I got that car on Friday afternoon and all Groom saw was the flick of my tail as I headed back to my school of friends. So, I haven't had time to post. But I can tell you, I stuck to local venues.
|this is blurry because I was so excited|
|local pet store = local cuteness.|
After spending some quality time at Two Salty Dogs, where I saw my fair share of cute as hell little dogs, I picked up my car and met another friend so we could go to a local show at SPACE Gallery in Portland, but we ended up stopping first at Katahdin where Winnie the bartender made us feel beautiful and valid while getting us liquored up on vodka for my friend and bourbon for me.
|that's the stuff|
I don't want to glorify drinking, but my god was it glorious.
We missed the show at SPACE and ended up at Empire to see a young angsty rock band with one young groupie swaying in the front of a largely empty room. They were followed by Murcielago, a band comprised of some old Portlandites, including Matt Robbins (of King Memphis fame) who is both a great photographer and an amazing guitarist. If he were in a double bill with Nate Schrock from The Coming Grass, I might just fall into a puddle on the floor.
Was that too honest? I guess I can console myself with the knowledge that only a handful of people read this blog. And the fact that I love my husband...who I know for a fact reads this blog. So....
Annnyyyywaaaayyy.... the rock show--seriously, it was the kind of music that keeps going with, like, this always-present undercurrent of guitar--ended and we took a trip over to Otto's pizza for a little late-night what-what hangover stop gap. It didn't do its trick sadly because my friend needed to nurse her hangover on the couch Sunday with her half awesome half evil cat Frank.
I took the opportunity Sunday to wander town (exercise?) and pick up a pound of coffee at Coffee by Design and some cupcakes at Two Fat Cats for a potluck cocktail party I planned to attend on Sunday night.
I also bought a pecan pie. I think of my friend Nat every time I eat pecan pie. About...oh dear...10 years...ago? No. Ugh. About eight years ago (oh, that's much better), I was eating lunch with Nat at Norm's on Congress (now called Congress Bar and Grill, not to be confused with what used to be called Norm's and then Downtown Lounge) and he ordered pecan pie. I crinkled my nose. Yuck. My mom had given me a bite of pecan pie when I was a little kid and I remember thinking it was the grossest thing ever, tasted like...meat...and had the skeeviest consistency, like...raw...meat... Blech.
When it arrived, he offered me a bite and swore I would love it as an adult. I reluctantly complied.
It was amazing. Delicious! Who knew! It dawned on me that my mother hadn't given me a bit of pecan pie. She had given me a bit of raw hamburger.
|always a hit|
Oh, to be the youngest of a large family.
Right now, I am not having a piece of delicious pecan pie from Two Fat Cats. The cupcakes, however, were a big hit at the potluck. I mean, who doesn't love cupcakes?
United States of Tara (thanks to Shanta for turning me on to that show), I drove down to Popham and walked along the beach for over an hour. Exercise!
Today, my exercise hour was eaten up by a trip to Auburn to get a headlight fixed in my new car.
Maybe I do deserve a slice of pecan pie after all.
Of course...it would be better if it had bourbon in it.