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We seem to be averaging an edible family homework project each grade. (Last year, it was the Broadway Bridge that we made out of licorice.)

As if we didn’t have enough to do this winter, Zelda’s elementary school teacher piled on with an assignment to create an edible map of Oregon. (Click to enlarge photos.) We needed to represent and label all bordering states, major rivers, major mountains and mountain ranges, cities, regions, Crater Lake, and the Pacific Ocean. And, with the exception of the labels, everything needed to be consumable.

Zelda and I put our heads together and decided to build from sugar cookie and glaze.

First task was a shopping trip for the wee-est blonde daughter and myself. Armed with her list of topographical necessities, Zelda and I trolled the candy aisles muttering about mountains and cities, drawing our fair share of strange looks. We decided on Hershey’s Hugs for major mountains, Kisses for major mountain chains, and chocolate chips for smaller mountain chains. For cities, we opted to use Dots to anchor the toothpick flags. Cut up giant Tootsie Roll planks anchored labels for mountain chains. And, of course, we bought all manner of wretched artificially colored frosting…and food coloring…and sugar sprinkles…and cake decorations.

Day 1: Zelda selected five sheets of cardstock and we came up with a color coding system for labels. She then cut out zillions of little triangles, labeled them, and glued them to color coded toothpicks. (Picture 1 below.) This was followed by the creation of a paper stencil of the state and its four regions.

Day 2: We baked the giant butter cookie. (Picture 2 below.)

Day 3: This sucker came together fast, and we needed all hands on deck to get everything situated before the glaze set. We began by placing the stencil on the cookie and frosting Oregon, which was followed by a quick sugaring of each region with its own unique color using our regional stencils. As I glazed the states around Oregon, Zelda and Tom madly placed labels in Dots and Tootsie Roll bases, which were located on the map along with the chocolate mountain ranges. We topped off the topography with unnatural neon blue frosted water features, and a neon blue sugared Pacific Ocean. The final step was laying down borders and drawing the compass rose. (Zelda working on a border in Picture 3 below.)

I am happy to report that our map was not only great looking with lots of extra credit features, but it tasted freaking amazing. A big family argument over who got to eat the Cascade Mountain range ensued!!

As most of you know, we made the decision to move back to Portland as renters, living center city, without a car, plunking our children in their neighborhood public schools. And, we made it through last winter, spring soccer, and various summer camps sans vehicle. We were proud. But, as we all know, pride goeth before the fall.

Autumn arrived, and school started anew for the Zs, who were to be on two different campuses, playing soccer in two different leagues that called for four separate practices during the week and two to three soccer games every weekend. My parents were kind enough to loan us a vehicle when this crazy schedule began, and we planned to use it just until we worked through our various transportation challenges.

We began our brief stint of car possession with earnest promises to ourselves.

“We will only use it in place of the Zipcar. We won’t drive anywhere that we would typically walk, bus, streetcar, or bike.”

We super promised each other. But, somewhere along the way, someone must have been crossing their fingers because we learned, the hard way, that when you have a car at your disposal, when it’s parked right downstairs, you opt for efficiency and forget about walking altogether.

“Just this once, it’s so much faster…”

After less than a month, I am sad to say, we almost had fully regressed to the habits of the car owned. Tom knew we had jumped the shark when he drove the 6 blocks to Hot Lips Pizza to pick up food for the kids one night.

Aghast, we called my parents and asked them to take the car back, posthaste. They couldn’t do it for a few weeks, and we were in a panic. No lie, over that month-and-a-half, Tom and I each gained about ten pounds.

I am happy to report that we are again car free these days. (Although still very appreciative for the loan, Mom and Dad!) Yes, it is rainy, stormy, misty, and awful out, but we couldn’t be happier to be biking, walking, and streetcarring once more. The photos you see here in this post were taken on recent walks going about my daily routine — not moments one experiences from a car. I love the organic imprints left by leaves and rain on the sidewalk, which I snapped on the walk to my gym. And, this bare little tree with its few bright orange leaves still clinging to branches provided a stunning contrast to the driving wind and rain that marked a recent trek across the Willamette River on the Steel Bridge as I made my way to a work meeting. Truly, it was exhilarating!

I recently bought some pants that are a smidge too long, breaking my cardinal rule about never purchasing slacks that need to be hemmed. This deviation then prevented me from wearing a typical work shoe with my new suit in an effort to accommodate the longer leg length. You see, I normally wear something from my collection of Danskos for work (various colors and styles, but no clogs), which I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE. They are wide, comfortable, sturdy, attractive … well, in sort of a man-suit kind of way.

I have dubbed these faves my “nun shoes,” which could be interpreted negatively, but rest assured, it is an affectionate nickname! These shoes were my best friends when I worked in brokerage–valiantly trudging through construction sites, standing up to cold empty warehouses, shedding the rain, and not causing fatigue after a full day on my feet.

Strangely enough, I am used to comfortable shoes now. I am acclimated to not torturing my feet. To actually expecting my shoes to fit and be comfortable…ALL DAY.

This was a lesson relearned recently when I wore the pleather boots, shown above, to prevent my aforementioned new pants from dragging on the ground. I had to dash about 1/3 of a mile to pick up my Zipcar for a work meeting, and I have to say, I felt pretty hobbled. (Our new car-free lifestyle is, well, demanding on the old shoes.) Which is not to say I can’t walk in heels, because I can, but good grief, I was really missing the long easy strides I achieve with my nun shoes. And, I was left feeling…hmmm, maybe less substantial… because I was mobility challenged of my own making. (Thank God a train didn’t come, no mad dashes across the tracks for me.)

If you attend a wedding, you will notice as the event winds down that women’s formal shoes are strewn all over the dance floor and can be found tucked betwixt and between tables and chairs. The ridiculousness! Wearing shoes that destroy our feet…buying shoes in which we can’t walk for protracted periods of time! Footwear designed for sitting. I mean really, as we mince and wince around the city in our stilettos and wedges, can we honestly snicker about barbaric practices of the past, like Chinese foot binding? (X-ray of bound feet shown below.)

EPILOGUE: You would think that my desire to avoid sprinting for a Zipcar in the boots of death might motivate me to get those pants hemmed, right?

Sadly, it didn’t. I am lazy.

The next time these particular slacks entered the professional clothing rotation, I avoided my fake leather friends (which are clearly footwear designed for reclining on a black leather chair whilst pretending to be a Dominatrix) by instead using the college trick of temporarily raising my pant’s length with the strategic application of two-sided tape.

Yep, that meant nun shoes for me. Pain-free strolling on the way to my work appointment.

In truth, I felt very smug with myself as my meeting began. Stifling a contented sigh, I crossed my legs during the presentation to sneak a quick peak at my superior temporary hem job, only to realize that I was wearing the wrong color socks! *sigh*

Sometimes, I think I am a horrible girl!!

The quick and dirty: Cool boutique hotel on the inside, crappy post-mid-century modern (read: not attractive) beige building on the outside, with service that was mostly, but not entirely, “ept.”

For those of you who want more exhaustive details, then please keep reading below!

During our recent stint in Tacoma, we stayed at the Hotel Murano, which is owned by a regional upscale hotel chain. It is well located in the center of town and happens to be festooned with an amazing collection of glass art. The hotel itself is in a building that looks to have been erected in the 60s or 70s. So, while they have attractively rehabbed the interior, given what they had to work with, the exterior of the hotel is still less-than-compelling visually.

Pictured below is our standard king room. It was functional, well designed, the bed was comfortable, the view pleasant, and there were two great bathrobes, one of which actually fit Tom. (Often, when we travel, we are supplied with two robes that seem designed for Lilliputians.) We had a few quibbles: the phone didn’t work properly, nor did the television remote or the safe. We asked them to replace/fix the latter two issues, which they did speedily.

For lunch, we tried the hotel restaurant called Bite. I can say this about their food — what it lacks in excitement and quality, they make up for with portion size. The service, well, that’s a bit difficult to put my finger on. I guess it could best be described as accidentally brusque; I don’t think they realized they weren’t providing a good experience, if that makes any sense.

Some interesting features:

• They incorporate a bit o’ whimsy into the mundane. Their “do not disturb sign” says “tied up” instead. And, they have a notice in your room that informs you: “A copy of the News Tribune is included with your stay. If you do not wish to receive the newspaper, please contact the front desk for a $0.18 refund.”

• Each floor has an exhibit devoted to a single glass artist. Shown above is a corset from the artist on our floor: Susan Taylor Glasgow. I was enamored of this piece. She takes symbols related to the domestication of women and makes them into glass forms that are attached via non traditional methods, such as the stitching, shown here. Mesmerizing. (A snapshot of Susan working on this piece can be found below.)

• On the restaurant floor, there was an Argentinian glass artist named Miriam di Fiore, who now lives in Italy. Her work is captured in a photo below, as well.

• The lobby is very lively and appealing, with a bar, and also some fabulous works of art, such as the two canoes suspended from the ceiling.

• There is a seating area outside the lobby, along the sidewalk, with music piped in, an outdoor fireplace, and some cushy upholstered furniture. I was delighted to see a hotel trying to contribute to an active street scene in this way. Bravo!

Readers, meet my new bike! Well, I should say, my new used bike. I love my new bike. It is so awesomely fabulous, I would still adore it, even if it spent the rest of its life sitting in the downstairs bike storage space…which it won’t, I assure you. This baby begs to be out on the open road…and I feel compelled to park my wide ass on that equally wide seat. In truth, I was really bummed I couldn’t ride it to my lunch appointment today — I didn’t have my accoutrement together, such as lock, helmet, etc.

I plan on using this little gem as a fun, commute to in-city work appointments, mode of transportation. I do believe that I need to get a little white basket for the front (yes, I mean “need,” not “want”). I haven’t spent a lot of time on it, but it is a kick to ride. It’s an instant age regression. Sitting so upright…no gears…a big fat cushy seat…pedaling backward to brake. Love it!

Learned something interesting at the bike store today. Our sales guy said that the way thieves are popping kryptonite locks these days is by using the tiny jacks from tiny cars, such as the Mini Cooper. If a bike owner wants to thwart said robbers, it was recommended to us that we buy a lock with the smallest opening needed to affix our two-wheeler to a bike rack. The goal is to prevent them from having enough space to maneuver the jack into the lock, because if they have enough of an opening, they can pop it. The smaller and tighter the fit, the better. Who knew?

Tom and I … Amtrak … Tacoma, Washington … no kids … overnight. I must say, we found ourselves entranced with the city’s historic architecture and glass art offerings.

Before our visit, I had no idea that Tacoma was Dale Chihuly‘s birthplace — he graduated from Woodrow Wilson High School. (A quick aside, Dale’s site is shockingly … well, retro … and not in a good way.) I had no idea that so much of his art was on display throughout the city. I had no idea there was a Museum of Glass devoted solely to glass art, right downtown.

And, I had no idea that said museum had a fully functional Hot Shop (glassblowing studio), complete with a guide narrating the action, in which you could sit and observe. In fact, their Web site has a live video feed of the Hot Shop, and you can even ask questions of the emcee online.

To get to the Museum of Glass, we walked across The Bridge of Glass, pictured below, on the left, which is an impressive connector between the beautifully restored, historic Union Station, and the very modern, cone-shaped museum.

There are a multitude of pieces by Chihuly on the overpass, a very impressive selection. The most visually imposing are the towering blue glass sculptures, called the Crystal Towers, that adorn the bridge, shown in two photos below. The towers were rather impressive in the sunlight, not so his remaining masterpieces on the walkway.

Enclosed in frames along one edge of the bridge is an arrangement called the Venetian Wall, featuring some of the largest hand blown works ever created. This exhibit was very poorly lit when we were there, which happened to be on a very bright, sunny day. The natural daylighting was not effective and everything looked washed out and sadly unspectacular. The Seaform Pavilion displays marine-inspired forms in an overhead installation, and again, they were very dull and muted. Both of these displays have artificial lighting for cloudy days and evening viewing. I would recommend the latter to truly enjoy the experience. (I had to play around with contrast on these pictures from the Seaform Pavilion to make them pop.)

Our first reaction to the displays: “They need to call Steve Wynn to jazz this up a bit — he knows how to light a Chihuly!!”

After passing over the bridge, it was off to the museum for us.

Two of the galleries were closed because they were installing new exhibits, so we entered with a discount and went to the Hot Shop, which was really riveting. We learned a ton while watching a team of blowers and an artist crafting pieces that were inspired by the cosmos.

We also toured the one open gallery, which contained, amongst other things, a neat program where they take fanciful children’s drawings and realize them in glass. The final exhibit includes a combined presentation of the child’s original picture and the derivative glass piece. Very entertaining, and technically, quite difficult for the artisans.

All in all, definitely worth a visit. We came away with a real respect for, and an abiding interest in, glass art.

No really! I’m serious.

I have had the tea set pictured here since 1998. It was my paternal grandmother’s, and it became mine when she passed away that year. All of the pieces are white ceramic with painted dragons on the plates, cups and teapot. But today … just today, as I was washing out the cups to make some Chai for myself and my homebound family, I noticed something … there was what appeared to be a white relief image of a face in the bottom of the tea cup.

It is very faint, hardly noticeable. (As you can see in the photo above, you can’t tell it’s there at all.) When I angled the cup around, it became more and more obvious. Then, I held it up to the light and the face went from a faint negative image to a very clear positive depiction of a woman. To see it in more detail, you can click on the the three thumbnails below. The first picture is the white relief made more visible by adjusting the image. The next displays the positive image when held up to the light. The last is her peaking out from underneath some Chai!

Fascinating, the things you don’t notice, for years, under your own nose … or lips … or tea.

Pictured here, in the center of Seattle, is the aptly named Lake Union, where Tom and I were married almost 13 years ago. We were joined in matrimony aboard a boat equipped with a grand piano and mirrored ceilings (rather elaborate for our wedding party of 8). As a group, we dubbed our party boat “The Disco Vilanti.”

Said ship was a bit handicapped when we were cruising due to it only having one functioning engine, which meant we were followed by a rescue vessel in case of emergency. And, there was the additional excitement (as if we needed more) of almost running aground at the end of our three hour tour. The docking mishap caused a mega freakout on the part of our marrying judge, and we had to keep on eye on her, lest she abandon ship and swim for shore.

All of this to say, we had a ball visiting Seattle this weekend with the Zs, playing tourist…something we rarely did when we lived there.

A bag of cinnamon doughnuts from the Daily Dozen in the market, we met Dee and Eric for brunch at Etta’s (the quality has gone way down, I am sorry to report), the girls put gum on the “gum wall” in Post Alley, we visited the aquarium, rode the monorail, and ascended to the top of the Space Needle, which, when it was built, was the tallest building west of the Mississippi.

Seattle is truly one of the most beautiful places in the world, and the city displayed itself to amazing effect on our little weekend trip for Zelda’s birthday.

Of course, the gorgeous Saturday shown in these pictures gave way to rain and fog for our early Sunday morning train ride back to Portland. My sandals were none too happy about the walk home from the train station in the misty rain.

Family homework does hearken back to my own childhood, which was besprinkled with wretched diorama projects, year after year. I still remember one assignment that stumped me: creating a model of life in the Alaskan wilderness. It did get completed…but, not by me! In truth, my incredibly crafty mother constructed the entire thing, including an amazing canoe, an igloo, and a lashed together dock with some spears leaning against it.

It was awesome, and I got a great grade. Thanks, Mom!

Sadly, this all comes full circle when you become a parent yourself, most recently for us in the form of Zelda’s bridge project, which required that we build a model and a display board for one of Portland’s historic bridges. She chose the Broadway Bridge.

In real life, the Broadway Bridge is painted “Golden Gate Red”, so we figured we would use red licorice to make our model, since it was already the correct color. No painting necessary! We tested both Red Vines and Twizzlers. The latter I prefer to eat, but they were too soft for the bridge. The former won the day, and after we stiffened it with a little rebar, it was time to build. (Rebar, in this case, was straightened paper clips that we ran through the centers.)

Over the course of many weeks, Tom and Zelda worked on the bridge. When it was finished, they placed it upon piers made of marshmallows. Originally, the project was conceived with footers that were two marshmallows high to keep it all in scale, but within 24 hours, the whole thing fell apart. We had to go back to the drawing board and were, predictably, running short on time. Therefore, maintaining proper scale was thrown out the window. Or, to put it more poetically, we decided that the river was at flood-stage height, and went with the single marshmallow piers that are pictured above. We also added some lateral support to prevent the bridge from falling over.

Yes, we got to build two bridges for family homework!

The display board went a little more smoothly. Zelda hand-lettered a bunch of the labels with single letter stamps, which required a lot of iterations, but the red ink matched the bridge in color and the font looked very “period.” She also was featured in one of the photos of the bridge, which her classmates enjoyed.

At school, she and some classmates even made up a song about the Broadway Bridge, sung to the tune of Oh My Darling, Clementine:

The Broadway Bridge is in Portland, 
It would not fit in a fridge.
It is for cars, bikes and walkers, 
It is nowhere near a ridge.

It's a double-leaf Rall bascule, 
It is bigger than a smidge.
It is painted Golden Gate Red.
Yes it is, the Broadway Bridge!

Needless to say, Zelda participated more enthusiastically in this family homework than my pouty, diorama-hating ass ever did.

We had the opportunity recently to chaperone a very interesting on-foot tour of some of Portland’s fabulous historic bridges. Zelda’s school scored Portland bridge historian, Sharon Wood Wortman, to lead the tour and it was informative for the pint-sized and adult-sized alike.

Thankfully, the weather cooperated and it didn’t rain. In fact, as you can see, we were blessed with big light for photos.

We started our tour at the Oregon Department of Transportation and got to check out all of their bridge cameras on the big screen. The kids were even more impressed with the remote-controlled conference table, where you could press a button, and the center of the table would rise up to reveal a bank of 12 phones to be used during weather/transportation emergencies.

Next, we walked over the Steel Bridge as a freight train rumbled past us, and off in the distance, we could see the Broadway Bridge just beginning to open. It was lovely.

These lucky third graders had the privilege of ascending into the the control tower of the Burnside Bridge, and they also got to lay down on the road while the bridge was opened next to them solely for their benefit. (I’m sure the commuters were wondering what the hell was going on — no boats coming through, bridge open, kids laying on the road screaming as if they were “road kill.”)

We learned:

• There are something like 781 Douglas Fir trees under the footings for the Burnside Bridge. (Those are waterproof and rated for 100 years, right?)
• The St. John’s Bridge was originally supposed to be painted with black and yellow stripes. (Thank God they went with the green.)
• The Broadway Bridge was the longest double leaf bascule bridge in the world when it was built.
• The Fremont Bridge is the second largest tied-arch bridge in the world.