Change in the Weather

It's raining, so I guess I'm now officially an Oregonian. I'm not used to rain in August, nor was I really accustomed to the 90+ heat we had the past few days, so I guess I really can't complain. Apparently this rain isn't gonna stick around, which I'm grateful for as I've only had the chance to take advantage of our neighbor's pool once since moving in.

I Need a Cheese Steak!

I don't think I had my first cheese steak until Nicole and I moved into the Mission circa 1996 and discovered Jay's Cheese Steaks at 21st and Valencia. I was around 26 at the time and puzzled how this food item had eluded me for so many years.

But it wasn't until we moved across the bay to Berkeley that I discovered a real cheese steak at The Cheese Steak Shop and realized Jay's was a sad imposter. The combination of steak or chicken with cheese, onions, sweet and hot peppers, and the perfect amount of grease, piled into an Amoroso roll is a touch of culinary heaven.

I'm praying I can find something that approaches this bliss here in the Northwest, so if people have leads, please point me in the right direction!!

Beavers and Bridges

Ken, Mike, Eric and I hit the yard last night to catch the Portland Beavers in action at PGE Park. Two dollar beer night seemed to draw the coeds out of their summer doldrums, as the concourse and certain sections of the yard could have easily passed for a college party.

Pretty sure the Beavers came out on top of the Las Vegas 51s (terrible name), but more importantly, we developed an acronym or pseudonym or whatever you call it to remember the names of all the Portland bridges. I figured I'd share that info here as (a) I'm likely to forget; and (b) it's damn useful information. The sentence describes the guy who, in theory, built the bridges and is as follows:

Some Rich Motherfucker Had Motherfuckin Balls! Serious Balls! Fuckin Shit!

The sentence captures the bridges in order, south to north:
*Sellwood
*Ross Island
*Marquam (I-5)
*Hawthorne
*Morrison
*Burnside
*Steel
*Broadway
*Fremont
*St. Johns

Enjoy! And keep this sentence in mind on your next trip to Portland.

Molinari Salame

For anyone that has known me for any length of time can attest, I'm a somewhat particular eater. Or very particular. I like to think my tastes are refined, but most just call me picky.

One of my food favorites is a salame sandwich. Not any salame, but italian dry salame. I'm not really sure why. Can't even tell you what I don't like about the other kinds other than they're really just not as tasty.

Anyhow, I was initially very concerned that the first couple places I tried to get sandwiches stared at me like an alien when I requested my "italian dry salame and swiss, mustard, lettuce and tomatoes only". With much relief, I've discovered that several local delis carry Molinari Salame, which seems to be of the italian dry variety.

You can all breathe a deep sigh of relief.

Boxes, Boxes and More Boxes

Finally got our stuff moved into the house. Mind you, we haven't actually moved in yet, as there's still too much chaos to leave the calm sanctuary of the in-laws, but we're shooting for sleeping in the new crib tomorrow night.

Right now, I'm sitting in what will soon be my office, but is now a room crammed full of boxes and homeless items with a tangle of cords and modems (cable, Vonage, soon to be wireless router) on a chair, pondering the possibilities.

Many of you (and when I say you, I mean friends and family, none of whom actually read this blog) have requested pictures. They're coming soon. Seriously.

Not in Berkeley Anymore

In the hospital waiting room they had a copy of Trailer Life magazine. Yes, that kinda trailer.

Drive from Hell

I've now had a couple days to recover from my journey north, so I figured it was about time to describe it.

For those that aren't already aware or haven't been within earshot to hear my whines, I've had a pinched nerve behind my left shoulder blade for two weeks now. The pain has been pretty awful, and I mention it here as it's the main reason my trip was so terrible.

The night before my departure I stayed in my friends Jeff & Kristil's cottage. Oh, and I had Zachary's. If there's a better last meal in the East Bay, at least in the pizza category, I dare you to find it. So I hit the sack around 9ish, exhausted from a week of packing, loading, cleaning, moving, etc. I awoke around 3:30 am, shoulder screaming, and as usual threw back a vicodin. And I laid there. I pondered the journey and tossed and turned for a good 45 minutes before I decided, what the fuck, I might as well hit the road.

So off I went, back to our empty house in Berkeley to pick up the cats. I caught the two little tired kitties off-guard and managed to get a sedative into each of them without much effort, which is saying something for those of you that have met Eli. The journey was off to a good start.

I officially hit the road at 5 am and quickly realized a bit more separation between vicodin and the road might have been a good idea, as pain and nausea crept in. A banana and Clif Bar helped mildly, and about an hour into the trip I figured a cup of coffee might turn things for the better. Course, at 6 am in BFE, the options are limited. Peets' was far behind and I was desperate. Regardless, I got a cup of what easily could compete for the world's worst cup of joe and put a ThermaCare heat pack on my back. The coffee may have been a bust, but the ThermaCare was a godsend, and likely the only way I completed the trip in one day.

But with it came a complication I hadn't considered. The heat from it made me really drowsy. And the terrible coffee was doing nothing to combat it. So right about the time I was about to call 2 hours of driving a good day's work, I spotted a Starbuck's sign and pulled off the highway. It's not Peets', but it'd do in a pinch. And the timing was extra fortuitous as a strange odor overtook me almost simultaneously as I realized Eli had shat in the cat cage.

So with caffeine in the system and a freshly cleaned cat cage, we were back on the road. The ThermaCare continued to work wonders and I breezed thru the next 5-6 hours pretty easily. But then I hit a wall. The pain was creeping back in and I was getting really tired of staring at the road and gritting thru the pain, so I spent the remained of the 11-hour trip stopping almost every 45 minutes, sometimes to stretch my legs, sometimes to grab a drink, and a couple times to lay down on the lawn at rest stops for 10-minute cat naps. That's me napping, not the cats.

And that was about it. When I write it all down, it really doesn't seem that bad, but it was a serious battle. And I guess that's all I can say about it for now.

Nicole and I are now staying at her parents' place in Lake Oswego as we work on doing a few things to the new house. In theory, we can get our stuff into our new place as early as the 14th, but we'll likely wait awhile until we've at least finished some interior painting and re-tiling the bathroom floor.

And then I'll start exploring Portland for real.