Homa Again, Home Again

After ten nights at my parents' house in Oregon, we are back in Seattle, readjusting by doing laundry, sleeping in our own bed, washing bottle in our own sink, and learning how being back in our room affects Julian's sleep schedule and how every day he smiles more and more.

In point of fact, I don't think I've spent quite so much time at my parents' place in one shot since I left home for college at the age of eighteen. The Willamette Valley was gorgeous, all rolling green hills carpeted in vineyards and stands of oak over plains of newly mown hay and wildflowers. Now, looking out my dining room window, I'm greeted by rain over the gray roofs of my neighbor's homes (but it is supposed to be sunny again later today, right? Right?). Still, it's comforting to be back. And I needed to be reminded that in Seattle I should not leave the laundry out to dry on the porch overnight without first checking the weather report.

Since this was our first overnight trip with Julian, it was also a good lesson in how much stuff one needs when traveling with an infant. Fully stocked diaper bag, an assortment of onesies and sleepers, the ever popular "buzzy seat" to occupy him without us having to hold him every waking minute, play mat, baby tub (I don't quite feel comfortable washing him in a full sized bathtub yet), and a box of disposable diapers (no diaper service at my parents, and I wasn't about to spend ten days washing out cloth ones), not to mention all the breast pump equipment and bottles (our boy needs a little - OK, a lot - of help in the feeding department). Considering that we also need to make room for our dog, the Mazda 5 was filled to the gills.

Traveling with baby also lent itself to a much more, let's say, leisurely vacation. While our trip was bookended with family events, the week in the middle was spent at home, watching the baby, washing bottles, and painting fence boards for a backyard project to be completed up at our place later this summer, all while our car was in the shop getting some minor body work done tax free. I'm not accustomed to pacing myself quite so slowly, or not getting out at least once a day, but Julian is changing rapidly, and I realize it is only a matter of time before his horizons expand beyond our little household.

In the meantime, I'm glad to be back in Seattle, where our little day trips - walks to the farmers' market, evening concerts in the park, an hour or two relaxing at a cafe - keep me going.

New Year Tidings

So. The blog posts, they be a-slow comin'. And I, well, I be a-pretty slow movin' myself at the moment. After the bustle of Christmas, which involved a three day trek to Oregon including two family gatherings, skiing for the first time since college, and a stop off to see Michael's sister's family at her in-law's in Vancouver, I hit the New Year feeling a little under the weather. Is it the flu? Do I just have some unidentifiable stomach pain? I'm not sure, and I rather feel too tired to care.

Still, we rang in the New Year successfully a small group of friends and plenty of Greek food. In fact, we still have plenty of Greek food, so if you'd like some pita, tzatziki, or melitzanosalata, come on over! Tonight I'm baking the last of the spanakopita.

Lucy, the dog, decided that, rather than ringing in the New Year, she would pee in the New Year. On our downstairs sofa. While sitting next to me. Happy New Year! To be fair, I should say that it was not so much that she "decided" to pee at the stroke of midnight, but rather that all the tooting horns and the sound of Michael shooting off confetti poppers with abandon caused an involuntary urinary reaction. Oops. As this has not happened previously, I concluded that in other years she must not have joined us downstairs for the big event. Next year we will be more cautious. Our dog continued to shake in abject fear for about half an hour, so I'm sure she'll be grateful for the distance.

So, happy New Year everyone! May it be a good one, free from want and and the unwanted (like dog pee). What more could we want in 2010?

Lucy Come Home

On Thursday night we drove through pouring rain and wind to my parents' place in Oregon. We had one big reason to brave the awful weather and traffic (it took two hours to get from Seattle to Olympia, almost twice the time it took us to go that distance on the way back home): Lucy.

Lucy had been living the farm life since our Oregon trip back in September. As much as she loves running around through the woods and barking at unseen things in the night with my parents' dog, Pepper, she's not exactly cut out for the farm life. She managed to set the cows off and running when she squeezed through a gate and startled them. Even more startled herself, Lucy ran back to the house and didn't dare go near the cows again. We also discovered that my brother RAN OVER OUR DOG when backing up the pickup one night. Yes, although he thought both dogs were still in the back of the truck, he felt the tire drive over a bump, and got out to find that he had run Lucy over. Thankfully, no bones were broken, but she did have some terrible abrasions on her back left leg which have fortunately healed well. But still.

So now Lucy is curled up on the sofa, in a tight, safe little ball. We worry she may miss her country freedom, but hope that the warmth and coziness of the indoor life with us will make up for it. We missed you Lucy; I hope it's good to be back home.

The Last Days

If anyone has actually been reading this blog, you may have noticed a lack of posts for several days, largely owing to a lack of cheap, easy internet access (I really need to get a Netbook!). But since I have fifteen more minutes of internet time at the moment, here's a quick rundown of what was missed:

• Enjoying a taste of Italy in lovely Nafplio, with real gelato and a Venetian style old town
• Hiking to the far reaches of the Palamidi fortress in Nafplio
• Enjoying a group meal at a real, non-touristy local taverna in Nafplio, complete with live music and folk dancing - all in some very close quarters (this was about the most fun I had while on this trip)
• Being amazed by the great ruins of the Myceneans, getting up close with architecture that is more than 3000 years old
• Listening to groups singing and reciting from ancient Greek plays in the theatre at Epidavros
• Our group dog, Winnie, who met us when we arrived on Hydra, and was never far away - she even came out to the ferry with us the day we left, and stayed until we boarded the hydrofoil. Michael wanted to adopt her and bring her home to live with us and Lucy (seriously, he was actually considering this)

Greece has been fantastic, and I am convinced that trip to northern Greece is in order for the future - there's so much that we didn't have time to see in three weeks! But for now I'm happy to be heading home, because the cement hard beds of this country can't compare to my own sweet bed at home. And while we'll all miss Winnie, I can't wait to see my own dear dog, Lucy.

The Dog Days of Summer Come to an End

As a native Oregonian, I was shocked to realize recently that it had been more than nine entire months since I had set foot in my home state. Nine months! I could have gone through an entire pregnancy from conception to childbirth in that amount of time (please note I said could have; this in no way a reflection on what actually happened during the previous nine months)!

Fortunately, last weekend remedied this situation, as Michael, Lucy, and I drove to my parents' home late Friday night. Saturday was spent with my parents, dining (I use the word here with just a touch of the facetious) at Sheridan's lone Chinese restaurant - home of Michael's favorite General Tso's chicken, hiking out to the point of Cape Lookout on the coast for some fabulous views and woodland scenery, and letting the dogs loose on the beach, where a piece of kelp stood in quite nicely for a stick for Lucy to chase.

We had picked this last weekend of the summer for our trip as a wedding reception was held on Sunday for my cousin, Noah. The wedding had been in Mississippi, and the reception was a casual one, although the setting, in a beautifully landscaped home garden outside of Newberg, and the weather were gorgeous. The casual atmosphere was apparantly a good match for Noah - well, actually, even this setting was more formal than Noah's wedding attire, which he dutifully wore to the reception. While Rosalie, his bride, wore a lovely, simple white wedding gown, Noah had on a pair of dungarees, a striped Hickory shirt, and red lumberjack suspenders. I'm not sure how he convinced Roaslie that dressing like a logger was the way to go for the ceremony; perhaps the folks in Mississippi figured that this must just be how us Oregonians get gussied up. But hey, at least the clothes were clean.

We were on our way to Seattle following the reception, sadly with one of our family left behind. Lucy will spend the next month and a half as a farm dog with my parents, who have offered to dogsit while Michael and I vacation in Greece. But now that we're back home and still have almost two weeks until our trip, the house feels strangely lonely without our beloved pup. Nuisance though she may be at times, it is comforting to come home to someone who's always excited to see you, always eager to snuggle up next to you on the sofa, and who sleeps only an arm's distance away next to my bed each night.

But I have the feeling the next two weeks will be busy enough that we won't have too much of a chance to miss her. And when we get back, Lucy will be an bonafide Oregonian herself, fully integrated into her country dog ways. But don't worry, I'm sure she'll miss her Seattle sofa, at least a little bit.

Dog Trick

When a picture is worth a thousand words:

Falling for You

Yesterday, I was down. Work, the weather, a dull dinner of tuna melts on the menu (not to dis tuna melts - after all, it's cheese that puts the "melt" in them); I felt a vague dissatisfaction, not to mention a little restless. The fact is, this is the fourth night in a row I have spent at home doing nothing in particular, and it wears on me.

But! (Yes, there is a but!) This evening left me feeling right as rain, which is an admittedly odd turn of phrase considering the fact that the sun has reappeared has not a little to do with my change of heart. After work, the Lake City farmer's market was abuzz with people out enjoying the golden glow of an Indian summer. Unexpectedly, I happened upon Dimitris, our former Fred Meyer fishmonger. Years ago I told him of my dream to some day go to Greece (his home country), and now that I'm heading there in less than three weeks, I lamented the fact that I wouldn't be able to tell him. And there he was at the market! Coincidence?

The "seconds" at my favorite tomato stand had the perfect heirloom specimens for tonight's pizza, and after getting such a good deal, I was inspired to pick up a hunk of Mount Townsend cheese and a loaf of rustic Italian bread to take to my parents this weekend. Heading to the car, I ran across another friend, out enjoying the park with her kids. The Lake City Market, being adjacent to a small park and offering homemade ice cream, crepes, and Czech pastries, is a popular spot for families.

Arriving home, I found Michael parked on a blanket in the front lawn, taking a break from studying in a valient attempt to keep Lucy from lunging straight for me. In the mind of our dog, seeing someone in an surprising situation is cause to bring out the crazy. This was no exception.

With Lucy safely back inside the house, I joined Michael on the lawn to see what the mail had brought. Michael's passport! A belated birthday card! A Pottery Barn catalog! OK, so that last one just went in the recycling, but still. I then dumped out the "goodies" I'd brought for Michael from work - new moneybelts, Greece guidebooks, and other trip related swag.

Heck, even hanging out the laundry felt good. I pulled down a load of freshly dry whites, so different from the still-damp jeans I'd come home to last night, and reloaded the lines with the next batch. Mmm, clean laundry!

And here I am, still home, and not going to the John Vanderslice concert tonight after all. But I'm OK with it. Maybe all I needed was a little bit more summer to help ease me into fall.

The Sunday Scramble

In this modern life, it is inevitable that schedules must sometimes collide. Michael and I had grown spoiled and accustomed to his having weekends off over that past several months, so much so that I took it for granted that our weekend plans were set - until last Tuesday night, when it suddenly dawned on us that he was scheduled to work twelve hour shifts on both the following Saturday and Sunday.

"You can't!" I cried. "The Pink Martini concert is Saturday, and we've had those tickets for months!"

A last minute decision to work a twelve, rather than eight, hour shift on Wednesday gave Michael the freedom to leave work in time for Saturday's concert (although this turned out to be unnecessary since he stayed home sick on Saturday - yes, sick again - still sick, in fact, although he made it to the concert and to work for the past couple of days). Sunday was another story. Just because Michael was at the VA for the day didn't mean my plans were in any way altered. Well, except for the fact that I needed the car. For the first time, I rose at 6:30 on a Sunday morning so I could drive Michael in to work and keep the car to myself for the day. For a Sunday, that's early. Very early.

Somehow Sunday had morphed into a day crowded with church-related events. I'd planned a hike for the "young adults" in the afternoon, it was the first day of Sunday School for the year, someone else had planned a walk at Volunteer Park, there was a meeting for Elizabeth Gregory home, a fundraising dinner for Elizabeth Gregory home, and I was counting the offering money with Erv. Not that all of these events affected me, mind you, but it seemed everyone in the congregation was busy in some way or another. Hey, at least the church felt alive, right?

Well, I'd planned the hike, so I was going hiking, no matter what. Four others crowded into my Pontiac Vibe, with Lucy huddled in the very back, and we headed out of town for Little Si. Not nearly as famous (or infamous) as Mount Si itself, Little Si offers a more gentle hiking option within 45 minutes of the city. Sure, there are some switchbacks and rugged, rocky steps and serpentine roots to navigate, but there is also a long, lovely level stretch through the woods, surrounded by alders and firs, ferns and snowberry bushes. After a final climb, we were rewarded with views across the valley, including a less-than-awe-inspiring peek at Issaquah's suburban sprawl, and a shady place on the rocks to relax over lunch. Out of all of us, Lucy seemed the least relaxed, having wedged herself into a fissure in the rock that was perhaps a little too tight for comfort.

Back at the trailhead we were happy and a little weary, and more than a little dirty. Two of us were attending the Elizabeth Gregory benefit dinner that evening at Portage Bay Cafe in South Lake Union, and time was running short. I pulled into the ULC parking lot around ten after five, sped home, fed the dog, took a shower, got dressed, and made it to the cafe promptly at six. Truly, that was miraculous timing. I also discovered the benefits of rolling down the windows to dry one's hair while cruising down Lake City Way. God bless multi-tasking!

Dinner seating was family style, with a wonderful buffet of salad, roasted vegetables, mashed potatoes, and stuffed chicken breasts. My friend Stephanie joined me as my guest to take Michael's place, although I'm afraid I lost her for a while when another friend, David, and I started up a conversation about rowing, inspired by the racing shell hanging from the Cafe's ceiling.

The best thing about the dinner, however, aside from great food and company, was the fact that every single cent from the very reasonable ticket price of $30 per person is going to Elizabeth Gregory Home. This is the women's transitional housing shelter instigated and brought to fruition through our church, a shelter that has now been helping women in need for three years. The fact that the owners of Portage Bay Cafe were willing to donate this entire meal to the cause, and provide us with a wonderful community night out while doing it was inspiring.

After dinner, I headed back to the VA to pick up Michael after his shift. Tired and coughing, he was eager to be home, sipping a tall mug of tea before bed. I felt a twinge of guilt at having been the one to get the long end of the stick, so to speak. Even if I had to rise at 6:30, going hiking on a sunny day and feasting with friends can hardly be considered hardships, while working at the VA... well, that's another story entirely. The man deserved a back scratch, and after he'd had his tea, I was happy to oblige.

Discovering Magnolia

It's funny how you can live some place for ten years, and yet still find a part of town that feels wholly new and undiscovered. On Saturday, inspired by the chance to try what Seattle Weekly recently claimed was the best malted milkshake in town, combined with the opportunity to take Lucy out on a much needed walk through the woods, Michael and I headed to Magnolia for the first time in years. How many years? There is no conclusive evidence, but I'm going to guess it's been seven or eight.

After surviving grueling traffic on Denny (I will not take that route again if I can help it), we headed over the bridge and wound our way into "downtown" Magnolia, when I realized... I'd never been here before. At least, as far as I could remember. It was as though I'd left Seattle behind and stumbled upon some idyllic little town with classic car shows (there actually was one going on), Snoqualmie ice cream instead of Molly Moon, and tree lined streets with little traffic. Welcome to Our Town! Really, it was unexpectedly charming. Michael and I split a luscious "Mukilteo Mud" malted shake from Cocoa & Cream, which I thought was perfect, but he declared needed more malt.

We then headed to Discovery Park, which, although we had been before, still felt like a discovery after so many years away. On the 2.8 mile loop trail we walked through dark maple forests and sun bleached meadows, finding new views across the Puget Sound and even stumbling across a string quintet playing Appalachian style folk music in the grass.

"This is like a mini-vacation," I told Michael. "And in our own city!"

Heading home, we were back in familiar territory before long, heading across the Ballard Bridge and then Holman Road. It had been a nice break while it lasted. But I don't know if I'll go back soon; sometimes, a little distance makes it that much more special.

Click Happy

Some may have noticed the return of photos to Rutabagastories, which can only mean - drum roll, please - I have a new camera! The good news is, I think I've found a keeper (although Costco does have a 90 day return policy, so I'm not locked in yet). The not so good news... it didn't come cheap. After playing around with a few point and shoot models, I came to realize that what I really wanted, what I've in fact wanted since I bought my original digital camera about six and a half years ago, was an SLR.

The fact is, I love setting up a shot the old fashioned way, looking through a viewfinder. And I love the option of a true manual focus. But on a typical point and shoot model the viewfinder is woefully inaccurate, and the manual focus, if it exists, is a joke. A DSLR, I figured, would give me the control I craved, and allow me room to grow as a photographer. The only downside, really, is that a DSLR is much larger than a point and shoot, making it too unwieldly for certain situations. We may just buy an ultra compact, inexpensive point and shoot to have on hand for such occasions.

I haven't had much of a chance to play with my Nikon D5000 (the model I chose after extensive online research) yet, but managed to bring it along while walking Lucy this afternoon. Initially Lucy wasn't too keen on stopping for what was, to her mind, no reason whatsoever, but overall she was extremely patient with her dog mommy's strange behaviour. While the lighting wasn't always great and our neighborhood isn't the most thrilling place for photography, I did get a few nice shots. Here's a sampling:

King of Crab

Third time's the charm - for our third night at the grill this weekend, Alaskan king crab legs were the star, brought to us by Michael's grandfather, Chad. After a change of plans this afternoon, we convinced that family they should come to our place for dinner - bringing the crab legs with them, of course - offering us an opportunity to show off our house and our Lucy dog to Michael's Aunt Robin and Chad's son, Scott.

Precooked crab legs are the epitome of simplicity when it comes to preparation: simply thaw and serve, or throw onto the grill to warm them up before eating. But it's in the eating, you see, that crab becomes messy, and I admit to squirting my tablemates once or twice in my effort to pull out every last piece of succulent crab meat. Fortunately they were good sports about it. And seeing as we were all in the same boat, passing around kitchen shears and digging into the flesh with our forks, it really could have been any one of us. Due to its size, however, king crab does have one advantage over Dungeness. It may be messy, but you get to your reward much faster than with the smaller Dungeness, and with legs the size of Lucy's , you do reap a substantial reward.

Some enjoyed their crab in salad, while I reveled in simply pouring melted butter over the exposed flesh. OK, that came out sounding a little cruder than I intended, but crab brings out my gluttonous side. Perhaps that's why God made eating crab such a chore - it keeps us from overindulging, unless you pay the high price for prepared lump crabmeat. But there's a certain satisfaction in working for your supper, at least when that supper happens to be crab.

A Very Vaughn Fourth

A narrow inlet off of the Puget Sound, Vaughn Bay seems the perfect place for family picnics come the Fourth of July. Having lived there her entire life, Michael's grandmother is one of the lucky ones, with a house overlooking a small bay of her own that fills with salt water as the tide comes in and leaves behind a tidal flat perfect for clam digging when the tide is out. In the early afternoon as the floating dock began to rise with the incoming tide, Uncle Ronnie was ready at the boat launch, prepared to join the other Bayliners that zipped down the length of the bay towing waterskiers and innertubers. His grandchildren, a gaggle of boys aged six and under, along with one lone curly-headed girl, were perhaps the most enthusiastic of the boaters.

Lucy the dog had her own fun with the help of a stick found on the rocky beach. Throw it out into the sound, and Lucy would fearlessly bound after it, dog-paddling determinedly back to shore in hopes of more. The weather was even hot enough that few people seemed to mind when she shook out her saltwater-logged fur in close range.

The weather, in fact, couldn't have been better, especially in a region famed for sometimes dreary Independence Days. In the shade on the lawn, looking out across the deep blue bay under a baby blue sky, the ridge of fir trees changing from evergreen to golden as the sun sank towards the horizon, it was difficult - no, impossible - to imagine any setting more beautiful.

As twilight came and the bay turned from brilliant blue to a silvery shimmer, more and more firecrackers could be heard echoing across the water. After nightfall, a call and response of elaborate (not to mention illegal) pyrothechnics vied for attention as house after house set off mortor shells and Roman candles, with some displays so elaborate that there was talk that at least one of the neighbors must have hired a professional. Down by the dock at Grandma Dulcie's, the blast of a mortor shell would cause everyone to look up in time to catch a brilliant shower of gold or crimson, raining down over our heads. Only Lucy missed out on the show - she lay quivering in the backseat of the car, too frightened to even chew her favorite bone.

For hours the fireworks continued, while some of us headed back to the house to roast marshmallows over the fire for s'mores, still with a view of the shells bursting in air, but without quite as much noise and smoke. By now the sheen of the pale golden moon appeared as if behind a thin, gauzy curtain, as the smoke from the night's celebrations floated lazily by.

It was time to head home, or rather, head back to the cabin on Hartstene Island for the night. As a few final firecrackers signaled an end to the festivities around midnight, we drifted off to sleep, closing our eyes to the beautiful view of the Sound lapping peacefully, framed by the Douglas firs and madronas that line the shore.

It had been a good day in Vaughn Bay.

Signs of Summer

It's summer in Seattle! How do I know?

• We can make sun tea on the porch - most days, at least.
• I can hang the laundry to dry on the porch - again, on most days.
  
• Michael even cleaned the porch to get it ready for summer shindigs (Hmm, many of these reasons seem to focus on the porch...)
• We have a new barbeque (also located on the porch)! In fact, it arrived today, and I, with some help from our summer housemate, David, who moved in today with his wife, Joan, and daughter, Hazel, put it together tonight.
• David, Joan, and Hazel have moved in for the summer!
  
• I can leave my heavy coat behind and go in to work with my jean jacket instead.
• The dog has new red toenails! No more of those winter booties in the house, she can now come straight in from the outside in her little plastic red nail caps (chosen because it would be difficult to easily notice should she lose a black nail cap) with no fear of scratching the floors (this, not the weather, was the real reason behind the house booties). Doesn't it just say summer when you see a dog out for an evening walk with crimson toes? Doesn't it? Anybody?

Well, red toenails or not, summer is here and we - including Lucy - are loving it.

Loose Ends

As any trip nears, the list of things to get done tends to get longer, not shorter. At the same time, more and more is crossed off the list, not because the tasks have been completed, but because, realistically, they just aren't going to happen. And in the meantime, while I figure that out, things that should be happening get postponed, and the deadline draws ever closer.

I will be leaving my house for the airport in less than 36 hours and have yet to pack. Heck, I have yet to create my packing list! Do not mock the packing list; every time I don't use it - and I mean really use it, not just type one up and decide I have now memorized the list and erroneously believe I no longer need to refer to it - I forget something and end up having to buy travel alarm clocks and batteries in Haarlem that don't work (gee, isn't it fun when the tour guide is late to breakfast), or getting drenched to the bone in Rome because I didn't bring a poncho or an umbrella

So what have I accomplished? Well, I cooked up a storm for Michael and Ryan's joint early birthday party on Friday night - hooray for the new pasta machine! I have successfully obtained a functioning camera, one that I'm borrowing from a friend since I don't feel ready yet to plunk down a couple hundred or more on a new model. The front yard has been weeded, and an attempt was made to mow the jungle that some might foolishly describe as a "back yard". I was able to meet up with several of my friends for some one-on-one time, and I remembered to call my Mums to wish her a happy Mother's Day (phew! I'll have to get her a gift in Europe). Michael and I managed to get out with the Lucy dog for some quality time in the sun at Green Lake and Carkeek Park over the weekend, and we also successfully installed our guest bathroom sink and bought a new light fixture. And, perhaps best of all, I get the treat of snuggling with a squeaky clean dog tonight - Lucy has had her monthly bath!

That leaves what I haven't accomplished. The packing, of course (I better get cracking!). And I still haven't posted my final fabulous five tightwad travel tips! Believe me, I started that post long ago, and these are some good ones! I promise it will arrive... eventually. As for the so-called mowing of the "back yard"... well, some is better than none, right? That's a task and a half that will have to wait. And speaking of waiting, we still haven't come close to finishing the paint job on our bathroom cabinet doors. Let's just say that Michael has a lot of sanding ahead of him while I'm gone.

But all in all, I feel pretty good about things. I didn't read all the books I had planned, largely because I ended up aither biking or driving to work recently, and those hours on the bus are usually my prime reading time. I definitely need to complile a good list of restaurants to try in San Sebastian; that town is a foodie paradise! Still, I'm confident it will work out. At least, if I get off the internet NOW and actually get to the task at hand.

Sure, it's little work now and a late night, but the fun is just getting started.

It's Hammock Time!

Lately, my life has been swallowed up by what is purportedly a minor bathroom remodel. Every night after work, time has been spent stripping the cabinets, sanding, painting, and cleaning, with little down time in the house. Sure, I took Friday night and Sunday afternoon off to be with friends, but home life has been devoted to home improvement.

Weary of it all, staring blankly at the dusty floor lit by today's sunny weather, I knew it was time for a break. For a whole five minutes - maybe even six - I lay in the hammock on our porch, staring dreamily at a blue sky through the glass panes above. Never mind that the panes were smudged with debris washed from the roof and trees in last week's rain; this view was, for the moment, perfect.

Lucy was excited, too, so I helped her scramble into the hammock beside me. We watched as an extremely fat bumble bee tried to make it's way through the glass to the open sky above. Thwarted at every attempt, the bee finally made it beyond the edge of the roof, flying through the open walls of the porch to freedom in the high skies. Lucy seemed a bit disappointed; doubtlessly she would have preferred the insect hover lower, giving her the opportunity to try out her hunting skills by snapping at it.

With the bee having moved on, I decided that it was time for me to make a move as well. Back to the kitchen I headed to finish the pasta salad I was fixing for dinner. But busy as we may be, when fine weather calls we all need a little hammock time.

Dog Crazy

Some people are cat people. Ostensibly, one reason cats appeal to these people is their seeming aloofness and independence. Other people are dog people. Rather than an unpredictable and indifferent nature, they look for a pet that will provide them with affection and a playful attitude.

Our dog, Lucy, is perhaps affectionate to the extreme. And extremely dependent upon affection.

The past week or so, the poor dog has been somewhat neglected. Most days she has only had one walk, as our evenings were generally busy with outside activities, meaning Lucy sometimes took a back seat. I think - really, I'm pretty certain - that this has proved damaging to her psyche.

Exhibit A: She has been EXCESSIVELY excited to see us when we come home. This morning, when we both walked through the door after having been gone for a couple of hours for church, the dog went berserk. Jumping on the sofa! Then off! Wriggling in and out of our grasp! Whining as she paws anxiously at the ground, her head bobbing in circles! You get the idea.

Exhibit B: Realizing that the pup needed to expend about a week's worth of pent-up energy, Amy V and I took her to the dog park this afternoon. This should wear her out, right? After an hour of playing fetch, fending off the unsolicited advances of other dogs, and swimming in the lake, Lucy was still wired. She didn't want to drop her ball, her hackles were raised repeatedly when any particularly suspicious looking dog came too near, and back at home she flailed on the sofa, trying to lick anything human in sight. Much like a toddler, this much stimulation after a week of lethargy was just too much. Sighhhhhh...

But, you know what? It may have worked better than I thought. I just peeked in the den and Lucy is lying silently on the sofa, doing a very convincing impression of a dog who is quite tired and ready for a nap. There is hope, after all, that no permanent damage has been caused and Lucy has returned to her normal state of mind - occasionally spastic, sure, but still within reason.

Be Mine

I can't say I've ever put much stock in Valentine's Day, as far as holidays go. I don't expect a dozen roses, I'd rather go out for a nice dinner on a leisurely weeknight, and I certainly don't want jewelry. But it's nice, I admit, to have an excuse to spend the day with my husband with no purpose in mind other than simply spending the day together.

And what could be better than starting the day with brunch at home? After a trip down the street to Fred Meyer to purchase eggs and whipped cream (in the can - Michael makes no bones about the fact that he prefers his light and fluffy and aerosol pumped), I set about making chocolate chip pancakes to the bossa nova beat of Getz and Gilberto. The secret to truly delicious pancakes? Yogurt, baking soda, and club soda. You can find the recipe, for "blueberry pancakes", online at Saveur's website, www.saveur.com. I simply substituted chocolate chips for the berries, seeing as this is mid-winter. Malio sparkling peach juice was the perfect accompaniment.

In the afternoon we headed out to Green Lake to walk the pooch, who, despite her inherent fear of the car (she spends most of her time on the backseat with haunches taut, staring despondently down at her blanket), is not completely oblivious, and as soon as we had parked her ears perked up with recognition. Lucy loves Green Lake, although she'd love it even more if we actually let her dive into the water after the ducks.

And since we were practically in the neighborhood, why not stop at Molly Moon's? Nothing says love like salted caramel and chili chocolate ice cream topped with hot fudge when it's 45 degrees outside. Michael would appear to agree.

Our last stop before heading home was Bottleworks, where we were thrilled to find our favorite Belgian tripel, Karmeliet, on hand, after Whole Foods Beer Guy informed us a few weeks ago that there is at present no distribution for this beer in the U.S. Luckily Bottleworks still has some on hand - hie ye hence! And what better to accompany a good beer than a great pizza? Back at home that night, we pulled out the hidabed and shared a Pagliacci pizza, ingeniously navigating to keep Lucy away from our prized slices of cheesy goodness, then settled in for a movie with the dog passed out possessively across our laps. I couldn't have asked for a better Valentine.

A Winter Evening at Gasworks Park: A Photo Series with Accompanying Haiku

Houses by water
Sparkle in the evening sun
Gasworks glows golden

Microphones above
From below we wonder what
On earth it's about

Sailing peacefully
Oh, where do you go from here?
I'd follow gladly

Branches are barren
Much like the former foundry
Still beauty is there

Is it truly hard
To look in my direction
For a photograph?

La Belle et La Bete

Before there was Disney's Belle there was la Belle of Jean Cocteau (and before that a history of French authors, but I'm not going back that far in time). Inhabiting a mysterious, hazy world of black and white, she comes to love the Beast... or does she? For while Disney's characters are clear of purpose and personality, the dream world that Cocteau's Belle inhabits is an eerier place, where motives are sometimes muddled.

As someone who has always loved fairy tales, I have been eagerly awaiting the Grand Illusion's showing of Beauty and the Beast for the past month. And while I loved the fantastical world captured on screen, I left the theater feeling somewhat puzzled. In the end, as we all know, Belle's true love has transformed the Beast into the prince of her dreams. But again, is it really so simple? In Cocteau's version the Beast and Belle's former suitor appear to magically trade places, and Belle herself admits to the love she has for both. Is it her perseverance that brings her what her heart really desires, even after she rejects the proposals both earlier incarnations?

But that, in essence, is life. Love, and the decisions it forces us to make, is never that straightforward. Except, perhaps, in the case of a true beast.

"Ma bete!" Michael and I exclaimed upon seeing Lucy as we arrived back at home. Our own little beast wiggled with glee and rushed to greet us. Some things, it would seem, are indeed just as they appear.

In with the New

If the previous two days have been any indication, 2009 is off to a great start. We rang in the New Year in style with a James Bond themed party. Above: Lucy looks like she's had one too many martinis. She resolves to be a more temperate drinker in 2009.

Actually, she was probably just disappointed that she was stuck licking the floor when all us humans got to enjoy cheese, meats, salmon, Moroccan chicken rolls, and cookies, not to mention the martinis. And knowing our dog, she probably wouldn't have passed up the Bloody Mary shrimp or even the stuffed mushrooms.

I like to get the New Year off to a clean start, so didn't wait around to clear the mess. Even though I didn't get to bed until 3:30 (and still was up before nine this morning- thanks for the wake up, Michael!), it was well worth it to get to enjoy a relaxing holiday. Amy V and I took Lucy for a walk around Green Lake, discussing our possible resolutions, and Jenn Z, a friend I hadn't seen in years, came over with her husband Joel for a lunch of New Year's Eve leftovers. In the evening, Michael and I headed out to a friend's place for games and the traditional southern New Year's dish of black-eyed peas. If every day for the coming year is half as pleasant, I won't have any complaints.

So, here's to a wonderful new year! As our friend Doug declared when toasting the end of 2008, "A year from now, may your stocks have grown and may gas prices have stayed the same!" Hear, hear!