News Trend Pretty Postcards|Actual

Oh, what's this?

Another pretty postcard in the mail today.

From Daughter Number Three.

She and some of her teacher friends took advantage of a few days' break from school for a wee vacation. And knowing that I am a postcard aficionado, she thoughtfully sent several my way.

Looks like she's having a fun time.

Eating

Shopping

Visiting some historical sites

Posting generously to her Instagram stories.

I'm glad she's having a good time.

* * * * *

It's only at this point in my reverie that the truth reaches my brain.

My daughter is vacationing in Tawain.

Taiwan!

A place that five years ago, I would have been hard-pressed to find on a map.

A country that is completely and utterly foreign to me.

An exotic land far away across the Pacific.

And, at least in my imagination,

A mysterious part of the deep and menacing Chinese empire.

But so accustomed have I become to my tiny daughter's globetrotting ways that her spending a week in Taiwan seems like a perfectly ordinary thing to do.

Now my pretty postcards are tiny reminders of my daughter's bold adventures and her courageous spirit.

I'm very proud of her.

News Trend Paved Paradise|Actual

My fourth-born built me a patio.

Pretty cool, right?

To be fair, she had a solid head start. This area of our backyard was already designated as the fire pit zone and lined with a deep bed of river rock.

Which looked nice. But felt none too comfortable on our bare feet.

So when my daughter noticed a heap of flagstone leftover from several other paving projects, she said, "Hey, do you think there's enough rock to redo the fireplace patio?"

And thus an idea was born.

^ The short answer was, no. There were not quite enough stones on hand to do the job. But after an afternoon of laying out what we had, and puzzle piecing those stones into a pleasing configuration, my daughter had a good idea of what we needed.

And the next day we headed to the stone yard for six more stones.

Also loaded up 900 pounds of sand.

^ And that evening, my determined daughter built me a pation.

^Well. She got it all done except for the final top coat of sand. We hosed that into place the next day.

^ In just 48 hours, our new patio went from plan to perfection, and our tender toes, I can promise you, are very happy with the results.

^ Baby, however, still prefers the bushes.

News Trend My New Dog's Name|Actual

As I've spent countless hours these past weeks considering a name for this new dog of mine, my mother, Grace, keeps coming to mind.

My mom loved dogs.

Adored them

Doted on them

Fed them snacks

Took them for walks

And talked to them as most people only talk to their very best friends.

But in her whole life, my mom owned just one dog.

Granted, he was a champ. Hillpoint Shamrock Kelly, the hero of Ore Lake, was the Irish Setter of my childhood and my mother's beloved companion during a very difficult time in her life. He was, as she often said, the dog of dogs and after he died, she never wanted another.

I understood that. Losing a dog you love is a heartbreak that only other dog lovers can understand. It's painful beyond words and we all have that moment of grief where we think, No. This is too much. I was a fool to fall in love with a creature who lives ten years if I'm lucky, And I will never put my heart in harm's way like this again.

But this desperation usually passes.

And we remind ourselves that the joy of a dog's company is worth the pain, and the tears we cry are simply proof of our dog's unquestioning devotion and boundless love.

So when the time is right, we open our hearts to a new dog and life goes happily on.

But not for my mom.

She loved her grand dogs, and often enthusiastically told me stories about good dogs she met here and there.

But she never, ever got another dog.

And that always made me sad for her.

* * * * *

I will be honest. When this new dog came into my life, I was not ready for her. Barely six months had passed since I lost my Ranger and my heart was still full of his memories. I figured I needed another year to made room for a new pup.

But what could I do? Here was a dog - an Irish Setter, for crying out loud - who needed me.  I had no logical reason to turn her down. Still, a fearful voice inside me pleaded, No! This is crazy. I'm not ready for this yet.

And that's when my mom came to my mind. What she reminded me, in a gift straight from heaven, is to not be afraid.

She reminded me to trust.

She reminded me that putting your heart on the line for a big red dog is always worth the risk.

And she encouraged me to take the flying leap into this new dog's life.

So I did.

And now, to remind myself of my mom's gifts, I've given my new dog her name.

Meet Gracie.

News Trend Adorable|Actual

No, but she really is.

What I noticed first were the pop up headlights and faded red paint.  She rumbled throaty and low, rolling up to the stop sign. Though she must have been a glorious 80s muscle car in her day, the old girl was looking beat up and mean.

I noticed the car as I was crossing the opposite side of the intersection. My dog, Gracie, sailed along at my side, alert and observant, far more interested in the people walking up ahead than the traffic.

But my horrified attention was glued to the car.

Dirty windows rolled down.

Country tunes bumping.

A hairy male forearm hanging out the passenger window and holding on to the roof, trucker style.

The shabby old relic blew off the stop line and swerved across the cross walk that Gracie and I had just cleared.

Despite my love of old cars and uexcessive acceleration, I cringed as the beast rolled by. I tried not to listen to the rough, swaggering voices I heard as the two twenty-something men inside shouted over their music.

But suddenly I realized they were talking to me.

Took my mind a moment to sort out their message, but after that split second, I turned to them, smiled, and waved to my newfound friends.

"Your dog's adorable!" is what they had said.

News Trend Missing Mexican Memories|Actual

I'm not a person who usually loses things.

I'm more of a misplacer.

When something turns up missing in my life, I don't get too concerned. Retracing my steps usually solves the persoalan, and if I'm really desperate, I set my husband to task and he makes it his life's ambition to find whatever has been misplaced.

So last June, when I first got back from Mexico and realized my stack of Instax photos had gone rogue, I wasn't worried. But as the days and then weeks passed by and I still couldn't lay a hand on my treasures, I began to sweat.

These babies were not turning up.

My daughters and I could recall the final  moments in our Cabo hotel room, when I had gathered up my photo collection and pondered aloud where I should stash them for the trip home. We easily remembered several different places - the camera bag, a zippered pocket inside my purse, my carry-on - that I had considered for duty. But that's as far as our memories went. No one could recall where I had finally decided to pack them, or could even say with certainty that I had brought them along. It was entirely possible that, in a last-minute rush, I'd accidentally walked off and left my creations for the housekeeping staff.

Which in some ways would be only fair, given all the towel-folding artistry they had given us.

For weeks after returning home, I'd reassured myself that my photos were not lost, only misplaced, and they would sooner or later turn up. But as the weeks turned into months, my hope wore thin and I must admit, I began to question my relentless optimism.

That was just about the time that my first-born pulled out her suitcase and began to pack for her trip to New York.

I was in the kitchen when she came round the corner with her hands behind her back and a big smile on her face.

And now, with my missing Mexican memories returned to me, I can say with confidence that my reputation as a misplacer rather than a loser of things is secure.. And my relentless optimism has been fully restored.

* * * * *

Read more about my trip to Cabo

Letting Go In Mexico

My Fish Taco Challenge

A Royal Journey

Missing Mexican Memories

The Sweet Little Bonito

* * * * *

More stories about my Instax photos:

Surprising Pjoe And Amy

Self-Development

Missing Mexican Memories

Keeping Score

Less Than Perfect

News Trend The Sweet Little Bonito|Actual

The view from our patio at the Pueblo Bonito Blanco on the afternoon that we arrived.

The sea lies just beyond the end of the building and yes, the flamingos are real.

The architecture was a modern mash up of Spanish Colonial with overtones of Santori. The ornate doorways and heavy chandeliers were a bit much for my taste but I was crazy for those open circles at the top of the facade.

Much more to my taste were the clean white walls and sculpted greenery of this canyon that lay between my room and the pool

Round blue domes popped up here and there along the roof line.

Another view of my canyon, featuring the ever-glorious blue sky.

Fierce morning sun blasted the facade with light. Now that's what I call Blanco.

As the sun goes down  on another day in paradise, the flamingos are still wading in their pool.

* * * * *

When my two elder daughters and I decided to make a getaway weekend in Cabo last May, we'd never been there before and knew zero about the place. But after an hour or two of happy Googling, my eldest decided upon the Pueblo Bonito Blanco for our four-night stay.

She chose well.

And after our visit, I was inspired to post a review on the hotel's TripAdvisor laman.

Every word is true:

There are three distinctly different Pueblo Bonito properties in Los Cabos: Sunset Beach sprawls with options, Rose is sexy and lush, but it's little Bonito, where I just spent five nights with my two adult daughters, that is most charming.

More so than the other sites, Bonito is intimately oriented to the ocean; I could see the rock formations and hear the waves crashing from my poolside chair. The pool affords both privacy for families to create their own little niche, and a friendly community where we easily got acquainted with our fellow visitors and formed sweet friendships with the folks we saw day after day. While the waves are a bit much for young children, I felt like I was living in a dream as I swam in the gorgeous waters of Medano Beach. We loved the distinctive Mexican flair of the architecture and the somewhat dated but still darling room decor, the cacti gardens, and the more on-trend public spaces. Though I'm sure the other Los Cabos properties have their devotees, my daughters and i agree that the sweet Bonito has stolen our hearts forever.

Special shout out to Carlos H., who served us poolside on Sunday, May 28. He not only kept us well supplied in food and drinks, but continually topped off our ice bucket, cleaned our area, and anticipated our needs in a hundred little ways. Oh, and not only did he keep us smiling, but I noticed that he was just as attentive and thoughtful to the other people he served as well.

* * * * *

So if you and your loved ones are overcome with a sudden urge to go to Cabo, I encourage you to make it happen.

And do yourself another favor: stay at the sweet little Bonito.

* * * * *

Read more about my trip to Cabo

Letting Go In Mexico

My Fish Taco Challenge

A Royal Journey

Missing Mexican Memories

The Sweet Little Bonito

News Trend An Afternoon In Iowa In Three Stages|Actual

In June of 2017, my husband and I flew to Ohio, loaded up a U-Haul van full of

family treasures, and drove it 2500 miles back across the country.

These are our adventures along the way.

* * * * *

I grew up in Michigan, planted my young adult flag in Illinois, and adopted my husband's native state of Ohio. Accordingly, the Great Lakes states all feel like home to me.

So when we left Cleveland yesterday morning to kick off the westbound leg of this road trip, it was not until we passed through the Great Eastern Hardwood Forest and sailed across the prairies of Illinois that our journey took on a true spirit of adventure.

Oh, what's that you say? You've heard - or maybe convinced your own eyes to believe - that Iowa is boring? Well. If you think that endless rolling hills covered with green ribbons of corn under perfect puffy clouds through pale blue skies lack poetry, I can't help you. And if you find the endless waves of corn that will feed our nation's great livestock herds and bring steaks and bacon to our tables uninteresting, alas.

But I love Iowa. And in one short afternoon, I was reminded why.

^ Crossing the Mighty Mississipp is, in my opinion, the threshold to adventure in the American West. (Pretty sure my hero Thomas Jefferson and his boys, Lewis and Clark would agree.) We passed over this grand lady at the Quad Cities - Rock Island and Moline on the Illinois side; Davenport and Bettendorf in the Iowa bank. The deep, rolling waters reflected the grey skies and the whole effect looked shockingly Pacific Northwestian. But my heart raced with excitement all the same.

^ For the last two years, I've been dreaming about Thunder Bay Grille. We stopped there serendipitously on our 2015 road trip , and while we all enjoyed the ambiance and good service - they even invited Ranger to come join us as we ate on the porch - it was my husband's bison meatloaf and my fourth-born's drunken sirloin that drove the needle from good to great. So with much anticipation, we ordered two plates of the same and held our breath as they were finally delivered to our table. Yes. Definitely as good as we remembered.

^ Sunset at our hotel in Newton. No words can describe the glory of majestic heartland clouds alit with the clear golden light of a fiery sun sinking behind the rolling hills.

And really, no words can accurately capture the slowly mounting excitement that comes from passing through this sweet pastoral landscape on a journey toward the rugged West. There's nothing like an afternoon in Iowa.

* * * * *

Here are all of our adventures from this summer road trip across America:

Off Again

A Journey Through The Sky In Three Stages

Cute Cat Photos

Smiling Faces

An Afternoon In Iowa In Three Stages

A Letter To The Children At The Pool

Say Hello To The Byway

Three Landmarks And A Pass On The Oregon Trail

Road Trip Realities