Fox & the City

Jack, the Boy and I spent the our first night in the condo last night. Yay! At first, the Boy didn't want to go because he is a teenager and has to crap on any idea that isn't his own. Whatever. He got over it and was fine after he ate and saw the Warren Miller movie.

Last night, we were all ready to go to sleep around 11:00 or so. Except Fox. Once we were all tucked in, the dog started to fuss. He'd walk back and forth between the master bedroom and where the Boy was sleeping, his nails clicking along the floor. We put his dog bed upstairs, but that didn't help. He was lost like a toddler who needs to sleep in a new place but can't get settled. I don't even know where Fox ended up sleeping last night. I think he might have slept on the Boy's bed. Perhaps the Boy had empathy for Fox, thinking, "Yeah, they dragged me down here too against my will. You can sleep with me. We are a team." As if living in downtown Seattle is a prison.

The next morning, Fox came running to my side of the bed as soon as I stirred but wasn't awake. Fox wanted me to know he was there. Jack and I walked to the Biscuit Bitch for breakfast to get bacon and egg sandwiches, and we brought Fox along. I told Jack what I wanted to eat, and he went into order as I walked the dog around the block. As we walked, Fox pulled at the leash, in a big fat hurry to get I don't know where. He was skittish as he stopped, smelled, and peed on every lamppost, tree, garbage can, building corner, planter and patch of ivy. It was like Fox was Rube in from the country walking downtown, like he had never seen or smelled a garbage can before. For the first time in his life, he had to poop on concrete. Nor could he wait until no one was around because it is the city. Someone is always around, from the cute tourist couples getting breakfast to the crazy guy wondering if he is going to barf or not. Fox survived.

As I work in the same neighborhood as my condo, I have seen other dogs walking in the city before, who look and act like normal dogs, not like my hick dog. The other dogs act normal, blase to food scraps left on the street. Fox found something to eat this morning on the ground and he acted like he had never seen food before. You'd think he was some crazy mutt, not a Pomeranian-chihuahua for god's sake. If a lapdog can't be a city dog, what is wrong with the world?

And I was worried about the Boy being the blocker for the condo. Instead, it is the dog. Hopefully, one of these days Fox will turn into a civilized city dog.


Biscuit Bitch at Cafe Lieto, 1909 First Ave, Seattle WA

Le Pichet and My Dinner with Michelle

First news: We got a condo. We closed almost a month ago. Like when I ran for School Board, I stopped blogging a) because I was busy looking for a condo, b) I didn't want potential sellers to read my inner thoughts and c) once we got the condo, we needed find furniture and that was a huge endeavor. Now that the place is livable (minus kitchen supplies like pots, pans and food), I have a few moments to write.

The week before we found the apartment we bought, I thought we'd never find a place in a location we liked, in a building we liked, that fit our space needs and had a nice layout and was affordable. I thought our search would be like two circles in a Venn diagram that have no data points in common, never touching.

Just as I was beginning to despair, the Seattle Condo Gods smiled upon us and we found a really, really cool town home.

Tonight, Jack and the Boy went to see Warren Miller's latest pre-ski season, testosterone fueled epic.

"Do you want to go?" Jack asked.

"No," I said.

"I feel bad going out with Peter and leaving you alone," Jack said.

He should never feel bad about male bonding with his son. Ever.

I went down to the condo, dropped off the dog, and then headed out to find a place to eat. Should I have cassoulet at Cafe Campagne or go some place new? I walked around and remembered a place my friend Diane and I used to visit for lunch when I was a stay-at-home mom. So I went to Le Pichet for dinner, a posh French bistro around the corner from the condo. I sat at the bar and ate dinner with Michelle Obama. I got the last copy of her new book at Third Place Books today. The bookseller had read up to chapter five and was crying about how good it was. We joked about how Oprah was endorsing it, as if Michelle Obama needed promotion.

In the opening of her new book, she talked about a night after Obama was out of the White House and she had an evening alone without her family. Barack was out of town, and her daughters were out. This was the first time she was truly alone. She went to the kitchen to make toast, and there weren't any White House kitchen staff there helping her watch the bread turn brown. She loves her family and her old life, of course, but still she had a night alone. And it was awesome.

As I was eating my steak, I overheard a man tell his wife how he needed her to support him working more. She listened quietly, and drank more wine. I looked out the window, watching city life go by. I left the restaurant, walked down the block and around the corner, and I was home. Fox was waiting for me at the door. I don't think he left the door since I left for dinner. I took him for a walk along the waterfront.

It was awesome.

Le Pichet, 1933 First Avenue, Seattle WA