Discovering Discovery Park

After nearly four years in Seattle, we finally crossed over the Magnolia bridge for the first time ever. What a charming Californian outpost right here in our own city! I can't figure out which part of California moved north, but like West Seattle, the Magnolia neighborhood seems distinctly inspired by the architecture and landscaping native to the Golden State. We wandered around near Magnolia Park, where our ever-so-lovable-when-you're-not-around dog Essie got her first taste of vertigo cautiously crossing a bridge over a steep gully. We walked along the rounded road on the bluff overlooking the Puget Sound and gawked at the ridiculously huge homes with Porsches in each driveway and neatly manicured lawns before we trudged back to the car and to our real destination: Discovery Park.

Friends, this place is delightful! On a bluff overlooking the Puget Sound, this does not feel like an in-city experience.

Would You Like Hep With That?

Yesterday, my new doctor suggested that anyone who eats out in Seattle more than two to three times a week really ought to get vaccinated against Hepatitis A. That's the dirty food born variety of the disease. Apparently, this city is lousy with it, and perhaps our restaurant workers are too. I didn't want another needle in my arm, so I've decided to wash my hands and eat in more. Yuck.

Don't Try to Reason with a Crazy Dog

This morning, Jake and I were out on a walk with our crazy-but-oh-so-lovable-when-you're-not-around dog. Essie has a reputation for being skittish, irritable, overprotective, and just plain nuts. She was edgy this morning because we had to walk past the vet's office. So of course jumped out of her skin as a man - a perfectly normal man, not an ax-wielding drunk, mind you - had the audacity to walk on the narrow sidewalk in our same general vicinity. I didn't see his reaction. I assume he shook it off, didn't read too much into it, and carried on his innocuous way. As it should be. Carry on, dear sir.

But we were reminded of how many times people take our crazy-but-oh-so-lovable-when-you're-not-around dog's melodramatic overreactions personally. "But I'm friendly. I'm a good person. I'm a dog person. Dogs like me. Babies like me. My mom likes me. Why is your dog quivering and slowly backing away as I approach you with an outstretched hand full of bacon? Maybe I'm not such a good person. Maybe I'm not friendly. Maybe dogs don't like me. Or babies. Or my mom. And why should they? I'm such a horrible person...No one could ever love me."

Don't let a crazy dog dictate your self-esteem. And never, ever, ever try to reason with a crazy dog. Trust me, you almost always lose.