Tag Archives: Snow

If It Slices or Dices, It Entices

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Last week, I bought a mandoline. And by mandoline, I mean this:

NOT this:

Captain Corelli I am not.

I do, however, have a fondness for kitchen gadgets. Let’s just say if it slices or it dices, it entices. This is why I think Tara’s mom is so cool. She has both a miniature blowtorch and a set of battery-powered salt and pepper grinders that I oohed and ahhed over during my visit in October (an identical pair of the latter subsequently found their way beneath Tara’s tree on Christmas day, proving that Tracy actually paid attention to the attention I paid to (confused yet?) her gadgets. Hmm, maybe I’ll find a blowtorch stuffed in my stocking this year?! Dare to dream, Petruska).

Anyway.

The point is, anything that is cool and handy and helps out around the kitchen makes my heart beat faster. This applies to both my girlfriend and inanimate objects. I found myself in Fred Meyer last week with a little extra cash and a mandoline that happened to be on sale. Ooh, I thought. I can’t believe I’ve survived all these years without one of those! And into my baby cart it went.

Bread? Check. Milk? Check. Mandoline? Check.

Sadly, the next few dinners I made did not call for any sliced ingredients. I was beginning to think my poor, lonely mandoline might be forever regulated to the Second Drawer Down, destined to gather dust, when I found a new casserole recipe that I wanted to try that called for, among other ingredients, sliced shallots. Be still my heart! It was time to bust out the mandoline!!

I grabbed a shallot and commenced to slicin’. Everything was fine and good – I had perfectly uniform sliced shallots piling up in a neat little stack on the cutting board – until I nearly severed my thumb.

In case you’re not familiar with a mandoline, it’s got a very sharp blade that slices through a myriad of vegetables – onions, carrots, potatoes, turnips – with ease. And also, I might add, human flesh.

I didn’t even realize I’d cut myself at first. There was a sharp pain and my reflexes kicked in immediately. I examined my thumb and it wasn’t bleeding, so I figured it had been a close call and nothing more. But then it did turn red and, upon closer examination, I discovered a chunk of flesh missing.

Ouch.

You know, being a fan of the cooking show Chopped, I have never been able to understand why it is that on nearly every episode somebody ends up cutting him- or herself. Is one of the mystery ingredients blood? But after my own close brush with a heinous cooking injury, let’s just say I’m a little more sympathetic to their plight. I get it now. Cooking is dangerous. It is not for the faint of heart.

Maybe I’m exaggerating a little. “Chunk of flesh” might be a bit extreme. But there was a knick in my thumb, and it smarted a little.

Fortunately, the casserole turned out delicious.

Here Today, Gone To…day!

All my wishes for snow, I’m happy to report, came true. Around 8:30 Tuesday night it began snowing, and was piling up nicely by the time I went to bed. By daybreak we had 3″ on the ground, and school was cancelled.

Unfortunately, by daybreak it was already 40 degrees and raining. Alas, within a few hours all traces of snow had disappeared. It’s often like that around here; it rarely lasts more than a day or two. The high temperature yesterday reached 52. Our meager three-inch snowpack never stood a chance.

But it was beautiful while it lasted, and winter isn’t over yet!

Rx For a Successful LDR

Tara and I are approximately 12 hours away from seeing each other again. Woohoo!

The thing that has made this long-distance relationship bearable is the frequency of visits we have made back and forth. We’ve never been apart too terribly long, despite fears to the contrary when we first started dating. Of course, I don’t think either of us expected our feelings toward each other to be so intense in the beginning, either. We are both very anxious for Tara to move here, and looking forward to starting that chapter of our lives together. In the meantime, we’ll keep enjoying these little get togethers.

The last time she was here, I ended up in the hospital while she was stuck in my house by herself for three nights. We definitely hope to make up for that this time around. We’ll have a day to ourselves, a day spent adventuring with the kids, a birthday dinner for my dad, and then on Sunday we fly out together to Vegas. We’re not staying there this time – our destination instead is lovely Pahrump, Nevada – but it’ll be fun regardless. We wanted to take advantage of some work she had to do down south by spending a couple of extra days together. Translation: free hotel room.

Hey, a bargain is a bargain.

I fly back Tuesday night, so it won’t be a long trip to Nevada this time, but even a couple of days will be worth it.

Then, we’ll reset the countdown clock to our next visit, in February.

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My Bologna’s First Name Isn’t Oscar

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Yesterday I made myself a bologna sandwich for lunch. Ordinarily this would be no big deal, but I felt weird about the whole thing thanks to Jess Witkins’ confessional about her own bologna sandwich experience last February. Maybe it wasn’t the bologna so much as the fact that she paired it with a glass of Chardonnay, but for some reason she got a lot of flak over that post, so much that she now considers that tiny indiscretion one of her most embarrassing moments of 2011.

Personally, I don’t see what all the fuss was about. Bologna’s good, right? And a decent Chardonnay is plenty tasty. Why not enjoy them together? It’s like a Happy Meal for grownups!

Who cares what's in it - it tastes good! (Courtesy of defglam.com).

And yet, there I was, feeling weird about my own sandwich. Like the reputation of bologna had somehow been sullied. Granted, it’s never been held in very high esteem in the first place. It probably ranks just above hot dogs but slightly below Spam on some fictitious list of Questionable Food Products To Avoid. But you know what? I happen to be quite fond of both hot dogs and Spam, so an occasional bologna sandwich is really no big deal. It doesn’t help that my girlfriend wrinkled her nose when I brought up the topic of bologna during my Christmas/New Year visit. How and why we ever got into a discussion over processed lunchmeat escapes me, but knowing she’s no fan of bologna was also detrimental to my enjoyment of the whole sandwich experience. In retrospect, I was doomed from the start.

It should be noted that I’m very particular when it comes to bologna. Not just any old kind will do. My bologna does not have the first name Oscar; in fact, it is flavored with garlic, sliced paper thin, and imported from Trenton, New Jersey.

I kid you not.

There’s this company called Loeffler’s Gourmet that is based in Trenton, the city both my parents call home. Any time we’d visit, we’d return with a couple of pounds of their bologna, which is unlike any other. I would venture to guess that even people who claim not to enjoy bologna would love Loeffler’s bologna. I haven’t been back east in nearly fifteen years, but my folks still return a couple of times a year, and the tradition of Bringing Back Bologna continues to this day. So yeah, I had some in my freezer. And once I took a bite of that sandwich – on a Kaiser roll, with a slice of American cheese (don’t even get me started on that), and mustard and tomato and pickle – all my initial consternation faded away and I was left with a mouthful of pure processed bliss. And to all the naysayers out there, I may not know which part of the animal my bologna came from – or even which animal, for that matter – but I also don’t care. When something tastes THAT good, it’s hard to give a damn whether a tongue or cheek was involved. Much like Spam, it’s almost a religious experience.

I apologize if this post made you drool.

Yes Or Snow?

For days now, we Portlanders have been teased with the prospect of snow.

Keep in mind, it’s a pretty rare event here. The fact that it’s a novelty excites many of us, and also causes widespread panic and chaos the moment the flakes start falling. Those east coasters who are so skilled in bologna production no doubt chuckle over our reaction to even the threat of a little snow. Snow lover that I am, my eyes have been glued to the sky ever since Saturday night, hoping for a little bit of the fluffy white stuff. And while we’ve had snow showers for three consecutive days now, the temperature has hovered at a maddening 36 or 37 degrees the whole time, making it too warm for anything to stick. I posted on Facebook this morning that the snow reminded me of the Republican presidential field of candidates – just a bunch of big flakes not adding up to anything. And all white, too.

I can be quite the comedian when I try.

Audrey, kicking the soccer ball around in the snow yesterday.

The ironic thing is, I’ve seen more snow in Vancouver, Washington in one hour than I ever saw in Ely. Before my trip to visit Tara, I was excited over the prospect of lots and lots of snow. After all, normally by New Year’s Eve they’re measuring their snowfall in feet instead of inches. When my trip was still a couple of months away I was assured by more than one person that I’d be sick of snow by the time I left. I fretted over a lack of warm-enough winter clothing and even contemplated purchasing long johns in advance. Instead, I was treated to constant sunshine and 50 degrees. Suuurrre it was 20 below zero with 24″ of snow on the ground last December 31, honey.

So, yeah. Hoping to make up for that around here, but even twelve hours before this big storm is supposed to hit we don’t know what’s going to happen in Portland. According to the various local meteorologists we will see either:

  1. Nothing but rain.
  2. A little bit of snow turning to rain by daybreak.
  3. A lot of snow piling up all morning.

Way to nail down the forecast, guys! It’s all dependent on where this low pressure system makes landfall. Just a few miles north or south will make all the difference. The kids are already counting on a snow day tomorrow. Of course, they had the same hope for today, but woke up bitterly disappointed.

If it happens, great. If not, it’s hardly the end of the world. Besides, any snow we do get had better be all gone by Thursday evening, as Tara is flying in for another visit.

Thank god. These fourteen-days-apart-and-counting have been torture.

Again, I kid you not.

Peace out for now – and, think snow!!

Thank You, Mother Nature

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Thank you, Mother Nature.

I gave you a hard time back in December. Called you a tease. But the slight was well-deserved, because time and again you tantalized we snow-lovers with promises of frosty, white beauty – only to snatch it all away. You rained on our parade, and I mean that literally (well, except for the parade part). The East Coast was being deluged by snowstorm after snowstorm, while all I could do was listen enviously to the news reports. In the darkest recesses of my mind, I contemplated moving to upstate New York or Massachusetts – or maybe even Maine (after all, if it’s good enough for Stephen King to call home, I’m already half-sold on the idea) just so I could enjoy a few snowflakes every winter. I could never actually do that, of course. I love the Pacific Northwest too much to ever leave. Portland is in my blood. I just wish it would snow here more often.

So, when local meteorologists started calling for a snowstorm this week, I had what theologians call “a decided lack of faith.” As usual, the hype machine went into overdrive around these parts. There was Portland mayor Sam Adams holding a press conference Tuesday evening, offering reassuring words to the public, including the statement, “Don’t drive without a survival kit that includes food.” A stern warning for a storm that promised, at most, a few inches of snow. But then again, Portlanders overreact when it comes to snow, a fact I covered in my handy, pocket guide to the Pacific Northwest. And then when the National Weather Service issued a Winter Storm Warning, I thought, “We’re screwed.” Because nothing screams “jinx!” like overinflated hype of that sort. Sure enough, yesterday’s forecast of snow by noon suddenly turned into “rain, changing to snow after midnight.” Here we go again, I thought, and headed over to my parents’ house for dinner, where I bitched about the weather incessantly. But hey, the spaghetti was good.

Fast-forward a few hours. I kept glancing outside, calling on my latent psychic abilities and trying to will it to snow. And what do you know, it worked! Around 10 PM snow started falling at my house, and when I went to bed shortly after 11:00, we’d picked up over an inch. What’s odd is, a friend of mine went to pick a buddy up from the airport (fifteen minutes from my house) at the same time last night, and he said it was clear at the time. Holy crap, I really can control the weather! Who knew? Must. Use. These. Powers. For. Good.

Snow

I snapped this photo right before bed. See? I made it snow!

And then, early this morning, it started snowing again. I woke up at 7:00, saw the landscape coated beneath a pristine blanket of white, and my first thought was, $%&! – they actually got the forecast right for a change! And then I leapt out of bed, showered quickly, gulped down a cup of coffee, and headed outside. All the schools were closed, but I don’t have the kids this week, so I was free to explore on my own.

Snow-covered trees

There's a natural wetlands area behind my condo complex, and everything back there was coated in white.

Winter wonderland.

We ended up with about 4" of snow - not a lot compared with other parts of the country, but for us, the most we've seen since 2008.

After walking around my ‘hood for awhile, I decided to hit the streets and explore some other spots around town. Remember how I said the news media goes nuts anytime a few flakes begin to fly? Proof of that was found a few blocks from home, where I came across one of the local television news stations setting up shop in a parking lot.

KGW News Van

One of the local news crews staking out a happenin' spot to report from!

KGW News

Live and on the scene, our intrepid reporting team beaming back snowy images to the television masses.

Fourth Plain Blvd. in the snow.

I know this is just a road, but it's rare to see it all white and snowy.

Orchards Park snow.

The clouds broke up as I arrived at Orchards Park. The snow-covered trees were gorgeous against a dazzling blue backdrop.

Burnt Bridge Creek

My next stop was Burnt Bridge Creek for a walk along the greenway. Looked more like a "whiteway" today.

Burnt Bridge Creek trail in the snow.

One final shot of the snow, the sky, the trees...

I swear, I’m like an excited little kid whenever it snows. I traipsed about for hours and took a million photos – these above are my favorites. When I finally got back home I was cold, wet, and hungry. The rest of the day was spent uploading photos and video, updating Facebook, updating the blog. Not exactly a productive day writing-wise, but I figure I’ll make up for that tomorrow. There’s been a mix of clouds, sun and flurries today. They say we might have one more burst of snow this evening when an arctic front rolls through, and then record cold weather for a day or two. I’m assuming this will be our last snow of the winter, and if so, I’m fine with that. I finally got what I wanted from Mother Nature!

Now I’m wondering what sort of weather I should conjure up next. Maybe a thunderstorm or two? I do have a fascination with lightning…

Mother Nature Is One Big Tease!

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I love snow. Always have, always will. I figure this is because I spent so many years living in Hawaii, where a “cold snap” is defined as a temperature in the lower 70s. Snow still feels like a novelty to me – a magical gift from the heavens, one that buries the world in a pristine blanket of white. Snow is purity and beauty – it erases the world’s imperfections and glosses them over, turning the landscape into a real-life Norman Rockwell painting. When it snows, anything is possible.

So, when I woke up this morning at 8:00 and opened the blinds to find everything covered in white and big, fat snowflakes falling to the ground, I leaped out of bed. Literally. And then I pressed my nose against the glass and stared, marveling over the silver dollar-sized flakes piling up so quickly. Even though my bedroom window overlooks the garage, and my view consists of a row of townhouses across the way, the whole scene looked like a winter wonderland. I quickly brushed my teeth, eager to race outside and take a walk in the snow, only to find the clouds breaking up and nothing but a few lazy flurries drifting to the ground. Drat! Foiled again. Mother Nature has been that way this winter, teasing us with snowflakes in the air, only to snatch them away the moment it begins to look like they’re going to amount to something big. This was the third time since Thanksgiving week that has happened.

2008 was our best year ever for snow!

I suppose I ought to be living in Buffalo. The only problem with that scenario? I’d be living in Buffalo. I like spicy chicken wings as much as the next guy, but Buffalo does not strike me as an ideal city to call home. I love the Pacific Northwest far too much to ever consider moving away. Unfortunately, Portland’s proximity to the mild Pacific Ocean means we don’t get a lot of snow. Rain, yes. But our average snowfall is around 5″ a year. Often, we’re lucky to get that. There are exceptions, of course. In December 2008, it snowed and snowed and snowed. We had a true white Christmas, with over a foot on the ground that day. Ended up with 18″ for the month, a record. My dad mumbled and cursed (he’s no snow lover, probably because he grew up in Trenton), but I was in heaven. If every winter gave us snow like that one, I’d be a perpetually happy camper.

Sadly, this is not the case. Everything has to come together exactly right for snow to fall in Portland. That means, 9 times out of 10, when the National Weather Service predicts snow, nothing happens. Conversely, when there’s no mention of snow in the forecast, we are occasionally surprised. Like one year ago today. Cloudy with rain, they said. Cut to late afternoon, and a surprise snowstorm that stranded motorists and gave us a couple of inches. That was a fun afternoon for me!

Usually, when it’s cold enough to snow, there’s no moisture. And when there’s plenty of moisture, it isn’t cold enough for snow. Like this coming weekend – frigid weather is moving in. It’s going to drop into the 20s at night and only the 30s during the day. But the friggin’ sun is going to be shining. What good does that do anybody?! You know what, Mother Nature? Bite me.

This is what I like to see!

There’s still plenty of winter left. It isn’t even January yet, after all. We might still end up with a good snowstorm or two. I just hope they don’t start predicting one, because if that’s the case, we’re doomed.

But enough about the weather. Today marks a record for me: it’s the longest I’ve ever kept my Christmas tree up. I’m like Mr. Fa La La La La, all gung-ho for the season…right up through Dec. 25th. The next day? It feels weird seeing Christmas decorations and lights. I don’t know why, but I’ve always felt this way. Many people – most people? – leave their tree up until New Year’s Day, at least. But in my mind, it feels like the two holidays clash. New Year’s is champagne and party favors and balls that drop and Auld Lang Syne. Christmas is lights and stockings and Santa and Hark The Herald Angels Sing. You wouldn’t hide Easter eggs on the 4th of July, right?

I rest my case.

Which is why I traditionally un-Christmas the house every Dec. 27th. This year I’ve resisted the urge to put the tree out to pasture and box everything up longer than ever before, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t bugging me a little bit more with each passing day.  Besides, to squeeze the tree into my abysmally tiny living room, I’ve had to move the Man Chair away from its cozy spot in the corner to practically the middle of the room, and that just throws the feng shui all out of whack. So, the odds of my tree and other Christmas decorations lasting until Saturday are pretty slim, but we’ll see.

South To Drop Off, Moron!

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After a mere day officially unemployed, I was already chomping at the bit to do something.

Yesterday felt pretty surreal.  I woke up and couldn’t believe that I didn’t have a job to go to.  A paid job, anyway.  Apparently, on these weeks where I have the kids, I run a taxi service.  I was up at 6:25, a definite improvement over my old schedule.  Brushed my teeth, shaved, threw on some clothes, and was out the door twenty minutes later with Kid # 1.  The round trip to his school and back took an hour, thanks to a wacky and completely unfair “compromise” that has him in his mother’s school district.  It used to sort of make sense, because I worked in Camas and he goes to school in Camas, so it wasn’t too inconvenient to drop him off on the way to work and pick him up after.  Now, though?  There ain’t nothin’ convenient about it!  I’m secretly hoping the government is hard at work on building a real-life Star Trek-style transporter so I can beam him to school and back every day.  I got home, brewed a pot of coffee, ate a bowl of cereal, showered, and then it was time to drive Kid # 2 to school.  Again, clear across town.  And that is when my life turned into Mr. Mom.

Remember the movie, with Michael Keaton?  Out-of-work guy suddenly has to take care of the kids, and he doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing?  There’s a scene where he drops his kids off at their school, and pisses off the regular moms because he’s driving the wrong way (“South to drop off, moron!”).  Well, that was me.  Not only did I drive the wrong way against a big, white painted arrow across the parking lot – getting in the way of cars who were trying to exit – but I also entered a “do not enter” section of the lot, and to top matters off, nearly ran over a crossing guard.  In my defense, a rat could find its way out of a maze easier than that.  I need to have a word with the principal…

I finally got out of there without killing anybody, and made a few stops on the way home.  First up?  Kohl’s, for a sweater (because I have apparently turned into Ward Cleaver) and a couple of t-shirts.  One early advantage of unemployment: shopping at odd hours, you don’t have to deal with crowds, and the sales associates are tripping over themselves to take care of you.  Normally I have to wait in a line a mile deep when I’m ready to pay, but this time, I was out of there in less than a minute flat, and the cashier was chipper as hell – probably because it was 9:45 in the morning and she hadn’t dealt with anybody too annoying yet.  Next up was Best Buy, where I bought a printer because my old one wasn’t wireless or Mac-compatibile. Ostensibly, I’ll need this for printing up resumes and cover letters.  Wonder if I can get a tax write-off?  My final stop was Chuck’s Produce & Street Market, a new upscale grocery joint in The ‘Couv that’s kind of like Whole Foods, only without the high prices.  Despite the fact that Chuck’s was selling some twenty different varieties of apples, I still gotta say I like Whole Foods better – there’s a much bigger selection there.  Finished with my shopping, I finally got home…and then it was time to turn around and pick the kids up from school.  Seriously, I barely got a chance to sit down.  I’m wondering when I’ll have time to actually, you know, find a job when I’m shuttling kids around in the car for three hours a day.  Well, there’s always next week, when I’m kid-free.

So anyway, I didn’t feel like coming home and sitting around the house today, even though this is only Day Two.  Autumn is definitely in full swing around here, it’s been rainy and cold, and I figured I wouldn’t have too many opportunities left to go hiking before the weather closes that door for the season, which is why I found myself driving north, out into the country, after dropping off my daughter.  My destination?  June Lake, one of the trails just south of Mount St. Helens.  It started raining before I was halfway there, and by raining, I mean pouring.  It was as if  a giant tap in the sky had been turned on full-blast.  Nevertheless, the drive was scenic, all greens and golds as the maples intermingling with the evergreens showed off their fall foliage, and low clouds obscured the mountains and treetops.  I had good music playing – Built To Spill – and as I turned onto Forest Road 83 up past Cougar, my pulse quickened.  I couldn’t wait to hit June Lake!

Pulling over to play in the snow.

Suddenly, fat rain splattered my windshield.  This is a term I coined (much like OLFR and “velcheetah“) because I crave world domination it is the best way I can describe rain that is mixed with snow.  It’s wet and slushy and, well, fat. I was beginning to wonder if it might turn to snow.  I didn’t have long to wonder, because the road continued to climb in elevation, and now the tops of the trees were dusted with white.  Excited, I pulled over to snap a picture.  Ha!  I was about to encounter a lot more snow than that!  Within minutes, the fat rain had turned to snow, and it was falling thick and heavy.  The road became slushy, and then snowy.  I finally had to turn around a few miles short of my destination, because there was at least 6″ of snow covering the road, and nary a plow in sight.  Of course there wasn’t – it’s still October, for chrissakes!  The weathermen have been predicting a cold, wet, and potentially snowy winter for the Pacific Northwest thanks to La Nina.  If today is any indication, I’m thinking they might be onto something there.

I hadn’t made it to June Lake, but when it comes to snow, I’m like a little kid – I can’t get enough of it.  And now that I had found myself smack dab in the midst of a winter wonderland, I wanted to play in it!  So I found a place to pull over, and went exploring.  Happened upon a trail – yay! – and hiked that for approximately a mile, all the while risking ruining my newish camera because I was taking a million pictures and it was getting wet thanks to the steadily falling snow.  It was a beautiful walk; nature still thinks it’s Autumn even though it felt like the middle of Winter to me, so there were maples with golden leaves still clinging to their limbs, weighted down by several inches of snow and ice.  I loved the contrast.  I finally came to a sign that indicated I was on a snowmobile trail that was off-limits to hikers.  Err…oops.  Fortunately, there were no snowmobilers around (because it’s still October, remember?), but I figured it was a good idea to turn around there, just in case. I made the trek back to my car, and then the drive home.

Autumn v. Winter!

And now, what a shock – it’s time to go pick up the kids!  But hey, who can complain?  Instead of being trapped inside the gray fabric confines of a stuffy office cubicle today, I got to play in the snow.

You know, being out of work isn’t so bad, after all…