Tonight I had dinner at the Woodsman, the new restaurant from Stumptown’s Duane Sorenson. The concept was a little challenging. I had heard tales of pork, but shell-fish seemed to be the plate de jour. My dinner mates compared the joint to places well-known in Brooklyn and I guess I can see what they mean. The atmosphere was pleasant, service fine, and food excellent- though a little small portion wise, I’d just like one more bite- the place reeked of a stylist. Everything was a little too perfectly placed, too carefully selected, like a play list mastered by Muzak than your friend with just really good taste in music. I’m happy to see my little strip explode with new shops and restaurants, but I didn’t feel particularly attached to the Woodsman.
I’ve been sick the last couple of days which is incredibly unfortunate as Matthew and the Bean are out of town and you’d think this is the time I’d live it up. No. My body has other plans that include netflix marathons of Bridget Jones Diary and the documentary Helvetia. I went over to the dark side last night and took NyQuil. The cashier halfheartedly asked if I was 18. I don’t understand how anyone would enjoy NyQuil recreationally Seriously. All day I felt stoned. Like I was in some sort of snow globe, shaken at random, even the smallest sudden movements took forever to recover from. Who would enjoy this?
I’ve almost wrapped up my Peru video. I’m eager to share it. I get goose bumps every time I watch it. Friends have given me a lot of feed back, and my last edit is to create a voice over for the ending. To speak from the heart, to relay that one take away. I’m hoping this will come in a magical NyQuil induced dream tonight. Do you thing green monster. do. your. thing.