On our way out of town yesterday to celebrate Mauri’s birthday, he improvised a little poem that went like this.
“We’re celebrating my inestimable worth on the day of my birth, all the while expanding my girth and smiling with mirth.”
All of those prospects sounded appealing, but we chose one in particular to embrace—
…expanding our girth. We drove to Portland to enjoy cup•cake jones (like last year) and Stumptown coffee in the lobby of the Ace Hotel. It’s hard to walk past Powell’s without stopping in for a walkabout, even when we aren’t in the market for books.
Next stop on our celebration outing included a parking search and a hike to Saturday Market past this Portland icon:
We probably wouldn’t think of a stroll through Saturday Market with all of these people to be much of a celebration, but we had a mission: to find an appropriate replacement of an essential piece of kitchenware we managed to break.
Success! One’s missing from the shelf and carefully wrapped for the trip home.
This Elvis impersonator belted out “Sunshine on My Shoulder” (a John Denver song) as we passed by.
Shadows are supposed to make you slimmer, aren’t they?
Back to expanding our girth—at Noho’s Hawaiian Cafe, a fav. The glorious day called for sitting outside. And while waiting for our food, we engaged in one of our favorite pastimes:
I photograph him while
he photographs me.
Back at home for a celebration break, I pulled out the two Saturday Market purchases. Both serve the same purpose but come from two different potters. Know what they are?
They’re butter bells, a.k.a. French butter dishes.
Yesterday my dear man turned 64, and I’ve been waiting 16 years—since he sang “When I’m 64” to me at our wedding reception—to answer the questions yes, although he still does a pretty good job of feeding himself. And last night our reading group indulged us by singing this Beatles song together and then the encore:
Happy birthday, Dear Man.