I Have Been Remiss

On my last post I came up with a blog name for my new daughter-in-law.  It then dawned on me that I’ve never come up with one for my daughter-in-law of almost two years.  What kind of blogger, nay, what kind of father-in-law am I?  I mulled over a few ideas and then reviewed them with her.  I think this is the first time I’ve done that.  What we have come up with is LGMG (local girl makes good).

On the health front, I had my shot, aka a bilateral transforaminal epidural steroid injection, on July 9. The doc said it would take two weeks to have full effect. They were going to give me something to sedate me before the procedure, but I eschewed it, due to the fact that I’m a stoic, manly man. Plus, I was already rickety enough. The shot has allowed me to go off the Advil but I still have leg weakness etc., so I’m seeing the neurosurgeon on August 2. Getting old is not for lightweights.  My buddy Wig is getting his hip replaced this week and my driveway cocktail neighbor - hey, I should come up with a blog name for her – had her knee replaced last week. 

Speaking of The Wig, he re-sent this picture that he took ten years ago. He should understand that my feelings are still a little raw on this one.  I was going to send him a massive floral display after his procedure, but I may need to re-think that.

So, was everyone glued to their TV for the RNC like I was? Wankfest 2024 concluded with a 90 minute ramble by The Orange Duce. He tried to display the kinder, gentler Trump but he can only talk so long before spewing vitriol. Many idiots wore ear bandages, but heck, that’s not cult-like behavior, is it?

Those of us to the left of Vlad the Impaler have our own problems. The Dems should have figured out a solution several years ago so we wouldn’t be in our current situation. I’m hoping that most people will feel like one pundit I read, who said “I’d vote for a skeleton before I’d vote for Trump”. The DNC may need to be an open convention, but just don’t float Bob Menendez’s name.

OK, it’s time to get to the lighter side of blogging. My wife and I concluded a mini vacation yesterday. We squatted at the apartment of one of her work friends on 29th St. We caught the Wednesday matinee of Mrs. Doubtfire along with #1 and Barbie. A husband-and-wife team were the leads, and we enjoyed all the dancing and singing, including some very talented kids. From there we went for cocktails at Sprezzatura. I went with the bargain basement Negroni Classico for $19. The place is pretty classy, so they wouldn’t let us stay for dinner.  We then took a driverless Waymo to the Michelin-starred Octavia.  We all decided to go with the chef’s menu and were delighted with it. We paired that with the reasonably-priced Domaine Benastra Petite Soeur, which we enjoyed so much we got a couple more.

The next day was lower key, partly because I had walked quite a bit, relatively, on Wednesday and needed some rest. We had lunch at Henry’s Hunan on Church. I was hankering for Kung Pao something, but we had to keep the heat toned down for my wife, so we had onion cakes, cold noodle salad and garlic chicken. Whatever you order, it is always good at Henry’s.

We did dinner at Uma Casa, an eight-year-old Portuguese restaurant on Church. We had a little wait trying to get the right bottle of wine, but it was worth it. We had a nice chat with the owner’s wife when she brought it.  She said summer is their slow season, when a lot of customers go to the Azores. Many customers of Portuguese descent come in from the East Bay. Uma Casa offers a prix fixe 3 course meal for $54, which is a hell of a deal.  My wife and I negotiated which dishes to order, since we would share them. The portions were generous, and we had food to take home, which provided the bulk of my lunch and dinner yesterday. My wife is going to recommend this place to her friend and I’m recommending it to you.

Would you like a celebrity update? I’m glad to oblige.  I have to admit I was unhappy to read this headline.

My thought is he should work on a sequel to Waterworld or The Postman instead. And there was an article about somebody trying to match up Costner and Hota Kotb. Hold the phone! I don’t see that one happening.

And then there’s this.

I really don’t know too many women in their late sixties that want to be pregnant again. Maybe start a charity instead Kris.

I’ll close with a request. Please! Please! I’d like to hear nothing further about the Hawk Tuah girl.

American Girls

My daughter is a married woman.  We came back Monday from our Portland jaunt to celebrate her wedding.  In my speech I joked about a time when she wanted me to buy her an American Girl doll.  When we were prepping for the speech, my wife wisely said I needed to tie that back to the event.  I added “and now she has one of the best American girls ever as her wife”. I meant every word of it.  And I finally have a blog name for my new daughter-in-law. She’ll be known as AG going forward.

The celebration went swimmingly, despite the fact that both my wife and I were physical wrecks.  I’m hobbling around with a cane due to my spinal stenosis and wifey tested positive for COVID upon her arrival in Portland. I was supposed to get an epidural the week before but my rehab doctor saw “abnormalities” on my MRIs.  Fortunately, two neurosurgeons confirmed that they were from my 1999 surgery. My spinal cord looks like five miles of bad road, although they put it in more technical terms. In any case, I will get my shot next week as my wife awaits her COVID rebound.

We kicked things off Thursday night with rooftop beers at Migration Brewery and then dinner at Kell’s Irish Pub.  The joint was empty when we walked in, so I was a little concerned about the fare they’d be serving up, but all enjoyed their dinner.  Sadly, my wife was isolating back at the hotel room this evening, sipping Rombauer on the patio with my sister and LA.  I was able to attend as my sturdy son pushed me through the streets of Portland in a wheelchair we had rented. Our busy evening also allowed me to miss the debate.

Friday brought a family dinner at Serratto.  We had a room to ourselves, and we had quite the time, as the chow and company were stellar. My better half was not there to celebrate with me, but we met up with the masked marvel shortly after at the welcome party held at the Multnomah Athletic Club. The MAC puts my posh club to shame. Fortunately, there was an outside deck where my wife could show her face and the weather cooperated.  We had an excellent turnout of friends and family.

On Saturday morning Sonny Boy had a glimpse of his future life as he came to my hotel room to help me get in the shower.  He didn’t have to scrub me, but I did need help getting my leg over the tub wall. He stuck around to give me a hand dressing, mainly getting that dang shirt neck buttoned. The fathers and sons wore blue tuxes we rented at Men’s Wearhouse.  I must say we all looked dapper.

SB and I arrived at the venue about 1:30 for the 4pm ceremony. We had pictures taken but there was also a lot of sitting around. We grabbed a bite to eat after the snaps, then nervously awaited go time. 

It was a bit cloudy as we all lined up for the procession but were assured that there was a zero chance of precipitation. Wobbly and misty DJ along with the Mrs. managed to get the girl to her designated spot. I had a brief scare when I realized I was stepping on her train as I was about to hand her off, but I managed some unlikely fancy footwork.

The ceremony started with the bridesmaids taking their seats and the brothers standing at the ready with the rings.  The ebullient officiant did an fantastic job, and everything came together without a hitch, except for the few rain drops we felt. After their first kiss as a married couple, the brides proceeded back down the aisle to the whoops of the crowd.

We managed to get some pre-arranged village pictures done before the rain started in earnest. All took cover and grabbed a drink, and we got more extended family pictures taken under shelter. After the cocktail hour we repaired upstairs for a family style dinner of salad, beet salad, risotto, chicken and salmon. The girls had been impressed during their food tasting the month before, and rightly so.  The pinot was flowing freely.  I’m a Zin snob but the wine was excellent.  Even 4M said so.

My two nieces and nephew serenaded the crowd at the beginning of dinner with a mash up of Adele’s Feel My Love and Taylor’s Lover.  Those kids are talented as hell and knocked it out of the park.  Or out of the winery, if you’re looking for accuracy.

The maids of honor did a great job with their speeches, touching and sincere. AG’s dad cracked us up with his. Then we were up.  Nobody can bat 1.000.  Actually, I thought my wife did very well although she was saying hers was mechanical.  She did use cue cards, but the emotion was real.  Mine was pretty good too although I stumbled a bit. Speaking of stumbling, the girl managed to save our father/daughter dance by holding me up for the duration of it.

I sat most of the rest of the night while a bunch of youngsters and the braver adults jumped around on the dance floor.  It was interesting to see several six-foot-tall young women in five-inch heels putting on their best moves.  They were still rocking when the wife and I left, arriving at the hotel at the unheard-of hour of 11pm.