I left you in Cannon Beach. After long walk on the beach and a short dip in the frigid water (just our toes), we headed inland. We spent the night with friends in Canby, and the next day we explored Portland.
The first stop was, of course, Portland’s famous food trucks. To no one’s amazement, Soren headed for the pork. I went with Vietnamese.
After lunch, we wandered, bought a pair of dangly earrings (me, not Soren), ate frozen yogurt, and eventually we ended up at Portland’s Rose Garden, which — I’ve got to be honest — blew the Brooklyn Botanic Garden away. The grounds were positively bursting with roses, just as a rose garden should be.
Is that micro mini the tiniest rose you’ve ever seen? Continue reading
Earlier this month, Soren and I took a little trip. We flew to Seattle, rented a car, and drove to San Francisco. It was mostly new territory for me. Aside from a high school band trip in the 1990s, I haven’t spent any time in the Pacific Northwest. I loved it. (Of course, my rosy view may be due to the fact that we had perfect weather — not a single day of rain).
I found this postcard in an antique store last year when I was hunting for wedding decor. I bought it thinking it would be . . . quirky? Not surprisingly, it didn’t make the final cut.
A year later, I still find it completely mystifying. Fargo and its sister city Moorhead, Minnesota, are fine towns, but they have no special relationship with kittens.
Soren and I spent last weekend in Baltimore, aka The City that Reads, The City that Breeds, and The Greatest City in America. (It’s also the city where we first fell in love.) I’m here to bestow a new moniker on Baltimore: The City that Houses the World’s Best Hot Dog. I kid you not, this hot dog will blow your mind.
Here’s how you make a normal hot dog. First, grab a pasty white bun, slit it in half. Then, slip in some inferior pale pink meat tube made from pig ears and chicken lips. One line of ketchup, one line of yellow mustard, and you’re done! Here’s how you make the best hot dog ever. Continue reading
Earlier this month, Soren and I spent eight blissful days on Bequia, a seven-square-mile Caribbean island located roughly 100 miles west of Barbados. Bequia (pronounced Beck-way) is part of St. Vincent and the Grenadines. In fact, it’s the largest Grenadine. I thought you might like to see some photos.
Our adorable hotel: The Sugarapple Inn
I just spent the most fantastic week at the Marine Biology Laboratory in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, as part of a fellowship for journalists. You can see Woods Hole at the southwestern tip of the cape, just across the water from Martha’s Vinyard (which does not have a vinyard and has nothing to do with Martha Stewart — two of my previously held misconceptions).
Woods Hole is a science mecca. In the summer, researchers from all over the world — including quite a few Nobel laureates — descend on the place like flocks of pigeons. They conduct experiments, they mingle, and they drink. Oh boy do they drink.
I was there for 10 days with six other journalists learning some of the techniques that scientists use in the laboratory — techniques with impossibly complex names, like gel electrophoresis and polymerase chain reaction. It was the most fun I’ve had in a really long time. Turns out I really enjoy fertilizing sea urchin eggs, pipetting antibodies, and staring at tiny creatures under the microscope. Though I must say that snipping the heads off squid with a sharp pair of scissors makes me a little squeamish. Continue reading