News Trend Protect Our Planet By Eliminating Plastic Food Packaging|Actual

"What are you giving up for Lent?"

That's a common question in these forty days before Easter. And when I ask, nine times out of ten, the answer is chocolate, beer, or social media.

But what if we look at Lent as an opportunity not to just temporarily give up a bad habit but to start a good habit - a habit that makes a difference to people, to the world, to God.

This year for Lent, my goal is to protect our planet. I'm looking for ways to lessen my impact on our mother earth and bring me joy at the same time.

Here is the story of my progress.

* * * * *

Oh, plastic. You are such a blessing and, as I'm reminded on the daily these days, quite a curse.

Among your many useful applications, you are such an inexpensive yet effective way to keep my groceries fresh.

But look. The Chinese recyclists don't want you anymore, and you're clogging up the oceans and really this madness just needs to stop.

And so I am bound and determined to forge ahead without you.

At least I'm taking baby steps in that direction.

Here's a sample of my daily grocery shop. Now, to be fair, this is lighter than usual - the dinner menu  led with veggie-stuffed pita sandwiches and I already had on hand several key ingredients:

Boston lettuce program.

But recycling you is no longer enough for me, plastic. I'm glad to recycle glass and paper but I don't want to deal with you at all any more.

There is no fast and easy way to be rid of you, plastic, but I will keep trying.

* * * * *

Read on about my efforts to help protect our planet

Reusable Shopping Bags

Biodegradable Toothbrushes

Eliminating Plastic Food Packaging

Bar Soap

Glass Food Storage

Stainless Steel Straws

Supporting Innovation

And sadly, my hyacinths came wrapped in not one but two layers of plastic. Sigh.

These days I am trying as much as possible to choose non-plastic packaging. And you better believe I recycle the heck out of everything - glass, paper, and most plastics are accepted in our recycling program.

But recycling you is no longer enough for me, plastic. I'm glad to recycle glass and paper but I don't want to deal with you at all any more.

There is no fast and easy way to be rid of you, plastic, but I will keep trying.

* * * * *

Read on about my efforts to help protect our planet

Reusable Shopping Bags

Biodegradable Toothbrushes

Eliminating Plastic Food Packaging

Bar Soap

Glass Food Storage

Stainless Steel Straws

Supporting Innovation

News Trend Dog-Walking Gloves|Actual

These are my dog-walking gloves. Because I treat my pup to a long 25 foot leash of luxurious semi-freedom, long enough for chasing rabbits, crawling into thickets, and climbing up the stairs of the occasional open door on a school bus, the gloves serve to protect my hands from dirt and debris as I coil up the rope at street crossings and encounters with humans, and they minimize the inevitable rope burns caused by an accelerating beast when she literally reaches the end of her rope.

And during the cooler months of the year, which here in the Pacific Northwest is literally all of them, my gloves give me a comfortable layer of warmth.

The gloves on the left are my old gloves. I've used them for many years and literally thousands of walks. They go back easily to 2010, which puts them in the middle of Ranger's life. The gloves have been on mountain hikes and beach walks, across the United States and back again many times over. Oh, the stories these gloves could tell, if only they could talk.

Of course, they can't. Gloves don't talk but the wear on these babies speaks for itself. Look at how the seams at the bottom of the palms are completely ripped out, and almost every single finger tip was worn through. These tried-and-trues have been past their prime for a good long time, but for purely sentimental reasons, I have hated to give them up.

They have still been sparking plenty of joy for me.

But today, as you may have guessed, is a merk new day. Strolling the aisles of Home Depot around midday, I spied the new, upgraded version of my old friends and impetuously snapped them up. A few hours later at walk time, I wore my new gloves for the very first time and while I confess to a bit of bittersweet nostalgia for my old ones, I also felt a surge of excitement.

I can't wait to see what adventures Gracie and I will have with my new dog-walking gloves.

^ Gracie before our first walk with my new gloves.

^Gracie after our first walk with my new gloves.

To be honest, I don't think she cares whether my gloves have holes or not.

All she knows is that when I put them on my hands, it's time for adventure.

News Trend A Wild Goose Chase|Actual

Yesterday, I was on a mission.

My goal was to track down some hardware for an old picture frame. Here, let me show you what I mean.

^ This is a watercolor I bought at the Ann Arbor Street Art Fair when I was a brand new teenager back in, oh, probably 1974. My mom bought one by the same artist, and this was the first of many paintings and accessories that we bought in matching pairs.

Though we were two different people in many ways, especially during those rebellious days of my youth, my mom and I found common ground in these bright watercolor birds.

Sadly, though, over the years, my art fell into disrepair.

^ To be more precise, it's the frame that has gone kablooey See these two white plastic corner pieces? Their job is to snap into the back of  the DIY metal frame to hold the sides at perfect ninety degree angles.

^ Alas, two of the four corner pieces of my frame have gone missing. I still have the smaller metal pieces that align the front side of the frame. But the plastic pieces that anchor the back side of the frame are long gone.

I discussed my quandary with my frame shop guy who gave me the bad news. This frame is seriously old school and the component parts are no longer readily available. Try a craft store like Michael's or Hobby Lobby, he suggested, or maybe search online.

Done, done and done. But to no avail.

It was later that evening when inspiration struck.

Thrift stores!

If I could stumble upon another DIY metal frame from the same era, I could salvage the parts I need and bring a happy ending to my conundrum.

That was a great idea. But three hours and four thrift stores later, my patience ran out. Inspired though my plan may have been, the thought ran through my head that the entire afternoon had turned into nothing but a wild goose chase.

As that phrase echoed in my mind, I couldn't help but smile.

I remembered a story from the middle days of my mom's journey through Lewy Body Dementia. Despite her best efforts to mask her growing confusion, people who knew Mom well could see that she was struggling and some began to lose confidence in her ability to reason.

One day, my mom was on a mission of her own. She had a silver teapot that needed repair and had tracked down a craftsman who could do the work. With his address in hand and a lifetime of familiarity with the roads in his neck of the woods, she summoned her driver, Amy, and together they set out to find him.

Well, let me say this. Despite the progression of that horrible disease, my mom had a keen sense of direction and an uncanny ability to find her way around. But poor Amy had lost faith in Mom's navigation skills, and apparently decided to disregard her instructions.

Which led to a long, protracted series of wrong turns, retraced steps, and driving in circles. Mom was infuriated by this nonsense and was eventually proved right when Amy finally listened to her directions and soon pulled into the craftsman's driveway.

Mom conducted her business and  in short order, she and Amy were back in the car headed for home.

"Well," the endlessly cheerful Amy chirped, "that turned out to be quite a wild goose chase, didn't it, Grace?!"

And at this point in the narrative, which Mom had on repeat for at least a week, she interjected, "Amy doesn't even know what she's talking about. A 'wild goose chase' means that you never find what you're looking for, but once she stopped her foolishness and did what I told her, we found the address right away.  That was NOT a wild goose chase at all."

I'm smiling again to think of Mom's unshakable confidence in herself and, even in the midst of that terrible disease, how right she actually was.

Her confidence lives on in me. I know I'll eventually figure out a way to secure the corners of my frame. Soon enough, it'll be hanging on the wall once again.

Every time I see it, I'll be reminded over and over again of that day when, much to our surprise, my mom and I bought matching paintings of watercolor birds.

And I will always smile to remember how she taught me the true meaning of a wild goose chase.

* * * * *

To read more stories about my mom's journey through Lewy Body Dementia, go here.

News Trend Gracie And Nala Walking Together|Actual

You can't really tell from this photo, but Gracie on the left outweighs Nala on the right

by about fifty pounds. Gracie is a shaggy bear cub and Nala a sleek little fox,

and walking together they are purely adorable.

Imagine you are driving through an ordinary Pacific Northwest neighborhood, your eyes filled with the usual suburban street scenes of trees and bushes, pavement and fences. Ho hum.

Suddenly you see a dog. Oh sure, there are plenty of interesting and attractive dogs wandering with their people along the way. But this is a red dog.

A very red dog.

Big and shaggy, stepping with a lively rhythm, head down, tail  up, excitement quivering along every inch of that gleaming, vibrant body.

And then. Zoinkies, what's this? You suddenly realize there are actually two dogs, almost identical in coloring and temperament and posture, zipping along on their ultra long leashes, together.

Two very red dogs walking together.

* * * * *

This is the story of Gracie and Nala.

Nala's human is Kelly, the angel who brought Gracie into my life. When Gracie's previous owner realized he could no longer care for her, he contacted Kelly, and Kelly led the efforts to find Gracie a new family. She is the one who brought Gracie to my front door on that very first day of our life together, and I am forever grateful for Kelly.

And since Kelly and Nala live just a few miles away, from time to time, we meet up for walks.

As much as I enjoy the solitude of Gracie's and my usual routine, it's fun to have a human companion, especially one who is such a kindred spirit. Our Irish lassies bond us together, though we have many other common interests and our walks are full of interesting conversation.

But as much as Kelly and I talk and laugh and enjoy each other's company, neither one of us takes our eyes off our dogs for an instant. We are constantly minding the long leashes, navigating intersections, watching for rabbits and squirrels, and admiring our gorgeous girls.

We humans enjoy our time together, but these walks are for Gracie and Nala. And there is nothing that gives me more joy than to see Gracie and Nala walking together.

* * * * *

Would you like to read more about how Gracie came to me?

Surprise!

What's In A Name?

First Trip To The Vet

Red Beauty

Two Weeks In

News Trend Protect Our Planet With Bar Soap|Actual

"What are you giving up for Lent?"

That's a common question in these forty days before Easter. And when I ask, nine times out of ten, the answer is chocolate, beer, or social media.

But what if we look at Lent as an opportunity not to just temporarily give up a bad habit but to start a good habit - a habit that makes a difference to people, to the world, to God.

This year for Lent, my goal is to protect our planet. I'm looking for ways to lessen my impact on our mother earth and bring me joy at the same time.

Here is the story of my progress.

* * * * *

Here's a true confession.

I've always been a fan of bar soap.

^ In my powder room, I keep several options of LUSH on hand. The green is an iteration of what is now called Sea Vegetable, and the gold is my fav LUSH bar soap of all time, Sexy Peel

I think, for a time, that made me out of vogue. Somewhere along the line, maybe in the eighties, body washes and facial cleansers became the new normal. And bar soaps, like my grandmother's fragrant Jergen's beauty bar or Grandpa's Irish Spring, slipped into distant memory.

^ My tried-and-true skin care favorite, Dove Sensitive Skin beauty bars have been front and center in my shower for decades. Though I love to dabble in other cleansers, like the bottleGlossier Milky Jelly to the left, I will always come back to Dove.

Over the decades, I have certainly dabbled in a variety of cleansing products. But nothing says fresh and clean to me like a pure white oval slab of Dove.  I've used the sensitive skin formula not only on my own relatively dry and sensitive skin, but also on my daughters from the very day they were born. Now all grown up and conducting plenty of skin care experiments of their own, they still use Dove.

I even convinced my husband to let go of his long-favored deodorant bars, which leave a nasty scum on my shower walls, and embrace the Dove. He's never looked back.

^ Another beautiful bar of handmade soap alongside my sink upstairs.

LUSH no longer makes this exact product but if I were trying to replicate the smooth,

 sensuous shape and layers of color, I would try this one.

And while Dove feels pure and safe and serene, I feed my wild side for bar soap with artisan soaps from LUSH. I know. They are fairly expensive. But they make a perfect gift, and my daughters keep me supplied in LUSH-ious soaps of all kinds of fabulous colors and scents.

LUSH soaps come wrapped in paper; Dove bars arrive in cardboard boxes. Sometimes multiple units of Dove boxes are held together in a wrapping of clear plastic, but they are still a far more environmentally sound option that the plastic pump bottles and tubs of other face and body cleansers.

In this post-recycling world, where plastic has become a real threat to our planet, choosing relatively plastic-free bar soap is an easy and beautiful choice to make.

* * * * *

Read on about my efforts to help protect our planet

Reusable Shopping Bags

Biodegradable Toothbrushes

Eliminating Plastic Food Packaging

Bar Soap

Glass Food Storage

Stainless Steel Straws

Supporting Innovation

News Trend Chicago: Italian Village|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.

* * * * *

When the Major League Baseball playoffs began on October 4, 2018, I was introduced to a commercial that played dozens of times over the next few weeks. I can't even tell you what product it was attempting to sell, but the music hit me deep in my soul.

When a moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie

That's amore

When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine

That's amore

Now, I am not particularly fond of that old Dean Martin ditty. It kind of annoys me, to be honest.

But every single time I heard those lyrics, I was transported back to the Italian Village restaurant in Chicago.

* * * * *

Way back in the day, when I lived the young professional life in Chicago, I often took swanky lunches. Sometimes we'd go as a client service team, either paying our own way or hoping our high-paid partner would pick up the bill. But more often than not, these were recruit lunches. During the late fall and on through winter, a steady stream of college applicants would flow through our offices, getting a first-hand look at the wonderful world of public accounting. One of the highlights of the day for the recruit was to relax at lunch with a couple of us who were just a few years into our careers, and ask us all the questions that they were not comfortable asking of the higher ups.

Just a half block up Monroe Street from our offices, west of Dearborn, Italian Village was one of my favorite swanky lunch destinations. The service was fast, the food was good. But the decor. The decor was just plain magic and I spent many a meal at this restaurant staring in wonderment around the room.

As the name not so subtly suggests, the dining room was fashioned as an Italian village. But here's the twist; the main part of the floor was set up as though it was the courtyard of an Italian village. Around the perimeter of the room were a series of smaller rooms, with just a table or two inside, that were decorated to look like buildings and balconies around the courtyard. Twinkle lights and street lamps lit up the dark room and its deep blue ceiling; artificial greenery hung here and there, and the effect was purely enchanting.

* * * * *

As I listened to that commercial play over and over again, night after night of the baseball playoffs, I thought about that fantastical restaurant. I hadn't been there for over thirty years. And I wondered, over and over again, when will I ever get a chance to go back to Italian Village?

Little did I know how soon my dream would come true.

On October 25, the third night of the 2018 World Series, I ate dinner at Italian Village

^ On many a cold winter morning as I hiked from the train station to my office, this sign brought me great joy as an indication that I had almost finished my trek and was about to finally get warm again.  And on many a hot summer morning, I was just as excited to get to the air conditioning.

[source]

^ The interior was exactly, perfectly, precisely the same. I was overjoyed.

^I went with the eggplant parmigiana which was always one of my favorites and as far as I can remember, it tasted exactly the same. My daughter's mushroom risotto was also delicious, though we could barely eat even half of these massive portions.

^ This is me with all my Italian Village dreams come true. Everything was perfect.

Just as I'd remembered.

Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling

And you'll sing "Vita belladanquot;

Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay

Like a gay tarantella

* * * * *

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

The Bean

The Gorilla And The Flamingo

Doughnut Vault

Wells Street Bridge

The Rookery

Flamingo Again

Wabash Arts Corridor

The Berghoff

Glossier Pop-Up

News Trend Chicago: Wells Street Bridge|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.

Fueled by doughnuts and ready to take on a busy day of exploring, my daughter and I headed back toward the Loop. We paused, as sightseers and photography enthusiasts often do, on the Franklin Street Bridge to look east.

Perfectly framed by the Chicogo River and two long rows of towers, the double decker bridge charms the eye with a delightful look back into history. The Wells Street Bridge was built in 1922 and now, almost a hundred years later, still dutifully carries a never-ending stream of car traffic on its lower deck, and elevated trains up top.

We stood in the middle of the bridge, whipped by autumn winds, and drank in the scene. As the trains clickety-clacked back and forth over the water, we lifted our various cameras and snapped breathlessly away, hoping against hope that we could somehow capture the magic of this particular moment in time.

A yellow water taxi zoomed downstream. At first, I found the intrusion irritating, a wrinkle in time, disturbing the century-old vibe I was trying to capture. Then I broadened my gaze and laughed at my self. Surely the water taxi couldn't do anything worse than the hulking skyscrapers to remind me of the twenty-first century.

A man stood on the bridge near us, to our right. He smiled at us as he adjusted his tripod, checked his settings and waited for the next L train to shuffle by. My daughter and I traded her DSLR back and forth, pulled Instax cameras out of one pocket as we pushed our cell phones into another, and exchanged small talk with him. Kindred spirits.

After fifteen or twenty minutes, our fingers had iced over and surely we had captured at least a few decent shots out of the dozens we had taken. So we stowed our gear, tucked our hands deep into our pockets, and walked on.

* * * * *

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