When Mark, Mac, and I got back to their house, Rodger was home. One of his eyes had been cloudy since he'd gotten up that morning before the last leg of the drive from his father's house. We went with him to his eye doctor so he could have it checked out, stopping first for lunch at an Indian buffet restaurant.
When we got home, after Rodger was told his eye should clear up fine, we all took naps before making the raspberry jam.
Slightly smooshed red raspberries in the pot:
Mark showing me how to jar the jam:
After a bit, the three of us went out on the town to do a little barhopping. We hit Fox and Hounds, which had a friendly crowd; the Eagle, which had two bears getting very friendly with each other over in one corner; and CC Slaughters, the crowd at which seemed to consist of about one-quarter straight chicks. The social-networking obsessed could send a text message that would be displayed on a screen in CCS's Rainbow Room. I texted: "Mark and Rodger: the hosts with the most. Hey, buds!" Rodger then texted: "Hey, Mark ... Bill's been watching us in the shower. Rodger." How did he know?! Ha!
I enjoyed these signs (one of which was poorly lit) outside the rest rooms at CC Slaughters:
In the middle of the boozing, we stopped at Hobo's for dinner. I enjoyed my chicken picatta, and Rodger enjoyed a little bit of flirtation with our waiter.
The next morning, the three of us took Mac for a hike in Forest Park, which sits right behind M&R's house and is accessible by a path that starts just up their road a piece. The only wild animals we saw were banana slugs, but the trees, shrubs, ferns, and wildflowers were gorgeous.
Rodger pointed out to me some nurse logs—fallen trees that, in their death, provide life to new trees that grow out of them, above—and the lengths to which trees will go to reach sunlight, below.
For lunch, I'd been hoping to go to Tábor, a little food truck I'd read about in "The Art of the Street Cart," an article from Bon Appétit's 2009 Restaurant Issue that accurately describes how food cart crazy Portland is and says, of Tábor's fare, "There may be no better sandwich on the planet than the Original Schnitzelwich." Yoinks! Alas, I couldn't weigh in on that assertion because Tábor is open only weekdays for the worker-on-lunch-break crowd. Gat dam it!
I was very pleased with the place we ended up at, though: Mother's, which was started by a transplanted New Yorker. (Warning: Music plays at the link.) I had the delicious House Salad and the classic Cheddar Cheese Macaroni & Cheese. Mark and Rodger had calamari for an appetizer. I tried a bit, and it wasn't bad. For calamari. *crinkles up nose* Mark got the special mac and cheese of the day, which was given a New Orleans–style kick in the pants. And Rodger got the chicken sandwich with prosciutto.
The dining room where we ate was so cute: