Invitation to Cle Elum

Trevor's invited our usual Daily-alum friends to spend a weekend at his parents' new house near Cle Elum. I think Cle Elum is that Safeway on the way to the Gorge. On a map, it is a very tiny grid on a very long stretch of highway. It's not exactly a dream vacation in Disneyworld or Paris, but it's also not a ground-floor apartment in Wallingford. I don't think I've left Seattle for months, except one night in Suquamish, and I am desperate to go somewhere. I miss packing, and the scheduled, orderly feeling of being out-of-town. I don't get to plan daily itineraries when we're sitting at home.

Of course, Brian is conveniently working that Sunday, but hopefully he can get Friday off so we can go for two days. If not, I may become obsessed with planning imaginary vacations online.

Trevor also says we can bring Buster, and his parents may stop by with a Labradoodle. Which is one of Buster's favorite breeds. Labradoodle.

Darrington today. Left around 11:30, arrived around 1:30, with a slight delay for Starbucks.


The weather was nice and the visit was short. Caitie arrived just after Brian, Buster, and me.
Said hello to everyone, spent a little time inside talking to mom, looking at a box of cookbooks she was sending home with me, and the quilt she finished for us -- pinks and purples and blacks and creams, with lots of hearts and words quilted in. Across the bottom, she wrote, "Small quilts help keep you close."

My mom and stepdad have 10 acres, a log house built by a logger who was a pretty big name in the early days of the town. Flower and herb and vegetable gardens, a river a few minutes through the woods, wild bunnies and birds and porcipines, occasional bear. The driveway overlooks Whitehorse mountain.



Buster's rarely off-leash -- I like to hope apartment puppies don't know what they're missing. He didn't go outside until I led him to the back, to introduce him to the chickens. We found them retreating behind a tree, but Buster drove them out in a flurry of flapping wings and squalking -- I've never seen him run so fast. Like the crafty hyena on Planet Earth, he seperated one from the pack chased it across the lawn, where it brilliantly cornered itself behind a potted plant an a shovel. They had a bit of a stand off, until Buster was distracted and the chicken ran home.



Dinner, acorn squash from mom's garden, pie from Caitie's restaurant, then the drive back. With one more stop at Starbucks.

Cutting corners and keeping Buster presentable

I cut my own hair for most of high school, and a bit of college I think, but I gave up around the time I stopped being to indie and discovered Aveda. I now see Dan at Phase 3, the holding space for stylists graduated from the Gary Manuel Training Salon but not yet moved to Seattle's most fabulous Gary Manuel Salon.

Our shih tzu's not so lucky. Although Brian's mom has trimmed him a couple times, we don't see her enough to keep his quick-growing fluffy coat trimmed by her for free, nor do I want to impose on her generosity. I also don't want to pay for, or trust, professional grooming. They may not all lop off ears, but the many shih tzu grooming articles I've read imply that groomers can often be insensitive to squirmy dogs (Buster hates bathing and trimming) and not particularly respectful of owners' requests for styling.

So I groom Buster at home. At least I snip off bits of fur, and hope he looks "groomed" and not mutilated.

Usually it's just a bit off around the nose and pads of the feet, those inexplicably fluffy areas that prove these dogs are not meant to survive in the wild -- they'd turn into stinky balls of matted fur, blinded by overgrown facial fluff, within weeks.

Generally my attempts to chop of bits of fur while he wiggles around the bathroom turn out surprisingly passable -- a little ragged around the edges, but nothing that won't be overgrown within weeks. Yesterday I took off quite a bit around the face and legs, and successfully evened out the bottoms of his ears. But left a few stray long patches that I still need to even out, and my attempt to leave his coat longer and "natural" over the body makes him just look like a fatso with skinny legs and a big round head. (Below, a before and two afters.)





I'm just glad Buster (much like myself in high school) is apparently oblivious to the silly, sloppy obviousness of an amature cut.