Maeve
Clare
Cleona
Copper
Lucky
Hunter
Penny
Fallon
Flynn
Finan
Fawn
Moriah
Fern
Feather
Robin
* * * * *
My new dog came with an old name.
And while that name is a perfectly fine name, we want to give her a new name to honor her new family and her new life.
So far, we have generated a number of worthy candidates but no clear winner has yet emerged.
For now, I call her Baby or Sweetie. And as you can see, she doesn't seem to mind.
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.
* * * * *
^ At 2 a.M. Seattle time and 34,000 feet, the eastern skyline explodes into new day.
^ There was a day when she was called "the Mistake on the Lake," but seen while dropping down through the clouds over sparkling Lake Erie, Cleveland looks nearly perfect.
^ Touchdown on Buckeye soil. It's a perfect Midwestern summer's day - 75 degrees with a cooling breeze and a hint of fresh green in the air.
A good day to be in Ohio.
* * * * *
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
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.
* * * * *
While I'm busy in Ohio, Seattle is enjoying a patch of unseasonably warm summer days. My cats particularly enjoy the glorious weather, and Verizon has been nearly crippled by the volume of cute cat photos flooding into my phone.
Exhibit A: Sirius simultaneously rubs his back and begs for belly rubs in the back yard.
* * * * *
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
I personally would have opted for the ice cream cone distraction.
A tried-and-true solution to the road trip blues.
A successful entrepreneur who jets around the country as her hipster business explodes, this thirty-something mom was recording an Insta story from the front seat of the car.
Intentionally positioned in the shot behind her was her five-ish year old daughter. She sat still and silent as her mom continued to narrate her story.
Quick-witted and clever and no stranger to snark, the mom was making the point that her daughter was annoying her. They were on the outbound leg of a cross-country trip, and the kid had been asking, "When will we get there?"
Shocking, I know.
Mom continued to drive home her thesis with a series of pointed, unkind remarks: this kid was awful and aggravating. Yet during the video, the little girl simply sat quietly in her car seat, absorbed and thoughtful, and clearly taking in every word her mom was saying.
Ugh.
My hackles rose as I watched this scene unfold. When moms get together and privately gripe about their kids, that's bad enough. Everyone needs to blow off steam now and then, and who better to sympathize than other moms. I get that.
But when busy, working parents who travel for work finally take some time for a family vacation, and use that time to sarcastically complain that their kids are - wait for it - acting like normal kids, I'm not impressed.
So. I decided to send a direct message:
Maybe it's just me but sometimes the jokes about how your kids drive you nuts come off a little too snarky. I'm sure you are a loving mother but that doesn't always come through.
Her response chimed in within a few minutes:
That's okay! Just who I am... I love my kids, but can't change my personality.
Hmm. I resisted the temptation to fire back. But here's what I wanted to say:
Talking smack is not a personality attribute. It's a bad habit and it has no place in a loving home. I don't know what kind of Friends-driven fantasies you have about real life, but people in loving relationships don't talk to each other in put-downs and punch lines. Least of all parents who are attempting raise young children.
So why don't you take the precious time that you have with your babies and use it to show them what a loving, respectful relationship looks like. Talk to them kindly, acknowledge their emotions, and show them positive alternatives to bad habits.
Yeah, in order to accomplish that, you may have to put down your phone from time to time.
Instagram will survive for a few days without you.
^ "After a dip in the kiddie pool, I like to lay out in the sun. Does that work for you?"
^ "Here, Kitty Kitty,"
^ "I will stay here while you cook....but only if I can hold your hand. Um foot."
"I missed you while I was sleeping. Now please cuddle meeeeee."
^ "So you say we're going to take this walk every day? Fine by me."
^ "I think I can learn to like it here."
I had no idea this was going to happen.
I had no idea that I'd get a call on Saturday morning from a neighbor telling me about an Irish Setter who desperately needed a new home.
I had no idea I'd ever consider taking a rescue dog.
I had no idea that my heart, still grieving my sweet Ranger, would tell me to buck up and make room for this new dog.
I had no idea that I would know deep in my bones that this particular dog was meant to be mine.
I had no idea that I would get my family to. Buy into this crazy plan in 24 short hours.
I had no idea that this new dog, who has been through so much change and upheaval in her two and a half years of life, would fall so madly in love with me in a single day.
I had no idea that I was ready to love her back.
But a lot has happened in a very short time. And right now, as a big red dog sleeps peacefully on the floor alongside my bed, I am happy that everything turned out exactly as it did.
This morning, a man named Hau came to build me a new patio. I knew he was coming today, but I didn't know what time.
At 8:30 a.m. our story begins.
Hau: (rings my doorbell)
Me: (eyeballs pop open, flies out of bed, scrambles around for two minutes trying to look presentable and pretend to be wide awake)
Me. (answers door with cheery smile) Good morning, Hau! How are you?
Hau: (as if this were unimaginably preposterous) Did I wake you up?
Hau: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Me: Sorry. I was on the phone. ......................... -_-
My mom used to serve mashed potatoes in this bowl.
Made of stainless steel, the curving sides of this mid-century classic hold its best secret. When everyone else thought the bowl was empty, I knew that some careful spoon work up inside the rim would always yield a few last, hidden bites of deliciousness.Waiting until my impatient herd of brothers had pushed back from the table, and my mother had begun the long process of cleaning up, I held my secret close and hoped no one else would ever discover me.
Mashed potatoes were holiday fare for us, and this bowl only used for special occasions. Since we celebrated most other holidays at my grandparents' home, I associate my mashed potato ritual and this bowl mostly with Christmas. And as anyone who comes from an emotionally difficult family knows, the biggest holiday of the year typically unfolds as a complicated and painful day.
Sometimes, the mashed potatoes grew cold as I waited at the table for an argument to wind down.
Or suffered during the chilly silence of an unhappy meal when my stomach tied itself in knots.
Sometimes the smooth, starchy goodness was exactly what I needed to soothe my troubled little soul;
Other times I simply choked down what I knew was good for me.
One year, everyone in the family got sick except my mom and me; we had all the lovely steak and mashed potatoes for ourselves. Despite the gloomy atmosphere of a sick house on Christmas, I remember feeling happy that year.
All those times are over now. I've let the troubled memories go, just as I eventually carried this bowl to the sink and scrubbed out the last unreachable bits of potato and sent them swirling down the drain.
And now my bowl sits, gleaming and alive, on my family's table where we now like to fill it with fresh fruit. I don't need it to keep my secrets any more.
