Peanut Better

Lately, I've been quizzing the people around me about what apparently is a cuisine phenomenon.  Many people love hamburgers and cheeseburgers and adorn them with basic condiments like ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise.

As far back as I can remember, anytime our family slapped Bessie on the grill in 4 inch patty form, my mom has always asked for the peanut butter.  This resulted in my sister and I groaning in disgust.  PB is reserved for jelly there mom.  It took a few years for my mom to finally talk me into taking one bite of her peanut butter burger and I was instantly hooked.

Since that point, my mom and I have been outcasts at the family get togethers.  "Where's the peanut butter?"  Now I hear everyone else groan.

A few days ago, I was heading home from work and the wife and I were trying to decide what to eat for dinner.  My wife mentioned a few places, one of which we'd never dined at.  Killer Burger.  "They have a peanut butter burger there," she said.  The Nissan was turning around.  I was heading to this mysterious place in Portland where every burger comes with bacon.

I arrived and felt like I walked into an episode of Portlandia.  The non-vegan hipsters were all over the place.  I placed my order and waited...and waited...and waited.  It seemed like a long wait.  My order finally came out and I had to wait for the whole drive home to try it out.  I got home and eagerly took the first bite of the Peanut Butter Pickle Bacon Burger.  Holy hell.  Best...burger...ever.  My wife took a bite and she was hooked.  I almost called my mom.  They used CHUNKY peanut butter.  Why didn't we ever think of that?  Bacon?  Duh.  It was like I've been doing this thing most of my life and I was doing it all wrong!  Pickles!

I've been trying for nearly 20 years to turn people on to the peanut butter craze.  I've been telling my co-workers.  We discuss local cuisine in and around Portland.  I have a list going of places I need to try.  Telling stories of eating foot-sized filled donuts and vomiting myself awake.  Recently, my father-in-law challenged me to a 72oz. steak.  If I can't finish it, he'll foot the bill.  It sounds intriguing but I don't know if I can eat 4.5 lbs of meat.  I know I can, but my extreme hunger comes at the most inopportune times.

The moral of the story?  Try a peanut butter burger.  Now.

Egg-static Saturday

The sun made a cameo appearance today in the PMA.  Hip-hop-hooray!  Last year, we struggled to find an appropriate Easter egg hunt for the boy.  It ended up with him only getting one (real, hard-boiled) egg, which he promptly threw and later curb-stomped to show his disapproval.  That experience kind of soured me on doing the Easter egg thing.  Parents elbowing you and scooping up all the eggs for their 3 month old napping in their Baby Bjorns.  All the while, the kids who are actually trying to grab some egg are left with nearly empty baskets and equally empty tear ducts.  If I'd known the parents were going to have at it, I'd check your fanny pack into the bushes.

This year, the wife spent a few days trying to get me hyped for an even more local egg hunt in my old stomping grounds.  The second she said, "Brentwood Park" I kind of internally groaned.  I spent three years of my youth at the adjacent Lane Middle School.  They were good years but I vividly remember the surrounding neighborhood and the less than savory folks that live in the immediate area.  "But there's going to be a helicopter that drops eggs!"  Ok, honey, you've piqued my interest. 

A beautiful day it was in the ol' 'hood.  The smell of fresh-cut grass was in the air.  After we found parking (place was stuffed) we walked to one of the orange tents to register our kid.  Everything seemed pretty great.  The registration line was semi-long, but moved pretty rapidly.  We got squared away with the registration people and had 45 minutes to burn.  Face-painting?  He'd freak out and rub it off.  Easter bunny?  The line was re-donk.  Let's just wait for the helicopter to arrive. 

Putting on his best mommy cheeser face

They relegated the 0-2 year-old kids to the tennis courts for safety.  Good idea, except the wind blew the eggs to the large crack in between the two tennis courts and to the fences.  The organizers fixed this by picking up the eggs and dropping them as they let the kids loose.  Now this group of kids was allowed one parent to help them grab eggs.  I wasn't sure if my boy, who is pretty bright when it comes to getting what he wants, would get the whole, "when I grab the eggs they go in my basket and they are mine now" concept.  Turns out, he had absolutely no problem figuring it out after a few pre-hunt freak outs.

Turns out the whole thing was being put on by Hopecity Church.  Apparently they meet on Sundays at the middle school.  I don't know if I could go to church in the same place I used to kiss girls and beat up foreigners.

Examining the loot

He scooped up about 20 eggs.  It was super cute.  We all had a good time.  We turned over our egg loot for candy loot and were on our way. 

We then went for a little after-hunt brunch at McCrae's cafe.  I then proceeded to eat a 12-egg omelet, hashbrowns, toast, and 3/4 of a giant pancake the kid would finish.  I'm still full and it's 10PM.

Birthday Number Two

Two years ago today, my life changed forever.  The day the blue foot popped out, I knew life wouldn't be the same.  The last two years have been hard for one reason or another.  The one constant thing that makes my wife and I smile every....single....day is that boy.

Sure, he doesn't always listen.  He yells and screams sometimes, too.  He drives us nuts at times.  But there's no way we could picture our lives without him now.  I miss him while I'm away, and I can't get enough of him when I'm near.  It's hard to believe that two years has gone by.  He's learning new things everyday and trying to mimic Mommy and Daddy at every turn.  He loves to wear my shoes.  He puts on my ties.  Everybody says that he's my doppelganger.  He is. 

So here's to my boy.  Mommy and Daddy love you very much!

day 04 - a song that makes you sad

I don't tend to run across much music that makes me sad. Music is supposed to lift us up. Make us feel good. Entertain us. This one did that for awhile.

SONG: The Dance
ARTIST: Garth Brooks
ALBUM: Garth Brooks
YEAR: 1990

This song was played on the piano at my Aunt's funeral. I don't know what you could say about her. She loved and was loved by everybody who was lucky enough to meet her. I miss her sense of humor and her big hugs. She battled cancer all the way to the end. She was taken away from us way too soon.

The first time I heard this after the funeral, I couldn't make it the entire song before bursting into tears. My wife (who was my girlfriend at the time) didn't understand why I was so emotional until I told her why I was crying. My family lost a great woman and it's unfortunate that my wife and son never got to meet her. It's still hard to this day to get through this song without welling up.

day 03 - a song that makes you happy

There are a lot of songs that could make a person happy. The one that I always blast in the car the few times it's featured on the radio is:

SONG: Are You That Somebody?
ARTIST: Aaliyah
ALBUM: Dr. Doolittle Soundtrack
YEAR: 1998

Maybe you think I picked this because today marks the ten-year anniversary of her tragic death? Maybe I picked it because I heard it today? Nobody will ever know the truth behind this pick. I just love this song. I've probably heard it about 150 times and it never gets old. It's got just the right amount of Timbaland in it. Sure, the movie was terrible enough to spawn a sequel and pay Eddie Murphy money for it, but the song is pure genius and always picks me up no matter what mood I'm in. She was taken away too soon, but her legend lives on through our speakers.