Sometimes I Just Can't Help It

The other day my favorite blogger over at Hickopolis.com wrote about an article in a Seattle paper bemoaning the ignorance of store clerks and young celebrities who think Chicken of the Sea might just be chicken. Can chickens swim?

I wanted to chastise the writer for feeilng so superior in her intelligence and sophistication but I had an experience this morning that changed my point of view.

Some are born to smuggness, some achieve smugness and some have smugness thrust upon the. (Excuse Mr. Bard)Today smugness was thrust upon me. I tried to duck but it landed squarely and I wasn't quick enough or nice enough to cast it off right away.

As I was sitting at my computer desk in my bookstore, something moved behind me. It wasn't tall enough to be an adult. I looked around a just caught a glimpse of a white tail as it left my shop and went into the hall. I coulnd't resist. I really love dogs and I was pretty sure I had just missed a visit from one whom I hadn't formally met. I walked out the door and went into the visitor's center next door and sure enough,the dog and two men were talking to my neighbor.

The dog came right over to me and his owner said he was a "Dalpit." Then he explained that the dog was half pit bull and half dalmation. I was wondering who in his right mind would breed the reputidly meanest dog with the most energetic dog. A mean dog with tremendous energy and stuborness. Whoa!

To be fair, the dog was friendly and wasn't tearing anyting up. I was ready to go back to work when the owner told me proudly the dog is four years old.

"Born on Elvis'birthday." It was obviously a proud moment for him.

I said he must have just had a birthday.

"No, August 27. Elvis' birthday."

I said I thought Elvis was born in January wondering to myself how I know that Elvis was born in January. Yup, I thought, he's a Capricorn just like my hubby.

"August 27, Born on the King's birthday."

They turned to leave and I said good-bye to the cute pooch.

A google search confirmed January 8 as The King's birthday and now I'm feeing smug. I wonder if some dememted dog breeder (Dalpit?) just told the man who may or may not have been wearing a t-shirt with a replica of a black velvet Elvis portrait on the front that said dog, maybe a Pitmation, was born on Elvis' birthday.

I hope he doesn't know how to use Google. I hope he continues to enjoy his Elvis birthday sharing pooch for a long time.

Just One More Round of "Let the Sunshine In"

I need more light, less rain, more company, less wind. We have freinds and relatives who leave thier homes for the winter. They just pack up and leave for warmer weather and blue skies. I'm starting to realize why. How many days of rain and gray skies and wind can a person take without buying a therapy light or moving into a tanning bed?

I've been reading the dialy journal entries of Lewis and Clark's men during the winter spent at Fort Clatsop on the northern Oregon coast. I don't claim to be as hungry or wet or cold or homesick as they were but I'm beginning to see why they didn't rave about the vast beauty and irrisistable quality of life here. I think their word was "uninhabitable."

I guess we were spoiled last year. January and February were amazingly sunny and pleasant. The rain finally came in the spring but by then our attitudes were way up there so we didn't complain much. We're close to breaking a record thirty-three consecutive days of rain. Is this day twenty-five or six? I don't know. My brain doesn't work without a little light.

In order to get out of this dark funk, I'm going to list a few things for which I'm grateful. Lets, see.......my dog Oliver, my kids and grandkids, my lovely husband, my home on a hill way above the flood plain, my nieghbors at work who are such nice people, my big warm bed, my good friend, my son's uneventful tour of duty in Iraq, my little town and my ability to express myself.

I wish I could be grateful for a little sunshine.

A Good Read

The last week has been really slow at my bookstore so I've had a little time to read and write. I had to pick a book to feature in an advertisement in a regional monthly newspaper. I picked Jim Lynch's "The HIghest Tide," without reading it. I noticed that several northwest booksellers recommended the book so I felt safe in the choice.

Now that I've read the book I can tell you it's a gread read; a coming of age story about a fourteen year old boy who's knowledge of the bay near his Olympia area home is extensive. His voice is young, and fresh and cynical at once. His descriptions of the tide pools and the life within are rich and enticing.

I live near the most amazing river in the west. The Columbia's history is as rich as the life within it. A life I'm almost totally ignorant of . Sure I notice the river. It changes color hourly and I'm in awe of its massive twice daily tidal comings and goings. I notice when sea lions and seals poke thier heads out of the water and I'm frightened when the river runs high and is full of debris from tributary flooding. The drive between Cathlamet and Longview includes long stretches of highway right along the river. But I can't say that I know the river well.

Lynch's book has brought me up short. He's made me aware of my own ignorance and my unconscous willingness to take my surroundings for granted. It that's what he intended he is successful. If not, his book is worth reading anyway. His characters are familiar enough to be my neighbors and endearing enough to make me care about them.

I've never been a fourteen year old boy but I can identify with Miles O'Malley. If you haven't read The Highest Tide I recommend you pick up a copy, read it and loan it to your favorite reading friends. It's worthwhile.

Neil Diamond: Not Just For Fat Old People Anymore

One of my favorite Christmas presents was the new Neil Diamond CD from one of my daughters. I've been a fan of Neil's (I've been to enough concerts to call him by his first name) since his first album came out when I was in high school. Back then he seemed soulful and a bit mysterious, like the nice looking bad boy who's parents owned a music store down the street.

Neil saw me through some long days when I was at home alone in a strange new town with my first baby. My husband worked long hours and I listened to Holly Holy over and over for a couple of months while we saved up for that first black and whilte tv set.

The Johnathan Livingston Seagull alblum contains some of my favorite music. The movie was pretty awful but the words and music on that album did just as the composer intended; It made me feel like I was soaring. I loved the African rhythms on Tap Root Manuscript and the lovely "Ladio" on the Beautiful Noise album

I took exception when Neil, whom I knew to be Jewish, recorded a Christmas album in the nineties. It seemed a slightly desperate attempt to keep his career alive, and let's face it folks, the man ain't no Johnny Mathis.

His new album, Twelve Songs, is his best in a long time. It's just Neil and an acousitc guitar. Twelve songs that coulnd't have been written by someone in his twenties. Songs of Experience. (Forgive me Mr. Blake) I like "Hell, yea" and "I'm onto you," best but there's not a klunker on the CD.

Who would have thought back in 1966 that the young guy from New York would still be turning out great music forty years later?