Other than driving a short way down I-5 to take in the sausage fest last month, Heather and I wintered in town. Snowmageddon, the snowpocalypse, moving, and the million compulsory trips to Swedish Hell pretty much precluded any out-of-town forays.
But Sunday morning, hopped up on Lucky Charms and strong coffee, we braved the rain and jumped in the car. We were thinking maybe we’d swing by the Tillamook cheese factory, but we did that last year. We settled on a southern loop this time.



If you’ve crossed the Hawthorne bridge lately you’ve probably noticed the giant rooftop XOXO sign beside the west bound approach lanes, which used to trumpet Pabst Blue Ribbon. During the media orgy over Sam Adams’ trouble earlier this year it said Forgive, a 
