News Trend Sweetness|Actual

Ranger's new post-walk trick: he stretches on these stones up by the front door to cool off and positions himself so he can drink out of the birdbath at the same time.

"Your dog is so sweet! I mean it. He's such a sweetheart."

I was barely within earshot when the woman approaching me on the sidewalk began her stream of compliments. And looking down at the friendly red fellow wagging along next to me, I couldn't help but agree. Little did this woman know, however, just how right she was.

The day before, Ranger and I had been tailing another pair of walkers, a woman and a small brown and white dog. As we slowly caught up with them, the fluffy pup kept us on his radar: glancing back over his shoulder, slowing his pace to gawk at us, and barking on and off. There was a sharpness to his tone, but given that his head was about ten inches off the sidewalk, neither Ranger or I viewed him as much of a threat.

As the gap between us closed and we came up on the heels of this pair, the woman finally turned around and spoke. "My dog would really like to say hello to your dog. Is that okay?"

Well. Since Ranger was attacked and gravely injured by another dog a few months back, I've been outrageously protective of him and careful about his interactions with unfamiliar dogs. But this little dog hardly seemed dangerous so I said, "Sure." I paused and Ranger stopped beside me. The little dog approached and my gentle giant slowly lowered his head until the two dogs carefully touched noses.

Snap. Snap, SNAP.

Without warning or provocation, the little dog bit Ranger right in the face. Three times. Fast.

Poor startled Ranger swiftly pulled his head out of danger and took three quick steps back, all in one fluid motion. He didn't bark or snarl or snap. He didn't make any forward movement. He remained perfectly silent.

The little dog's owner shrieked in surprise, scooped up her dog as if he were in peril, and assured me, "He's never done anything like that before." Quickly, she walked off, her dog in her arms.

I held Ranger's head in my hands as I gave his face a good looking over for wounds. It wasn't until I got home and found the blood smeared on my wrist that I realized he had a gash on the tip of his ear. Blood crusted in his fur and dripped down onto the grass as I ran to get a cloth to clean him up.

Looking back, the whole incident was just further proof  of Ranger's gentle disposition and peaceful soul. I couldn't be more proud of how my dog has responded to his attackers. I couldn't be more grateful to have such a fine animal as my pet.

And so, when the woman on the sidewalk told me one more time, "I've seen him out walking so many times and he is always so sweet," I smiled at her and nodded. But in my head, I was rhinking, "You just have no idea how truly right you are."

News Trend Worth Every Penny|Actual

Last April, whenTarget launched a new design collaboration with Marimekko, I knew I would have to treat myself to a little something.

Designer collaborations are a thing where fancy pants big name designers dream up some special new products in their classic style that Target then produces on the super cheap and sells to the masses.

And my obsession withFinnish designer Marimekko dates back to the early eighties and a set of pink bedsheets - one flowered and one striped - that literally made me smile every time I put them on my bed.

So after scrolling through a long list of Marimekko products on Target.Com and strolling through the special brick-and-mortar displays, I settled on an iconic Marimekko graphic black and white outdoor rug.

I know. Maybe not the most practical or necessary purchase I ever made in my life. With a price tag in the range of $90, I felt a little guilty about blowing a C-note on a pure frivolity

But then this happened.

^ Ranger, it turns out, LOVES the concept of a Finnish outdoor rug.

In summers past, while his humans worked and played in the backyard, he would anxiously pace back and forth between a shady but secluded napping place under a bush and a sunnier spot with better sight lines that always left him panting and hot.

In short, my boy spent many a summer day feeling stressed, uncomfortable, and unsure of where to park himself.

^ Other sights and scenes from the back patio that Ranger cares less about.

But with our new Marimekko rug, my boy now snoozes in style and comfort, right in the middle of the action.

And while I realize that a hundred dollars is a bit much to spend on what has essentially become a designer dog bed, seeing my good boy Ranger resting easy in these golden days of his life is well worth every penny.

News Trend My Homemade French Toast|Actual

Pancakes, waffles, or French toast?

In the titanic clash of American breakfast carbs, I grew up in a pancake home. My three brothers ate pancakes and Log Cabin syrup like they were going out of style; my mother literally could not flap those jacks fast enough to keep up with my siblings' flying forks.

My appetite was bit more subdued. I never really got on board with the pancakes, but for quite a while, my Michigan winter middle school breakfasts featured a parade of Eggo toaster waffles. Of course, I loved them because they were store bought, in an era when most of us somehow thought store bought was bigger, better and brighter than anything home made. But eventually I realized that Eggos tasted like cardboard, and my easy spread margarine didn't even melt properly in the little squares, and that's where I drew the line.

All this while, my husband was down there in Ohio living the French toast life. Made from proper unsliced French bread and smothered in real butter and proper maple syrup.

I had no idea such things existed.

Once we got married, he got me on board the French toast train and I have never looked back.

Now I'll be the first to admit that hearty breakfasts are not my thing. As a delayed sleep phase sleeper, my body has no interest in morning feasts, and so my early bird husband quickly realized he was not going to get many French toast breakfasts.

So we struck a compromise that has lasted over the ages.

French toast for dinner.

My daughters are all agreed with us. Breakfast for dinner is a concept that works for us, and though we affectionately dabble with pancakes and waffles from time to time, we are hands down a French toast family.

* * * * *

French toast recipes are a dime a dozen and it's not too hard to find one that works.

Far more important is the quality of ingredients. Raising my kids on real butter and true maple syrup is one of the greatest satisfactions of my parenting life - I know that sounds janggal but it's true. As far as the bread goes, there's a mid-price-range store brand loaf of unsliced French bread at my store that has a good crispy crust but that certain cheap squishiness on the inside that takes on holy qualities when sopped with milk and fried up in the griddle.

Also, spices. Everyone has their own ideas about how French toast should be seasoned and there's no point in arguing which is best. Many cooks opt for cinnamon, ginger, or a good hit of sugar. I prefer a generous allotment of freshly grated nutmeg and a pour of real vanilla,and that has become our family standard.

Ingredients:

1 unsliced loaf of French bread, cut into thick slices

6 eggs

1/2 cup milk

1 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1 teaspoon vanilla

Canola oil for cooking

Maple syrup, warmed

Butter at room temperature.

Directions:

1. Slice the bread to the desired thickness - I like a solid inch. Lay the slices out on a baking rack to dry out a bit before cooking.

2. Whisk together the eggs, milk, nutmeg, and vanilla.

3. Working in batches that will fit into your frying pan or griddle, soak the bread in the egg mixture. Use a baking dish just big enough to hold your batch; pour in just enough egg mixture to saturate one side of the bread, then flip the slices over and add more egg mixture. Take care to pace yourself so that your bread and egg mixture will come out more or less even in the end.

4. As the first batch soaks, heat up a pan or griddle to medium high. Add a tablespoon or two of canola, let it heat, then add the bread. Cook it at a heat high enough to get a good golden glow on the bread but not too hot that it burns. On my stove using a cast iron skillet, medium high works well for the first batch, but then I notch it back to medium for the following batches, and add more canola oil as needed. Serve immediately.

* * * * *

Let me say that again: French toast is best served fresh off the stove. Any time spent waiting around creates cold or even worse, soggy specimens, and that is an insult to the dish. The sad truth is that a devoted French toast chef must forgo her own meal to keep cooking as her clientele eats. But here is a special and high guarded industry secret: I save the last batch of golden crisp bread for myself to eat piping hot off my very own plate. And I savor every delicious bite as my family watches in admiration.

A well-deserved finale to the glorious spectacle that is French toast.

* * * * *

Ready for more stories about my most dearly beloved, tried-and-true homemade meals?

My Homemade Lasagna

My Homemade Macaroni and Cheese

My Homemade Spaghetti and Meatballs

My Homemade Grilled Cheese Sandwich

My Homemade Cold Tuna Noodle

My Homemade Beef Stir Fry

My Homemade Beef Stew

My Homemade Parmesan Chicken Nuggets

My Homemade Enchiladas

My Homemade Chicken Salad

My Homemade Cranberry Apple Crisp

My Homemade Pasta Primavera

My Homemade Pad Thai

My Homemade Quiche

My Homemade Potato Salad

My Homemade Cobb Salad

My Homemade French Toast

News Trend Vamos A Mexico!|Actual

Another Streicher daughter is having a landmark birthday this month, so we're off to Cabo to celebrate!

Now, I understand. Visiting a resort town in Mexico is not the same thing as visiting Mexico.

Not by a long shot.

Wrapped in the artificial cocoon of unlimited food and beverages, attentive service, and poolside lounging, my eyes are blind to the true daily life of the Mexican people.

At the same time, there is no denying that:

my first night's dinner of local tequila and lime in my margarita, and catch-of-the-day fish tacos,

the playful half-Spanish half-English banter with my waiter, and

the sweet cooling breezes drifting in off the water where the Pacific Ocean meets the Sea of Cortez,

are all uniquely and soul-satisfyingly Mexican.

So while I'm here in Cabo, two thousand miles south of Seattle in this seaside city awash with dazzling sunlight, I will treat myself to the luxuries laid out for visiting Americans. And I will watch, too, for the glimpses of the genuine hearts of the Mexican people, who are here to watch after me during my stay.

^ Salud to a week-long birthday celebration!

^ A round of appetizers? Yes. They are almost as delicious as the coloruful serapes that decorate the table.

^ Cinnamon sprinkled deep-fried churros were standard fare at every cultural feasting day in my high school Spanish class, and I feel a lovely sense of life coming full circle when I nibble on the genuine article at my Mexican dinner table. Son muy deliciosos.

^ After dinner, we strolled down the steps and across the soft coral sand to stand on la playa where the breakers roll in. Across the way is Land's End, the rock formation that marks the southernmost tip of Baja California Sur

^ Refreshingly cool water tickles my toes, and a brisa fresca blows through my hair and soothes my soul. Shortly after taking this photo, I jumped in for a swim.

* * * * *

Just an hour or two after arriving, I feel the weariness of the long trip south slide away, to be replaced with a simple calm. Not sure if that is just a factor of 24/7 free room service at my fingertips, or if perhaps the Mexican simpatico mindset is already taking hold.

Either way is fine with me.

We've gone to Mexico, and Mexico is a good place to be.

* * * * *

Read all about my latest trip to Mexico

Vamos A Mexico!

Me Gusta Nadar

Bonita En Rosa

El Jardin Me Hace Sonrier

La Comida A Flora Farms

La Mejor Parte

News Trend Up A Tree|Actual

Little Sirius had  not been seen in almost twenty four hours and we were worried sick.

Granted, our tenderhearted tuxedo cat has spent many a summer night outdoors. In his youth, no doubt he led a wild and mysterious life after dark, roaming his territory that consists of our yard, and the two neighbors' yards across the street. But Sirius is getting a bit on in years now  and his habits have changed somewhat. Though he still likes to prowl around during the wee hours in warm weather, he now spends his nights sleeping under the daylilies in our backyard, and certainly we always find him waiting at the back door by dawn. Sirius does not miss many meals.

So when we returned home this afternoon to find him still missing, my daughters decided to mount a search. Wandering around his territorial properties, my fourth let forth a series of fairly cat-like calls, meowing to him as we often do when we call him home.

Within a few minutes, she heard a sweet sound.

Sirius meowed back to her.

With waves of relief and wild surges of adrenaline, two more daughters joined the hunt. As human and cat called back and forth to each other, Daughters Two, Three, and Four followed the sound of our cat's plaintive yeowls to find him, quite literally, up a tree.

Look in the center of this photo. See the sunshine on the trunk of the tree? Now track to the left of the trunk, and that little black blob with pointy ears is our Sirius.

He was high up in a neighbor's tree, standing on a branch and hugging the trunk, about twenty feet above ground.

In an instant, my fourth-born put together a rescue mission. My husband joined the hunt, as did the man in whose backyard this adventure was unfolding, and his son and daughter, ages seven and four.

An extension ladder was produced.

My fourth-born scurried up, and then crossed over to climbing up the tree another five feet or so.

Treats were offered.

Poor Sirius clearly wanted down, but was uncertain how to lower himself down the long sections of trunk between the limbs.

Ideas were brainstormed

Google was searched.

And after several misfires, the team came up with the idea of rigging a rope over a branch above Sirius to raise our cat kennel up and rest it on the branch where Sirius was trapped. Once that was accomplished, my tree-born daughter offered some sweet-talking and more treats in the kennel, and eventually coaxed Sirius inside. Once the door was safely latched, the rope operators on the ground lowered him to terra firma, and the whole group triumphantly brought him home.

A closer shot of a scared kitty up a big tree.

Over the next few hours, I'm happy to report that Sirius ate several meals, allowed his family and neighbor children to fuss enormously over him, purred ecstatically, and slept hard.

We are very happy that he's home again.

And we are also relieved that,at least for now, he has shown absolutely no interest in going back outside.

When he is ready, surely he will venture out. Our cats love spending time outdoors and we feel responsible for allowing them to live their best lives.

But even when he feel ready to head out to our sunny back garden, I suspect it will be quite some time before our Sirius climbs up another tree.

News Trend Morning Sadnesses|Actual

Last night, life was just a bowl of cherries but this morning, I feel kinda sad.

Some mornings, you are jolted abruptly from sleep. And instead of feeling fresh and excited for a new day, you already feel tired and used up. All the trials of yesterday still blaze in your brain; the frustrations and heartaches have only intensified during the night.

That's a situation that calls for immediate action:

A bowl of leftover stir-fry, brought upstairs to be eaten in bed while it's still piping hot.

Moments of peaceful non-thinking  while listening to the gentle deep breaths of a loyal and sleepy dog.

Prayers for wisdom and peace.

And a reminder that these burdens are nothing more or less than a part of life. They will lighten as the sun climbs higher in the sky; they may or may not return tomorrow. And that's okay.

Then you shake off these morning sadnesses and begin the rest of your day.

News Trend Last Day In Danang|Actual

It was our last evening in Vietnam, so my second-born and I decided to celebrate the sunset with one last motorbike adventure around Danang.

We headed up the beach road toward Son Tra, then turned right across the tiny peninsula of land at the north end of the city.  Then it was up and over the biggest of Danang's four bridges, where we crossed the Han River. Midway, we opted to pull over for a view of Danang Bay, where the South China Sea lies strangely to the west.

Our timing was perfect.

^ There on the sidewalk of the busy bridge, we watched as the sun slowly dropped behind the Asian continent. Awestruck by the moment, we silently marveled over how we came to be standing in this spot, so far from home, and drinking in this glory.

^ Later that night, we wrapped up our final outing with one last trip across the illustrious Dragon Bridge, which is festive in its own right.

^ But nothing can compare to the sunset we saw on our last day in Danang.