Last night, early in the play, Nellie Forbush started to explain to her French planter that she was just a hick from the sticks, and she reaches into her purse to show him something from "a fugitive from Little Rock." The audience started to snicker, then burst out laughing when she looked at the crowd and said "it's not what you're thinking." (Cigar, anyone?)

Toldyousotoldyousotoldyouso...

OK, that two weeks I gained 6 pounds. Seattle always has that effect on me, and has since 1984 when I first (and permanently) went over 150 pounds (hey, I'm a tall gal, gimme a break.) It's the restaurants. This time we visited, again, our favorite pizza place that one can walk to, and Chutney's in the Wallingford center, which is yummy. (We also took Bernadette out to a restaurant she can't afford, as a goodbye.) Also, fast food, snacks in the car, eating on the road... It's hardly surprising, but the next few weeks are going to be tough.
Week one, I wrote 2 letters and a couple of postcards and sent a birthday postcard to The Mighty Kymm. We walked 17.1 miles. I read one magazine. Week two, 2 magazines, 21 miles, a letter and another postcard.

Waaaaah. I was wondering if Lizzie had moved into her new home, and instead, she quit the journal. Grumble. At least the Carolingians (?izzat right?), Renee and Mary, are OK. When I left, I was feeling a bit of burnout. Not about writing: I have pages and pages of notes. I was reacting to the August angst of so many of the journals I read, and feeling a little tired of reading them. Ten days away does wonders! Since no one owned up to being #8000, the first of you who emails me a "welcome home" message gets the fabulous prize!

Sailor was hopeful, as usual, as we packed up the car. He kept checking us, hoping against hope that he wouldn't be banished to the backyard while we went away. The utter joy which spread from perked-up grinning face to furiously wagging tail when we told him "get in the car" was a sight to behold. The back seat was crowded, moved up as far as it could get with all of Bernadette's gear and our camping stuff. Half the seat had stuff, too, and the camera case and snack box were behind the driver's seat. What with passenger legs, this left very little room to the dog, but he was delighted to be there. He was GOING! He was WITH HIS PACK!! He has gotten better as a traveller, though, and was only standing and excited and climbing up onto the mid-seat box-and-beverage-holder Rich made for about an hour. Then he curled up, just in time to hit the first rest area.

From then on, it was sleep sleep sleep, get a short walk, sleep sleep sleep, every day till we got to our destination. In Bend, the first night, Bernadette and Rich weren't thinking and put the dog in before walking him. I stopped him as he cocked his leg, so we didn't lose our deposit. The following morning they were running him in the field next to the motel and he was nearly hit by a car. This would have certainly ruined our vacation, but it didn't happen and from then on we were a little more careful.

Sailor had a great time. He got into near fights with other dogs in Bend, and Spokane, and Seattle. He wanted to chase lots of squirrels, and chipmunks, birds, etc. In the Arboretum in Seattle he saw a lily pond with frogs, and nearly pulled Rich into the pond trying to catch one. We left him tied out next to the car while we hiked the Hurricane Hill trail, and I guess he thought he was cougar bait. He could hardly wait to get back in the car that time. Usually we could just leave him in the car. When we went to the Aquasox game, he got to stay in the car, and since all the stuff was off the seat, due to carrying passengers, he managed to sack out on the seat in real luxury. He got to run on the beach. Later, in Crescent City, since his "help" while beachcombing is dubious at best, I tied him to a driftwood log. I was working close to him, so ignored his "aroo"s, even though they were different from the "I'm here, don't leave me!" barks. He had wrapped the leash around his leg, though. He solved it by chewing through the leash. It appears, though, that he hasn't made the connection between that and being free. This is a good thing. Besides the cougar bait time, we tied him out in Bend while we ate dinner, and a couple of other times. I put the leash together in an ugly square knot and it is still working.
Once we were out of California's hot central valley, it was OK to park in the shade and leave Sailor in the car. He adjusted fast, and would sleep so soundly it was easy to sneak up on him and wake him. Befuddled, he would blink his way to a sit and weakly wag his tail. It's just as well he couldn't tour the cheese factory, considering how he loves the stuff.

I don't think he really noticed when we left Bernadette, but he was delighted to see Vince! He knew him right away and didn't even bark.
Sailor got to run almost everywhere. I was sure to carry the plastic bag and be a good responsible dog owner.
When we were camping, Rich accidently dropped a sausage into the fireplace. He gave it to Sailor, but the sausage was still hot. Sailor would start to eat it and stop. Lick it, draw back. Rich thought to keep him from burning his tongue, so went to kick the sausage away till it was cool, and of course this meant the dog gobbled it down really quickly before it got away.
We took his "blankie", an old sleeping bag of Monica's. Every night he started sleeping on it, but the only place he stayed on it was the tent. No fighting him off the sleeping bags this year! Monday morning I woke up and saw Sailor curled up tightly with his nose tucked under his tail. He must have been cold.

He cost us an extra $10 in Tillamook, just a deposit elsewhere. In Crescent City the sign said "Sneak a pet in, pay $25." I said, "I have a dog, I don't want to pay $25!" and that was fine. They don't really like them in the National Parks, but he was well-behaved in the car and parking lots, and on the whole was fun to have along. At my sister's, he was the dust-bunny king on the hardwood floors. I see why Monica warns me about Pergo. Vince hadn't realized the dog was coming and was thinking about how happy Sailor would be when we got home, and suddenly here was the Blond Wagger himself greeting him. I'm sure the dog was happy to be with us, with regular walks, runs, lots of attention, and the occasional hot sausage to make it all worthwhile. It's a dog's life.