Edmonds is dead to me. Seattle is the far side of the moon. My world now runs from Hood Canal to Agate Pass and Hansville to the Tacoma Narrows.

Ferries and bridges? No thank you. God bless you, Kitsap Peninsula … I’m clicking my little red shoes together and staying home.

Why, you ask? I’ll tell you why. I’ve been stranded for the last time. How many of you are members of the left-behind club? You know, the first car in the ferry line, sitting on the dock, watching the boat leave without you.

Of course, we take our chances during commuter runs and summer weekends, but my initiation was a Saturday morning in April. I’d even arrived at the Edmonds dock a full run early, just to make sure I’d catch the return boat I needed. I spent over three hours getting to Lynnwood and back for a 20-minute appointment. From now on, if I can’t find it on our side of the water, I don’t need it.

Sometimes catching a ferry isn’t much better than missing it. Fancy a cup of soup? It’ll cost you about as much as a meal at a Kingston restaurant. If you’re the nervous type, try getting parked on an up-ramp in a car with a manual transmission. However, some of my best stories come from ferry rides, like when I saw a worker who was mopping the floor pause to wipe down a table … with the same mop.

I may make an occasional exception to my no-ferries policy to walk on. Leaving your car at home avoids several problems, not the least of which is a $27 round-trip fare ($35 in the summer). Also, in my case, I’m afraid to leave my car during the crossing because I might forget where it’s parked. Have you ever seen a hapless car owner running around the deck with keys in hand and terror in her eyes as the boat docks? That’s me. At first I play it cool: just taking a stroll around the cars. But when the ramp comes down, it’s full-on panic. So mostly I sit in my vehicle and listen to car alarms.

The bridges are no better than the ferries. A drive to Quilcene for clams was aborted by the Hood Canal Bridge opening for a submarine, resulting in traffic backed up to Poulsbo. I don’t get it. It’s a submarine, right? Dive under the bridge. Realize your destiny. Problem solved.

So we stayed home and dug up horse clams on a Kitsap beach. They made delicious chowder.

And that’s not the only Kitsap compromise we’ve made. When Cirque du Soleil performed just too far away in Seattle, we stayed home and found a male burlesque at The Point Casino. The troupe, which has since performed on America’s Got Talent, had many, um, unique acts, the most memorable of which was a seven-foot-tall man with the body of a god, a teeny Speedo, six-inch heels and enough glitter and feathers to make a showgirl sigh. It was an experience I’ll never forget, no matter how hard I try.

Stick to good old Kitsap, my friends. Our motto here on the peninsula: When you consider the commute, we’re good enough.

— Wendy Tweten, a Kingston resident who never leaves the Kitsap Peninsula, can be reached at wendy@wendytweten.com.