Lake Havasu that only further confirmed his fruity tendencies to the world.

He could picture her. She was like sugar-free Crystal Light. Sweet and pleasant but lame as hell.

The receipt clacked its way out of the ominous, gray box on the counter. “Okay, so, here's your receipt.” said The Checker with that grin again. That toothy grin. God that grin could make The Shopper a puddled mess on the floor if he let it. He reached up to take the receipt from The Checker and for a brief second their eyes and hands met.

Something snapped.

It was as though the entire life they could share together spun wildly in the narrow crevice between them like a cyclone, drawing them together with its furious imaginative energy. Shopper and Checker stood there, gazing into each other's eyes, fingertips touching, for what seemed like hours.

Just as fast as it started, it died. Music crescendoed, blurry shots came back into focus and The Checker went back to being The Checker. The Shopper just as quickly reduced back to a random person coming in for some odds and ends.

“Have a good one.” said The Checker with his trademark grin.

“You too.” said The Shopper with a huge smile.

The Shopper went on his way, wondering if he looked alright from the back. Chances of seeing The Checker again were slim at best. It was simply a chance encounter and nothing more. The Shopper knew absolutely nothing about The Checker in all honesty, but as the glass panel doors whirred open to a roasting summer sun, The Shopper couldn't help but tell himself:

“At another time, in another place, under different circumstances, he could have been the one.”

“Damn.”

Celebrate!

My office is a very diverse one. By "diverse" I mean there is someone not originally from the U.S. who works there. By that, I mean I work with a Canadian.

Exotic.

Because we are so very diverse, we not only celebrate the 4th of July, but Canada Day as well (July 1st). It's a nice way for him to feel more comfortable and gives us an excuse to have CAKE!

Yes. Cake.

Specifically, the CANADA DAY FLAG CAKE made popular by Kraft Canada and enjoyed many a Canada Day in every province of that great land to the north.

This year was my turn to make the cake. It was really easy and it's not as unhealthy as you might think. It didn't turn out too bad, did it?

You can almost tell it's the Canadian flag!

Here is the recipe with a much better looking strawberry arrangement: Canada Day Flag Cake

Yes, I am already thinking of how to switch this recipe around, add blueberries and make it for the 4th of July. It's not copying, it's utilizing resources.

HAPPY CANADA DAY TO ALL MY CANADIAN FRIENDS!!!








eh.