Portrait Session :: Tatum

I had the opportunity about a month ago to do a little photo session with my dear friend Tatum. She also happens to be one of my favorite subjects to shoot. I think it is a combination of how well we know each other, how comfortable she is in front of a camera and simply the fact that she is just so darn cute. 

Oh, yes, Oso (my little pup) tagged along to Garland Park with us to take the photos and was more than happy to step into some of the shots. 

 After following a few little trails in Garland Park and heading down to the river bank there we decided to head back to my mom's house to utilize her beautiful redwood porch and comfy hammock from Nicaragua.

The other thing about shooting Tatum is that I always walk out with twice (or triple) as many frames as I was originally expecting. I may have to do another blog post later with some more shots down by the river and on my mom's lovely porch. 

mmhmm

(All photos taken on my iPhone)

Today was one of those lovely days. You know the days. The ones that you are content all day because of the people you are with and the things you see around you. This afternoon my bestie, our moms and me went Olallieberry picking at Gizdich Ranch. We picked over 10 pounds of berries that will be made into pies and jam sometime this week. We then headed over to Moss Landing and had lunch at Sea Harvest and had some yummy clam chowder in a bread bowl (how we do in NorCal--sorry I had to), calamari, and fish'n'chips. And at sunset my bestie and I found ourselves at Carmel Beach with friends and dogs for a quick jaunt. Finally, we headed back to the valley for a glass of wine and some time to dry off before we said good night.

Humph

My mind seems to be a million places at once. I want to be reading. I want to be writing. I want to be taking pictures. I want to be excited about my internship. I want to be excited for this weekend. But, I keep letting the little things nag at me. I need to take a deep breath in, but in this rural house I seem to not be able to find the space.

My mom and I tried yoga-- I will try it again before I make an opinion. Working out again feels so good but that will be put on a hold until next week. Humph.

This week has been full of baking and getting ready for my sister's bridal shower this weekend. Maggie (the black pup pictured above) has been doing a lot of licking up of sugar and getting flour all over as she awkwardly stands in the way. I love this dog, but she may be the most anxious and awkward puppy I have encountered. Bless her heart. She is one of the prettiest dogs I have ever met, though.

I have to admit that it has been nice to keep up with the news, but I just don't have anything to say about it these days. I have yet to find something interesting to blog about. Double humph.

(All my original photography::more can be found here.)

When I know I have been away too long

I can't believe that I have only been back for nine days. In many ways it feels like I have been here much longer than that. In many ways it feel like I have not been here long at all. Nonetheless, it has been nine days and in these nine days I have come to realize that being away from home, and in a city (which is very different than what I call home) has affected me more than I thought.

I noticed that someone down the hill has chickens in their yard now-- for the first time in my life this observation was not of normalcy. For the first time in my life I thought, "huh, that is strange they have chickens running loose."

For the first time in my life I was caught off guard by seeing a deer run across the street when I went to take the dogs out for a walk in the morning.

For the first time in my life I have appreciated all of the different chirps and chitters that come from the birds that live around my house. In the chatter you can actually hear a difference in tone and volume. It truly is peaceful. Who knew?

I think I now understand why people escape the city to hear the sounds the world naturally makes. There is no silence here in the country either, but the noise is welcoming and not at all intrusive (unless it's a woodpecker knocking away at this old redwood house at 7am).

It saddened me to think that I actually forgot these things about the rural central coast of California, but it also brought a smile to my face to actually appreciate these things now. Growing up I always loved the animals I saw around my house, on my deck, and in the trees. There was nothing more amusing than watching the turkeys flying into trees and then onto decks and roofs. (Yes, turkeys fly. No, they are not graceful. Yes, they look ridiculous when they fly.) It is truly beautiful to watch a deer bound through a hillside of ivy and oak trees. I forgot that when choosing to get pets you have to think about the natural predators living around you.

Somewhere along the way I started to not enjoy these things, let alone notice them. At least now I appreciate the coastal countryside again and that makes me feel better about forgetting.

There is still nothing to do here though. And that makes me miss the city.

By the way I have never met a dog who loves fruit as much as Baxter. He magically appears whenever, and wherever, I happen to peel a banana or bite into an apple. He especially gets excited about bananas--lots of barking and wagging of his tail until he gets a piece. He even likes to lick the peel!

All my own photography::More can be seen here.

Oh, yes!

Last week I was walking up to one of my favorite study spots in Seattle, Caffe Ladro. As I was walking to its Queen Anne location I made two new friends.

I was so excited when I saw these two that I yelped, accidentally dropped (and semi- severely dented) my water bottle and grabbed my camera. After I spent some time watching them with delight and rubbing their tummies I started snapping some pictures, and the white one was startled by the clicking of my shutter and ran inside. It was pretty cute.

Dogs bring such joy to my days and I cannot wait until I can live in the same house as a dog again. Until then, I will wander the streets of Seattle and pet all the dogs that I see. And I will probably continue to creepily take pictures of dogs and their owners and squeal, "puppy" without ever making eye contact with the person on the other end of the leash.

All Dogs go to Heaven

It was Saturday, September 13th, I believe. I was sleeping on a friend's floor. I was in transition of moving out of a house, going on sporadic travels and ending up at school somewhere at the end of the adventures. It was a gray morning, as many are in Seattle. The day was gray, too, or at least it was for me. It could have been the sunniest day in Seattle for all I know, but it was all gray to me. I was urgently taken from my sleep by Ryan Adams sweetly singing, "Oh My God, Whatever, Etc" right by my head. My right hand violent clawed at my phone as I glared at the caller ID. "Andrea" was scrolling across the screen. I immediately put the phone on silent and throw the phone back to the ground, cursing the early morning skies. It was 8:30 AM for God's sake. What the hell was she calling for? It did not take long for me to realize that it was probably an emergency since she was house sitting while my mom was away. I remember thinking, "God, let the dogs be OK" as I quickly jumped out of my sleeping bag and called Andrea back.

The night before I had had a curious dream. I was at a house with a few girls that I had spent the last week or so with and the house was a combination of all these houses I knew. In the backyard, in the early morning, I was playing with this big, white dog. In my dream, it was my childhood dog Rolly. In my dream, she was tall and strong and energetic. She was chasing a bright green tennis ball around the healthy, grassy field. There was a playground with kids in the background. It was glorious, but it was cold. I woke up the morning after that dream thinking if I had already seen Rolly for the last time.

Rolly has been my family's dog since I was five. We had lived in Carmel Valley for about a year at that point, leaving San Francisco behind. That summer my mom, my sister and I went to Seattle to visit my grandparents for a week my dad stayed back in California. When the three of us got back from Seattle and were settled in the car, my dad proclaimed that he had a surprise for us before we headed back to Carmel Valley. As we headed towards Daly City my sister and I franctically guessed what the surprise could be. We wanted it to be a dog so bad. I remember exclaiming something to the effect of, "I don't even care if it's an alien dog!" The surprise, apparently, was at my aunt and uncle's house. My dad directed my sister and I up the stairs to a balcony that was off of the master bedroom. I remember little five year old me peering over the side a some sort of ledge and spotting two little puppies. Someone in the background informed me, "The white one is yours." The whole two hour car ride back to Carmel Valley was spectacular. We decided to name her Rolly and my sister insisted that if I held her I would most definitely drop her. I was ecstatic.
On the other side of the phone, Andrea actually sounded pretty calm. She told me that she could not get a hold of my mom because she was in conferences all day and did not know who else to call. Rolly was on the deck, shaking with blood coming from her mouth and would not get up. Andrea, the best friend a girl could ask for, had no idea what to do. Neither did I. We decided that she should try and pick Rolly up and take her to the vet. I called my sister and let her know what was going on. And then left a voicemail for my mom. Next, was Casey. That is when I lost it. I could not control myself and he could not understand what I was saying. I did not know how to explain to him that although Rolly is still alive at this point, I know that she is going to be dead within the next twenty four hours and I could not explain to him why I knew that or why I was so sure about it. I just knew that it was happening at the worst time and I just needed him to listen to me and be there for me. We said good-bye.

Rolly was one of the smartest dogs that I have ever encountered. One time, we took her to the vet and the assistant placed Rolly in a small, locked kennel. The assistant went back to her desk, sat down, and suddenly turned around. Rolly was standing behind her, wagging her tail with her head cocked to the side. Another time, my family went out of town and left Rolly with some friends. She escaped out of a chicken coop and was runnng home on Carmel Valley before they noticed that she was missing. She was half home by the time someone picked her up and left a few messages on our machine. Apparently, we had an escape artist on our hands. Rolly was also my partner in adventuring and exploring. I remember wandering aimlessly through my neighborhood, and by the river down the hill, and among the Oak trees, with her always by my side. Rolly, also, had this amazing ability to wander into my room when I needed her the most, or when I was crying hysterically. Even the last time I had been home she wandered into my room right when I needed to hug her. She knew when I needed a friendly face or a good listener. She let me be mad at her and she did not hold it against me when I ignored her. She loved me for who I was and never judged me. Oh, and she was always willing to take a nap with me. She was the best best-friend I could have ever asked for. Especially when I felt like no human could ever understand me. She was there through it all, with not only me, but with my whole family. And everyone who encountered Rolly loved her. It was impossible not to. She wasn't just a dog though, she was part of the family. She was just another member. And I knew she was gone.
That gray Saturday morning turned into a long, emotional day in Seattle. I tried to keep it together until I heard more news. I was in Talaina's car coming home from Golden Gardens when my mom called me to tell me that we had to put Rolly down. I braced myself. I knew it was coming. I could handle it. My mom told me that my dad was going to drive down to Carmel Valley, pick up Rolly, and take her to a 24-hour emergency vet. Later that night my dad called me while he was leaving the vet. He was telling me how she had been so old and was convulsing in the car and she went peacefully. I think he was trying to justify it for himself more than anything. On the inside, I was in denial. I knew that I was, but I wasn't ready to take it on yet.

My denial continued until recently when a few particular stories brought me out of my funk. The first: I used to go boogie boarding on Carmel Beach. When I would catch a wave and ride to shore, Rolly would come running at me through the waves and lick my face and run back to the beach as I paddled back into the water. Which reminded me of the second story: One day after a storm my family went to the River Beach in Carmel. It was the time of year where the river actually flowed into the water and Rolly jumped into the water, after seeing a dog on the other side of the river. She was quickly swept out into the mouth of the river and could not swim against the currents. We sat helplessly on the beach. I was freaking out, bawling. This story ends with my dad holding on to the end of a kayak and rescuing Rolly and helping her on to the other side of the river's shore. And then there were those times that we walked to Safeway and I tied her up outside while I went in, and she would bark occasionally. Of course, there was also the time that Rolly and I were chasing one another around the house and we ran through a closed screen door. The stories could continue to flow, but no matter what I find myself at the same spot: mourning over a pup that was a symbol of my childhood, a part of my family and a friend.

Rolly was a well loved dog and deserves more than a poorly written blog, by a sad college student in the Emerald City. But, that's all I got right now.Good-bye Rolly. You will be missed.