I'm starting this post from Doug and Emily's living room in Seattle, Washington. A living room that is rarely empty or quiet. A living room that bursts with happy dogs, cuddly cats, and the evidence their happiness and cuddling leaves behind (black, white, brown and grey hair, de-fluffed toys, laughing people).
Also, a drumset by the front door and an upright piano by the kitchen table.
How do you know that you've just waltzed into an awesome home? When you see two large instruments as soon as you open the door. And five animals. I don't think I've ever been in a friendlier or more hilarious home. Gosh. I could live here forever.
Cocoa is a little chestnut colored dog who operates like this (click on the link. You'll be sad if you don't):
I enjoy Cocoa at both speeds. She cuddles like a house cat (but without the kneading), is small and spritely and would have to struggle mightily to knock me over (although I wouldn't put it past her).
Ivan is a large spotted dog who operates at the same speeds.
I feel slightly overwhelmed by Ivan at both speeds. During his sleep speed, he crawls up onto laps and makes himself at home as if he were a cat.
But if Ivan were a cat, he would not be a house cat. He would be a freakin' mountain lion. An immensely affectionate mountain lion.
Ivan is neither small nor spritely, and I have to struggle mightily to not be knocked over.
Doug stands in the kitchen, chopping various veggies and preparing a pasta dinner (which already smells gorgeous). Doug used to work at one of the best French restaurants in Seattle, and he knows a thing or 27 about food.
I am more than a little excited about dinner.
Boy is puttering about at high speed, putting things away and catching up on highlights from the Euro Cup. I don't understand how Boy putters at high speed. It seems like "fast puttering" is a contradiction of terms, but so much of what Boy does is puttery, and he does it all with great energy.
Emily is probably in the back garden right now, setting a table so that we can all eat outside and enjoy one of Washington's rare warm days.
America's Funniest Home Videos is playing on the flatscreen TV. A video about a newly released butterfly immediately getting eaten by a bird just won ten thousand dollars.
Cocoa frolics in and frolics out. Ivan steamrolls in and steamrolls out. They carry sticks, chew them into smaller sticks and leave them on the couch as little gifts. They bring in Doug's leftover vegetables and devour them on the couch next to the sticks, sprinkling red pepper seeds atop the sticks like a bow to top their present.
Boy and I spent our last night camping in Fort Stevens, just outside of Astoria.
"Which site has the most privacy?" Boy asked the ranger who had motioned us to her window.
"Well, it's not exactly dispersed camping," the ranger raised an eyebrow. "I mean, you could camp on the beach, but we would fine you five hundred dollars and ask you to leave."
I fought against the urge to elbow Boy in the ribs with a meaningful, "SEE? THIS IS WHY I WORRY."
But I did not elbow Boy in the ribs. I still feel enough guilt about insisting on campsites to stay my vindicated elbows, so Boy's ribs are safe for the foreseeable future.
As it was pissing rain, we decided to head into downtown Astoria and to pitch Mrs. Peterson when/if the weather calmed down a bit.
Astoria is a small Oregon town of 10,000 people on the edge of the Columbia River and bordering Washington. It was founded in 1811 as a fur trading post by John Jacob Astor (after whom the town is named) and was the first permanent American settlement on the Pacific Coast. It's also famous for being the final destination of Lewis and Clark and for its unfortunate propensity for burning to the ground.
We loved it.
It drizzled, poured, mizzled and stair-rodded all night. Mrs. Peterson did an admirable job keeping us dry, which gave me hope for our time wild camping in Scotland (where wild camping is legal). But it took mettle to extract ourselves from our warm cocoons, brave the rain and roll up our soppy tent. In fact, it probably took us about three hours of listening to the incessant pitter-patter of raindrops before we accepted that our future held in store a great deal of wet/cold and we ought to just get on with it.
I feel like we're inside a castle keep, trying to outlast a siege. But all we have to survive is one water bottle, a tube of toothpaste, no bathroom and a check-out time of 1:00. We'll never last.
Due to horrible rush hour traffic and three accidents, we arrived at Emily and Doug's Seattle home far later than anticipated.
We were greeted by Ivan and Cocoa at speed the second.
Emily and Doug greeted us at normal speed. Gave us a tour of their home, introduced us to the five animals, told us about the four roommates and then showed us to our room. Which was their room. Which they gave to us for the weekend.
Holy cow. I was not expecting this...
I've met a lot of generous people during the last five years of living an on-and-off hobo lifestyle. I mean, my lifestyle kind of depends on generosity. I do my best to not take people's goodness for granted, but sometimes I do become a little... well... used to it. Then I run into people like Doug and Emily who are just so giving that I'm absolutely stunned. It shocks me back into that beautiful place where all I want to do is find a way to give something beautiful back to a world that gives so much.
After a delicious breakfast by Emily on Saturday morning, we strolled into town to find a bar so that Boy could watch England play Russia in the Euro Cup.
I'm going to watch SO much soccer this summer. Oof. Not sure how I feel about that.
After England tied Russia in the Euro Cup, we all clamored into a car that was not Cummerbund (thank god) and drove off towards Whidbey Island. As our couchsurfing host on Orcas Island had canceled on us after he figured out that I was coming with my boyfriend, Doug and Emily offered to take us to see Whidbey.
And I'm so glad they did.
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| Deception Pass |
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| View from Fort Casey |
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| Doug tells Boy all about Fort Casey. Doug was a tour guide in his last life. |
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| Emily with Boy and Troy asleep in the backseat. |
We slept in on Sunday morning and then went to breakfast at Doug and Emily's favorite cafe. They had told us that their cinnamon rolls rivaled the rolls at Main Street Bagels, so Boy was all kinds of excited.
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| Doug |
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| Boy |
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| Boy avec cinnamon roll |
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| Cinnamon roll after Boy |
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| Doug and Skipper Orion. |
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| Doug's sister, Melissa |
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| Boy's first time sailing. He was even more excited about sailing than he was for the cinnamon roll. But not by much. |
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| Sunbathing sea lion |
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| Blissed out Boy |
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| Emily and Boy |
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| Doug |
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| Emily |
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| Skipper Orion |
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| Mount Rainier |
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| I don't even know. |
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| Downtown Seattle |
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| Doug |
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| Doug showing off the old lady glasses he borrowed from the sailing club's lost and found. I wish he would wear them always. |
We returned to the dock late that afternoon, exquisitely happy and in excruciating need of a restroom.
And that brings me back to this lively living room. And the pasta sauce that somehow smells even better than it did when I started this post. And my Boy who is still watching soccer. And Cocoa who has cuddled up into a donut on my left and Ivan who stares at me glumly from the other side of the couch.
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