News Trend Dog Day Walk|Actual

Today is a scorcher. The mercury has climbed north of 90; the sun blazes down with not a cloud in sight to temper its fury. These are the dog days of summer and all the world is lying still.

And yet my good old dog, Ranger  - so skinny now that I have taken to stirring chunks of butter into his evening meals - stamped his foot and threw his pre-walk fit right on schedule today.

At 4:30, he lifted his head, fluffy fur dancing the stream of air from a nearby fan, saw me in the kitchen, and gave me the look. It's time.

At 4:45, he got up and came looking for me, laser eyes on me as I watered in the backyard. Put down the hose and take me.

I was trying to put him off an hour or two  so the sun would be a bit lower and the air a bit cooler. But my spirited  it was not having it.

By 5:00, he resorted to full-blown whining and the antsy back-and-forth footwork that tells me he is desperate to get moving. Now now now now now!!!

So we went.

And while we did opt for our slightly shorter alternate route - which we use when one of us is recuperating or we are in a total pinch for time - my increasingly frail but always determined dog strolled along in fine style. Oh, he was pantting to be sure, his tongue dripping and hisskinnybribs  heaving. But make no mistake; he loved every hot minute of our dog day afternoon walk.

And therefore, so did I.

News Trend Resting|Actual

"Rest when you're weary. Refresh and renew yourself, your body, your mind, your spirit. Then get back to work." -Ralph Marston

Gracie loves a good hotel room. Here she is holed up for the night at our La Quinta in Meridian, Idaho, just outside Boise, on the last night of our trip.

Three days into our family road trip found us overnighting in Fargo, North Dakota. After a late Sunday dinner at a nearby restaurant, my husband and I decided to walk Gracie back to the hotel while Daughters Three and Four returned in the car.

It was a beautiful September evening, the air warm and soft, the dark settling in over the grassy lawns of the business park as Gracie and I strolled down the sidewalk. After detouring to the car to grab a chocolate bar from the cooler (yes, we do keep chocolate in our cooler at all times...Doesn't everyone?), my husband unwrapped the candy as he caught up to me, and I stopped to take a piece.

Now when my 83-pound-dog is adventuring on her 50-foot leash, I pay close attention.  Though she is well-trained to halt in mid-mad-dash, I never overlook the fact that, in an instant, Gracie has the potential to blast off all Usain Bolt style and send me flying like a kite in her walk. When she's on her long leash, I have great reverence for the physics working against my personal safety, and I make it a practice to keep an eye on her at all times.

So before reaching out for that bit of chocolate, I zoomed in on my dog's whereabouts and noted that Gracie was maybe ten feet away from me, paused under a street light, just off the sidewalk on a wide sweep of well-manicured grass. She was looking straight at me, obedient and focused. Feeling confident that she would remain in neutral for the next nanosecond, I leaned in for my treat.

Oh, I could not have been more wrong.

At that very same instant, Gracie bolted. My husband theorizes that she gave chase to some small furry prey in the grass. All I know for sure is that

my arm twanged violently with the runaway rope

my chocolate flew up in the air

my feet stumbled uncontrollably

my brain willed my body to fall into the grass rather than onto the cement

my body spun like a top.

I somersaulted head over heels, landed on my left shoulder, fell over onto my back.

I lay in shock on the warm grass, looking up at the stars.

I slowly pieced together what had just happened.

I was in a lot of pain.

* * * * *

Two days later, finding no relief in biting down on bullets and endless shots of whiskey, I rolled into an urgent care in Midland, Michigan, and met with a doctor. The good news: no broken bones. Only a painfully sore and hyper-extended shoulder muscle.

Rest, he said.

No driving.

No lifting, carrying, or pushing.

Don't do anything that hurts, he said.

If you work for the circus, you'll need to cut out any trapeze work for the rest of the year, he said. Such a jokester.

And for the love of God, no walks with your dog.

Just rest as much as possible.

* * * * *

Three weeks have passed since that fateful night in Fargo.

My shoulder is much improved.

But I still have a way to go until I'm back to normal.

And I'm constantly reminded that one false move can send me right back into the fiery depths of agony.

So I'm following doctor's orders.

I'm going to physical therapy

I'm carefully avoiding any stressful activities.

And I am resting.

* * * * *

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 Leaving|Actual

"Home is behind, the world ahead." -J.R.R. Tolkien.

Snoqualmie Pass is, for my money, the gateway to my home, the edge of my beautiful  and familiar bubble. It's the first of many mountain passes to be climbed on every cross-country journey, and it puts me on the edge of my seat. Every time I head over the pass and out to the world beyond, I feel exactly like Frodo leaving the Shire.

When I lived in the Midwest, starting out on a road trip was a quick and easy affair. Caught up in a web of major interstates and thru ways, I could quickly point myself in any one of several interesting directions, and simply put the pedal to the metal. Within an hour or two, I was crossing state lines and zipping past major cities. Marking my progress was swift and satisfying.

Now I live in the upper left hand corner of the United States. Tucked up here in the remote Pacific Northwest, buffered by the wild, mostly empty lands of Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Utah, Nevada and Oregon, the beginning of a road trip takes on a completely different dimension. Isolated as we are in our PNW bubble, my road trips now begin with the painstaking process of breaking out of our territory and trekking enormous distances on relatively empty highways across huge, sprawling states before connecting with the world beyond.

This long, lonely process is both  sunshine and shadow. It takes patience and tenacity to rack up the miles between major western cities. It's 300 miles due east to Spokane and another 200 to Missoula, or if you'd like to travel southeast, 500 miles to Boise and another 250 to Pocatello.

And none of those cities enjoy much fame as locations of unique culture or character. Unless you're a local PNWer, you've probably never even heard of them, let alone chosen to visit. They are simply hardscrabble midsize towns along the road that can be counted on for clean bathrooms, a hotel that allows pets, and hopefully a Starbucks.

Up over the first of many mountain passes and down the the other side into the arid moonscape of eastern Washington, I find the Columbia River waiting for me at the bottom of the hill. Every time I cross her, I remember learning about the Columbia River in third grade and trying with all my imagination to conjure up a vision of this wild and faraway Western river. Now she looks like home.

But I would not trade this drawn-out process of driving away for anything, In these first long days at the beginning of our road trips, the rumbling tires beneath me and the glorious scenery all around me sing sweetly. I am entirely surrounded with the truth that I live in a beautiful and very special, tucked-away corner of the world. And my heart fills with mounting excitement as I realize that, just for now, I am leaving.

* * * * *

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 My Cuban Home|Actual

^ Welcome to my beautiful Cuban home-away-from-home. Looks like an old Spanish castle, doesn't it?

But technically, this home is not in Cuba at all. Because I was a guest of the Ambassador of Malaysia and stayed here in his official residence, this house stands on Malaysian soil.

^ That fact was hard to grasp when I first climbed out of the car and stood staring in the driveway, the Cuban sun beating down on my jet-lagged brain. Once I stepped inside, the cool entry hall did indeed feel familiarly Malaysian, from the shoes lined up at the door and the portrait of the Prime Minister to the proud display of mini Petronas Towers and lacquered Islamic art.

^  But my goodness, what a gloriously beautiful and enormous house.

The ceilings soar twenty feet high overhead.

Curved arches and doorways echo from room to room.

Intricate moldings and heavy tapestries add layers of ornamentation.

^ The courtyard is straight out of my exotic tropical mansion fantasies, complete with wrought iron railings, a splashing fountain, and all manner of leafy green jungle plants.

^ Most breathtaking of all are the living and dining rooms. Two comfortable seating areas - each one bigger than the average American family room - sit side by side in the living area.

Coffee tables sparkle with coordinating displays of colored gems collected in Cambodia.

Lush red pillows punch up the cream-colored upholstery with satin and gold accents.

Art collected from Vietnam stirs the imagination.

French doors layered with brocade and sheers keep out the pounding sun and open to the terrace and pool.

And a dining room table for eighteen - big as a bowling alley - is crowned with an appropriately gigantic chandelier,

As I tiptoed through the rooms, I felt like a palace intruder. I wondered if it was possible to feel at ease in such a fantastically formal residence. I doubted that this showplace could ever feel like a cozy home.

Then I was called to lunch.

Jom, Makan.

At the far end of that diplomatic dream of a table, near the kitchen door, I found six homespun place mats, one of them clustered with simple serving bowls. Spicy smells of Malay home cooking rose up as everyone came running and slid into their seats.

From the top left, clockwise:

sambal, fried chicken, hard boiled eggs, shrimp and sambal, cucumber slices.

Suddenly, this massive, majestic house didn't feel like a palace or an embassy or a castle at all.

This felt like the friendly home of my newfound Malaysian friends, a place where I could eat nasi with my hands and take second- or even third-helpings of delicious home cooked meals, and sit long after we had finished eating to talk and talk and talk.

And that is exactly what we did.

* * * * *

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 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