Jim flew into PDX the last Wednesday in April to stay a week. We picked him up at about suppertime and drove to Fogo de Chão. We stood in line behind a large lady in a motorized wheelchair who was told (we overheard) that since she had no reservation, the wait could be up to an hour. Deb stepped up and told her that we had reservations and she was welcome to sit with us. She thanked Deb and said she was meeting a friend so she couldn't accept.
We were led to our table and I warned Jim not to be carried away by the salad bar (Deb and I usually graze only there), as we planned to go whole hog and eat the meats that waiters dressed in Hollywood gaucho costumes bring on skewers as many times as one can stuff in more, at a fixed price for all. We ordered wine and proceeded to chow down, hardly noticing that at a nearby table the lady in the wheelchair and her friend were being seated. Besides the salad bar, we sampled the Picanha (prime part of the top sirloin), filet mignon, rib eye, top sirloin, bottom sirloin, beef rib, several kinds of pork, but turned down different cuts of chicken. Finally, after several kinds of dessert, we called for the bill and when it was presented, the head gaucho told us that the lady in the wheelchair had covered the wine. Quite a surprise; an auspicious start to our week.
We breakfasted at the Broken Yolk. Yummy stuff, and a Mexican rooster out front.
On the patio, we enjoyed the fine weather
and played with Annie.
We watched chickadees exploring one of our bird houses as a possible home.
As it turned out, they found other accommodations; perhaps it was the smile on the face of the kitty.
We drove to Marys Peak where we found a good deal of snow still on the ground.
Jim and I followed Deb toward the top. Deb and I made it, Jim stopped early.
We watched the geese among the camas in the pasture,
walked down to the Willamette, found a bench and watched the river flow toward Portland.
In the upper park, daisies ran rampant.
Overhead, an eagle circled but wouldn't let me get a good shot.
We drove to the coast, first stop, of course, the Yaquina lighthouse.
A peregrine falcon pair had nested in the old quarry where the visitors' center now sits. The male was out of sight but the female posed nicely.
Harbor seals sunned on the rocks below the point; one grinned for the camera.
At a Nye Beach bar we found new awareness of Tsunami danger.
In Depot Bay, we found a new-to-us ice cream parlor; Darth Vader had gotten there before us.
We walked the bay front, and ate at Local Ocean, long a favorite, but this time not so much.
In Portland, we visited the Japanese Garden, which has developed quite a bit since our last visit, I don't remember how many years ago.
Especially nice were the bonsais.
We wandered up and down the hillside, nine acres of trails, Zen gardens, streams and waterfalls.
And one evening, as we watched the news at home, Deb stole a shot with her phone.
I'll get even.
We breakfasted at the Broken Yolk. Yummy stuff, and a Mexican rooster out front.
