Perfect Timing

My dog, Ranger, has a long list of amazing skills. 

1. He opens the refrigerator door by himself. 

2. He plays a flawless game of hide and seek.

3. He sasses the cats mercilessly, but still wins their affection.

4. He strolls down a beach and makes every head turn toward his handsome self.

5. He charms the pants off everyone he meets, especially those who think they are afraid of dogs.

Yesterday, I discovered something new: Ranger has mad photobombing skills.

I was getting ready to make Pad Thai for dinner, and I was loving the authentically Asian labels on several of the ingredients. So in search of an interesting background for an Instagrammable shot, I wandered outside to the back patio for those tried-and-true bricks. 

As usual, Ranger followed me.

Intent on my task, I didn't pay much attention to him. But I was vaguely aware of him taking a long, luxurious drink from my burbling Japanese fountain and then lifting his leg to an assortment of my flowers. 

I know. He can be a bit of a scoundrel at times. I've learned to forgive him.

Anyway, I found the perfect light, juggled the two packages into my left hand, then used my right thumb to first tap the focus and then take the shot.

In the instant between hitting the focus and taking the picture, Ranger materialized on my screen, as shown above.  

Goodness. He's even making eye contact with the lens. Well played, clever boy.

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Making the Pad Thai - the latest of my Asian cooking experiments - was a snap. This recipe was straightforward and easy to follow, though a bit dry and under-seasoned. I easily fixed both problems by adding about a cup of chicken broth, another 3 or 4 tablespoons of the fish sauce, and lots more red pepper flakes. In the end, this big bowl of Pad Thai was just about perfect.

Almost as perfect as Ranger's timing.

A Normal Day With My Favorite Boys

I love to spend time with a pack of young men that I superlatively refer to as my favorite boys. While I admit that I have a special bond with the eleven-year-old twins, the truth is that I enjoy the company of all six boys in the family, ages 13 through 3, as well as the big sister. 

I have a lot of good intentions about taking pictures of our time together. But let's be honest. When they are over, I am busy flipping grilled cheese sandwiches, washing sticky little hands, pouring orange juice, holding Ranger and the cats for petting sessions, chatting about video games, and negotiating debates about which movie to watch. All of this chaos is our normal operating style, and as much as I would love to capture it on camera, I tend to have my hands quite full.

So last weekend, when four of my favorite boys were over, I had a brainstorm. While caught up in my own tornado of activity, I handed my phone over to one of the twins and said, "Take pictures!" 

Off he went, with a gleam in his eye, to capture the action unfolding on the trampoline.

Meanwhile, back in the house, the three-year-old was working on his sugar buzz. Of course, I always feed them plenty of soda pop and candy. What's the fun of having favorite boys if you can't spoil them rotten?

At this point, our happy activities were suddenly interrupted by a poorly sniffling five-year-old. Carried inside from the tramp by one of the older boys, this sad little man explained to me that he had hurt his leg. 

I looked at his brave little face and his eyes full of tears that he was trying not to spill.

I examined his wounded leg, which was covered with at least ten tiny bruises, in various stages of healing.

I scrutinized the place where he pointed, the site of the current, if practically invisible, injury.

I said that it looked very painful, but I thought it would probably be okay.

I asked him if he thought a kiss might help.

He nodded up and down, very quickly.

I told him to keep his finger pointed right at the hurt spot, so I wouldn't miss it. And then I kissed that sad little boo-boo.

Apparently, the kiss worked. He smiled, marched back out to the trampoline, and showed the others his war wound.

And then my photographer took a picture of his twin brother's booty, and everything was back to normal.

#WHPlighthouse

The creative folks at Instagram must have read my mind.

On the very day that I chose to wander down to the beach for the first time this summer, they designed a Weekend Hashtag Project with the subject of lighthouses.

Bazinga.

Mukilteo has a sweet little lighthouse. Short and slim, it's on the small side for a lighthouse, and not very fierce or determined-looking. It's not the kind of lighthouse that stands alone on a rocky cliff, a lonely fortress against the wild storms. This is more of a friendly little face, shining out a happy beacon to ships that they've rounded the big turn in Puget Sound and are well on their way to the deep harbor of Seattle. 

So I happily returned to the beach on Saturday afternoon, when the lighthouse is open to visitors, and snapped up a few dozen pics. Thank you, Instagram, for inspiring me. 

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For more of my #WHP stories, check out:

Weekend Hashtag Project

#WHPwaterdrops 

#WHPreflectagram

#WHPdoortodoor

Over and Back Again

During these past couple months, as I was be-bopping around Malaysia and drinking in all the beautiful sights to see, I often thought about my good ol' hometown of Mukilteo, Washington.

It's an interesting, scenic, unusual and charming place to live. But how often we overlook all that goodness, as we are scurrying to and fro in the course of our everyday life. My Asian travels inspired me to come back home and truly appreciate the beauty of my own little corner of the universe. 

Plus, a sunny summer day in the Pacific Northwest is as beautiful and alluring as a day can be.

So it's no surprise that I found myself aboard a Washington State ferry yesterday, ready for a quick walk-on adventure to the other side.

In ten short and windy minutes, we had crossed a narrow strip of water in Puget Sound and landed on Whidbey Island. We hopped off the boat before the massive unloading of cars and trucks began, and walked over to a little public beach just to the north of the ferry terminal.

Like any self-respecting Pacific Northwest beach, our destination featured scattered heaps of weathered beach logs, rocks aplenty and coarse grey sand. Unlike most other beaches I've visited, this one was laden with perfect shells. 

 After a half hour or so of frolicking, we were ready to head back.

The warm sunshine cutting through the cool breezes.
The awesome views of sky, mountains, islands and water.
The fresh sea smell, the soaring gulls, the blast of the ferry horn.

These are the sights and sounds of my hometown. And while I absolutely loved traveling the world, I'm also glad to be back at home.

This Is My Reminder For Today

My Top 10 Tips for enjoying an evening visit to Mukilteo Beach:

10. Check online to find the exact moment of the sunset, and show up on time for the glory. 

Remember that careening down the hill to the beach at ten miles over the speed limit, and running through the parking lot, shouting, "We almost missed it!" does not count as showing up on time.

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9. Bring your dog and show him a good time. Be prepared to talk to strangers because everyone likes to stop and greet a handsome pup.

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8. Instagram everything, including the Instagrammer.

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7. Let your dog play in the water and romp in the sand. Pray that you'll find some old towels in the trunk to cover the back seat of your car.

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6. Try not stare at the couple attempting to have a romantic picnic on the lighthouse lawn, even though they are less than five meters away from the crowded walkways. 

Oh, what the heck. Go ahead and stare. They look like the attention-seeking types to me.

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5. Take a few artsy pics and just remember that everything looks chic and mysterious when silhouetted in black against a sunset. Even a scruffy little patch of weedy grasses.

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4. After the sunset colors have faded, walk over to Ivars. You will enjoy a delicious snack, and your dog will have a few extra minutes to dry off before climbing into the car.

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3. No matter how cold you are, get ice cream. You can never go wrong with kid size swirly cones. 

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2. Go home, sort through your pics, and relive the wonder.

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And my #1 tip for enjoying an evening visit to Mukilteo Beach:

1. Remind yourself daily how lucky you are to live in such a beautiful corner of the earth.

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Ready for more sunset-related adventures? Read these:

Winter Sunsets
Taking Back The Sun
Camping: It's All About The Sunsets
Tucson Sunsets
Sunset Chaser
Sunsets And Saguaros

Sunset Chaser, Tucson Edition
Langkawi: Somewhere Over The Rainbow
A Sweet Story
Perpetual Sunset
San Juan Islands: I'll Be Back
Number 45: Texas
Cheers To Tucson
Home Through The Trees
The Undisputed Truth

Sunset Chaser, Seattle Edition
The Sunset Speaks
Looking Up: Thanksgiving Edition

Sunset Chaser: Sometimes You Win 

Sunset Chaser: Sunrise Edition

A Taste Of Kelantan

At the end of my long Malaysian adventure, as I was saying goodbye to my host's kind and generous mother, she handed me an interesting gift. 

Keropok. Kelantanese fish crackers. 

Well, if there is anything I enjoy more than eating new and unusual foods, it's learning to cook new and unusual foods. So excitedly, I packed them safely into the middle of my suitcase, looking forward to the day I would take them out and fry them up.

Because that is the thing about these popular Kelantanese snacks. Although they kinda look like tortilla chips, you don't eat them right out of the bag. You have to deep fry them first.

Today was the magical day that I loaded up my electric skillet with plenty of oil, cranked up the heat, and fried my cute little keropoks. I was surprised and delighted to learn that when the raw crackers hit the hot oil, they sizzle for a few seconds and then whoosh! They puff up in a very satisfying way, becoming light and airy and fluffy in the process. Each one takes on a unique, curvy shape, and they remind me a little bit of overgrown kernels of popcorn.

Like most fried foods, keropok is best eaten when it's piping hot. We started nibbling on them as soon as they were cool enough to handle; only about half the batch actually survived long enough to make it to the serving bowl.

 

Best of all, this crispy keropok carried memories of the happy times I had enjoyed this snack during my trip:

Crumbling them into my nasi kerabu with Merey, Muahaha, Pija and Ramona.
Eating them out of a big plastic container with Hammie and Ida.
Snacking in the car during our dark drive over the mountains with Jurie and Aleesya.

I'm so grateful to my host's mother for giving me such an interesting, delicious, and memory-filled gift. Trimo kasih!

Stopping For Poppies

So I was driving home from the grocery store today, stuck in heavy Friday afternoon traffic at a stoplight in Edmonds. As I glanced around, bored and slightly irritated, my eyes met an arresting sight.

Poppies. Red poppies. A scruffy but blessedly hopeful little patch of red poppies blooming in a parking lot near the edge of the street.

An uninvited thought popped into my head: "Go take a picture of them."

And give up my place in line at this intersection? For a few droopy weeds? While my ice cream melts in the back of the car? What foolishness is this?

"Just do it. You won't regret it."

So I did it. And my brain was right - I am very glad indeed.

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Other stories of hope, offered from me to you:

It's Also The Thing With Feathers

Finding Your Way Home

Blue Skies

Down In DEE-Troit

The Importance Of Ugly Places

San Juan Islands: The Beautiful Letdown

Cheers To Tuscon

November Rose
One White Crocus
White And Clean