Welcoming the New Year from the Rose City

Portland, Oregon. The Rose City. Home to wonderful music, divine beer, and lots of facial hair.

In some ways Portland is a lot like Seattle. They both share a distinctive Northwest culture (perceived or real?) of bookish organic farmers sitting in a cafe, enjoying soy lattes and vegan muffins while agreeing with everything on the Huffington Post.

In other ways, however, Portland is very different from Seattle. It's smaller for one thing. It's not as geographically strange, so it's easier to get around. There are more strip clubs. It's actually soggier if you can believe that. And it's far more lumberjack-y than Seattle. Everyone there dresses like a lumberjack. And has a beard. Even the women. Kidding, mostly.

Anastasia and I love Portland. We've made five trips down there so far--a few times with friends and once we took her parents to McMenamins Edgefield Manor (Disneyland for adults). It's a great little city to get away to every now and then. And now that we're pretty familiar with the place, it's just as fun to go and explore new areas of town as it is to revisit those restaurants, bars, and shops that we've enjoyed on prior visits.

So when we were thinking of things to do for New Year's Eve this year, Portland fit the bill nicely. After working a half-day Thursday, Stasia and I bused down to King Street Station and hopped on a Portland-bound train. Note: It doesn't get much better than sitting back on a train, sipping red wine, watching the trees, water, ships, and farm houses pass by.

We didn't really have a plan for New Year's Eve. We had dinner reservations, but beyond that, we'd be celebrating the new year wherever we happened to be when the clock struck.

Walking around the east end of the Pearl District, we found a lot of bars and clubs, but many of them had people lined up at doors through which heavy bass music pounded mercilessly. We looked at each other knowingly, took a sip of our Metamucil and continued walking until we happened upon a corner bar that looked quite welcoming with its warm atmosphere and copious Christmas decorations.

Turns out, it was a gay bar. Stasia called it before I did, but by the time we'd found a booth and ordered our first drinks, it was pretty obvious. Thing is, it was far more laid back than most gay bars. Imagine if CHEERS was a gay bar. That's how this place was.

We thought we'd have one drink and then maybe see what else was down the street. Then we decided to have a second drink. By then the bartender was my best friend because his drinks were strong and not overpriced. About half an hour to midnight we relocated to a table closer to the bar and, therefore, closer to the celebration.

Another drink (or two?) and we joined the rest of the crowd with the countdown, followed by countless horns, balloon-popping, and other noise-makers. We had a blast and were quite happy with how we rang in 2010.

Here are some other things that happened:

We went to a Wisconsin-themed bar called Saraveza. Great beer selection.

Stasia had a custom cone of yarn spun together at Yarnia.

We found a place that apparently sells FRESH HAIR, which is marvelous. BECAUSE I'VE BEEN LOOKING.
A crazy magic door appeared in a cafe men's room. I DARED NOT ENTER.

A drunk woman stopped and peed in the middle of the sidewalk as we passed by.

NO PHOTO

Thanks, Rose City. See you next time.

The Cold Quiet of Alaska in November

Originally posted on The SunBreak.

All photos HERE.
Slideshow HERE.

November is a strange time to visit our large cousin to the north. It's cold, but there's very little snow. Every new day loses another five minutes of daylight from the previous. The whales have gone south. The bears have had their fill of salmon and are working on making their dens nice and cozy for the winter slumber. You can count the number of actual vacationers on one hand. Most of the out-of-towners appear to be there on business, as was the case with my wife. I tagged along because I can't pass up an opportunity to go to Alaska no matter what time of year it is.

We spent our first few days in downtown Anchorage without a vehicle. We stayed at a bed and breakfast called the Copper Whale at the West end and spent most of our time walking the streets, ducking into shops, boutiques, cafes, and brewpubs. There was a lot of bundling up, covering the ears, neck, and hands, only to shed it all again minutes later.

The high temperature during our stay was 35 degrees, though at times it was much colder than that. Still, I felt kind of silly, wrapped up as I was inside my snowboarding parka while hardened locals strolled by in little more than a flannel shirt. I told my wife I was glad it was so cold. "It makes the trip seem more exotic," I said. Luckily for us, the sky was clear, even sunny, so we were able to keep an eye on the surrounding mountains to be sure they were not misbehaving.

If you visit Anchorage, I recommend you not leave until you've consumed the following: the Crabby Omelet from Snow City Cafe, the Big Orso Burger from Orso, beers from Glacier Brewhouse and Snow Goose Restaurant and Brewery, and trivia night at Humpy's Great Alaskan Alehouse.

After a few days in Anchorage it was time to drive south to the Kenai Peninsula in a rented mid-size SUV. This is a breathtaking drive. First one must drive around the Turnagain Arm, a large inlet ringed by snow-capped peaks which seem to launch straight up from the icy water. The highway then ducks into the mountains and snakes its way through the gorgeous Chugach National Forest. The road then nuzzles the turquoise glacial waters of Kenai Lake and the Kenai River before eventually straightening out into a more even landscape dotted by marshes and small lakes.

Moose love Kenai. I don't think a day passed without seeing one of these huge, goofy-looking things in someone's lawn, on the side of the road, or, as was the case once, crossing the road right in front of me. I'm happy to report that the brakes worked wonderfully in my rented Toyota.

Located at the south end of the peninsula is the beautiful town of Homer. If you believe the bumper stickers popular in the area, Homer is "a quaint little drinking village with a fishing problem." If you ever get the chance to visit the area, you must visit Homer. It is stunning. And it has a spit.

As my wife was busy working for two days, that left me with a vehicle, some magnificent country, and ample time for exploration.

I drove around the first day, somewhat aimlessly, without an agenda or a destination in mind. I took photos, watched the sun rise over the Kasilof River, visited an old Orthodox Russion Church in the town of Kenai, and then drove around some more. Feeling like I must be missing something, I decided that my second day of solo exploration needed to be a little more organized.

After having breakfast at a little diner in the town of Soldotna, where Fox News played on the television and a table of old men complained about big government, I drove to a wildlife refuge outside of town and stopped at a visitor's center to hopefully get an idea as to how to spend my last full day in Alaska. They told me about a nice scenic bypass off of the Sterling Highway out to Skilak Lake. I bought a good map, thanked them and set off on my way.

Now for a drive like this one, alone and in the woods on a winding dirt road, one must have the proper music to travel by. This meant a quick stop at the Soldotna Fred Meyer where, after a brief perusal of the CD racks, I found the perfect companion: a 2-disc collection of the best of Willie Nelson.

Willie and I hit the road and this was it. Perfection. This dirt road, taking us higher and deeper into the trees. It rose and fell and wound its way around many of the smaller lakes and beaver ponds surrounding Skilak Lake. The air was crisp and bit at my nose whenever I got out to look around and take pictures. It was quiet.

Very quiet. Not a soul to be seen, or heard, but for the geese flapping their wings on the other side of the lake. It was peaceful, and yet I couldn't help but feel like I wasn't supposed to be there.

I didn't feel threatened. Just small and alone. Some people never truly know solitude. It was thrilling.

Compass and Rose Tattoo

When it comes to tattoos, there are generally three kinds of people: those who have tattoos (and will probably get more), those who would never get a tattoo, and those folks in the middle who like tattoos, but may never commit to getting one themselves.

I got my first tattoo ten years ago, not long after moving to the Seattle area. It's located on my left shoulder blade area and depicts a young man sitting on the ground, hunched over, head in hands. Above him, flying out of his head are three faces. The first one is a hooded fellow who looks something like Death himself, the second is a rather angry-looking skull, and the third--the largest and most defined--is a fierce, resolute, and powerful character. You might say he represents an alter ego of the young man sitting on the ground--someone he wishes he could be.

Needless to say, I was going through some things when I got that tattoo. Even with plenty of friends around, it was a dark time for me. Depression is a bitch. I've grown up a lot since then, a lot of great things have happened to me, and though I may strike a mood every now and then, I'm generally a pretty happy person.

Because of its location on my body, I often forget I even have that tattoo, but it's always there. It doesn't represent who I am today, but that doesn't bother me. It's a mark in time. A reminder of things past.

For the past few years I've been wanting to get a new tattoo, but like many people I had a difficult time deciding what to get. I wanted it to mean something to me and if that thing was important enough, I wanted to be able to see it.

So here's the story behind this tattoo. I have an old compass that belonged to my grandfather Jack. We were pretty close when I was a kid. He was always chasing me around the house, threatening to tickle me; I always had a blast at his house.

When I was about 11 or 12 years old he took his own life. The older I get, the more the memories fade, but the event itself--the finality of it--that has always stayed with me.

The crack pattern in the glass on the tattoo matches the real crack pattern on my grandfather's compass.

The rose? Well, compass and rose imagery have gone hand in hand for ages. Also, I've always loved classic rose tattoo design so it seemed like a great fit. I guess you could say the petals falling are significant.

Lastly, the compass needle points northwest because the Pacific Northwest has been my home for the past ten years and is where so many great things have fallen into place for me. This is my home.

Four Months Later

GOOD DAY TO YOU, my hundreds--nay, thousands--of blog readers. So many of you I cannot possibly remember all of your names. There's Eliza over there, in her bicycle shorts, smiling and upbeat as usual. And oh, here's Tiffany over here, taking a break from tossing the tennis ball for her funny dog so she can read the latest updates online. And then there are the rest of you--whether you exist here, with your feet held firmly to this giant rock, or you reside IN THE SQUISHY QUARTERS OF MY MIND, here you are.

I am sure you, army of readers, have spent the past four months sucking your thumb in the fetal position and wondering, "When... when will he post again? Will he never?" Have a little faith dear reader, not to mention some self respect. Go on. Get off the floor. Dust yourself off. ENOUGH OF YOUR BLUBBERING.

So where have I been? Here and there. Working, playing, traveling. And Facebook. Like many others I've been sucked into the black hole of Facebook and neglecting this blog. But I'm going to try to post here more often.

Facebook certainly has its place in the vast intertubes, but it's not exactly an orderly place. There are people poking each other left and right. Mafia wars stumbling onto people's farmvilles. A friend of mine had a baby recently (IN REAL LIFE), causing him thereafter to neglect his virtual cafe. Before long, the scones had grown moldy, the milk had soured, and the smell had drawn flies and caused patrons to pass out in the booths (why they stayed so long to begin with is beyond me, though, perhaps this is good news--evidence that the machines have a ways to go before they completely take over the world).

So, since Facebook is not an ideal location for recording one's journey through this mess, I plan to update this blog more regularly and will start by bringing it up to speed on recent happenings such as our second trip to Alaska, our kitchen remodel project, and photos from Christmas.

Stand by.

Busy Summer!

It's been a busy Summer for Anastasia and I. In addition to our big kitchen remodel, we went on a great hike to Wallace Falls on July 4th with friends Ryan & Tiffany.

The hike wasn't too difficult. About 5.5 miles round trip with 1,200 feet elevation gain. It was pretty hot, however, so we were definitely sweating by the time we stopped for lunch after reaching the upper falls. And of course we brought our dogs along; they had a great time playing in the river on our way back to the trail head.
(Photos here).

The following weekend, Anastasia, Annabelle (the Annabeauties) and I camped out at Rasar State Park along the Skagit River. Here's us trying out our new sun shelter:

We'd never been to Rasar before, so we didn't really know what to expect. It turned out to be a really nice, well maintained park, perfect for families and large gatherings. The campgrounds were the type you'd expect to find at a state park, but the campsites were spaced well enough that you have a little bit of privacy.

A short walk from the campgrounds takes you to a really nice day-use area perfect for picnics, parties, and playtime. A trail from here takes you down hill to a big field begging for some frisbee time. Keep going and you'll find a couple of trails that take you to the shore of the beautiful Skagit River. I tried fishing, but the only thing biting were the mosquitoes.
(Photos here).

During the last week of July (and first week of August for Anastasia--she stayed a week longer than I), we spent a wonderful, relaxing vacation in Northern Michigan at Stasia's parents' cottage on Lake Huron.

We kayaked down the Sturgeon River and biked to Rogers City for burgers. We read books in the sun, the shade, and inside the enclosed balcony, under blankets and safe from bugs. We paddled around in Grand Lake and Lake Huron. And we celebrated Stasia's mom's 60th birthday with family and lots of pie!
(Photos here).

The Big Kitchen Remodel Project - Part II

Two days later, I'm still tired and very very sore, but it's the good kind of sore--a sensation of accomplishment. And pain. And also pain.

Saturday, along with a fair amount of yard work and house cleaning, we got the kitchen walls primed. No more green/blue/white/brown walls. Sunday morning, my buddy Jason came over to help me install the new bamboo hardwood floor in the kitchen/dining room.

We've got a lot more photos and I'll get those up in a gallery soon, but for now, a quick update!

Our kitchen Saturday morning.

Our kitchen Sunday night. Behold! The transformation!

Jason was a huge help when it came to installing the new floor. Thanks Jason. You're a king among men!

Celebration time!

The Big Kitchen Remodel Project - Part I

Exactly one month ago today, Anastasia's parents, Paul and Kris, flew out here from Michigan to help us get started on our great beastly kitchen remodel--which includes the dining area and the laundry room. By the time they flew home a week later, we had completed demolition, new drywall, electrical, new lighting, and about half of the new plywood floor.

We actually didn't mind our kitchen for the most part. It wasn't great, but we could live with it. Thing is, we absolutely hated the floors. We figured if we were going to rip the floors up, well we might as well hit this thing all at once.

We have a lot more photos than this, and I'll share them soon, but I thought I'd start off with a summary view of where we are today.

Here's a photo of our kitchen mid-demo. The dining floor had been removed along with some of the kitchen tiles and some of the cabinetry.

Total destruction. Here we see Paul pulling out old nails and Anastasia hammering away at the tile in the laundry room. Watch out!

Paul installing our new can lights. The fixture in the middle is new too. No more track lighting in the kitchen. Also Paul is not supposed to be sitting on that part of the ladder. He found that out later.

One of many glorious layers of flooring we uncovered in the kitchen and laundry room. Why anyone would ever cover this up, I don't know!

This is where we do dishes now. In a plastic tub on top of the washing machine. On the upside, I accidentally found a cool trick: put the dishes in here while the washer is on spin cycle and the water in the tub agitates like crazy, making the dishes easier to clean a few minutes later!

And here is where we are today. Drywall work is pretty much done. Plywood floors are down. An ironing board serves as a temporary counter.

Tonight and this weekend we're making another big push. We'll be priming the walls and installing our new bamboo hardwood floors. By Sunday evening the place might look halfway done!

More pictures to come. Wish us luck.

Best Lunch Break Ever

Full post and photos HERE.

Snowboarding at Mount Baker

I was standing out on our back deck a little bit ago, watching the dog as she sniffed around the yard, when suddenly in the corner of my eye I saw a large, dark shape fly out of view. I whipped my head around in time to see an adult bald eagle flying just above the neighbor's trees.

This happens from time to time--a reminder of how beautiful this region is. Sometimes it's a little thing. Sometimes it's huge.

Yesterday, some friends and I went snowboarding at Mount Baker Ski Area in the North Cascades. I'd never been there before, but had heard nothing but great things about the place. Someone asks, "What are you doing this weekend?" I answer, "Going to Mount Baker," and they smile and their eyes drift off to the ceiling, before eventually they say, "You're going to love it."

Yeah, I love it.

The drive itself is a wonderful trip through farmland, tulip country, and lush forests. The road winds through small, picturesque communities before snaking its way through the mountains and ending in the parking lot of the ski area.

Upon stepping out of the vehicle, my mouth dropped open as I looked around. Towering snowy peaks in all directions, the most overwhelming of which is Mount Shuksan, a massive glaciated peak that would remain in our sight for most of the day. The ski area itself is located on the Shuksan Arm, which connects the 10,778-foot Mount Baker with the 9,127-foot Mount Shuksan.

With such amazing surroundings, sunny blue skies, and Baker's incredibly diverse terrain, this was easily my best day of boarding this year, both in terms of sheer fun and my own performance. A perfect end to the season. Now, bring on the camping and hiking!

Photo Set HERE. Slideshow HERE.

From Sunny Florida to the Snowy Cascades

Well, we had a great time in sunny Florida. Anytime I can wear shorts and flip flops in the Winter, I'm happy. Photos here.

Went snowboarding at Crystal Mt. last weekend. The weather was great. Hardly needed a jacket at all! Sky was clear and sunny and from the top of Rainier Express (or "Rex" as we call it) we could see clearly in all directions, from Mt. Adams to the south to Mt. Baker to the north. It's pretty amazing being able to see from one end of the state to the other from one spot. And of course Mt. Rainier, just across the valley, was enormous and beautiful.

It was a perfect day for pictures, but because it was warm out, I'd decided to travel light leave my camera in the car. Fortunately, at the top of Rex there was a photographer taking pictures which you then have the option to purchase down at the lodge after reviewing the photos. Unfortunately, however, the photos ended up being $25, so we decided to skip it and buy beer instead. Too bad though, it was a really great photo. Oh well. We're hopeful that we'll get another chance this weekend. A group of us are heading back up to Crystal Mt. on Saturday and if it's clear out, You can bet I'll have my camera with me this time. The forecast, by the way, is looking amazing. It's been snowing there all week and this Saturday is looking like it might be sunny again. I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it!

If everything works out weather-wise and we get some good photos I'll be sure to post them here. In the meantime, here are a couple of photos from last weekend when we walked Annabelle around Greenlake:

Off to the Beach We Go

Tomorrow morning we're heading to Florida for a few days to see my mom, aunts, and grandma.

Looking forward to seeing them and to spending some time being lazy on the beach! We'll be in Pensacola part of the time and spending the weekend at a hotel right on the beach in Panama City Beach. So far it's looking like it will be around 70 degrees and sunny.

Viva Florida!

Praise Song for the Day

A transcript of the inaugural poem recited by Elizabeth Alexander:

Praise song for the day.

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.

A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."

We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road."

We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.

Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self."

Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.

Favorites

I've created a "Favorites" set on my Flickr photostream. As the name suggests, it's a collection of my personal favorites of the photos I've posted thus far on Flickr.

Set is here. Slideshow is here.

Naturally, this is one of my most favorite...

Christmas at Home

Thanks to Molly, Amy, Leta, Ben, Jill, Joey, and a little dog named Matson, we had a great little Christmas at home this year.

After a delicious dinner of standing rib roast, cheesy potatoes, and asparagus (all prepared by the lovely and talented Mrs. Anastasia Hollenbach), we enjoyed some dessert and a dvd/book gift exchange.

All the photos HERE.

First Day of Winter

Today is the first day of Winter and what a fantastic day it has been.

First of all, it's still snowing. Yeah, no big deal to you Wyomingites, Coloradans, Michiganders, and the rest of you out there, but here in the Seattle area this is huge. It just doesn't do this here very often and when it does, it usually melts right away and we all go back to trudging through the darkness and the rain until Spring finally arrives.

This week, however, the temperatures have stayed below freezing and the snow has continued to fall. Everyone we know has been in a celebratory mood about it. Anastasia and I have certainly been loving it. Annabelle, she can't get enough of it. She tromps about, leaping and bounding through the white stuff, sticking her face in it, biting at it, and kicking her back legs out and "swimming" through it.

This afternoon, I walked Annabelle down the main street near out house, down to 167th Street, which is a very large, steep hill. It was closed of course due to the snow and many people were taking advantage of this closure, turning the street into a large sledding area. Inspired, I walked back home, grabbed the snowboard, and we all walked back for some fun on the hill.

Check out those and other photos from today's wintry good times HERE.

And now, the happiest dog on Earth:

Staying home on a snow day

It's snowing all over the Seattle area today, which means the teevee clowns are yapping about snow! and ice! and roads! and WINTER STORM SNOPACALYPSE 2008! Oh my! And the city pretty much shuts down because they're unable to clear the roads and anyway many of the roads are steep and turn to ice and the drivers can't drive because they don't know how so they throw up their hands and abandon their vehicles at the side of the road or even in the middle of the road.

Oh dear, oh dear. Well, I was going to go to work today anyway, but I talked to a couple people at work who informed me that it took them nearly two hours to get there and that the buses downtown are all backed up and stuck everywhere.

So I stayed home.

I walked Annabelle to the grocery store and got some eggs and milk and things for dinner later.

And now I'm just kicking back with Anastasia and our furry friends.

More Santa pics

Santa & his lovely assistant

Air!

Santa takes advantage of quiet time

Angry Santa

The Trials of a Pet Store Santa

When I looked down and saw the small pool of copper brown gel on the soft white cuff of my Santa uniform, the scent that had been offending me for nearly half an hour was suddenly made clear. Just to be sure, I brought the sleeve to within an inch of my nose for a little sniff. Yes, there it was. A decidedly potent Preparation H-like substance that must have come from the small, terrified dog I'd met earlier who would have nothing to do with me. As the dog had struggled and pushed away, kicking violently with its pointed little feet, it had slimed Santa with its anal gel.

After washing the cuff with soap and warm water, I could still smell the offensive odor. A further examination presented yet another smear of the brown slick mingling among the coarse white hairs of my beard, mere inches from my mouth. Luckily for me, a back-up beard waited in the employee lounge. Does this happen often? I wondered. Clean and newly bearded, I walked back to my post at the front of the store, thinking to myself that however sorry I felt for the little dog and its apparent discomfort, I thoroughly hated the human who'd set its exposed, hemorrhoid gel-covered anus in my arms.

During lulls in the photo-taking, I would occasionally walk outside for fresh air and wave at people at random. I would also wander the aisles of the store, often catching people off guard. I found it amusing to imagine someone suddenly seeing Santa in the corner of their eye, flipping through a book regarding the proper care of ferrets. It was during these expeditions that I made an interesting observation. Often, adult men would give me an accusing look as if to say, "Just who the hell do you think you are?" Women, however, would almost always smile and say, "Hi Santa," thereby proving my theory that all women want to sleep with Santa, which, comforted by this knowledge, is how I made it through two long days dressed as him.

Early on in my first day, I got very hot in my hat and beard, so I took them off. I was there for the pets, right? It wasn't long before the store manager came along and said, "You should never not be Santa when you're out here, especially when there are kids around." Not knowing what else to say, I replied grumpily, "They know I'm not the real Santa." Ultimately, however, she was right. After the first little girl lit up and exclaimed, "It's Santa!" my heart melted. From then on, the uniform became a weighty social burden and I did my very best not to let any small children see a Santa compromised by lack of beard or hat.

And then there were the other children.

As I sat on my bench, waiting for the next set of photo ops, a young boy stopped a few feet away and began pointing at me and calling me "a fake." That's how he said it too. "You're a fake! Mommy, he's a fake!" "No," she replied tenderly. "He's a helper. He helps Santa by working here and then he sends daily reports to the real Santa." I squinted and smiled agreeably at the boy, thinking this would be the end of it, but it wasn't long before he resumed his pointing and accusing.

Now, the beard I wore was held in place by a pair of elastic bands which stretched from my chin, over my poor ears, to the top of my head, the whole apparatus feeling much like a tight fitting jock strap meant to keep my chin firmly in place. I believe this is to keep Santa's mouth shut when faced with snot-nosed brats such as this one. Had the torturous beard not been there, who knows what I might have said to the innocent child. "Your mommy told me you were a mistake," came to mind. Or perhaps, simply, "Santa hates you."

But this was about animals, not kids, so I concealed my contempt for this little boy calling me a fake and instead concentrated on smiling for the camera and not dropping various cats and dogs as they squirmed in my arms. I met many wonderful dogs including a great big Newfoundland (or "newfie") who took up most of the photo, and an affectionate pug named Bruno who cleaned out my sinuses with his tongue. I even met a few charming cats. One cat, however, was very old and smelled as though it had already died, perhaps the prior day. It was sad, knowing that this would be its last Christmas, but the nice thing about a nearly-dead cat is that the expectations are quite low in terms of its on-camera performance.

At the end of the second day, tired and wondering what I had become, I was leaning against a wall outside the store, wanting a cigarette. I don't smoke, but something about the scene made me think I should have a cigarette hanging from my mouth.

My mood instantly changed, however, when I locked eyes with a young couple practically skipping toward the store with their dog, all three of them wearing the loudest red Christmas sweaters I'd ever seen. "I hope you're here for a photo," I said. They were so excited that I imagined they either must have been planning this for weeks, or they'd just had the idea a couple hours before and had managed not only to procure the hideous sweaters, but also to make it to the Petsmart on time, Santa waiting for them outside.

By the end of the weekend, a lot of people had left the store quite giddy to have a framed photo of their beloved pet sitting or squirming with Santa. Half of the proceeds went to Oasis for Animals, a local no-kill rescue organization. Once home, I took a very thorough shower.

Want to have your pet's picture taken with Santa? You still can (though, sorry to say, it won't be me in the suit). Simply find your nearest participating Petsmart and skip your merry way there December 13-14 and 20-21, from 11:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. And be nice to Santa.

Closing Out the Weekend

Dog sleeps under coffee table. Cat nuzzles penguin. Man reads book by a mellow gold light.

I am thankful for

My wife, our home, our family, our funny dog Annabelle, my job, and my sister and her roommate Amy for hosting Thanksgiving this year. You done well girls. Thanks!

Check out Anastasia's blog for more Thanksgiving photos and recipes. And if you scroll down far enough, a picture of me dressed as a cow for Halloween (along with Anastasia as a milk maid).