Does this make me Charlie Brown?

Do you know what this is?
That is my dumb dog, a purebred, wire-haired pointing griffon who keeps barking to come in and then sits down outside when the door is opened for her.

I’m beginning to understand how Charlie Brown feels falling for that football Lucy keeps putting up to kick.

She barks to piss me off come in, and I, obediently and ironically like Pavlov’s dog, open the door, only to see this pose:
I’m not speaking to you.

I swear there was one time I cleaned her ears right after she came in. But that was months ago. Now, she’s just doing this to be a female dog.

I tried enticing with her favorite holiday toy, a singing doggie tree ornament a freaking collectible, only for sale for $99 on ebay now that woofs to the tune of Jingle Bells.Didn’t work.

In fact, I left the door open cuz I could yell swear words out to the whole neighborhood while still sitting inside, and that female dog silently stole the toy when I wasn’t looking and tossed it in the yard.

I suppose she has many, important doggy things to do out there, such as wrap her tongue around her entire snout.
She’s making me nuts but I promise to make it look like an accident.
Do you hear something?

Seattle Houseboat Tour 2012 – See For Yourself!

Hello, my name is Wendy and I am addicted to houseboat tours.

Every other year, the Seattle Floating Homes Association hosts a tour of houseboats. And I go and I go. This year may have been my 4th, or possibly 5th.

I’m fascinated by the whole scene. They’re all so different, some very quirky, some Architectural Digest. It pulls me in like a giant belt buckle to a magnet. Or rain to Seattle…

I’m sure I romanticize the whole existence like I do with so many other people or things.

I’m the first to admit the reality of living on a houseboat may not be so great. First off, there’s no garage to park in oh, yeah, like when the Hubs filled my side of the garage with tools years ago….

Also, there are beavers to battle for possession of your stuff like the Kid and the Dog. And God forbid, you get less than sober and slide right off your wet, Seattle wooden dock and into the drink yeah, there’s really no comparison here. Brrrrr.

But there is all this to counterbalance that….
So, who’s in for 2014?!

In the sun and in the clouds

[I’m writing this outside at Bainbridge Bakers, and a sparrow keeps hopping up on the chair next to me as he looks around. You’re a bird, wouldn’t a tree be a better lookout? But it’s as if a companion joined me for tea drinking, so I won’t complain about that.]

I’m in a mood.

And my brain keeps arguing with me. You should be happy. You should be relieved. Not bummed out, you freaking idiot.

My brain is kinda mean. Is yours?

My play was performed.

My kid turned nine.

School started.

And I didn’t even have a mimosa this year. That tells you something.

But I also know that while I can get busier and distract myself by plunging into something new, those blues will still be sitting there in the chair next to me, softly chirping, until I have a conversation or twelve with them.

Like running awhile…and then walking. Thinking of other things…and then listening.

And like everything else, I know it will naturally change and be replaced by something else eventually, I promise, Hubs!.

[By the time I’ve finished this blog post, the bird has hopped away and a person has asked to sit in the chair for some sun, next to me but turned away. Another companion, except we’re parallel sitting. My husband would strike up a conversation. Not me. But I’ll sit by her and feel less lonely, shifting a bit already.]

Bainbridge Island Chicken Coop Tour 2012

Bainbridge Island is a perfect spot to get all farm-y or pretend to after your day job.

For the past 4 years, the island has celebrated this urge with its own Tour de Coop, a fundraiser for Helpline House, our local food bank. Lucky for you, in case you missed it, I didn’t. (Click a photo to enlarge.)
Some chicken coops were tucked in the corner of a garden,
and some backed up against the main home. One had its own garden inside, a wisteria plant growing up through the roof.One or two coordinated with a barn on the premises.But they all had two things in common: chickens
and chicken accessories! I love eggs, and the Kid would love to have chickens.But the problem is someone else in the Let the dog in! household would also love to have chickenGuess we’ll just keep enjoying the tour!

Have you gone on a chicken coop tour? Do you have chickens, or wish you did?

Accepting Lessons in Rejection

She just doesn’t get that it’s over!” my eight year old said as the phone rang for the final time. It had been an on-again/off-again friendship with another eight-year-old girl.

Oy, these girls. I cringe. They are madly in love with each other one minute, speaking to no one else, then someone does something or nothing, and voila, rejection.

Why is it those sticky lessons for ourselves land right back at our feet as parents?
I feel for her when she’s on the pointy end of that weapon, and I worry when she’s grasping the cold handle charging toward someone else just as inexperienced as she.

But experience seems to have little to do with emotion. Even as an adult I’ve felt the pain and continue to feel it, being dropped like a hot potato, bouncing a few times and rolling to a stop before I even absorb the facts of the situation.

And rejection finds you everywhere hey, y’all! let’s be professional writers!.

A friend actually not me this time recently told me how the rejection from therapists’ offices in her hunt for a counselor nearly pushed her over the edge. I personally still have to psyche myself up for babysitter rejection. Facing “no” after “no,” I could have sworn I’d been blacklisted by some secret island teen girl club for offenses unknown too measly a tip? too messy a house? no good booze to sneak?.

I wonder if offerings like “just keep busy, dearie” or “shake it off” are the right route, or the right-enough route for an aching kid.

I mean, keeping busy is swell so long as it’s not to stay one step ahead of your aching heart. Then suddenly you are on that hamster wheel of life, moving and going nowhere.

Downright inspirational, I am, right??

We want our kids to rebound in life. We hope with all their hi-speed clicking they will have a new, hi-tech emotional Teflon coating. But there is nothing hi-tech about pain.

It leaves us feeling helpless if we sit in it. Or next to it. Or *gasp* smell it on someone else.

And feelings, like a three-year-old, demand to be heard. Muzzle them and they whine persistently until satisfied or that’s what my kid always did.

Maybe the only lesson is to sit still with it, something my child is not so good at a trait she comes by honestly.

If she and I can notice and not squirm away, maybe we both will better accept that when you open up, you will sometimes get stung.

Young or oldish, compassion, resilience, and a greater sense of being alive can come from it after we sober up and stop yelling profanities.

And that’s all way better than living a closed-up, ignorant life without heart, right?

Do you have any helpful methods of dealing with rejection?