News Trend Gracie Plays In The Snow|Actual

I still cannot believe my good luck.

The snowmageddon that blanketed Seattle for most of the ten days I was in Seoul held out, and

I arrived home to be greeted by a true winter wonderland. Everything was covered in a deep blanket of snow, and flakes were falling heavy as we pulled into the garage.

^ Gracie, who of course had come to pick me up, immediately leaped from the car and ran willy nilly around the driveway, running her nose deep into the snow, licking up delicious tastes, and generally living her best life.

^ We soon set out on our walk together, with Gracie bounding through the drifts much faster than I could trudge along in my boots. Thankfully, she was patient with me.

^ I was so busy managing my wild dog and her long, frozen leash that I had little time to look around and enjoy the scenery. But when I did, it was breathtaking. I was living my best life too.

^ Though Gracie's senses are always heightened on her walks, the snow brought out even more curiosity and keen observation skills. Every flicker of a bird's wing, every gusting breeze, every call from the kids playing outdoors pinged her radar. I love watching my dog so alert and attentive to the world around her.

^ Over the years, I've enjoyed many a snowstorm with a loyal Irish Setter, but this is the first time I've played in the snow with Gracie. More so than my other dogs, she has quite a fascination with licking the snow, and had her head well buried in this mound of snowy bushes until I called to her.

^ And very much like my other setters, Gracie ends each snowy outing with giant snowballs clumped in her furry paws. It's hard to make out what's what in this photo, but the snowball engulfing each paw was easily five inches in diameter. I used my mom's old trick of dipping each red foot into a pan of warm water to melt off the snow, rather than allow the gargantuan snow balls to melt all over the house.

^ While I enjoy every moment of our wintry adventures, I also admit that I love the long, peaceful naps that my girl takes after a romp in the white stuff. Every minute of the day is special when Gracie plays in the snow.

News Trend Saint Patrick's Day Parade|Actual

"May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face;

the rains fall soft upon your fields

and until we meet again,

may God hold you in the palm of His hand."

-Traditional Gaelic blessing

Yesterday, Gracie and I marched in the Seattle Saint Patrick's Day parade.

We joined a squad of fifteen Irish lads and lassies, along with their assorted humans.

^ We worked a long time to get into perfect position for this group photo. And in the end, the photographer said that he had caught every single dog gazing at the camera. But the photo proves that at the last instant, Gracie swiveled her head around to look for me.

This is why I love her.

^ Gracie was in love with this event. Especially she adored the front-end waiting time, which allowed he ra long lovely time to meet and greet her canine people. And what a joyful sight for me to see her moving through that rolling sea of red wiggly pups, each one as happy and friendly and full of blarney as the next.

The Irish are a cheerful lot.

^ And this was my first celebration of Saint Patrick's Day knowing for sure that Irish blood runs through my veins.

I am not necessarily a parade person. I much prefer a march, in which the issue of the day is the primary player in the spotlight, and I walk in a sea of many who come together to give voice to that cause.

For me, a parade comes perilously close to a performance, and that is surely not my jam.

But this year, I decided to try.

I am definitely not one to dress up in costumes. But in light of my willingness to give this parade scene a go, as well as celebrating my newfound Irish heritage, I challenged myself to put on a headband with a pair of wiggly leprechaun hats.

I stopped short of the "Kiss me, I'm Irish!" t-shirt. Maybe next year.

^ Gracie and I were a picture of minimalist contrast to my friend, Kelly, and her girl, Nala. How do I even begin to describe the extravagant glory of Kelly's head-to-toe emerald green ensemble, or Nala's fluffy and bedazzled tutu? They were adorable and festive beyond words, and continually caught the eye and the admiration of the crowd.

But introverts too have a role to play in a parade. As Gracie and I patrolled along the edge of 4th Avenue, close to the onlookers, I kept my eye out for anyone showing signs of wanting to pet my Irish lady. We stopped dozens of times, Gracie and I, to let little hands and big hands alike smooth her fur, rub her ears, admire her gentle spirit. Quite a few children told me about dogs who were special to them; three told me about dogs they loved who had died.

Among the chaos and celebration, we shared intimate moments with perfect strangers.

And it was beautiful.

We finished the parade and stopped for a well-deserved water break.

Blessed by our morning's adventure, Gracie and I made a silent pact to march again in next year's Saint Patrick's Day parade.

Photo credit to Kelly Woodworth for photos niumber 1, 3 and 4. Thanks, Kelly!

News Trend Patience Is A Virtue|Actual

I spent the weekend emptying every single stick of furniture and scrap of belongings from my entire first floor.

Why, you may ask.

Why indeed.

I?M not moving, if that?S what you?Re thinking.

Quite the opposite

I?M making a dream come true.

When my husband and I first got married, we lived in a lovely, rambling old apartment in Evanston, Illinois, the first suburb north of Chicago. Though our home was in need of an update - and, it turns out, was properly renovated and sold as a condo shortly after we moved out - we loved the crown moldings, the airy rooms, the fireplace, the shutters on the windows, and maybe most of all, the endless hardwood floors.

After two years, when we pulled up our tent stakes and moved to Seattle, we were thrilled to discover how much more house we could get for our money out west. When we viewed this house, where we still live to this day, we loved the similar sense of spaciousness and classic style. But woe unto me, where were those hardwood floors?

To be fair, the hallways and the kitchen areas of our house were hardwood from the get go. But sadly, the family room, living room, library, and dining room were all done up in builder beige carpets.

?Oh, that?S no persoalan,? Perked my real estate agent. ?You can always put in hardwoods.?

And since that moment in May, 1986, I?Ve dreamed of doing exactly that.

And today, thirty-two-and-a-half years later, my dream is finally coming true.

* * * * *

Follow every step of my floor restoration and home reinvention journey:

Patience Is A Virtue

Fresh Experience

Gracie's Socks

News Trend Stories Of My People |Actual

A family of German violinists and pianists farm for a living but live for their music.

Red-headed and freckle-faced Irishmen bury their noses in poetry books and live with their heads in the clouds.

English folk cherish their simple ways and countryside life.

French Canadian prim and proper Catholics enjoy never-ending broods of children and an affinity for genteel ways.

These are the stories I’ve been told about my ancestors. Probably my imagination has embellished the bare facts but over the years quite an colorful portrait of my family has taken shape in my mind, and I’ve wondered exactly how many of these stories of my people are true.

Today, I learned that the answer is probably quite a few. I got the results of my 23 and Me genetic testing and the findings are spot on

++

38% German, strongly affiliated with the region of Bavaria.

37% United Kingdom and Irish, with UK genotypes sprinkles around d England and Scotland, and a dollop of the Irish Counties Limerick and Cork

17% general northwest Europe, which probably reflects the French and Welsh bloodlines that wandered through Canada for several generations.

And here comes a lovely surprise:

2% Swedish. Which explains my passion for snow, forests, and flat box furniture.

++

So now I know that the stories of my people are told in the strains of blood that course through my veins. And while I don’t think that any ancestral heritage or cultural background is better than any other, I am fiercely proud that these stories are mine.

News Trend Gracie's Socks|Actual

"You can move back into your house on Friday," my floor guy told me. "But, for the next three days, until the sealer is completely cured,

no shoes,

no furniture,

no rugs,

and no dogs."

Uh oh. This was going to be a major duduk perkara.

But in a flash, I remembered.

A few months ago, Gracie had gone through a phase of crazy paw-licking. With feverish intensity, she had developed the habit of working over her feet, one at a time, several times a day. In the process, she was creating sizable pools of - dare I say it - muddy drool, which was simply not working for me.

After stripping yet another set of slobbery sheets off my bed and cleaning up a puddle that had soaked all the way through to my mattress, I ranted my displeasure to my fourth-born. As she so often does, she quickly came up with a practical solution.

"Let's put some socks on her feet."

Now, this was not my first paw-licking rodeo. For similar reasons, I'd tried to put socks on each of my three previous setters and each dog had pulled those socks off faster than I could wrestle them on. This experience had taught me that no self-respecting pup would ever tolerate footwear. But I was not about to crush my daughter's ingenuity.

So I said, "Sure. Let's try it."

My daughter immediately set to work sorting through a variety of human footwear and soon came up with some that she thought might work. A few minutes later, Gracie was sporting two pairs of adult-sized striped socks.

To my surprise, she didn't seem to hate them.

However, the socks did not fit her properly, and they quickly slid off her slender feet.

My daughter further analyzed the persoalan and mused, "You know what might fit better? Infant socks."

Now I would have never thought of that in a million years. But my daughter works at Baby Gap and is therefore an infant sock professional.

And she was spot on.

The next day she brought home a two-pack of white infant triple-fold socks and they fit Gracie like a glove. All evening, our dog padded around in her new ensemble as if she'd worn socks her whole life. And all night long, she slept with her paws cozy and swaddled, apparently as happy as can be.

By the next morning, when we slipped them off for her trip out to the back yard and then slid them back on when she returned to the house, the precedent had been set. Gracie wore the socks nonstop for the next few days, and the incessant paw-licking ceased.

After a week, the socks were retired and Gracie returned to her bare-paw ways.

Case closed.

Back in the present moment, the solution to our no-dogs-on-the-fresh-hardwood-floors problem became blindingly clear.

Out came the set of white baby socks, in went her paws, and softly, smoothly, silently, across the fragile floors Gracie padded.

That was two weeks ago. Gracie continues to happily wear her socks, standing patiently as we put them on her multiple times a day, carrying on with the rest of her life as if she'd been wearing socks all along. Not once have we seen her disturb them or make any attempt to take them off.

In fact she seems to like them so much that we've bought Gracie two more sets of socks.

There are the pink ones that she wore for this photo shoot. When Gracie was a newborn, she was identified as the pink pup of the litter, so these seemed a fitting choice.

And then, because what dog doesn't need a set of bulldozer socks, there are these:

* * * * *

Follow every step of my floor restoration and home reinvention journey:

Patience Is A Virtue

Fresh Experience

Gracie's Socks

News Trend March Snow|Actual

The sky filled with low heavy clouds.

Temperatures dropped toward freezing.

Snow fell softly to the ground.

My dog and I went walking.

White lay thin on roofs and trees.

I knew this wouldn't last long.

March snow is fleeting.

I love it just the same.

News Trend Fresh Experience|Actual

"Your [adult] child's life will be filled with fresh experiences. It's good if yours is as well."

-Dr. Margaret Rutherford

I am beginning to understand why many parents, once their nest has emptied, choose to move to a new house.

Beyond the practical need to downsize, there is a natural sense of newness to this period of life.

An awareness of change.

A desire to make life fresh,

to roll with the changes,

to begin again.

Now personally, I have zero desire to move to a new house.

But I do feel the need to reinvent this place I call home, and honestly, after a lifetime of raising kids and wrestling pets, the joint could use some work.

So this past month, our floors have undergone some much-needed repair.

Which means we had to literally move out of the first floor.

New mini desks to replace the big ol' tables that we bought back in the day when we had four desktops in here for our essay-writing daughters. The art remains the same, though I rearranged the white polka dots on the wall from a secara acak orientation to a grid. And that rag rug has since been removed.

I've found it an interesting experiment to empty my house of every stick of furniture, every lock, stock and barrel of artwork, greenery, throw pillows, and knick-knackery, and see it once again as a completely blank slate.

And now, with my floors finally finished, I have begun the equally interesting process of bringing things back in.

After the initial adrenaline rush of actually having a place to sit down to eat, I realized that I was in no rush at all.

Still love this corner of my dining room with a tiny painting, a tinier plant, a chair with an attitude, and my triangle walls. This establishes the light and airy vibe I want for the entire room and that may mean a big change.

So I've been slowly, slowly bringing my house back to life, re-examining  re-assessing and re-inventing as I go.

I find that I want less.

A lot less.

And yes, that means some KonMari karate chops and a lot of tough love as I let go of things I have loved in the past.

No matter what, the couch stays. As well as the Stockholm pillows, the Ofelia throw,

and the cute little dog in socks.

But that's okay. Because life is more interesting when I invite the winds of change into my life, and allow them to literally blow around the furniture. I'm ready for a fresh experience.

* * * * *

Follow every step of my floor restoration and home reinvention journey:

Patience Is A Virtue

Fresh Experience

Gracie's Socks