Woody & Scorsese ain’t got nuthin’ on me

Day 2 of my big adventure, which required fueling up. We have a lot of food trucks back home, but how many specialize in varieties of cinnamon donuts?

We charged up 5th Ave into Central Park. Daddy knew there was a zoo, but he forgot it was like $12 or $17 to get in and he also knew I’d be plenty happy seeing the sea lions from afar for free.

It’s hot and humid. I’ll help myself to a drink (for the first time on my own). I’m a big boy.

No wait, still a little kid. Just like Daddy cried his first trip to New York when Meme wouldn’t buy him a paper airplane thingy at FAO Schwarz, I followed suit.

The Great Pastrami-Off, Pt I: 2nd Avenue Deli. Daddy split the first one with Uncle Jeff, who he’s known 19 years longer than you Mommy.

Alas, the humidity was too much to take and the sky grew very dark. We ducked into a bar moments before it hit the dew point (I’m quite the meteorologist, y’know) and the heavens opened up. I’ll skip to the end of this story: Pops asked, but they were all out of T shirts in your size. Poop!

So here’s how the Great Pastrami-off Pt II played out, at the iconic Katz’s. Here’s the scoop: Daddy knows (and Uncle Jeff confirmed) that most people prefer Katz’s for their fattier pastrami highly seasoned. Daddy actually slightly preferred 2nd Avenue’s for that reason, that it was a leaner, less greazy sando. Incidentally, I was MUCH better behaved at Katz’s. He nearly soothed me with a bottle at 2nd Ave, but it was a kosher deli, so no dairy aloud. (Having said that, we checked with Uncle-Rabbi Dan who said it woulda been fine so long as no one used your breast milk to make cheese out of and put on a pastrami sandwich.) That reminds me, you still have a knish in the hotel mini fridge!

THIS is what I was Bjorned for?

Phew. Long day! I was really happy to meet up with you again at Birreria for your late dinner and a night cap with Uncle Jeff and his new fiance Susan, but…

Then again, this is the City that Never Sleeps. Who else has their second wind?

Here’s roughly our 10 mile route.


Eating and drinking tour of New York and New Jersey

I won’t hold it against you that you guys went out to a great restaurant and left me back in the room…Imagewith someone called Babysitter because I get to witness the bulk of Daddy’s foodfest and beerbonanza. Though honestly, I’d be just as happy hanging out with/on you at your new temporary office (provided I could sleep on the job).


The primi place we went, given its proximity to your office, is Eataly. This is but one of the pasta aisles:Image


They have lots of beers, mostly Italian imports (and then mostly from Baladin because they’re a partner along with your friend Sam from Dogfish Head). But don’t worry, we didn’t get any. Not even (or should I say especially not) this Baladin Lurisia Dodici, because while it is technically under Pop’s $30 ceiling for a bottle of birra, he just couldn’t bring himself to spend $29.80 on a 300mL (that’s 11.2 ounces, or less than three bottles of my yummy milky pilky that you don’t even charge me for). Stuff’s kinda crazy-expensive in New York, huh?

Alas, we didn’t go up to the rooftop brewpub, Birreria, because it opens a bit later and we had people to see. But if you can join us up there, we’d love to check it out. Maybe get a salumi platter to whet Dad’s palate for that salami-of-the-month club you awesomely enrolled him in.

Daddy didn’t want me to include this next picture because he didn’t wanna be a downer on my blog–and as you can see this li’l mural clearly upsets me–but you know I always like my picture taken by murals we wander past. Image

I’d say on to happier stuff, and in this shot I sure to look tranquil, but looks can be deceiving. It’s at the Barcade in Jersey City where John Holl lives. The concept is simple but brilliant; you’d love it. Lots of beers on tap (Daddy got a NJ-brewed Belgian Wit in your honor since it’s too hot out for the Impy Stout they had) and lots of vintage arcade games (get it? Barcade) still for a quarter. But I became such a pill, I prevented my old man from even getting to play one game of Tapper. It’s a game where you fill beer mugs.Image


And while you’re painfully aware of how difficult it’s been to get me to sleep on our little journey (really sorry about that. Hope you still don’t think I’m a —-ing —-ole🙂 try putting me on the train. It’s seriously sleepy-time magic.

(Not including the usual route because we didn’t do all that much walking, maybe a couple miles total.)


As long as we’re playing catch-up, Mommy, here are just some of the pictures of the trouble we got into on our last few outings.

OK, so don’t get maddy at Daddy, but he may have taken me to that Hollywood Burger place. He hoped it would be like the Apple Pan of Portland. It’s not. It’s just a’ight.

As long as you’re still not getting mad at Dad, on a subsequent wandering he may have also done this:

On our walk up Division to take Dunkel to Mt. Tabor’s dog park, he got this (it was before he’d sworn off things exactly like this!) as we stopped at Petite Provence. Don’t worry; I let him know how we both feel for not sharing.

We’d rather have bottles in front of us than have frontal, wait, how’s that go?

At least this time he ordered me something. This is jumping back in time to that 9-mile walk we’d told you about. Daddy seriously deserved that half-pint of lemon-pepper saison from Alameda Brewing, just like I seriously earned that fresh-brewed milky pilky. Speaking of earning, here’s what I look like necessitating a fresh dipey in the middle of Fremont St.

Before making our way home on such a hot day, we explored the refrigerated sections of Whole Foods. I swear Daddy didn’t get any of this, but admit it, you wish he had.

Your baby boy and a carrot cake cupcake: two sweetest things ever, right?

Incidentally, let’s take a quick reality check pause. An entire row of frozen gluten free donuts? Is this what glutards are really clamoring for?

Clearly I have no recollection of this next shot being taken. But glad to know that even as Papa careens down the sidewalks of Portland, I hang on for dear life even in my sleep.

If I made it to Buckman, that means I slept for the first 26 blocks. Go me. Mommy, you know this intersection as the one by Sassy’s. Of course, Daddy just thinks of it as the one near the Cascade Barrel House. Go figure.

Our old hood

Which finally brings us to our stroll down the Esplanade. You should totally do this walk with us, like if you two ever get back into running. Dad wanted to go north over the floating walkway on the Willamette, but I insisted we head south to go by OMSI, where a season pass would make a great 4th or 5th birthday present, future-hint-hint.

Ugh, I remember this. He seriously made Dunkel pose for all these pictures with this statue of Vera Katz, the former mayor for whom the esplanade is named. While he was being clever, I was destroying my dipey.

“Katz & dog” is what Daddy calls this. Is his sense of “humor” as inheritable as his eyebrows?

Sorry for keeping the dirty dipey theme going, but to all the babies reading this out there, if you make a stinky mess, you seriously should have someone take care of it in the middle of a rose garden, even more for the aroma than the sight of it. Hooray shortcut through Ladd’s Addition!

Winding up all of our recent adventures, this is the park we cut through just a few blocks from home, taking a much-needed swing break. Weeeeeee.

And finally, having bumped into our neighbor with his babies at the park, this is the brewpub we walked back to (making that day’s trek about 7 miles), for a much-needed, well-deserved break. Beeeeeeeer.

Lompoc’s Hedge House

4 month growth spurt

I’ve been so busy growing that I’ve been shirking my blogging duties. (Bet you expected me to make a baby doodie joke didn’tch’ya?) So let’s take this moment to see what I’ve been up to. Recently I was hauled into Dr. P’s office for my 4-month check-up. Guess what–I’m medically-certified adorable. Mommy drove us all to Sellwood then she drove to work while Daddy, Dunky, and I walked home. First let’s start with that neighborhood’s residential:

Mommy, I want this.

Mommy, I’m want this soon.

Next the commercial. This was actually the first brewpub I ever visited. But I asked Daddy not to document it then because I wanted something more auspicious.

A block away, we popped into Portland U-Brew, or PUB. They’re pretty awesome because they invited me to brew with them. They even said my old man can tag along. That’s sweet. I think I’m gonna dig their Grapefruit IPA after seeing Dad’s reaction.

We hadn’t gotten very far when I remembered overhearing how you said you liked these fun umbrellas. Puedo obtener estos para me cuatro, por favor?

We saw and did more, but in the interest of brevity, I’ll leave you with this picture of my very silly brother who loves hunting wabbits (even sculpted ones).

And here was our 5 1/2 mile route.

Laissez les bons temps pooper

OK, it’s been a while since I’ve blogged, but that’s because I was off having the time of my then-almost-4-month-life! NOLA, baby, NOLA. But first, we had to get there:

Note how awesome I did on my first plane flight. Not the kind where Daddy pretends to shuttle me around near the ceiling in the room, but an actual airplane. I’ve never seen so many frantic faces as when we boarded. Mommy (who you’ll note makes her first appearance in this blog, Yeah!) was worried it would cost a fortune to buy everyone drinks. Why so worried, Mama, remember I’m your perfect little boy!? Speaking of cameos:

There I am ‘neath that black & white “hooter hider” at Dick & Jenny’s the night we arrived. Mommy got something fishy that was at least fried in a potato chip crust. Daddy’s Abita-braised short ribs with sweet potatoes and greens tantalizes in the foreground. Mommy & Daddy were so full and happy, they pushed me 3 miles over sidewalks so dilapidated that I nearly got whiplash I fell asleep.

Considering they go to Jazz Fest for the music, there sure is a whole lot of eating. Daddy insists on starting every fest (this was his 12th in a row. Not bad. But I’ve gone every year I’ve been alive, and they hope I’ll want to keep it that way forever) with a Stuffed Bread from Creole Lunch House. I freakin’ canNOT wait until I have teeth! Incidentally, Daddy bought one for Uncle Steve, too, but since he’s a vegetarian (d’oh), he got an extra. He always closes his fest with one, too.

Of course, there’s plenty of music at Jazz Fest. In honor of the tuba onesies Auntie Krista sent me, which were in honor of Daddy’s love of all things tuba, one of the first sets we danced at was Kirk Joseph‘s Backyard Groove since The Dirty Dozen weren’t playing the weekend we were there. Keep scrolling for more funky tuba action…

It’s safe to say my intro to the Festivities tuckered me out.

It’s also safe to say that, well-rested, I was eager for Day 2, now joined by Uncle Orf:

Just in time for some Blues Tent rockin’ (c/o Brother Tyrone & the Mindbenders). Joining him for the first time was Uncle Cabe. He asked if he could borrow the bib Mommy made me since it’s his 1st Jazz Fest, too:

Other first-timers got in on the fun:

Here are some super short snippets of tunage. My old man’s no Marty Scorsese.

Uh, see? ^^Told you the dadman’s into tubas!^^ Natch, he has a short vid of Tuba Tuba (fronted, obviously, by Kirk Joseph), but he’ll spare you. Luckily he didn’t spare me, since it’s how we all closed out my 1st Jazz Fest, and I gotta give myself props where deserved, I was a champ. Until next year’s.

(If you’re looking for our route or total miles covered, we didn’t have our pedometer on. Let’s just call it 10 miles walked, & another 10 danced.)


The sole destination of today’s walk–as if the point of any journey is actually the destination–was FedEx to ship some boxes Mommy wanted out of the house because she hates clutter. Spoiler alert: after walking over 2 miles lugging the packages around in the carriage ‘neath my seat, the location Daddy found on the FedEx locator proved to only be a drop-box, hence, I’m still schlepping the goods. But all was not for naught.

Local 99


The above pic was taken at the Musician’s Union, Local 99 on NE 20th. Below, same thing, but I asked to be less of the focal point. Mommy, you paint murals. Can you paint one like this in my room? Pretty please?


Know what else is on 20th? My new favorite coffee shop, The Spunky Monkey. We only imposed on the girl sitting in the patio for this one shot, but Mama, can we puhleeeeease go back so I can pose in all the others (and maybe let my big brother get in some so we can get funky with the Dunkie)?

Spunky Monkey

Wait, am I a spunky monkey, or a monkey dressed as some mutant underwater creature having relations with a sea turtle?

OK, last one from the 20th corridor, I swear. But…well…just please tell me you’ll never make me crawl into humongous ear like this baby- or dwarf-doctor did. Because I’ll stop crawling altogether. I’m sorry I started so soon and am giving you and Daddy shpilchas.


Finally, I wish cameras came with Smell-o-vision, because these smoked pork jowls blew my mind.  I know what I want my first solid food to be: the bacon pizza from Ken’s Artisan Pizza! Cool?Ken's smoker

Here’s our 4 1/2 mile route. (These are about to get better/more accurate thanks to an app Daddy downloaded)