Welcome to Chez Wonder. Where we never cease to ask the question, “Why?” Usually to our own detriment.

Boy Wonder. He’s 12! He likes Science and Science and Science. Oh yeah and gum. He’s discovered that girls like him, a LOT. That makes him smile and me laugh; and then I threaten to lock him in his room until he’s 18. His favorite word is “Snarkcastic!” He wants to be an inventor when he grows up. He’s super talented and people always ask me, “Is there anything he can’t do?” I just nod and smile and say, “Yep, he’s a very cool kid.” Because he is. I just wish he’d keep his room clean. Hey, a mother can dream!

 

IZ. This guy is the love of my life. He’s also the Head Chef and COO of Chez Wonder. This is because it’s a proven fact I shouldn’t be in charge of money or things that can ignite. We’re happier this way. He is a self admitted techno-geek and we love him for it. When things go very, very wrong on this blog he’s the first to find a solution. He’s always on my side, but keeps me grounded in the best way possible. He’s a firm believer in beauty and I am thankful for his presence in my life. If I get mushy anywhere on this blog, it will be while writing about IZ. He still makes me weak in the knees. And that, my friends, is a very good thing after 18 years.

Snickers. Miss Snickers is pretty darn smart. She she sits on command, but you have to be feeding her. She’s figured out how to annoy the dog without even swiping. And she’s never met a stranger. She’ll even come when called. Except when she escapes out the front door. There’s no bigger way to lose your dignity than to have to chase a cat around and around and around the house in the middle of the night. You know she’s out there, because you can hear her little tinkling bell. But good luck enticing her inside. Apparently, there is a requisite number of trips around the house before she’s ready to come back inside. The number changes nightly. Anyhow, she is tolerated because everyone in her life adores her except the dog. The dog is reserving judgment.

Miss Sophie. Ok, so this dog, this dog makes me happy and breaks my heart. She’s sweet and loving and for the most part, obedient. She tends to get sick a lot, so she’s developed an expensive “vet habit.” Tsk, tsk. Due to all the meds she abuses, she’s sleepy. She can sleep sitting up; which is what she’s doing in this photo. She doesn’t see so well, so she tends to growl at her own shadow. I can’t help myself, I egg her on, “Kill it, Sophie, Kill it!” She thinks of herself as a “vermin killah” and who am I to burst that dream? The dog and I are delusional. And it works for us.

So, that’s my family. We all live in this farm-house in a sleepy little town on the northern coast of Oregon. It’s scenic and full of history and typical of every small town I’ve ever lived in. 

And me?  I’m a transplanted Californian who will go home, eventually. Until then, this is my life. Evidently.