News Trend Baby Steps|Actual

In the past week, I've finally knocked the travelling dust off my shoes. After two months of nonstop globetrotting, I was nearly bursting with pent-up domestic adrenaline, so ready was I to cook, clean, create or do anything remotely related to feathering my nest.

But as luck would have it, somewhere between the South China Sea and my own front door, a wicked Asian virus of epic proportion struck me down. I hate to admit defeat to a pack of germs, but I have to hand it to this strain. It laid waste to my ambitions and knocked me clean off my feet.

I've spent the last seven days loopy on Nyquil, doing little more than blowing my nose and drooling into my pillow

So, during that first much-anticipated week of my triumphant return, here is the sum total of all my accomplishments.

Mhmm. A potted plant.

Oh, the little clay 70s throwback pot was already hanging there in my kitchen window. That's not new.

But the previous plant living there had died while I was gone and needed replacing.

So yep. I replaced it. Took me the whole darn week.

Though maybe I should confess that I asked for a bit of help.

Sent my husband off to actually buy the plant and fetch it back to the kitchen counter.

Begged my first-born, whose wingspan is several inches longer than mine, to lift the pot off its hanger and set it on the counter where I could reach it.

Later, I called upon her again to rehang the newly planted pot back in its place.

But darned if I didn't handle that repotting task all by myself.

Yep. I yanked out the dead plant, pulled the new one from its plastic pot and pushed it into its new home.

Watered it like a champ.

Then I left the whole mess there for someone else to clean up and collapsed back on the couch for yet another sweaty and dreamless nap.

I'm happy to report that I'm feeling somewhat better now.

My get-up-and-go is slowly returning and I'm finally laying into that list of DIYs that blossomed in my head while I was gone.

And while I'm a tad frustrated by the lost hours of this first week, the sight of this little pot calms me down as it whispers in my ear,

Baby steps.

News Trend No Problems At All|Actual

Oh, it all started so innocently.

Lying in my bed one golden Vietnamese morning, texts from my first-born began to ring in.

Wanna go to a soccer game in Vancouver?

FIFA Women's World Cup.

USA lawan Nigeria.

It's an afternoon match so we can make a quick day trip.

Yes! Of course! Sign me up! That should be no problem at all.

All things seem easy when you are on the opposite side of the planet.

So this week, the day of our trip rolled around.

Well. We planned to leave at noon for the lima p.M. Kickoff. With the drive time calculated as 2.Lima hours, our timetable seemed prudent. But when we actually backed down the driveway at 12:10 and my daughter expressed concern that we were 'late,' I should have taken that as a sign.

I also should have seen the writing on the wall when we caught sight of the first border crossing reader board. Here in western Washington, there are a handful of different ports of entry into Canada so we have options. Since the main checkpoint at the Peace Arch often suffers multi-hour back-ups, the transportation agencies have thoughtfully placed signs on incoming highways to allow travelers to see the wait times at the various crossings, and adjust their travel plans accordingly.

Our first glimpse showed us a 2 hour back up at Peace Arch, and one-hour waits at the smaller stations. Boldly, we headed to Sumas, the easternmost crossing, and congratulated ourselves on our clever tactics.

This giant gold miner loomed over us as we waited to cross. Sadly, he did not prevent a snobby SUV with BC plates from cutting me in line.

And when we ended up waiting for almost 90 minutes to cross in Sumas, well, I should have known my day was cursed. But no, when we finally crossed the border and hopped onto Canada 1, westbound for Vancouver, I assumed that all of my problems were over.

Gorgeous bridge but no time to dilly dally. I've got a Suburban to follow.

We did ride smoothly into the city. I spied a Washington mom at the helm of a Suburban full of teenagers in red, white and blue jerseys; she seemed to know where she was going so I cruised along in her wake, far above posted limits. The kilometers flew by and with still a full hour before game time, we were caught up in the predictable traffic jam outside the stadium.

No duduk perkara, I optimistically reasoned. We are just backed up as we move into the parking lots. Surely this stream of cars is all headed in the same direction, and the police officers directing traffic will shoo us right into a parking place.

Except no. That is not what happened at all. As we reached the head of the back-up, cars wandered off in every direction and we could see no sign of a place to park. Before we could say Bob's your uncle, we were spit out onto a useless side street and found ourselves looking down on the acres of stadium parking, within our sight but far beyond our grasp.

Ugh.

Round and round we went, circling the stadium and her precious parking lots, Time was quickly ticking by. Finally, ignoring our map apps and just using our eyeballs to navigate the best route, we worked our way to Carrall Street and landed on an entrance, only to find a "full" sign, enforced by a parking lot attendant who clearly meant business.

"We're full," she barked unhelpfully as we pulled up.

"Yes, we see that," my daughter patiently replied. "But can you tell us where we might find some open parking?"

Again with the optimism.

Our new friend was blunt. "You're not going to find any parking left in the city. You're too late."

Well. Let me just tell you that our jaws dropped to the floor. As my youngest later remarked, this was how the people in the Titanic must have felt when they went looking for a lifeboat.

And in that the same moment, I felt my eldest's calm break apart like a capsizing ocean liner. With just 20 minutes till kickoff, I made a snap decision.

"Get out," I commanded.

My daughters did not hesitate.

As they scrambled to the curb, I hollered, "Leave me a ticket and turn on your phone. I'll call you when I figure this out."

Under the glaring eye of the parking attendant, I quickly turned the car around, headed back up the street, and took stock of my situation.

I was alone in a car in an unfamiliar city.

My map app was off. So was my cellular data.

The congested downtown streets allowed me no place to pull over to assess my situation.

The hectic pace of traffic compelled me to move further and further away from my destination.

And I was NOT about to miss a soccer game that I had come so far to see.

I imagined showing this photo to a full-on Canadian Mounty  and begging,

"Please help me find my car!"

Well. I carefully proceeded down Carrall Street, my new Ground Zero, making as few turns as possible, till my eyes mercifully fell upon a secara acak parking place on a side street. I pulled in, read the meter, and thrilled to discover I had landed on a two-hour spot.

Then I remembered I had no Canadian coin to feed said meter.

Then I realized I could pay via an app, as noted on the meter.

Then I sat down in the car to fiddle with my phone settings in order to get internet and load said app.

THEN my eyes fell on the handful of Canadian coins that my eldest had thoughtfully brought along.

Hallelujah.

Then I hopped out of the car, loaded two hours' worth of Loonies and Toonies into the meter, gathered my belongings and set on up the street.

Now, for a normal person, remembering where one parks one's car is not usually a big deal.

But I am not a normal person.

I have a bad habit of forgetting. Certainly, I could justify this memory duduk perkara with a long and convincing story about my gift of focusing on the big picture, centering my emotions in the here and now, being present to the moment. But the truth is this simple: I often forget where I put my car.

Burned into my memory forever.

So the gravity of this moment was not lost on me. I shouldered the full responsibility of tracking myself back to this very side street, in the middle of this strange and literally foreign city, and if I lost my daughter's car on the same week that she finally paid the darn thing off, well, she would kill me.

I stopped.

I studied.

I took photos of the car's immediate surroundings. From several angles.

I stepped up to the nearest cross street and I took more photos of the street signs.

And as I made my way back to the stadium, I recorded on my phone a careful list of directions, noting each turn and each street I crossed along the way.

I felt like Magellan, charting my course among the vast unknown. Though I suppose he didn't have as many signs to go by.

And I made it in time to see the game's only goal. Yay, USA!

Sat behind a row of cute little patriots in tutus.

My reward.

Well. I'm happy to say I made it to the stadium without further incident. In a mere twenty minutes, I was squeezing my way down the row of seats to my daughters, who were clearly impressed to see me so soon.

"Did you have any problems?" they asked me.

"Nope," I replied. "No problems at all."

News Trend Comparisons|Actual

During my tenure as a Seattlite, I've enjoyed the views from the top of the Space Needle several times. But never have I ventured to the summit of the significantly taller Columbia Center.

Until this week.

Looking west toward Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains beyond, as a ferry docks at the waterfront and the Ferris wheel goes round and round.

Like a T-bone steak to fish tacos,

From this 902-feet high perch, the Space Needle is dwarfed and Queen Anne is barely a bump.

A football game to a fishing trip.

A bird's eye view of CenturyLink Field - home of of the Seahawks and Sounders - lined up in front of Safeco Field, the home of the Mariners.

Or a Ferrari to a smart car,

This interstate junction is the western terminus of Interstate 90, which runs 3020 miles east to Boston, the longest expressway in the country.

Comparisons between the two experiences are pointless.

Both have a lot to offer and much to enjoy.

Now tiny by comparison, the itty bitty Smith Tower was the tallest building west of the Mississippi from 1914 to 1931. Its observation deck is currently closed, but the minute it opens, I'm going up.

But if you are looking for the most powerful, super-charged 360 views west of the Mississippi, Columbia Center is your go-to. The views from the 73rd floor of the second-tallest building on the West Coast will knock your socks off and boggle your mind.

Another ferry arrives. I could watch them all day.

Like a perfect dozen roses to the Space Needle's handful of wild daisies, Columbia Center is not to be missed.

News Trend Happy Golden Birthday (Part Two - The Photos And Lots Of Commentary)|Actual

So the Golden Birthday gauntlet had been thrown down.

Read more about that here

Twenty four years of my third-born's life to celebrate.

Twenty-five photos to be carefully chosen; one for each year of her life.

Twenty-four hours to post them.

Here are my final selections, in all their chronological glory, along with a few notes about why I chose each one.

24: Taken just a few weeks ago, this is a perfect capture of my daughter's working life. For the fourth summer in a row, she's teaching English to a group of Vietnamese teens who have qualified for a special program called East Meets West. Her year-round students are 7- to 10-year-old city kids, but these East Meets Westers come mostly from the surrounding countryside. Their families are typically poor, but the acara pays for the teens to come stay in Danang for the summer and study full time.

My daughter not only helps teach them, but also invests her time in eating, sightseeing, and just generally hanging out with them. Oh, she poses for pics with them too. Peace signs preferred.

23: For the past two years, I've been lucky enough to buckle on my Birkenstocks and go visit my girl in Vietnam. Last year, she hiked me up to Marble Mountain, a Hindu temple in the hills, where we explored the gardens and sought sanctuary in shady places.

22: Here we stand, mother and daughter, in the peaceful shade of a massive sequoia, deep in the forests of Yosemite National Park. We look so calm and centered, don't we?

But my adrenaline still surges when I berita umum this scene, as the backstory is ever fresh in my mind. Forty eight hours earlier, after spending three months in Malaysia, I had flown directly to Los Angeles. After a six-hour wait, my three elder daughters picked me up in the family van, which they had driven 1163.9 miles south to fetch me. Then we turned east, and drove another 500 miles to collect the fourth sister home from college for the summer. After a whirlwind of packing, we headed back up to Washington, pausing long enough for a day's tour of Yosemite. Toss in a few good sisterly fights and a series of challenging phone calls from my dementia-suffering mother, and you get a much better idea of what's going on in my artfully tilted head.

21: Freshly graduated from college and anxious for her new life to begin, this is my daughter on a suffocatingly hot and restless day at home. I convinced her to come on a photography mission with me in the back streets of our hometown downtown, and ended up taking shots of her against a variety of interesting backgrounds. America's Next Top Model.

20: For the spring quarter of her second year at college, my baby studied in Europe. Prancing across France, Switzerland and Italy, she practiced her French, prowled through cathedrals, pierced her nose, and made precious new friends. And thanks to the magic of Facebook Messenger, I did not worry one little bit.

19: In what is still standing as our last full family camping trip, the seven of us (Ranger counts) headed down to Nevada's Great Basin National Park for a week of hiking, star-gazing, and forced family fun. En route home, we toured Crater Lake National Park in Oregon where my third-born adopted her newly minted favorite pose, as shown. Since then, this has become her iconic photo look, and we have an ever-growing collection of her salute to gorgeous scenery.

18: You see a girl with short hair and a brown coat sitting on a little metal elephant. I see a lifetime of memories.

The brown coat belongs to my second-born, and my mind stirs up volumes of clothes-sharing "discussionsdanquot; that those two enacted over the years.

The short haircut resulted from a regretful highlighting episode, and my ears ring with the agony that ultimately led to chopping off the offending strands.

I loved every minute of my daughter's teenage years. But I will never pretend they were placid.

The elephant, though, conjures up only sweetness. During my daughters' young childhood days, we hung out at the zoo like it was our backyard. It was nothing to go once a week, and we knew every inch of the place. Then the middle years came along, and suddenly, the zoo was no longer cool. Sigh. I marched on with the times, and left those precious days in the past. But lo and behold, something interesting happened when my older girls got to wrapping up high school. The zoo became cool again! So my heart was duly warmed when my girls begged to go back, and these photos of them seated on their old childhood statue friends are a precious reminder that life has many seasons.

17: If Photobooth was not created for teenage girls to kiss themselves, then I can't imagine what it's good for.

16: My daughters were born with the digital age, and they grew up alongside of Magic School Bus computer games, Kiwibox, and the emerging art of the self-portrait. Many a time did I catch my teenage middle two engaged in such a session with the camera, and on some occasions, like this seaside moment in Northern California, I snapped a few shots of them snapping themselves.

Mothers of teenage girls have to amuse themselves somehow.

15: On the way home from a camping trip, we impetuously stopped at Crescent Lake for a swim. The sunny day was just hot enough for the crisp mountain water to feel refreshing, and the whole spontaneous experience was a giant win.

Until, on the way back to the car, I realized I had locked my keys inside.

14: Although she had already been a teen for a full year, the cool jean jacket, on-animo side-swooping bangs, and closed, braces-hiding smile all scream "Welcome to the Teenage Years!"

13: When I began this Golden Birthday project, I knew that my daughter was sensitive about pictures from her early teens. Despite my motherly protestations that she was always adorable, my daughter often cringes over pictures from this era, pointing out what appears to be a chubby tummy, an awkward outfit or a double chin. Well. I still hold to my claim that those are mere photographic illusions, but I brought plenty of caution to my photo selections for this age.

Sorting through a box of secara acak film photos that I discovered in her bedroom, I found this gem and immediately knew it was sure to please. The Pacific fog is magic, the clothes are just right for a camping trip, and those skinny little legs are undeniably adorable.

12: Our kids grew up with kids of all ages, and I'm especially happy that my third- and fourth-borns had plenty of family friends to be their younger brothers and sisters. This trampoline shot shows a happy menagerie of psuedo-siblings and when I first saw it, it awakened in me the reality that my baby girls were growing up.

11: Posing at the north end of the Golden Gate Bridge.

Though our daughters were all born and raised in Seattle, my husband and I both grew up in Great Lakes territory - Ohio and Michigan, to be exact. Over the decades, in order to keep family ties strong, we earmarked virtually of our vacation dollars for return trips to the homeland. When the girls were babies, we flew. But once the youngest was out of diapers, we embarked on a long and glorious tradition of cross-country road trips.

These three-week sagas brought us the best of both worlds. Granted, the middle ten days were devoted to descending with full force upon innocent grandparents, running wild with Midwestern cousins, and going along with whatever the locals planned for us. But thanks to the miracles of road-tripping, we also enjoyed family time for the six of us as we adventured back and forth across the northern tier of the country.

As the years flew by, though, we realized that we had never actually taken a proper family vacation. And perhaps even more shockingly, though my kids could name the exit of every McDonald's along two thousand miles of Interstate 90, they had traveled only east and west. Never once had we ventured south from our corner of the Pacific Northwest, and there were some places we needed to go.

So during this particular summer, we gassed up the car and headed to the great Southwest Desert:

Bryce Canyon National Park

Zion National Park

Four Corners

Grand Canyon National Park

Disneyland

and this lovely day tour of San Francisco all made our must-see list.

As it turned out, this solo family vacation marked the first of many trips to California, Arizona and other parts of the sunny Southwest.

But this visit - the one in which we finally claimed our right to take a family vacation - will always be near and dear to my heart.

10: Sisters on the beach at sunset. And I should probably mention that the orange fleece pullover modeled here on my second-born now serves as my favorite Ranger-walking jacket which I wear about 330 days a year.

9: Tomboy or princess? Easy answer. This girl was the epitome of both. As shown, she could wrestle with sticks, dig holes, and throw stones like any self-respecting boy. But always with her hair styled, earrings in, and a super cute outfit.

8: Oh, I remember this day perfectly. These two had cooked up a wild game of hospital drama, complete with a dying patient whose oxygen tube was held in place by toothpaste, and were only too happy to enact the scene for the camera.

But looking back now, I am transfixed by the changes in my baby girl. Those new big girl teeth and the freshly pierced ears (for which she mounted a three-year campaign) mark a momentous moment in her transformation from little to big. Honestly, I tear up every time I look at this one.

7: She loved that rainbow-striped tee shirt so much that we ended up with two of them. If one was in the laundry, the other was on her back. Life was so simple back then.

6: By the time my fourth-born (on the left) turned two years old, these two were often mistaken for twins. For almost a full decade, their height differential was never more than an inch. They loved to dress alike and clearly shared the same sense of humor. We have many fond memories of this season of life, which is especially hilarious now that they have assumed their adult heights, and our fourth-born "babydanquot; is ironically ten inches taller than her "twin."

5: I love everything about this pic of my wild five-year-old romping in my mom's backyard. The only drawback to this afternoon of great fun was the unending torment of Michigan mosquitoes.

4: I know it's hard to believe that this precious birthday princess could be anything other than perfect, but I'm sorry to say that she was going through a bit of a rough stage.

Sadly, my angel had been unkind to her little friends and I could not in good conscience offer to give her a birthday party. So, in order to find compromise within my torn and tender mother's heart, I planned for her a surprise party. While the big sisters and I set up for the secret event, I sent my birthday girl to spend the morning with her most tormented playmate (on the left.) Thankfully, the girls enjoyed a delightful time together, my four-year-old was thrilled to discover she would have a party after all, and we all had a sweet afternoon.

Tiga: During my third-born's third year of life, she made a special friend named Mrs. Lohr. The Lohr boys were age-mates and play partners with my two older girls, and my newborn fourth-born was but a lump in my front pack, so this lucky little toddler had Mrs. Lohr all to herself. Whatever my girl wanted - piggyback rides around the zoo, an extra strawberry in her bowl, or someone to hold this somewhat frightening baby chick - Mrs. Lohr was always there to provide.

Dua: "Where's my cake?!" So glad that I occasionally wrote direct quotes in my photo albums because those words make this birthday portrait that much more special.

1: Oh. Those big blue eyes, expressive little eyebrows, and ever-ready smile. Babies make me drunk.

0: Here is a undisclosed truth about motherhood that no one ever told me. Birthday are actually for moms.

My children's birth days hold secrets that no one else will ever understand and each year I quietly celebrate those mysteries in the deepest places of my heart. Though twenty-four years have passed between this moment (from the third day of my daughter's life) till now, I remember every detail of her arrival with startling clarity and intense emotion.

Happy Golden Birthday to my adorable third-born girl.

* * * * *

See more of my Golden Birthday stories and photos here:

Part One - An Idea And A Baby Are Born

Part Three - The Idea, Like Helium, Expands

Part Four - More Photos, More Commentary

News Trend Summer Love|Actual

There are endless things to love about summer.

I'm not even going to get into the grandest of summery events, like road trips and outdoor weddings and camping on the beach.

But even the simplest daily rhythms take on a magical air.

Early mornings for pruning the roses.

Brilliant afternoons for long walks with Ranger.

Long evenings to sit outside and watch twilight slowly fall.

And all the delicious foods that taste best in summer:

Cold pasta salad

Grilled steaks

Potato salad

Shish kebab

Cheeseburgers

And best of all, Lord have mercy, fresh fruit.

News Trend Pure Magic|Actual

And what we saw was pure magic.

^ To the southwest lies the Olympic Peninsula, with her tiny triangular purple peaks just barely popping up over the trees.

^ Calm waters reflect a rosy glow of purples and pinks.

^ Seconds later, breezes rearrange the clouds into a tidy half-circle and a sweet new scene is born.

^ The  sun slips behind Whidbey Island and waters turn gold.

^ As it steams away from the dock, the ferry's nose points to snow-covered Mount Baker up near the Canadian border.

^ Distant cloud layers burn in sunset's fire, while a low-lying marine layer deepens to midnight blue.

^ A perfect image of summer in the Pacific Northwest.

Like I said, pure magic.

News Trend Five Stars|Actual

Here's my go-to salad for these hot Seattle summer days.

A bed of mixed greens

sliced strawberries

blueberries

a sprinkle of toasted sunflower seeds and a dollop o poppyseed dressing.

No matter what else the meal holds, as long as I eat this salad, I feel healthy, nutritious, and full of delicious summer.

I highly recommend.