News Trend Chicago: Doughnut Vault |Actual

What started out asa week's visit to my second-born in Columbus, Ohio,

somehow turned into a road trip to Chicago.

Not only did we squeeze an amazing amount of sightseeing into forty-eight hours,

but we stayed a mere block away from my former office and retraced

the streets and sights of my life in Chicago

all those many years ago.

Hot coffee and a jelly doughnut on a street corner in October. Our best life.

^ If you traipse all the way to the northwest corner of the Loop, march back around the far corner of the enormous Merchandise Mart and loop back underneath its shadow and look for a tiny blue door, you will find yourself in the magical presence of the Doughnut Vault.

This is an old fashioned. I bought it mostly because I thought it was cute.

It's a cozy, teeny tiny gem of a place that was indeed once a vault and now sparkles with a glitzy chandelier and a gilded mirror as it dispenses with over-the-top artisan doughnuts.

I don't even like doughnuts but a quick scroll through the shop's Instagram tags convinced me that I needed to go.

Cheers to that one dollar cup of coffee. I hear it is a treat.

And so we did. The photo ops weren't quite so lovely, since a portable shelter had been erected around that darling blue door in anticipation of winter winds. On the other hand, the cooler temps kept away the crowds that often wind round the block and buy out the days's supply of doughnuts before everyone gets a turn.

Cute blue mini window? Check.

Hand-lettered menu? Also check.

Adorable blue double door with the transom lettered "Enter" in gold?

Hiding behind a tarp. Sigh.

But we were happy to have made the trek, and to munch our sweet treats on the sidewalk as the buildings soared overhead and imagine what other little surprises we might find in our next adventure around town.

My mirror shot captures the whole of the vault; I'm at the coffee and water stand; at the far end

of the shop is the doughnut counter; on the left, the blue doors mark the half way point of the shop.

It's cozy and cute beyond words.

* * * * *

For a real treat, check out these collections of Doughnut Vault pics, much better than mine:

1 | 2 | 3

* * * * *

Read more stories about my long overdue reunion with the city with big shoulders:

The Bean

Italian Village

The Gorilla And The Flamingo

Doughnut Vault

Wells Street Bridge

The Rookery

Flamingo Again

Wabash Arts Corridor

The Berghoff

Glossier Pop-Up

News Trend Forever Family|Actual

Today is a special day.

Not just because we are smack dab in the middle of a perfect Pacific Northwest autumn.

Not just because the leaves are at the peak of fall color.

Not even because these fairy tale mushrooms greeted me along my walking path.

What makes today so special is that Gracie has now lived with us longer than any of her other human families.

First she lived with her dog mom and her human birth mom and her seven roly banyak red siblings in Florida.

Then she lived for about fifteen months on a horse farm in Oregon.

And then she lived with a postman for twelve months in a nearby suburb here in Seattle, Washington.

And while those families loved her, their homes weren't quite right for my girl.

I am forever thankful for the love and care bestowed on her along the way, I am delighted that Gracie eventually came to us and for these past sixteen months we have all settled in together.

This is only the beginning, Gracie. We are your forever family and the fun has just begun.

News Trend My Dog's Collar|Actual

You can't see her but you know she's there.

Teenage girls sitting on the railing of a footbridge as we pass by: "THAT DOG'S COLLAR IS SOOOO CUUUUTE!!"  "OHMYGOSH SHE IS WEARING A GLOW STICK AROUND HER NECK!"

Man in pickup truck, slowing down and leaning out his open window as he approaches us:"Hey, it's my favorite dog!! And she is looking good!"

* * * * *

A week after the change from daylight savings time, I faced the fact that darkness often falls before Gracie and I get our walk in. Rather than subjecting my shaggy dog to danger as we cross dark streets and stroll through the shadows, I decided to buy her a snazzy LED lighted collar.

Safety first.

And apparently, when it comes to dogs wearing lighted collars, popularity comes at a close second. Gracie has been receiving all manner of admiring comments from the people we meet along the way.

Appreciative as I am of the attention and accolades my dog attracts while sporting her new neon necklace, what truly warmed my heart was the girl walking home from volleyball practice who shyly glanced at us, cautiously smiled, and quietly said,

"I like her collar."

News Trend What If|Actual

On our daily walk, Gracie and I rounded a corner and hit the familiar home stretch of our outing.

BAM. This scene flooded my eyes.

Trees, fences, and homes in dark silhouette.

Skies overhead looming with dark, menacing clouds.

But low on the horizon, framed by the darkness, a vibrant pastel burst of late sunset color.

A voice from deep inside me said, This is what it looks like to die.?

At first, I pushed back at my own macabre thoughts. Where on earth had that horrible idea come from?! I quickened my pace  toward home, trying to shake off the cokd fear that suddenly ran like ice through my veins.

As I passed under the towering trees along the final stretch of sidewalk, I reminded myself that as natural as death may be, it?S also quite natural to fear death.

We all do.

Even those of us who put our faith in a higher power and a life hereafter. Death is just big and powerful and mysterious and scary, and I reminded myself that there was no shame in admitting that.

As Gracie and I ducked under our rose trellis and ambled up the front lawn, another idea hit me.

What if death is amazing?

What if that moment of transcendence, when I will slip from my earthly body and pass over into eternity; what if that is the most brilliant and breathtaking thing I will ever do?

What if dying is as beautiful as the scene I?D just seen?

And what if, instead of spending my life fearing death - or at least feeling vaguely uncomfortable about it - what if I looked forward to it with an eager expectation of profound beauty and joy?

What if?

News Trend Thanksgiving Plates |Actual

Another Thanksgiving, another plate of delicious food.

Yesterday, my family and I sat down to a groaning table full of all our favorite feasting foods.

But alas, there were only four of us.

My second-born was tied up with work in Ohio.

And my third-born had her hands full with her class of kindergartners in Gangnam, South Korea.

And while I am of course a little sad to have them so far away on this sweet holiday, I have enjoyed hearing about their celebrations and seeing their plates of food.

^ In the heartland city of Columbus, my daughter whipped up a few of her most favorite dishes and served this edited feast to one of her co-workers. Her friend contributed the buffalo wing dip and baguette. They wolfed down their meal and headed off to Black Friday retail madness.

Across the Pacific in Seoul, my daughter partook of a rudimentary feast at school featuring turkey, mashed potatoes, dressing, all topped with gravy, and a slice of pizza.

She sent me a photo but asked me not to post it. It looked gross, she said.

But there will be another celebration with her friends from church on Saturday and she promised to send me a better photo.

And I look forward to seeing her Thanksgiving plate.

* * * * *

Update: My daughter ended up not going to the church feast; her overworked boyfriend got some unexpected time off so she spent the afternoon with him instead. And she graciously agreed to let her post her holiday school lunch plate instead.

It may be a little basic, but I still think it's a perfectly festive Thanksgiving plate of food.

News Trend Leftover Turkey|Actual

This may look like a plate of mostly unappetizing golden mush to you, or really,

anyone with standard powers of observation. Which is fair enough.

But to me, this is a tasty memory of my daughters' early childhood years

and my journey of mothering.

Our story began this past post-Thanksgiving weekend with a plate full of leftover turkey and a family who was tired of eating it.

Well, technically, it goes back to a plate of leftover turkey from a Thanksgiving back in the 1990s and an old school Better Homes and Garden recipe. You know, the recipes that were printed side by side and front to back so that the page could be ripped out of the magazine, cut in two, and added to your standard BH&G binder-style cookbook. I tried a lot of those recipes back in the day, and one for a turkey tortilla casserole became a standard device for using up leftover turkey and a part of our family post-Thanksgiving traditions. For a time, anyway.

Note the five hole locations provided along the right margin of the page.

This way you can properly punch them for ease of loading into your cookbook binder.

Over the years, this dish fell from favor, and honestly, I forgot all about it. Until yesterday as I was flipping through a treasure trove of old recipes, looking for a different old-time favorite for using up leftover turkey. I never did find that one, which involved spaghetti pasta and a creamy Worcestershire sauce. But my husband looked over my shoulder and asked if I still had the recipe for the leftover turkey recipe with ripped tortillas. Now that is a truly distinctive ingredient and in a flash, I knew the one he meant. An instant later, the nostalgic page was in front of me, and our destiny was cast.

What a classic twentieth century meal. Featuring the aforementioned leftover turkey and ripped corn tortillas, this casserole features just a few bits of vegetables - onion, celery, green chiles - oodles of cheese, and a sauce of Campbell's cream of chicken soup. Such meals have mostly fallen out of favor in the new whole foods millennium but that just adds to the festive feel.

So on Saturday evening, I whipped up a nostalgic batch of this casserole. And with my very first bite, I saw four little blonde girls squeezed in around the table, silverware flashing as they hungrily ate, bites interspersed with squeals and laughter and the usual bedlam. I remember the old blue wallpaper on the dining room walls, their striped dresses and tights and little Mary Janes, crooked pony tails and bright pink cheeks.

Though these are the kind of memories that often stir up a sense of loss in a mature mother's heart, by no means did they make me sad.

Tasting this dish again reminds me of the thousands of dinners I've cooked for my family, the hundreds of recipes I've tried, and the dozens of turkeys whose leftovers I have used up.

Tasting this dish makes me feel like a warrior and a survivor.

Tasting this dish reminds me that I am - and have been for a really long time - a proper mom.

Tasting this dish makes me proud.

And in the end, I am amazed to think of all that came from a plate of leftover turkey.

News Trend Close Encounters Of The First Two Kinds |Actual

Gracie quickly recovered from the highs and lows of her doggy encounters;

now she just wants to have a go at the squirrels.

Yesterday on our usual walk around the neighborhood, Gracie and I experienced two different kinds of close encounters with other dogs.

* * * * *

Close encounter of the first kind:

The wiggly puppy and her people rounded a bend in the lane behind the baseball field and suddenly popped up in front of Gracie and me. We were both a bit taken aback, but the sight of that curly headed golden pup desperately and rather comically trying to gallop toward us on her taut leash put us both at ease. The two dogs met, their bodies loose and relaxed, tails gently swaying with enthusiasm. Both easily stretched their muzzles toward one another, sniffing in mutual delight.

The doodle’s handlers - two young men - also stood calm and relaxed as I cooed my usual line of sweet talk, designed to lull both my dog and the other into a soothing experience. We all stood together for maybe ten seconds enjoying the peaceful interlude. Then with age-old wisdom applicable for both toddlers and dogs. I decided to leave while it was still a party. The humans exchanged pleasantries, and both dogs joyfully turned toward their owners and happily continued along their way.

* * * * *

Close encounters of the second kind:

Not five minutes later, as the lane passes behind the main building of the high school, Gracie and I were again taken by surprise. This dog was off leash, running ten feet ahead of his master. Three things happened simultaneously:

The dog’s owner demanded, “Bogus, come!” in a booming tone of voice that telegraphed anger and concern.

Bogus did not come. He bolted in our direction.

Gracie and I froze in place and waited to see what would happen next.

Bogus rushed up to us, circling around me to appraise Gracie from all angles. His posture was rigid; his steps were stiff and halting. Looking a bit like an overgrown Jack Russell, Bogus stood about as tall as Gracie but weighed considerably less.

The owner finally caught up to us; he continued to scold Bogus in an angry tone of voice but otherwise seemed uncertain of what to do next. Bogus was leaning in toward Gracie; the hackles rising up on his back. I glanced at my dog to see her pulling her head up, turning her muzzle away from Bogus, and glancing at him with a side eye.

It took less than five seconds for my brain to register this barrage of warning signs. Still sweet talking my dog, I directed Gracie one step back from Bogus and then we veered around him and down at footpath to the right. I assume that Bonus’s owner finally got a hand on him while Gracie and I scurried off; I did not look back to watch.

* * * * *

Thankfully, we did not experience a close encounter of the third kind: a full-blown fight. Poor Ranger was attacked three times during his life; once he suffered serious blood loss and almost died.

I have learned that the biggest danger in these close encounters is that I can never predict exactly what will happen when my dog encounters another. Sure, I like to think that I can quickly assess the difference between a wiggly pup and a feisty bad boy. But things happen quickly in these encounters and quite unpredictably. I’ve learned to be careful and whenever possible, to avoid these close encounters altogether.

But since I walk my dog along the busy streets and walkways of a dog-loving suburban community, we will no doubt meet other dogs from time to time. I can only hope that I can keep my wits about me, so that Gracie and I will experience close encounters of only the first two kinds.

"Mom! The squirrels!! Come on, let's go!"