And that makes three.

Meet the newest member of the Klosinski family: Briscoe.

A Labrador/German Shepherd mix (a mutt, really), she came to us by way of a dog shelter. She's nine weeks old now, still very much a baby. Her first night home, she cried and cried and kept V and I up all night. But she's settling in quickly, or at least we think so. She didn't cry at all last night.
She's named after Law & Order's Det. Lenny Briscoe, played by the late Jerry Orbach. Obviously, we thought we would get a boy.

Favorite past time: scratching her collar and sniffing the lawn.

The summer of Potter is on!

The fifth Harry Potter movie opened today. Can't wait to see it. Fighting not to blow off all work and head to the theatre right now.

FYI, early reports are predicting record-breaking box office numbers. He's got Spidey in his sight!

Get out there! (Part 1)

I'm ashamed to admit that after 2+ years of living in Washington, I still know very little of this state. I have not ventured far from my stretch of the I-5 corridor and with no real good reason why.

With this possibly being our last 12 months here, I've decided to make a concerted effort to get out there.

Our first foray took us on a route around the Olympic Peninsula, courtesy of Budget Travel Magazine. I like the mag because it more closely reflects the way we actually travel. I'd love to roll Conde Nast Traveller-style, but who's got the budget for a Greek villa rental? Not me.

I was also interested in seeing how our experience will compare to the author's, how magazine prose will translate to real life.

First stop: Ocean Shores, WA (Photo courtesy of the City of Ocean Shores)

A slow start had us driving to Ocean Shores as fast as we can, speeding past the City of Aberdeen, hometown of the late Kurt Cobain. Try as I might, I completely missed the "Come As You Are" sign that welcomes visitors to the city.

It was a sunny April day but that did little to counter the cold brought on by strong winds in Ocean Shores. It was "blustery," all right. We check in and immediately head to the beach.

To tropical island dwellers like me, going to the beach means chilling with a Mai-Tai (or a cold San Mig Light) while splayed out on warm (to scorching hot) powdery sand. This was far from it.

Imagine a vast, flat, gray expanse bordered on one side by an angry Pacific, a band of sea grass and a row of hotels on the other. In between is a scene that I can only describe as a beachfront parking lot, minus the painted strips.

People don't walk on this beach. They drive on it. Compact and hard, the beach was littered with all sorts of cars and SUVs, as well as about half a dozen horses taking tourists on quick jaunts up and down the shore.

I found it weird and interesting at the same time. I asked V to park as close to the water as he could, curious to see how the sand will hold up under the weight of our Jeep. (And if we sank into the sand and got stuck, what then? I didn't stop to think about that.)

The surf looked as flat as the shore, as the ocean loudly churned white frothy waves at my feet. The water was cold, as expected. And as the wind cut through my supposedly windproof jacket, I kicked myself for not taking the author's fleece-and-base-layer advise.

We intended to follow BT's itinerary to a tee. We went to the Ocean Shores Interpretive Center, which was closed; strolled around Damon Point State Park, but couldn't find the Catala (some boat buried in the sand); and attempted to have dinner at Emily's, only to be turned away for lack of a reservation.

We tooled around the small town for a bit, ogling at rustic beach houses lining this narrow peninsula. With nothing else to do, we headed back to the hotel where we suffered through a 15-minute dip in the chlorine-dense hot tub.

All in all, Ocean Shores was a bit of a bust. But I'll give it another shot if the opportunity arises. For now, it's one check off my list.

Score!

Speaking of reusable shopping/grocery bags...

A trip to Ikea last Sunday netted me these:


At 99 cents a piece, they go a long way to assuage my guilt over millions of wasted plastic bags generated by shoppers like you and me.

And they're cute!

The bags will now find a permanent home in the trunk of my car, ready for action every time I make a quick trip to the market. For those far from an Ikea, most supermarkets and groceries now sell their own reusable shopping/grocery bags, starting at about a buck each. Trader Joe's has them, so does Whole Foods and Albertson's, I think.

Do your part!

Price of ownership

Today, I had to wrangle with the people who make home ownership possible--the mortgage company. Ours is Chase, who, in their infinite wisdom, has charged us a late fee for a bill that we supposedly did not pay on time.

Here's the skinny: Our original loan was through a company called Loan City. The first bill was due April 1. The sticklers that we are, we wanted to pay way in advance, so we sent our first payment in on March 15, thinking that we were doing the right thing by paying early. But here is where it got complicated. See, three days later, that loan was bought by and transferred to Chase. A few days after that, we got a notice from Chase saying that we did in fact have a bill due April 1, but that it was payable to them. By then, the check we sent was long gone, to Loan City, who also sent us a letter saying that we should continue payments to them until May 1.

Thinking that they would sort each other out, we continued to pay our bills as usual. Only, when the most recent bill came, it showed a late charge. Confused, we called Chase and that's when we found out that the April 1 payment was never forwarded to them, and that we effectively have been paying a month behind since.

The kicker: Loan City is no longer in business.

Here's why I'm pissed. First, both companies sent us notification letters of the transfer but gave conflicting information. Second, we had called Chase at least twice before this last conversation, to check on our account, and nary a mention of the late payments. Third, the man on the phone for Chase made the point of saying that the account will go to credit reporting by the end of the month.

And all this because we thought we'd get ahead by making that first payment early.

Thankfully, we have a loan officer/agent who is working to clear this up. Just the same, we paid our mortgage bill twice this month, just to make sure that our credit does not get affected.

This is the price of ownership that nobody tells you about.

Just the same, I'm grateful for our home. It's a work in progress, in various fronts, but it's ours.

More recent pics to follow.

And by the way, please come visit.

Fun reads

Little time to write a full post. So I'm passing you along to some blogs that I visit when I'd rather read than write.

When I can't have Filipino food, I visit Market Manila and live vicariously. There's also tons of info on various restos and food spots in and around Manila--a real nice resource for those outside of the country.

Pinoy Cook serves up much of the same, as well as tons of recipes and tips. Written from the point of view of a busy mom.

Philippine fashion and chismis are FUN. No one catches you up like Chuvaness.

What or who are you reading online?

Do Something

Forget the bag that the fashionistas are going gaga over.

While the idea behind Anya Hindmarch's "I'm Not A Plastic Bag" is sound, I don't think anyone needs to shell out upwards of $50 on eBay (even up to $400, by some reports) for a bag that originally sold for $15 at Fred Segal Flair just to be "green chic."

Everyone can do their part, right here and now, no trendy canvas bag required. Simply say "No thanks" to plastic bags whenever you can. My personal rule: If I can carry it in my two hands, or stuff it in my purse, then I don't need the plastic bag. Do it at the grocery, at the bookstore, at 7-11.

And if you're really interested in using a reusable shopping bag, why not support our own with one of these Bazura bags?

Using recycled foil juice packs, the bags are made by a women's coop in the Philippines.

It's no "It Bag" but it gets the job done, and in my opinion, is cute in it's own way.

Sunshiny smoothie

Jamba Juice trumps Starbucks every time.

My drink of choice: Mango-a-go-go. For me, it's not so much a health thing but a taste thing. Cold coffee just does not do it for me. Mangoes, on the other hand, I'll take any way I can.

"Vibrant mangos make your taste buds skip, prance and dance! Sun-ripened mangos contain antioxidants like Vitamin C and Beta Carotene. It also has Vitamin A to help keep your immune system skipping along."

Off to get one now...

My last year as a twenty-something

I'm nine months away from turning 30, which, I imagine, is when the real grown-up stuff starts. But before I get there, I plan to make the most of my last year as a twenty-something.

I plan to get healthy (my running shoes are dusty), pick up a new hobby (will that herb garden ever be?), get involved, recycle religiously, travel a bit, and do something I've never done before. I'm still working out the details.

What would you do?

Fashion

One downside of living far from trendy cities like New York and Los Angeles is that you slowly lose your sense of fashion. Mind you, I was never one who always wore the latest trends, but I liked being around it and appreciated the diverse aesthetics that it provided.

While packing recently for a 4-day trip, I realized that my closet had gotten just so depressingly boring. Over the last years, my regular attire has come down to different combinations of about a half dozen solid-colored t-shirts and 3 pairs of jeans.

Hoping to inject some life into my wardrobe, I hit the local mall. Two hours later, I was empty-handed and very annoyed. I walked out of there with a knitted hoodie zip-up and a black babydoll dress which I bought only because they were ridiculously discounted and I felt the pressure to get something for my efforts.

Two weekends ago, I bought a pair of white Betula sandals and felt sufficiently proud of my fashion forwardness.

Someone help me.

Disclaimer

It just wasn't part of the plan. I always fancied myself as an urban-dweller, living among the hubbub of city life, the sounds, the people, the energy. Now, the only thing that regularly punctures the quiet of my street is the sound of kids playing, or the passing ice cream truck.

And being married to the military--that I certainly did not see coming.

Thus the reluctance, and the growing pains.

But while I missed on the details, the larger themes are in place. I hoped for laughter, some fun, a little adventure, contentment and a quiet happiness when imaging my life. And that I most certainly have.