The moment she realized she was different

A month away from six.

Almost six years on this planet.

Six years in our little monochrome bubble called Portland—but a tiny spot, in a big world.

A segregated world.

An overwhelmingly white world.

A world that recognizes her as “other.”

Zora was almost six, when she looked around the room and realized she was the only one.

The only one with brown skin.

The only one who didn’t look like everyone else. Like all her friends.

Though the faces are smiling, friendly, welcoming, even—they are faces that exist in a space that is different than hers.

From this moment forth, she’ll never not carry this new awareness.

She’ll never enter a room and not take (unconscious or conscious) note of who in the room, if any, resembles her, or her people.

This awareness of her existence as a person of color—of mixed race— proudly of both whiteness and blackness will never be far from her mind. Because society doesn’t let one forget.

I’ve always viewed being multiracial as special—a gift. The best of both worlds. And powerful. Zora is both special AND powerful, and I’m personally touched that she recognizes the skin she’s in and is both proud of it, and happier for it. Both things can and are true—she (we) can be happy to exist, as others, and still feel moments of loneliness in this existence. 

White folks will read this and those who care will ask—what can I do? What can we do?

Be the face that smiles and welcomes. Be aware of the spaces you’re in and the privileges that come being surrounded by people who look like you. 

I’ll admit I’ve been low key dreading this moment of awareness of other—though I knew this day would come. And though my dread is valid, I’d be remiss to not acknowledge the privilege both myself and my daughters hold in the larger POC community because of this light, though othered, skin. Identity is a tricky mistress. I don’t claim to have all the answers, or politically perfect and correct thoughts. All I have to share is my heart. And my heart hurt just the tiniest bit upon hearing Zora share her observations about being the only one in her class. The slightly sad look on her face. The littlest loss of childhood pure-ness.

We talked about it. And we talked about what a gift it is to exist in this world as we are. 

So I’m sharing hers/ours/my experience here to ease my heart. I humbly ask that you recognize this practice of awareness in your day to day. Any day, every day, but most especially on this day.  Happy Black History month. Black people are magic, lest you forget 😉✨✌🏽

It may all be happening

“…When you know better, do better.” ~ Maya Angelou. This tends to be a motto our family says with regularity–words that resonate instantly for each of us in the house and can easily be heard via her voice in our …

When you’ve become “those” people at puppy class.

We should have seen this coming–after all, there were warning signs. Not being able to make it through a polite conversation on the phone without yelling “RUBY! DOWN.” or “OFF” or “DROP IT!” or the absolute worst, “RUBY, NOOOOOOOOOO” that follows an accident (hopefully number one, because two is just devastating) because not only do you have to clean that shit up but it also signals to the person on the other end of the phone that aside from being borderline obnoxious, you are also failing (at least momentarily) at housebreaking your pup. I once had this happen on the phone with my boss. Smh. If you’re looking at your computer screen all puzzled right now because you don’t know what “smh” is, click here.

Socialize, socialize, socialize. That’s what they said and that’s what we did. Ruby girl loves EVERY human and dog she meets. Others though, are a bit trickier, especially since she had her first run in with Crazy Larry. We first heard of Crazy Larry a few weeks ago. He had been described as showing up on neighbor’s doorsteps and letting himself into their homes without invitation. You can always hear Crazy Larry coming before you see him. Needless to say I wasn’t too interested in making Crazy Larry’s acquaintance. Who is “Crazy Larry” you might ask? Oh, just one of the many neighborhood cats. Fun fact: sometimes that blessed little bell around his neck wakes me up in the wee hours of the morning as he wanders, somehow, past our 6 foot fence and through my garden. And so the day came when Crazy Larry greeted us on the porch as we prepared to depart for a stroll, to make Ruby’s acquaintance (read: hiss and snarl at her on OUR porch) while Ruby gleefully tried to get close enough to give him a kiss. I told Crazy Larry to buzz off and he has, for the most part, ever since. Anyways, I digress. The point of all of this is to say that Ruby is a HAM. Hamming it up in the car, at the vet, from the porch and on most especially on walks. She just wants to say “hello” and be loved and I can’t really fault her for that. After all, we all need love. Rubes never barks at folks but she does try to jump out of her leash and collar if she’s denied the opportunity to give her greetings- you would think this would have clued us in… NOPE.

Flash forward to the first day of puppy class, almost exactly a month, to the date, from when we adopted her. We’re back at the Oregon Humane Society for “Puppy Manners: 101” and are PUMPED to get this party started. The first class is parents only and I sit back with a sly little smirk on my face as I listen to all the other parents quietly comment on how their puppies don’t know their name (OURS DOES!), how some pee every.damn.time. they get excited (NOPE, WIN!), and how the beast of a German Shepard puppy has such bad separation anxiety that the other parent had to stay home to comfort it (SMH). Silly, silly problems I say to myself, we are eons ahead of these people! At this point the universe was smirking. Probably my parents too.

Well, Jack and I had something along the lines of a rude awakening when we walked into class day 2. All these tiiiiiny, tiny one month old, well-behaved, mellow little baby puppies just smiling and acting cute and going about their business. Enter, Ruby- 3 months old, 25 lbs, happy as a clam and READY to MINGLE. To make matters even worse, there is a little 9 lb pit bull mix who is her identical twin and is the cutest, meekest, little thing you’ve ever seen. Ruby and mini-Ruby’s demeanor’s could not have provided a starker contrast. Basically, just envision Ruby as GODZILLA pouncing over the rest of the puppies (Pomeranian, Chihuahua/terrier, mini-Ruby) literally losing her damn mind with excitement and you get the idea. The trainers told all of us to be mindful of helping our dogs to interact with the other puppies. During “drop your leash and meet” time the trainer booked it over to us and said, sweetly, but firmly “Oh, not you!” Umm, did you think we didn’t know that?! We’re not blind. Another direct quote to the group: “If your puppy is maybe scaring some of the other puppies, try to redirect her attention away from them to give them some space.” Hint, hint. When the time came to sit and everyone else kindly shut their traps and sat their butts down, Ruby got vocal (to say the least) and looked like a canine superwoman in her never ending leash/pull/fly move. Jack hung his head in embarrassment knowing Judy would be ashamed and I made bad jokes about actually being “those” people to rest of the class, pleading with my eyes and too big smile to please not hate/judge us. Potential play date invitations with mini-Ruby from before class disappeared in the wind when class ended with a simple “We’ll get your number next week!” hollered as the nice couple booked it out the door.

Rewinding now to that magical, naive time before class. She knew “sit.” And her name. And she barks or grumbles by the door like 70% of the time when nature calls. WHAT ON EARTH did we do wrong in a month to have our dog go ape-shit in class?! Our wonderful trainer assured us that this was a natural “romp & play” stage that all larger breeds go through. We sighed, defeated, and acknowledged that we had our work cut out for us. We’re crossing our fingers that some other dog is the terror this week. We think that, coupled with a marathon walk prior to class and some serious training this week, could maybe begin to erase the stain of Ruby’s behavior in class last week. Here’s hoping…

Oh, and feel free to leave puppy tips in the comments. We need all the help we can get 😉

Love and Puppies

Puppies are the quick-dry cement of family foundation building. The minute Ruby got in the door we had an emotional and responsibility swoon. After the first “elimination” Marjani and I prepared to jump into action and maintain a vigilant watch to ensure this training happens as quickly as possible. We have become lighthouses operating around the clock ready for any awkward grunts or slow trots toward the back door. At the same time none of these long hours, teething marks, or rapidly depleted bottles of floor cleaner dampen the love we feel. Ruby became the third member of our family. We protect and nurture our own. We want to share all the moments together so years from now our little family can sit back on the porch reminiscing about the tides of life. The sense of family has always been present, but it was sort of a stored energy. Pushing out the metaphor from the first line, Marjani and I had the foundation–but Ruby filled it in.

Marjani and I have been building our familial foundation for the last five years and it has been the most wonderful time in our lives. Sitting on a hillside in Colorado overlooking the cityscape we decided to dig in.

The first meet. M&J circa 2009

The truest love is all that stuff that you keep in the basement. The small bits, the odds and ends we forget we have then can recall at a moments notice. Trips, couch purchases, and all the other basics are fun but love is found more in the unknown, but often, most important stuff. Knowing what kind of toothpaste we each like, the freedom to take personal risks, remembering the title of that one Prince song you love but can never remember the name of, learning how to argue constructively (don’t ask me why we added a third pitbull to the household), or what coffee mug is his/her favorite on a chilly Sunday morning. Piece by piece it goes up and provides the base for a lifetime of happiness. I’ve heard the quote “commitment offers the most freedom a person could ask for” and I know I sifted through the meaning over the last 5.2 years.

It is the reason I asked Marjani to marry me. We built our lives together on a foundation of love. A foundation that will carry us forward for the rest of our years. She is everything and will always be my everything. Sitting on the hillside here in Portland it was fittingly reminiscent of that first night in Colorado. Maybe I knew that first night it would all turn out like it has. Maybe I didn’t. Maybe not knowing was the most exciting part. What I know for sure is I was ready to begin building a life together from that night on and I am so thrilled we get to keep on building from here on out.

Crater Lake, The Caldera. And other vocabulary words to help you thrive in the Pacific Northwest

No national park is the same. Except for the feeling and wide-eyed wonder each guest experiences at the Park welcome center. We cross this imaginary line into a space designated as eminently special, a place lacking comparison to others. A landscape that reanimates your inner child sitting in the backseat, mouth wide open against the glass, strangely, silently just looking at what the world has to offer.

At that welcome gate though, after the long drive to the most random location on the map, there are doubts. At White Sands there was a “entering a live missile range checkpoint”, at Arches National Park the heat danced around with discernible movement, and here at Crater Lake there was a shack with a couple of brochures and a sign pleasantly reminding all patrons to leave a $10 bill in the bear-proofed money collection box. Never judge a book by its cover seems the most appropriate bit of wisdom here.

The road stretches out ahead through the Pumice desert. Pumice being that first bit of Pacific vocabulary we need everyone to learn. Pumice is lava rock that has since cooled and been left across wide swaths of Crater Lake National Park. Think of pumice as an oddly shaped kitchen sponge that has been left out for far too long. Just lots of old sponges, dust, and a solitary road and that’s the gist of the Pumice Desert. Volcanoes are very much an important piece of the landscape here with St. Helens doing its latest dance just 34 years ago. Still, we waited for that breathless moment of national park “wow” as we cruised through.

Thermometer readings were entirely unsupported by our visuals. It read around eighty degrees but to our peripherals snow began to build. Knee high by the fourth of July does not apply to corn alone. Crater Lake is open to the public for a few months of the year. Due in part to the 20-foot snowdrifts. We both had on shorts as any person would during a mid-June afternoon.

Through a small patch of snowmelt the horizon gleamed blue. Not crayon blue or Pepsi bottle blue but silky, passionate blue. The type of blue you want to sit down and have a conversation with type of blue. The Michael Jackson of blue. The aftermath of the volcanic explosion created the most perfect bowl of water eyes have ever seen. Crater Lake is more than a thousand feet deep with nothing but fully showered rainwater. Postcards are one thing but being there you get the bear hug from the air that the lake offers its visitors. Our (which really means MY) first thought was let me touch it. Those parentheses just back there were only brought up because Marjani has only recently removed hiking from the Nope’s list and two swings on the monkey bars isn’t enough to get all the way across if you catch what I am getting at. Back now, but the water down at the bottom is asking for some wave creators. I have lots of practice touching everything everywhere like at Whole Foods sample days, hardware stores, golf stores, backyard chores, and the fact that we keep bikes in the living room. So we needed to get to the bottom and soon.

Prime season does not include the month of June. I maintain that this is fairly strange, but we all deal with odd. A solitary small snaking trail leads patrons to the bottom. This is the exact opposite point of the park from our lodge and included a road sign and blockage halfway along the journey. Frontier men and women would shudder at the thought people in the new millennia would be stopped by a mere yellow gate. We made like Desoto and pressed on. Those snowdrifts got in the way for much of the first leg around Devil’s Backbone but every once in a while the lake opened its drapes for a peek in. Rim drive (the road built in the 1930’s around the entirety of the caldera) stacks up as one of the greatest engineering feats and prettiest roads of all time. The benefit of “out of season June” was the lack of people. The air hung still. So still, Marjani and I could pattern our steps off our increased heartbeats without the need of a stethoscope. 

The water is perfection. The landscape remains simply indescribable even a month later. Crater Lake was the third National Park added to the registry and it will always be in medal contention for the gold.    

At this point I probably (hopefully) do not have to say this but nothing about visiting the national parks in this country is “just average”. Even those parks in the middle of Appalachia or those you’ve only heard about via hotel informational brochure holders all are worth the extra drive. For the both of us this trip was a major mark; Another National Park (4 more and we get a free sub sandwich!), first Oregon outdoor weekend vacation, it was our longest and most aerobic hike (11 mildly painful- but beautiful- miles) , and most importantly cemented these types of activities never make it back on Marjani’s “Nope’s List” (please see this article for a full description).

P.S.

Pictures have NOT been edited for your viewing pleasure. What’s that they say on instagram?? Something like “no filter”? #NOFILTER!!!

I hike.

Among some of my friends I’ve gotten a bad rep as being anti-outdoors.  This is probably because nature and I don’t always get along… Cue my intense dislike for all things snakes, slugs, and only the creepiest and crawliest of bugs. Now, I fully admit I dislike (read: despise) the idea of camping. I L-O-V-E- LOVE being outside… until it gets dark out. The darkness descends in the wilderness and I’m out. Basically I like nature until it’s night time.In my world night time requires a bed and a working toilet. And I truly, in my heart of hearts, don’t feel like this is a big ask.

Disagree? Your current thoughts: “It’s just you and nature–choose your adjective: beautiful/peaceful/meditative etc. etc.” Nope. “There’s nothing better.” Ah, wrong again. “Who needs a shower when you have a lake/river/creek?” Uhhh, ME. Camping is on my “NOPES” list. The NOPES list is just what you might expect- things/people/places/allegedly edible things etc. that make me say NOPE. Here are some examples from my list: Mayonnaise/Kim Kardashian/Segway-ing (we have legs for a reason people)/Space travel/Lunch meats/Guns/Snakes (& slugs!)/Walmart/I-95/THIS/CAMPING! You get the jist.

Well see, now I live in the Pacific Northwest and because of that I suddenly need to prove my outdoor-related worthiness or something. Out here, one must get their outdoor game on point! OR forever be outcast-ed by all the Nike (SWOOSH!) employees and other avid outdoor enthusiasts who think of weekend fun as running from Mt. Hood to the Oregon coast (a cool 178 miles). Running 24 hours a day from a mountain to the ocean, though idyllic in surroundings, sounds like my nightmare. How abouts we just drive with the windows down and then drink beer at either location instead k? The middle ground between the beer drinking and fun (insane) recreational mountain to coast feats, I’ve found, lies in hiking! Who doesn’t like walking and pretty scenery? Today, I’d like to dispel my anti-outdoor rep with all of the hiking knowledge I’m about to drop on you… BOOYAH.

Hike your face off. See the key below for a description of what easy, moderate, and difficult really mean.

ANGEL’S REST– Moderate- 4.6 miles out and back and popular with us locals (I’m a local now!) as it’s only 30 mins drive from Portland

This hike is the jam. This is the first hike we tried (and loved) post Portland move. Located in the Columbia River Gorge, just off I-84 E and within a mile or so of Multnomah Falls. The first half mile is fairly easy uphill and awards you with a view of the top of some pretty, fear-inducing waterfall. After this the path gets steeper and rockier with increasingly better views of the river and gorge below. Switchbacks take you to the top over a rocky open face area with killer views of the whole river and signal your proximity to the top. Once you conquer this 1,880 foot baby mountain you can even sit on a bench high above hawks, planes, and helicopters. You’re gonna work for this one to get to the top and it’s going to feel WAY longer than 2.3 miles to the top (we thought it was at LEAST 5 miles) but it won’t kill you and the views will make it worth it.

HOOD RIVER MOUNTAIN TRAIL– Easy- 3 mile loop aka The Swiss Alps in Oregon.

Do you like pretty, pretty flowers in violet, yellow and pink hues? Mountains here, there and everywhere? Fulfilling a life long dream of frolicking to the sounds of Julie Andrew’s voice crooning “The hillssssssssss are alive, with the sooooooooooound of muuuuuuusic…” Yeah? Get in your car, drive the easy hour along 84 through the gorge to Hood River and go one exit further, up a dirt road and find the SLS Lumber sign that marks the spot. The first mile is quick and dirty up the hill, through the forest, until you bust out into an open meadow a la Sound of Music with insane views of Mt. Hood and Mt. Adams on a clear day. The path continues along the valley ridge line, back to the forest, and then down the road to loop you back to your transport! Go in May or June so you can see the flowers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BEACON ROCK TRAIL– Moderate- 2 miles out and back. Quick & dirty.

We’ve graduated out of Oregon hikes and in to Washington hikes. I made it from one Washington to the next and I have to say, this Washington is a lot cooler in both temperature and views. Surprise surprise- Beacon Rock is, as you might expect, a big ass rock. Boulder might me a more appropriate term… Kaliya and I conquered this beast on the 4th of July and were not disappointed. At some point in time some kind human created this path that climbs 600 feet straight up the side of this rock. You get baller views of the gorge the minute you start the completely paved mile long path (read: parent friendly!) that weaves it’s way up and around in a series of switchbacks.  I think the best part about this hike (besides the incredible views) is that it’s so flexible.  Flexible because you can move fast or slow, and venture as far up the rock path as you dare without feeling like you MUST get to the top. I say this because the top is a tiny railed in area to simply catch a breath and see the views you’ve been taking in the whole way up.  Note: get yourself a “Discover Washington” pass for $10 for the day or $30 for a year- the nice folks at the ranger station across the street and 1/2 mile down from the trailhead  will hook you up (or chance the $99 parking ticket fine).

 

FOREST PARK- RIDGE TRAIL–Easy & as many miles as you please

Nice little jaunt within city limits. Green ferns, trees, and more trees make up the hilly landscape with windy dirt trails spun throughout. I have to admit I encountered too many slugs (going about their business ruining my life) to recall much else about my time on this hike. It’s green, lush and easy but I’d prefer to drive a little further, see things besides strictly trees and keep my damn distance from the slugs.

KEY:

• Easy- easy peasy, skip up the hill, frolic along, short distance, a hike for the parents and/or babies/ little people. Enjoyment level high, work out level probably low.
• Moderate- You’re gonna work for this one. It’s gonna be long or steep or both and some not so savory parts for your feet/knees. You’ll feel like a BOSS when you’re done.
• Hard- LOLOLOLOL any trail rated this in Oregon scares me. Talk to me in a year and MAYBE we can test one out.

Strictly Platonic

You move across the country to a new city. You’re fortunate enough to have friends that store your shit and house you up while you search for a new place to call home. One month later you find a new home–the perfect home–apply for it, and beat the odds and the STEEP, though sweet looking, competition (rampant twentysomething couples) to claim it as your own. After a year long hiatus from the corporate working world, you and your significant other strike gold and both become gainfully employed again. Life.is.good. The universe provides. So why are you all sad squad and lonely? BECAUSE YOU NEED FRIENDS!!! Well, just a few really in addition to the bff/love for all time that you’ve made a home with.

Life really ain’t THAT bad, but trying to make new friends in a new city certainly can be. Especially when your living room serves as your office for one. Looking for friends? Here’s what you can expect to find.

A recent google search, “meet friends in portland” turned up the following results:

 CRAIGSLIST “strictly platonic”- peruse at your own risk or just, no.

 

MEETUPS–

“Meetups are neighbors getting together to learn something, do something, share something…” My understanding: there are a bunch of groups, find a group to fit your needs, join said group, make friends. Here are some group names that caught my attention:

• 20 and 30 somethings in Portland- AWESOME stuff
• 4FUN, Fabulous & Flourishing For the next Fifty
• SexPositive Portland
• Young Portland Women Meeting for Friendship
• PDX Tech Meetup
• PDX Wine and Adventure Enthusiasts
• Portland Speed Dating for Singles
• NoPo Run Club

Each group accepts members based on their own rules and hosts events for the members on the reg to, you guessed it- “meet up.” Seeing as I’m not looking to date, run, down with the tech scene or a self declared “adventure enthusiast” I’m thinking this isn’t the path for me. There’s also a healthy fear of rejection and commitment. What are the rules? Will they accept me? One group said I needed to show up at least once a month. I can’t commit to that! Can I? It also brings to mind that first cafeteria scene in Mean Girls. Too many tables, too many groups and no co-mingling.

THIS ARTICLE: TOP TEN WAYS TO MEET PEOPLE IN PORTLAND

1. Bergurende Ski Club– I’ve never skied a damn day in my life. NOPE.
2. Events & Adventures: a singles group for active people…. Negative, Bro.
3. Portland Skyliners: a social club for tall people. In order to join, Men must be at least 6’2” and women at least 5’10” without shoes. MY PEOPLE! I’m getting accepted into this group no problem. But, no.
4. 8 Minute Dating– PASS for obvious reasons.
5. Columbia River Orienteering– huh?
6. Willamette Sailing Club- Aside from the clear learning curve I’ve been watching a lot of JAWS 2 lately, so no.
7. Portland Meetup– see above.
8. Mazamas– “Basic climbing” and “Avalanche Awareness” are concerns.
9. Oregon Trails Club: Hiking, biking, kayaking. I like to hike and bike but this feels out of my league.
10. Walking and Running Clubs– running is painful enough alone and therefore does not last long. This would not be a sustainable option.

VOLUNTEERING- this one I figured out all on my own!

What’s that you say? Do good, help others, and meet people along the way? Yeah, I’ve had a little luck with volunteering. I made friends with about 5 women my parent’s age–not a complaint–just a fact. I got real friendly with one lady who’s name now escapes me… We bonded over our distaste for the traffic congestion and insane heat in the DC metro area and how charming we found Portland. We didn’t exchange digits but I did meet her husband…nice guy. I also found out about more volunteering opps so not a bad day all around but not necessarily a “win” in the friend game.

For now instead, I’m sticking to meeting people the “organic” way. For those of you wondering, this entails extended conversations with cashiers at the grocery stores, vintage shops, servers at our new hangs etc. Basically any one who HAS to be nice to me and smile and seem interested. Each encounter I push it just a little bit further… remembering names… stories told… WATCH OUT PORTLAND- I’m coming for ya. And we’ll be friends in no time.

Signed with <3,

MBW

Evidence of friends from cities past: My RAD friend, Annie.

How I ate my way through New Orleans

“Nola, Nola, NOLA.” The phrase keeps looping in my head as my flight touches down in New Orleans. For those unfamiliar with the reference y’all need to check out this clip. I’ve just landed at MSY for a week long work conference and though I’m dreading being away from my bed, my man, and my home (in that order), I couldn’t pick a better place to be required to spend a week. Mainly, I’m excited to eat my way through the vast, incredible, incomparable New Orleans food scene. This is shocking to you, I know.

Jack and I had the pleasure of finding ourselves in NOLA over a long weekend in December and we made the most of our time eating, enjoying 70 degree weather at Christmas time, exploring the French Quarter and eating a bit (a lot) more. I know from this experience that Cafe du Monde and Commander’s Palace must be repeated. Unfortunately for Jack, his ass is still in Portland and he’s only slightly resentful that he’s missing out on the food fun this time around. Luckily for me, my boss is a BOSS and loves grubbing on good food as much as I do. She has her own agenda of “must do’s” and I couldn’t be more thrilled to test them out.

First stop: Drago’s, located just inside the Hilton Riverside, known for it’s Charbroiled Oysters and all things seafood. Now, I’m not really an oyster kind of girl. I caught major flack for this living in DC, but there’s something decidedly NOT appealing about putting this slimy, wet, slippery thing in one’s mouth…

Oysters pre-grill

I’ll leave it at that. Anyways, I was dining solo so I snagged a seat at the bar that happened to sit directly on the oyster prep and grill area. 5 minutes later and I’ve made friends with the chefs and they’re telling me I simply MUST try one. I’m skeptical but the oysters smell incredible, and they’re doused in gluttonous amounts of a garlic herb butter sauce and Parmesan cheese so I’m sold pretty easily. One whole swallowed oyster later and I’m suddenly a believer in the smoky, butter drenched oysters. Other dishes to try: Crescent City Shrimp.

Next up, Cafe Du Monde. Beignets and Cafe au Laits literally 24 hrs a day. Cash $$$ only NOLA tradition- The BEST.

K-Paul’s! Unbeknownst to me, my boss planned a small group dinner for us here on our second night and God Bless her for doing so. Paul Prudhomme (the “Paul” in “K-Paul”) was most recently featured on the last season of  Top Chef, and is basically the King of NOLA/Creole cuisine and a legend in his own right. K-Paul’s claims to have invented/perfected the “blackening” technique and I have to say after eating the Louisiana Blackened Drum I don’t disagree. Everything everyone ate here was a hit. Even the house salad with the green onion dressing and the chocolate cake that signaled to me I needed to undo the top button of my skirt. Note to self, no more high waist skirts/pants/dealings at dinner in New Orleans. We’re talking Empire waist dresses from here on out so I got room to breathe!!!  This place is casual, but pricey. Let’s just say I was happy work was picking up the tab on this one…

You want gumbo, and you want it fast. Enter the Gumbo Shop. This place is a jam. They have a teeny, tiny courtyard and a nice big, old school dining room. I walked in, sat down, and in 3 minutes had a bowl of seafood gumbo and loaf of french bread in front of me. The only problem I had with this place is that I quickly realized I was a gumbo novice when I saw not one, but two, two! pieces of hard shell crab floating atop my gumbo goodness taunting me. Quick! What’s my game plan? Fork or spoon? I made two attempts, splattering my napkin and myself during both (I’ve always been a messy eater but damn). I was rewarded with an insultingly small piece of crab. I ate the rest of the bowl and cut my losses with those not so little a$$hole crabs! PS- this place won’t break the bank and they have a Chicken & Andouille version (beware, like the crab, they are monster pieces of Andoullie to be reckoned with) and a Gumbo Z’Herbes that happened to be vegan on the day that I visited.

BAM! How could we do NOLA and not do Emeril’s? Our team snuck away to Emeril’s first restaurant for a charming, white table cloth bangin lunch.  The folks at Emeril’s now how to make a person feel special. You get THREE dinner (lunch) rolls to yourself to start the party off right- sweet potato roll, cornbread muffin and some herb-y delicious thing. At first I thought we had to share these tiny, baby rolls and I was NOT pleased. Sharing is not my strong suit when it comes to food (right JHH?!) so when they brought out the additional plates of rolls I was in love. Emeril is the MAN. I had his cookbook in middle school, watched his show and yelled “BAM!” like it was my job and made my mother take me to his Fish house in Vegas when I still refused to eat fish. When I ate his “char-grilled Kale salad with boiled peanuts, pickled watermelon with crab” and some other ridiculousness my love for Emeril grew even more. You don’t find a whole lot of Kale in New Orleans and Kale for lunch can totally= peanut butter chocolate oreo cake for dessert. Win, win y’all. Also order the BBQ shrimp x 5.  Added bonus: the restaurant is located on Tchoupitoulas street. And how fun is it to say that word? (Chop-ah-two-las). Say it out loud!! I’m serious.

Meat, meat, and more meat. Cochon Butcher (no guidance on how to pronounce that one since I’m positive I’m still not saying it right) is simply put, decadence at its best. Emeril says their muffaletta is the best in town (he told me this personally). I thought that’d be too much meat for my taste so I ordered the collard green bacon melt instead. Who knew that a “bacon melt” meant 10-12 slices of bacon piled high? Not me! Not that I was sad about this or anything… There will be a line out the door but they move fast, are SO nice and their cookies are incredible. Go there now and bring me back my bacon melt please.

Save the best for last. Commander’s Palace, sigh. I think that this may be my favorite restaurant in the world. It’s located in the heart of the Garden District complete with a delightful, airy courtyard with dangling string lights, flora and fauna and Koi fish. With a resume that includes Paul Prudhomme and Emeril as executive chefs (I mean, COME ON), this place is the definition of swank. The service is great and the food is mind blowing-ly good. It doesn’t matter what you order because it’s all that good and it’s worth the coin. Bonus: at lunch they do 25 cent martinis if you order an entree. Hands down, this would be my last meal.

3 days returned from my week of indulgence finds me feeling more than satisfied. And, aware that it’s nothing but green juice and smoothies and nuts and things for now so that my body doesn’t hate me for life. Thanks for tuning in about all things food. Now, go to NOLA and experience some of the magic.

Happiest of Holidays from us to you

This year finds us thankful for happiness, love, peace, adventure, support, kindness and patience embodied in our friends and family.

We began this year looking forward to a change from our digs in DC and couldn’t have imagined the fun we’d have along this unexpected path we took to closing our year out on the opposite side of the country in Portland, Oregon.

DC babies

For three years we called Washington, D.C. home. We’ll always have mad love for Chicago (Midwest may be THE best—but it’s also just much too cold) but we created our first home together in DC. That little apartment in fussy Glover Park was home. Though our daily respective commutes to Maryland and Virginia didn’t always leaving us feeling fulfilled, the friends we found there did. SHOUT out to the DC homies-we miss you guys! In the end, we knew it was time for a change of pace as well as a change of scenery. The East coast treated us REAL well (with the exception of 1-95 and the beltway—we never liked you and we don’t miss you). NYC you gave us plentiful eats, treats, and drinks and field trips with friends both local and from afar. Philadelphia provided an easy retreat north to see our extended family on the Secouler Farm. But then the opportunity to run away to Uganda came up and so, we left.

If you’d have told us in January that we’d be spending our summer in Uganda we would have laughed at you and shook our heads in silly disbelief. What business did we have in Uganda? A lot, apparently. Doing a small part in helping to empower bad ass ladies in Uganda with humbling skill sets and the drive to accomplish anything was one of the best experiences of our lives. That we got to experience this together was simply a gift.

The next chapter found us jetlagged and feeling a bit nomadic upon our return to the states. Our adventure has been grand. And whilst we have every hope of continuing these adventures to far flung corners of the world, I think we may just take a pause for now. And, what better place to take a pause, and breathe it all in then that sweet city of bridges where the hipsters roam and everyone’s stuck in the nineties, than Portland? Thank you, Portlandia for providing such apt insight into our new home. But really, we’ve been East. We’ve been South. We were raised Midwest (REPRESENT). Now it’s time for the far West, more specifically, the Pacific Northwest. We may have left our family and friends scattered throughout this GREAT (driving across the country affords one a whole new appreciation for the sheer amount of space and size the USA occupies) nation but that’s why we got a two- COUNT EM!!! 2!!! bedroom apartment y’all! You buy the flight we’ll provide the hospitality. How can you say no? We move in to our new home in January.

Happiest of holidaze to you and yours!

Love!
Jack & Marjani

p.s.

please kindly accept this electronic communication in lieu of a holiday card this year. life got in the way of our usual card productions, operations will resume as usual in December 2014.

So much wiser now

Red or green?

If you’re lucky enough to be the recipient of this question then you shouldn’t feel obligated to make a choice between the two. A simple “BOTH” will do.

New Mexico lauds itself as the “Land of Enchantment.” After a brief, but inspiring 24 hours here I’d have to say we agree.

Though we  flirted with international roaming charges and border check points due to our close proximity to Mexico please be assured we are NORTH of the border, but man the cuisine here would have you believe otherwise. Enter La Posta de Mesilla. Enough red and green chile love to go around for all in a compound originally constructed in the 1840’s, complete with insanely delightful Christmas decorations, talking parrots, a Toucan and what I’m sure is the best food in the town state northern hemisphere. Check out their menu here: http://www.laposta-de-mesilla.com/html/menu.html if ever your travels lead you this way. Fun fact: Back in the day this place used to hide Billy the Kid.

Las Cruces is quaint.

And then, White Sands happened. On a recommendation from a good friend in Austin we detoured 40 or so minutes out of the way, over the mountains and through a VERY active missile range and former test site for the atomic bomb (yes.) and on to White Sands. Over 275 miles of glowing, pristine, white desert sands housed in the Tularosa Basin- said to be one of the “world’s greatest wonders.” The sands make up the world’s largest gypsum dunefield and mirror the landscape on parts of Mars. Our very own mini Sahara desert nestled just North of the Organ Mountains. Every definition of the word “bliss” will suffice to sum up our experience at White Sands. “Complete happiness, spiritual joy, a stage which is above any emotional state that is characterized as peace or happiness…” We’ll let the pictures speak from here.