News Trend The Gentle Art Of Reframing|Actual

"To reframe, then, means to change the conceptual and/or emotional setting or viewpoint in relation to which a situation is experienced and to place it in another frame which fits the 'facts' of the same concrete situation equally well or even better, and thereby changing its entire meaning."

- Watzlawick, Weakland and Fisch

* * * * *

Me exploring in Nayli's bedroom: Oh, I love your collection of tiny blank books. I'm obsessed too. But I never know what to do with mine. What do you write in yours?

Nayli: Nothing. I don't write in them. I just collect them.

Me: *mind blown*

* * * * *

In an instant, my wise teenage Malaysian-hostess-in-Cuba changed my life.

No longer do I feel a scrap of guilt over my stockpile of unused journals and tiny baby notebooks. They are my collection and I am set free to enjoy them just as they are - empty, pure and clean.

I feel entirely liberated.

And what's more, I can't think of single reason why I shouldn't be adding new treasures to my collection on a regular basis.

So today, I did just that.

Thank you, Nayli, for teaching me the gentle art of reframing.

And thank you, Target, for satisfying my never-ending desire to collect.

* * * * *

For a full tour of Nayli's collections read this:

Nayli's Bedroom

* * * * *

Check out more stories about my once-in-a-lifetime trip to Cuba and my wonderful friends who lived there:

I Will Bake You A Pie

Cuban Makan

Cuban Economics

El Malecon Cloudburst

A La Playa

Creepy Cuban Kudzu

Plaza De La Revolucion

Old Havana

Poolside in Havana

A Cuban Sunset Story

Sunset Chasers, Cuban Edition

The Puppy At The Castle

Old Havana On The Eve Of Fidel's Birthday

An ASEAN Celebration

Nayli's Bedroom

Varadero, Cuba

Winding Down

Dear Cuba

Aqil's Chicken

The Gentle Art Of Reframing

My Cuban Home

Tickled Pink

Full Circle

Chicken Drumsticks

News Trend #onmyplate|Actual

I'm blessed with friends all around the world.

Different races.

Different religions.

Different ways of life.

And though we talk about all kinds of interesting and secara acak things, there is one question that we ask each other more than any other.

"What are you making for dinner?"

I'm fascinated with how curious we are about each other's plates.

And I'm always willing to try to explain how Americans eat.

At least at my house, we eat fresh foods simply prepared. Sometimes the dishes reflect a particular culture - I serve plenty of tacos and spaghetti and stir fry - but often I just buy what's in season, punch it up with a few spices or herbs, and grill it up.

But better than words, let me just show you.

Zucchini roasted in olive oil with black pepper

Fresh red grapes

Tri-tip beef seared medium rare with olive oil and mixed peppers

Sourdough bread grilled with butter

* * * * *

Fresh cantaloupe and blueberries

Boston lettuce and arugula topped with baby carrots, bacon, cucumber, hard-boiled egg, Parmesan cheese and blue cheese dressing

* * * * *

Baby carrots roasted in olive oil with black pepper

Turkey burgers: ground turkey, grated apple, egg, chili powder and paprika, and a dash of Panko bread crumbs

Kale roasted in olive oil with black pepper.

* * * * *

So now you know what's on my plate.

Tell me, what's on yours?

News Trend Dakota Sunshine|Actual

"Just living is not enough...One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower."

-Hans Christian Andersen

Traveling thousands of miles across the country with four full-size humans and eighty-three pounds of big red dog in a Honda CRV is difficult, you might expect.

But it's not.

Gracie is a model traveler.

We stash our bags up in the rooftop carrier so that Gracie has most of the back space for herself, which she sometimes uses to stretch out and sleep but mostly sits up and looks out the rear window, watching the world roll by. She is endlessly entertained.

We lay down a soft bed of old towels and blankets, which she promptly rearranges into her own happy lumps. She has strong opinions about things.

We tuck her water bowl securely into a corner and keep it half full of water, which she tidily sips as we drive along. She can never get enough to drink.

We stop at lots of rest areas and put her on her long leash so she can stretch her legs in the pet zones, which she truly adores. And when she is running through the lush green grass, she is -in a word - adorable.

This evening romp off I-90 in the middle of North Dakota is a perfect case in point.

She'd been cooped up for hours without a complaint, but the moment we invited her out of the car and set her running, she was in pure heaven.

My two younger daughters and I delighted in Gracie's antics, snapping mad pictures as she gallivanted in the grass, making the most of the fresh, cool air and the low evening sun.

To our delight and surprise, we soon realized we were not the only ones.

A young man - probably in his twenties - leaned against his car, watching our girl run.

And as we walked deeper down the length of the pet lawn, we saw him scoot behind the building and slip along the sidewalk closer to where Gracie was playing.

Then he pulled his phone from his pocket, and snapped a few pics of our girl.

My daughters and I pretended not to notice.

But as he slipped the phone back in his pocket, and lingered just a few minutes more to watch my dog play in the Dakota sunshine, I saw him smile.

And I smiled too.

* * * * *

Road Trip 2019: read all about it.

Leaving

Resting

Glacier National Park

Dakota Sunshine

Mackinac Bridge

My Newfound Brother

Fox Trilogy

Cleveland Rocks

Vermilion Legacy

At The Conservatory

Riding To Rifle

Arches National Park: Balanced Rock

Arches National Park: Double Arch

Arches National Park: Devil's Garden Trail

Arches National Park: Park Avenue

Dead Horse Point

Waiting For Breakfast

Canyonlands National Park

Cheeseburgers

Car Keys

News Trend Tickled Pink|Actual

"Your bedroom is all pink," my hostess told me as I set down my suitcase in the front hall. "Go look for it. You'll know it when you see it."

Well. She was so not kidding.

^ As I peeked in the last towering door at the end of the grand second-floor hallway of my Cuban home-away-from-home, I was met with an explosion at the bubble gum factory.

Pink walls and pink brocade, in all their raging 1950s glory. And twin beds, straight off the set of I Love Lucy.

^ A sweet pink chair for primping at the all-white dressing table, which was stocked with slippers, toothpaste, tiny soaps and other luxuries for my stay.

^ Matching pink wing backs guard a huge wardrobe and my private door to the secret balcony where I dried my laundry in the Cuban sunshine.

You better believe I stuffed a towel under that door to keep out las cucarachas . Only two slipped past my defense.

^ Even the bathroom's curtains and walls match the rosy theme, though the fixtures are mercifully pure white.

But my favorite part of the entire blush experience: the long, luxurious, coral-colored brocade drapes and their gorgeous attention to detail.

Every morning that I woke up in this pastel paradise, I pinched myself to believe that it was true. I was truly tickled pink to stay in this beautiful room and felt every bit a princess.

* * * * *

Check out more stories about my once-in-a-lifetime trip to Cuba and my wonderful friends who lived there:

I Will Bake You A Pie

Cuban Makan

Cuban Economics

El Malecon Cloudburst

A La Playa

Creepy Cuban Kudzu

Plaza De La Revolucion

Old Havana

Poolside in Havana

A Cuban Sunset Story

Sunset Chasers, Cuban Edition

The Puppy At The Castle

Old Havana On The Eve Of Fidel's Birthday

An ASEAN Celebration

Nayli's Bedroom

Varadero, Cuba

Winding Down

Dear Cuba

Aqil's Chicken

The Gentle Art Of Reframing

My Cuban Home

Tickled Pink

Full Circle

Chicken Drumsticks

News Trend Gordon Skagit Farm|Actual

My first hint that Gordon Skagit Farm might be something special was when I heard it was called an autumn market.

Not a pumpkin farm. Not a harvest party. But a autumn market.

I am not really a fan of pumpkin farms or harvest parties.

But an autumn market? To me, that sounds natural and unstructured and enticingly real.

So I was intrigued from the get go.

^My daughters and I parked the car and followed the way in, marked out for us with tables, bins and colorful heaps of pumpkins of all shapes and sizes.

The path led us into - you guessed it - a charming outdoor marketplace. Gravel crunched underfoot as I walked to the middle of the courtyard formed by a series of old outbuildings.

^ Inside and outside the outbuildings, sprinkled in fact all over the property, were more rustic displays of gorgeous fall produce.

^ Items ranged from the ordinary

^ to the sublime

^ Every which way I turned my head. The displays grew more fanciful

^ and eclectic.

^ Here and there, significant pieces of fall-inspired art hung tucked among the produce, sometimes in counterpoint to the humble vegetables,

^ other times, riffing off familiar friends.

^ Here's another pumpkin painting hoisted up on the back of this old beast of a flat bed. Which helps show the scale of the artwork. In a word, it's big.

^ The farm's branding features a lean red fox who made appearances here and there around the market.

I am always a fan of fuzzy red animals.

Also capturing my attention and affection: pops of pink blooms.

I am always a fan a pink flowers.

^ As much as I enjoyed the diversity of the displays, my attention drifted always back to the pumpkins:

Stacked in a wonky and knobbly cairn.

^ Balanced by yet another beautiful old barn.

^Piled in pale heaps against the shrubs and ivy.

^ Resting on the radiator of an ancient old farm truck.

* * * * *

^ Beyond the marketplace lay the working fields of the farm, and we were cordially invited to stroll off into the wide open spaces. So we did.

^ We wandered through a corn field cut this way and that with muddy paths. Ambling about as the afternoon sun sunk low, we had no concerns about finding our way out.

^ In fact, as my daughters charged ahead, I took my sweet time, enjoying one hundred percent solitude among the musky cornstalks as the wind rattled their dried tassels up above.

^ Eventually we bushwhacked our way to civilization. Or at least the pumpkin fields. They were a joyous riot of orange bubbles bobbing on a sea of green under low skies.

^ As we walked back toward the market, we watched a family come toward us to explore the fields. Mom and Dad rambled along peaceably while their two boys, ages maybe seven and five, raced down the lane at top speed. Their hair blew wild in the breeze, they sprinted straight toward and through every mud puddle in sight, and they laughed and shrieked at the top of their lungs for the sheer joy of it all.

I smiled at them as they raced past us. I noticed that the parents appeared even happier than their boys, if that was possible.

And I decided that I like autumn markets very much.

Then we gathered up our load of pumpkins and gourds, as well as farm fresh apples, carrots, potatoes leeks, honey, and cider. With our lungs full of fresh October air, we climbed in the car and drove home.

* * * * *

For more information and gorgeous photos of Gordon Skagit Farm, go to their website here.

News Trend Mackinac Bridge|Actual

"Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way." -E.L.Doctorow

Growing up a Michigander, my heart has always burst with pride for my home state.

I mean, come on.

A state shaped like an actual mitten.

Surrounded by not one, not two, but three Great Lakes.

With a vast, wild, and completely separate upper peninsula. Called the UP.

An engineering marvel of a bridge that connects the two bits of land across a stormy confluence.

And the bridge as well as the wild waters below are called Mackinac.*

What a land! What a legacy! What luck fell to me to be born in such a place.

Ironically, I saw little of my home state when I actually lived there. Don't even think I made it halfway up the Lower Peninsula.  But since moving to Seattle and settling down to a long tradition of road trips back and forth between my two homes, the direct route flows through from west to east across the UP, over the Mighty Mac, and down the middle of the Mitten.

And now I've passed through the length and breadth of my home state many times over.

I love every inch of the journey but my favorite five miles is hands-down the bridge.

Massive towers and burly cables overhead.

Wildly swirling waters below.

Views of both pine-studded peninsulas, and turtle-backed Mackinac Island in the distance.

Boats boldly sailing on stiff currents.

And winds sweeping across the waves.

On the day we planned to cross the Mackinac Bridge, our morning's drive from Escanaba was shrouded in fog. Oh, the road was clear enough, but every little peekaboo view to Lake Michigan along the route lay hidden in the white mists.

"It'll burn off by St. Ignace," my husband foretold. He's usually right about these things, so I patiently rode on.

Around noon, we arrived at the north end of the bridge and swung round for a prime view of the bridge.

And this is what we found.

The fog most definitely did not clear.

Even as we drove across her, I saw

No towers or cables

No water below

No land whatsoever

No boats

Not even a hint of wind.

For all I got out of my trip across the Mackinac Bridge, I might as well have been standing in a silent snow field with a pillowcase over my head.

But you know what?

I still love my mitten-shaped state,

her gorgeous Great Lakes,

the magical UP,

and our beautiful, brawny bridge.

I'm always proud to be a Michigander.

Even when the bridge is fogged in.

* * * * *

* It's pronounced MAK-in-aw. Not MAK-in-ack. And it means, roughly, big turtle.

* * * * *

Road Trip 2019: read all about it.

Leaving

Resting

Glacier National Park

Dakota Sunshine

Mackinac Bridge

My Newfound Brother

Fox Trilogy

Cleveland Rocks

Vermilion Legacy

At The Conservatory

Riding To Rifle

Arches National Park: Balanced Rock

Arches National Park: Double Arch

Arches National Park: Devil's Garden Trail

Arches National Park: Park Avenue

Dead Horse Point

Waiting For Breakfast

Canyonlands National Park

Cheeseburgers

Car Keys

News Trend Two Coats Of Paint|Actual

Take your mind off the problems for a moment, and consider all the positive possibilities.

Consider how very much you are able to do. -Ralph Marston

Twenty-four hours ago, these chairs were bright orange.

And I decided that I no longer wanted bright orange lawn chairs.

So I painted them grey.

I know. They aren't grey now, are they.

That's because twelve hours ago, I decided the grey was not happening for me.

So I chose a different color and painted them again. And now I'm happy.

My point is this. When it comes to changing up the color of lawn furniture, the sky's the limit.

All it takes is a few cans of spray paint and a drop cloth in the back yard.

And if the first color doesn't quite suit my fancy, then by all means I can just head back to Home Depot and pick out a new one.

This is life.

Full of choices.

All within my reach.

If  I'm willing to dream and put in a little bit of work.

Granted. I can't change everything in this world. But with imagination and determination, there is almost always something I can do to make life just a little bit better.

Even if it does take two coats of paint.