News Trend An Ordinary Day|Actual

Ranger much prefers to work the natural underbrush at the edge of a forest clearing,

but in a pinch, he'll settle for a few manicured neighborhood shrubs.

Today was an ordinary day.

Today was a momentous day.

For the first time since last Sunday, Ranger went for his daily walk.

* * * * *

We were still in the outbound leg of our ritual adventure when Ranger was attacked by another dog.

The dog was playing off-leash on a soccer field adjacent to our path.

He first encountered Ranger through the chain link fence. They sniffed each other without incident.

Then, ignoring his owner's commands, the dog ran to the exit, passed through the gate and doubled back to meet Ranger face-to-face on our side of the fence.

Without warning or cause, the larger dog jumped up and knocked Ranger to the ground.

He bit at Ranger's rear end many times.

His owner continued to call to him, but he did not obey.

The sounds of this chaos, including my own shouts and screams, were indescribable.

It was a horrible, violent scene.

After what seemed like hours, the owner hauled his dog off.

Ranger jumped up and ran a few paces away.

The man began to apologize to me, but then looked over my shoulder in horror.

Ranger was bleeding profusely.

My first fear was that a major artery had been cut.

But then I remembered his tumor.

Ranger's surgeon has explained to me that the large tumor growing on Ranger's back end is essentially a ball of blood, and if opened up, can result in uncontrollable blood loss and a quick death.

That's why he deemed Ranger's tumor inoperable.

In a flash, I realized that Ranger's tumor had been nicked in the attack and was now pulsing blood at a shocking rate - his back end was already drenched and he stood in a growing puddle of red.

Ranger's eyes met mine in a moment of shared horror. And then I flew into action.

I ripped off my trusty orange fleece jacket and commanded the stunned owner to put pressure on Ranger's rump.

I bent my knee and wedged my leg underneath my poor dog, who was clearly in shock, to hold him upright. He sagged against me. With one calming hand, I petted and soothed him, while my other trembling hand dialed my husband.

Come immediately. I said, strangely calm. This is an emergency. Ranger has been attacked and he is bleeding very badly.

Ranger laid limply across my lap during the drive as I kept pressure on his wounds. I did not expect him to survive.

At the emergency vet clinic, capable women strapped him to a transport board and whisked him away.

Then we waited.

* * * * *

An hour later, a doctor explained the damage. The injuries from the attack are not too bad, she said. But he has a big tumor, she said, which will inevitably lead to his demise.

Yes, I know all about his tumor, I said.

"One option is to euthanize him tonight," she said.

No, I said. Not tonight. We will give him a chance to recover.

"Fair enough," she said. "Then we need to keep him overnight to observe him."

No, I said. He's coming home tonight.

"If that's what you prefer," she said. "Give us a few hours to get him stitched and cleaned up."

* * * * *

So, Sunday evening around ten p.M., we brought Ranger home.

He was weak, wobbly and exhausted. I laid on the floor next to him all night long as his tumor wounds slowly bled into the towels wrapped around his back half.

Things did not look good for Ranger.

But by the next morning, we noticed a change.

Ranger was still sore and spent, but the Irish twinkle in his eye still shined.

I noticed the hint of a spring in his step as he took his rounds in the back yard.

I watched as he quietly monitored the couch traffic, and cautiously made his move up to a coveted cushion when a spot opened up

I took in the familiar perk of his ears at the offer of a treat.

The bleeding eventually subsided.

Over the next few days, his strength and spirit have continued to gradually increase.

* * * * *

I've taken a hundred pictures of Ranger lying on the front lawn after a walk.

And today, I'm thrilled to make it a hundred and one.

Today has been the kind of warm February day that stirs hope in the hearts of winter people everywhere. I'm particularly susceptible to this form of spring fever and this afternoon, I threw open the windows, washed an avalanche of bloodied towels, and vacuumed up the messy rooms where Ranger has been nursed.

In that heady spirit of renewal and rebirth, I came to a certain conclusion. Ranger needs a walk, I decided, even if it's nothing more than a slow sniff around the front yard on the end of his short leash. My fourth born offered to accompany him, and the adventure went so well that they ambled down the street a bit, and came back to lounge a few moments in the sunny front yard.

And while it is hardly up to the standard of our typical afternoon outing, that ten-minute stroll is momentous in its own way.

Because after the events of this week, I am delighted to find that Ranger is having anything that remotely resembles an ordinary day..

News Trend Happy Golden Birthday (Part Three - The Idea, Like Helium, Expands)|Actual

Outtake #1: This is one of my favorite snaps of my fourth-born's life at age one. But really, a mouth full of Corn Chex is not the most flattering look.

Last June, when I rolled out a year-by-year photographic essay for my third-born's Golden Birthday, it was all about necessity being the mother of invention.

She was living it up in Vietnam, I was sitting on my hands in America with precious few options for throwing her a worthy celebration.So I spammed Instagram and Facebook with her pretty face and shared the story of her life.

And while that was my seat-of-the-pants solution for a long-distance birthday, I also discovered that the process was a lot of fun.

Outtake #dua: While I tried to focus my collection on solo shots, the truth is that my fourth-born rarely spent a moment of her childhood alone. Shown here marching up an improvised slip and slide while a small army of older girls wait patiently for her to clear the racetrack, this is the life my baby truly led.

I enjoyed the long, lazy trip down Memory Lane, as I strolled through hard copy photo albums, endless digital archives, and even came upon a cache or two of long forgotten secara acak photos filed away in old-school paper envelopes..

I challenged myself to choose scenes that not only reveal chronological ages and stages, but also capture important events and the developing personality of the birthday girl.

I obsessed over the artsy factor, looking for shots that capture a beautiful scene, that crop and edit themselves into a pleasing square image.

And though this may sound nutty, I loved the rigor of posting those photos hour after hour, around the clock, remembering back to the long hours of labor before the original birthday. My girls each demanded more than twenty four hours of labor from me. They had no qualms about keeping me up all night back then, so it seems entirely fitting to put myself through a sleepless night in commemoration of their births.

Outtake #3: An adorable shot of my third- and fourth-born, with the younger girl cuddling our good dog, Casey. But the scene is also populated by a handful of other kids and the whole effect is cluttery and distracting.

So, after completing the project for my third-born last June, I knew without a doubt that I wanted to repeat the process for the other girls.

As luck would have it, two of the three remaining daughters are also about to celebrate their Golden Birthdays - the year in which they turn the age of the date on which they were born. My fourth-born just hit her gilded milestone last week; my first-born will score hers in May.

And in June, my second-born honors the tenth anniversary of her Golden Birthday, which presents itself as the perfect opportunity for a belated bash.

Outtake #4: A PERFECT shot of Daughters Three (far right) and Four (far left) with their sibling BFFs but uncroppable into a square format. Oh, the amazing snowy memories!

I will have a lot of pictures to post in the next few months.

But I don't mind one little bit.

Outtake #lima: Posting swim suit photos on line without express permission? Always a bad idea.

Oops. Just did it anyway.

It's a small thing I do, this capturing of four young lives well lived.

And it's the very least a mother can do to show her girls how much they are loved.

Outtake #6: A scene from the Christmas tree farm, intended only as a private message to Daughter Number Three in Vietnam. But those smiles are too good to hide forever.

Gohere to see all the photos.

* * * * *

See more of my Golden Birthday stories and photos here:

Part One - An Idea And A Baby Are Born

Part Two - The Photos And Lots Of Commentary

Part Four - More Photos, More Commentary

News Trend Happy Birthday, Heidi|Actual

March 8 was closing in fast. I needed a gift for my dear friend, Heidi's birthday and I was running out of time. For at least a week, my mind raced round in circles, trying to come up with a worthy idea.

Fresh in my memory was her support of my Golden Birthday projects. If you look at the Instagram posts for my fourth-born's recent celebration, you'll note that Heidi promptly commented each one. Instead of words, she tapped in little red balloons - one for each year of my daughter's age in the accompanying photo - and she stuck with it through the whole twenty-four hour marathon.

This is the kind of thing Heidi does.

That is the kind of person Heidi is.

Understated.

Supportive.

Imaginative.

Creative

Inventive

Dedicated.

And cute.

Always cute.

So, as I wracked my brain, trying to come up with a gift to suit such a friend, I wished that I could do a Golden-Birthday style celebration for her as well. But alas, I don't have access to a treasure trove of her photos, and that definitely creates some hurdles.

In lieu of that option, a new idea hit me.

I could sneak into her house and lavishly decorate for her big day.

Yeah, I liked that idea a lot. But as I quickly sorted through the prerequisites of such a plan, I realized the enormity of such a scheme and gave myself a solid reality check.

But as I eased myself back down to reality, a more practical notion popped into my noggin.

I would throw her a virtual celebration.

Every hour on the hour, all birthday long, I would post for Heidi a photo of the party I would like to throw for her. After just an hour or two of puttering around Pinterest, I had gathered up a gold mine of picture-perfect scenes All that was left to do was to wait for the starting gun at midnight, and then I put my plan into action:

1|25  Sleek mylar letter balloons, monocromatic styling and a few pops of adorable bokeh. A perfect kickstart to the celebration, I posted this one at the beginning of Heidi's big day.

2|25  I think of Heidi as a highly sensory person, and this room full of brightly colored, larger-than-life swirly paper shapes - which I can just see spinning and twirling in the breeze when all those windows are opened - struck me as a place where she would very much like to be.

3|25  Strangely, the first thing I noticed about this photo is the white banner which almost disappears into the white wall. Love the texture and subtlety of that look, and I think Heidi would too. Three darling little blonde girls in party hats and pretty dresses add a whole 'nother layer of charm; the cuties on the left and right strike me as tiny versions of Heidi's two grown-up daughters.

4|25  If I were throwing a real party for Heidi, I would have set up an area like this one, only the photo displays would have started out empty. Then, throughout the gala, I would have sent someone around with a camera to take instant photos, and then used the photos to fill in these frames over the course of the day. Instant decor. Instant souvenirs.

5|25 Pom-poms, balloons, garlands, lacy tablecloth and frilly tutus. The textural story here sets my heart beating fast, and the dreamy colors remind me of Heidi's seaside-colored home.

6|25 Polka dots and balloon animals represent Heidi's carefree, child-like mindset and I love how this scene captures that feel with grown-up style

7|25 Okay, watercolor garlands are one of my obsessions, so that part of the scene is on me. But Heidi has a longstanding tradition of celebrating her family's birthdays by peppering the walls of their home with tiny signs that show of the digits of the birthday person's new age. This big and bold 5 reminds me of that fabulous tradition.

8|25  Years ago, my then-teenage third-born daughter went to a Mika concert. Afterwards, she told me that she had run into Heidi at the show; when the lights came up, my daughter had helped Heidi gather up handfuls of the confetti that had just showered down over the crowd as part of the closing song. That is such a fantastically Heidi thing to do, and I celebrate that memory every time I see airborne confetti.

9|25  Garlands on garlands on garlands. As far as I'm concerned, you can never have too many garlands and I think Heidi shares that sentiment...

10|25  ...unless it's a party after dark. And then twinkle lights, votive candles, and a few giant pops of color are the ideal scene-stealers.

11|25  Heidi is not so much the type to normally go in for cutesy themed party decor or pastel pom-poms, but I think that if she was throwing a bash for a six-year-old cat fanatic, she might choose something just like this.

12|25  Back in the day, in a literature class that we taught together, Heidi and I read with our students a book called The Twenty-One Balloons . A fanciful story of travel, discovery, and imaginative inventions, we all enjoyed the experience of transporting ourselves to a magical land. These balloons took me right back to those adventuresome days.

13|25 This banner - look closely; you'll see the string connecting the letter - is just the kind of simple paper construction that both Heidi and I love to create. I hope she forgets all about this photo by her next birthday because seriously, I want to make this for her.

14|25  Or maybe I'll make this one. Or both. Heidi is the kind of person who wouldn't mind getting two birthday banners.

15|25 Every birthday banner - big or small, bright or bold, fancy or plain - is a good banner.

16|25. This display seems to be set up out-of-doors, on a porch or a deck, perhaps; definitely against an exterior wall. Upon seeing this for the first time, half of my brain scoffed at the absurdity of creating such a lavish lay-out in the soggy Pacific Northwest; the other part of me obsessed over how perfectly this arrangement would work on Heidi's front porch.

17|25  No question that Heidi loves tacos and the fine traditions of the American Southwest. But I chose this scene, with its horribly pun-ny sign, for her husband, Scott.

18|25  The simple strategy of using pale balloons taped to the wall to mimic a champagne toast strikes me as pure Heidi.

19|25  Another paper creation that is right up Heidi's alley; I'm pretty sure she owns a foamy headband that boasts a row of almost identical candles that is often used for birthday selfies. Also pretty sure I've seen her dog wearing it on her very own birthday.

20|25  Another husband-inspired idea. Hey Scott, I'm pretty sure a row of empty beer bottles along the deck railing, stuffed with twinkle lights, would earn you some major points with your wife. You're welcome.

21|25  I love the clean, simple lines of this cake on its sleek white pedestal, contrasted with the exuberance of infinite sprinkles. Pure Heidi.

22|25  Heidi and I are both winter babies, and I'm guessing that, like me, she often dreams of a birthday dinner celebrated outside on a warm summer evening.

23|25  Heidi has taught me that sometimes, a smaller, simpler version of a classic extravagance is all the more tempting for its tininess. This precious cookie-cake strikes me as a perfect case in point.

24|25  Simple joys, like sun-swept rooms and balloons within reach for the little ones, are the kind of things that Heidi loves best.

25|25  One of my favorite things about Heidi is that she wastes little time on the vanities of life. Each passing year is not measured in wrinkles, troubles, or aches and pains. Instead, she views life as an endlessly interesting and mysterious journey, and that's just one more reason that I'm happy to be traveling alongside her.

* * * * *

I loved celebrating my friend's birthday in this way and I thoroughly enjoyed running the race against time to get all my pictures posted.

But for the ultimate cerebration-worthy photo, I pass the baton to Heidi's fourth-born who posted this sweet mother-daughter shot.

True birthday joy cannot be measured in streamers, balloons, cakes, or even confetti. It's the people who make our lives worth living. and as Heidi crosses the finish line on another year, I wish her nothing but more love and togetherness in the year ahead.

News Trend Beauty's Where You Find It|Actual

Beauty has been on my mind lately.

* * * * *

I know of two women who died this week.

Both were considered beautiful by cultural standards - wide eyes, big smiles and slim stature - both were still young and at the height of their physical power.

One was cut down in a moment - she died an accidental death with her beauty intact.

The other wasted away at the hands of cancer, and was worn to a mere thread of her former glory by the time she blessedly passed.

And while it may seem natural to pity the woman who suffered before she died, I can't help but believe that her illness brought out a kind of beauty that runs far deeper than symmetrical facial features and silky hair. I've seen a few photos of her last days and rather than being repulsed by her sunken eyes, bald head and skeletal frame, I see a deeper, transcendent beauty in her eyes that expands my definition of what it means to be beautiful.

* * * * *

I was raised by a woman who never spoke of beauty.

To the best of my memory, my mother didn't talk about my looks. She might have mentioned that my dress looked nice or she liked my new haircut. But she never told me that I was cute or pretty or beautiful, even though I'm sure she thought I was. So I grew up assuming there was something wrong with the way I looked. Maybe I wasn't straight-up ugly but certainly I must be unattractive or at least plain.

Once I survived the turbulence of adolescence and got myself settled into young adulthood, I realized my looks were fine. But it wasn't until I hit my late twenties that I pieced together the reasons for my mom's inability to compliment me..

My mom never thought of herself as beautiful. She hated the way she looked.

And her mother before her carried the same shame.

I was born to a line of women who could not see their own beauty and could not speak of the beauty of their own flesh and blood. Feeling sadness and pity for their pain, I decided that I would be the generation to break that chain. I choose to see beauty in myself and my daughters, as well as my mother and grandmother.

* * * * *

Here in the Pacific Northwest, spring is quietly tiptoeing in. Though I always look forward to the dazzling cherry trees of mid-April and the exuberant peony season of late May, these early days of the new season are dearest to my heart.

One bold daffodil pushing up out of the earth.

Small bumps of leaf buds swelling the tips of tree branches.

Fresh rain that falls not with the icy chill of winter but the sweet promise of warmer days to come.

There is beauty not just in the lush celebration of spring but also first hints of new life.

* * * * *

Ranger's been feeling much better this week. After his attack and some serious injuries to his unfortunate tumors, his heart also needed some time to mend. Quiet and withdrawn for the first few days, he has bounced back nicely. Once again, with twinkly eyes and sassy stomping feet, he began reminding me of our daily walk time just like always. My handsome Irishman seemed to be back on track.

Until I put him into the car. Nine days after the attack, I took Ranger out to the garage. I opened the side door of the van and he readily hopped up. But instead of settling into the middle seat as he has done all his life - and where he sat on that horrible ride to the emergency clinic - he took an odd detour to the far back seat. And within a heartbeat, he let loose with the most unholy noise I've ever heard him make.

My fourth-born described it as a screaming seal. I recognized it as pure primal distress.

Ranger let out a series of maybe ten such yelps before I could get my hands on him to pet and soothe. Once I stroked him for a few seconds, he seemed calmer so I turned around to settle myself into the middle seat. The cries started up again, just as heart-wrenching as before.

This time, I used one hand to rub the closest fluffy red ear while I pulled on his leash to guide him off the back seat, up to the middle seat, and onto my lap. My trembling boy climbed up willingly and settled himself across my legs where he stayed, quiet and calm, for the rest of our drive.

My guess is that sitting inside the car reminded Ranger of his harrowing trip to the emergency vet. Maybe he was actually remembering my anxiety rather than his own pain but there's no doubt that Ranger experienced an ugly recollection when he found himself back in that car. And nothing but my physical contact could soothe his anguish and restore his peace.

The ugly scars on my dog's body are slowly healing. And likewise, I see that in the hurt places of his soul, a beautiful new trust in me has grown to fill in the wounds.

* * * * *

My final word on beauty goes to Madonna.

Two months after my first daughter was born, at a time when my postpartum self felt dreamily happy but not particularly beautiful, I danced before an audience for the first and only time (so far) in my life. The song was Madonna's Vogue and for our performance, the six of us were encouraged to go all out with dramatic hair and make-up. Holding nothing back, I smoldered my eyes in smoky shadow, lengthened my lashes with impossible layers of mascara, and let loose my usual pony-tailed hair into a long curly mane.

I was transformed.

I danced with wild abandon.

And I felt insanely beautiful.

To this day, every time I hear that song, the lyrics speak truth into my soul once again.

Beauty's where you find it.

News Trend Decorating Advice|Actual

^ This room has seen more trades over the last two months than New York Stock Exchange.

^ The art over the fireplace was recently kicked out of my bedroom and needed a big place to live.

^ Overgrowing its home in the family room, the philodendron in its jute basket got dumped on this table last weekend.

^Trusty old standards, the natural canvas pillows have been a fixture in this room forever.

The botanical bird pillows have been drifting around the house for years, never quite finding a place to belong.

I've been thinking about buying these black and white IKEA Stockholm pillows forever, and when I saw they were about to go out of stock, finally succumbed to the urge. Once I got them in the house, I realized I had no idea where to use them, so I just dropped them down on the couch for the time being.

^ The line-up of  plants against the window has shifted and changed all winter long, as healthy specimens are carried off to other corners of the house, and sun-starved sicklings are brought in to recuperate.

* * * * *

The best decorating advice I've ever heard is this:

Don't worry about trying to buy things that match. Just buy what you love and trust that all your pieces will effortlessly flow into a cohesive look.

My living room has surprised me as a perfect case in point. Since stripping away the Christmas cheer, this space has been left to flounder. I've raided most of the colorful pieces for other rooms and used this room as a dumping ground for other homeless objects. Basically, it's been a catchall junkyard for things I like but don't quite know what to do with.

Imagine my astonishment when running up the stairs yesterday with an armload of laundry, I glanced into the room and noticed not a cacophony of castoffs but a symphony of style. Somehow, all the secara acak odds and ends have come together and I, for one, am digging the look.

Buy what you love. Trust in the flow.

I don't put much stock in most decorating advice, but believe me, this trick of the trade is right on.

News Trend No Day But Today, Bookcase Edition|Actual

Last week, I walked in my bedroom, took one look at my bookcase stuffed with children's picture books, and said, No day but today.

For years, I've been thinking and rethinking a way to keep my treasured collection at close hand while still bearing in mind that I ain't readingGoodnight Moon all that often these days. I'd really like to use this bookcase to store things a tad more relevant to my present life

So, even though I still didn't have a plan, I decided that today was the day to just start yanking books off the shelves and see what might happen.

Here's how the transformation is coming along:

At long last, I came up with a solution to the agonizing tug-of-war over what to do with my books. Considering my two options one last time, to either allow them to continue to monopolize my bedroom or store them somewhere else until the grandchildren show up, I realized that neither extreme made sense to me.

So, as I often do when I'm stuck between two opposite options, I came up with a third choice that falls somewhere in the middle.

In this case, that means I'm decided to devote half of my bookcase to our most favorite children's books, chucking them into baskets to soften their visual clutter. The other half will be vacationing on my garage storage shelves until they are called back into active duty.

And now half of the shelves are opened up for new use.

Let's be honest. We all know that I'm going to arrange and rearrange this space with infinite abandon. I have a well-documented and longstanding bookcase styling obsession and this prime real estate is going to keep me busy for a long time.

(In fact, I'll confess that pretty everything you see here has been changed up since I took these photos thirty-six hours ago. Oops.)

So while I offer very little in the way of guarantees about this project, it's a safe bet that books - more books! - will be primary players in any and all new arrangements.

With no apologies, I've made several rounds of my favorite second-hand shops to gather up some new treasures. Undoubtedly, some will probably drift off to other areas of the house, but for now, here are some new dwellers for my bedroom bookcase.

^ Here's a little gem entitled,Off The Wall, which features wacky fashion shoots from behind the Berlin Wall during the 60s, 70s and 80s. Cold War couture like you never dreamed.

^ This cover is literally on fire, and while I have little interest inNapoleon's Russian Campaign, my husband lives for such military tales so I am calling this one a gift for him.

^ I picked up a book entitledRoad Trip and flipped it open to artsy pics of Seattle's Space Needle. Yes.

^ Never in my life do I expect to purchase a piece at an art auction. But owning a Sotheby's catalog is completely within my grasp.

Toss in a few plants, photos and my sassy Mexican blanket, and these shelves are beginning to tell a new story.

Now I guess it's time that I get around to dealing with this: