News Trend Sassy|Actual

This sassy Mexican blanket entered my life last Christmas.

A gift from my second-born.

Seductively soft, nappy textured cotton.

Bohemian bits of fringe.

Traditional bold black and white pattern.

Brilliant stripes of orange and pink.

I love every saucy inch.

But until today, I have not been exactly sure where to put it.

Turns out that my living room, with its current blend of neutral and natural decor, is the perfect backdrop for a textile with attitude. This room is begging for a bit of sass which my Mexican blanket is only too happy to provide.

Welcome home, blanket.

In the meantime, a certain someone slept nearby.

Don't let that handsome profile and distinguished silver muzzle lull you into complacency.

This is a cheeky Irishman on a mission.

Somehow, Ranger's internal clock was way off today. We had more than an hour to go before walk time. But that did not deter my headstrong dog.

As soon as Ranger realized my attention had shifted from the blanket to his very own self, he put his full persuasive efforts into overdrive.

He flopped down to a prone position, buried his head adorably in the rug, locked his eyes onto mine, and began to cry.

When I say cry, what I mean is that what started first as a gentle whimper and then a subtle whine soon evolved into a wrenching scream that likely made the howler monkeys at the zoo cover their ears and wince in pain.

To be honest, Ranger's display of attitude was so outrageous that I couldn't help myself. I sat down next to him on the floor and just plain laughed myself silly..

He stopped his fuss to listen to me.

Then I explained that walk time was still over an hour away.

He calmed down a bit more, but still he lasered those big brown eyes onto mine, shooting me with electric bolts of cleverness and clearly hoping to change my mind.

And that's when I realized that my Mexican blanket was no longer the sassiest thing in the room.

News Trend Buried Treasure|Actual

Tonight's twlight, as seen during my walk with Ranger. Little did I know what plans were taking shape in his head as I innocently strolled along.

Before dawn this morning, I was greeted by the sound of my dog standing at the side of my bed and whimpering for my attention.

Not my favorite way to start the day.

Cmon boy, Jump up. I patted the bed in what I hoped was an enticing manner. At five a.m, I'm never entirely sure what I'm doing.

He jumped up and settled down. But a few snatches of sleep later, he was back at the side of the bed, crying plaintively, swatting at anything in sight in his most desperate attempt to get me to do what he wants.

But I had no idea what the heck he wanted.

Cmon boy. Jump up.

We went back and forth like this for hours. Finally, around eight, after Ranger had switched up his strategy and stomped out into the hall to bark while standing at the top of the stairs, I gave in. Wrapping myself up in the comforter against the damp and dreary morning chill, I put my feet on the floor and forced myself to follow my now-delighted dog down the stairs and, presumably, over to the back door.

We were halfway down the stairs when I opened my eyes far enough to notice. My dog had an extra spring in his step, a sassy bounce, an elevated sense of swag. Suddenly I realized why.

Ranger was prancing along with a chew bone in his mouth.

Yes. That chew bone. The one he had taken outside over two weeks ago and buried in the back yard. The one that was now covered in dirt and trailing bits of bark as my besotted dog carried it down the stairs.

Suddenly it all made sense.

On his early morning bathroom break, Ranger had dug up his bone. My husband later confirmed that indeed, Ranger had shown up at the back door around 4:45 a.M., ready to come back in, with his precious possession held between his little white teeth. My husband took mercy on him, and uncharacteristically let the little red gentleman march his filthy treasure up the stairs and into my bed.

Yes, the well-aged chew treat had been IN my bed. Further inspection turned up a layer of unspeakable debris strewn through the layers of my bed covers, as Ranger had undoubtedly attempted to bury his bone in my bed. Unsatisfied with his efforts, Ranger had been after me all morning to take him back downstairs and out into the yard where he could return his treasure to a suitably safe spot.

Oh good lord.

So finally, finally, I let my dog out into the misty morning, and he soon returned with an empty mouth and a dirty little nose, a sure sign that he had well and properly buried his bone. And I trusted that he would leave it alone for a good long time, while he thought up some new indoor hiding places.

But on that count, I was completely wrong.

Because when I went up to my room tonight and turned down the covers, what do you think I found?

Yes. Ranger's dirty chew treat. Buried once again in my bed.

News Trend Alright|Actual

For the past few weeks, life in my little corner of the world has been rough.

I personally don't have much to complain about.

But all around me, friends are going through unspeakably difficult times.

Life support.

Emergency surgery.

Conferences with somber, hope-less doctors.

And straight-up unexpected death.

Court cases.

Physical and emotional abuse.

Prison sentences.

And painful transitions to foster families.

Depression.

Bipolar.

Ineffective meds.

Overwhelming frustration and suicide.

At times like this, I'm tempted to write the whole world off as unthinkably cruel and hopelessly messed up.

Sometimes my mind can't handle any more.

But my heart and soul fear nothing.

Because I know, deep and true, that we are not alone in this sometimes heartless world.

Just as surely as spring comes again, and crocuses rise from their dry, brown bulbs to bloom in glory, so does God's love shine like the sun and warm our hearts with his tender mercy and care.

I know. Not everyone has such a gift of faith. Not everyone believes in happy endings.

But I do.

And if you have any doubt about that, then I am praying that God will fill your heart and soul with the certainty that he loves you more than you can possibly know, and that, as impossible as it may seem right now, everything is going to be alright.

News Trend My Whole 30 |Actual

I'm sick and tired of obsessing over food and worrying about my weight.

After a lifetime of experimentation, I'm done with eating regimes that unreasonably restrict my meals and blithely promise to feel and look like a whole new person.

I'm looking at you, Whole 30 and your whole company of cleanses, cures and dietary crazes.

In keeping with my 2016 mindset of No Day But Today, I've decided to liberate myself once and for all from this drama. My eating plan is this:

No grains.

No sugar.

And no more regrets.

I'm doing a bit of rewiring to let go of the old cravings, and over the past few weeks, I've challenged myself to keep simple, satisfying treats around the house that will make my new habits feel natural and satisfying.

Here are thirty gratifying, go-to tidbits that make me feel happy, full and free from the roller coaster of diets.

fresh pineapple

roasted cashews

broiled salmon

cherry tomatoes

roasted pumpkin seeds

tamari roasted almonds

veggie chips

baby carrots

apple slices

pepper jack cheese

sweet potato chips

pistachios

sliced peppers

sliced pear

salami

pecans

orange slices

swiss cheese

fresh mango

chicken sausage

mixed veggie chips

cucumber

dates

sunflower seeds

hummus

sliced bananas

chicken meatballs

celery

dried cranberries

peanut butter

News Trend Making It Happen|Actual

"A dream doesnt become reality through magic; it takes sweat, determination and hard work."

-Colin Powell

More than a decade ago, my second-born's middle school buddy - named Scotty - told her that someday he would be a famous rapper and his stage name would be Ska-T.

Now, pretty much every kid in America dreams of becoming a rock star.

Or a professional athlete.

Or an astronaut.

Or in the case of some overachievers, all three.

But here's the thing. Scotty did not just sit around dreaming.

After getting the practical aspects of his adult life together, he got to work on making his dream come true. For the past year, Ska-T has been recording music, performing at clubs around Seattle and perfecting his art.

Here are a few shots from last week's show at The Jet:

Artistically speaking, Ska-T describes his style as a high-energy and unforgettable blend of Hip-Hop and Reggae with hard hitting, faced paced flows and laid-back tropical vibes.

You can pretty much smell the Hawaiian Tropic suntan lotion and feel the sand between your toes as you listen.

Ska-T boasts a commanding stage presence far beyond his experience, and uses wardrobe changes, logos,, props and giveaways to engage the crowd on multiple levels.

He also taps into some family talents: that's his dad, the legendary Conman, on drums, and his brother - aka Twisted Chich - waving the Jolly Roger for all he's worth.

A multisensory feast for any music aficionado, Ska-T entertains across a broad spectrum and is well worth a listen.

And I'm not just saying that because he's my friend and former student.

Or because his mother is my BFF.

Or even because I am a sucker for all things Jamaican. I mean come on, that bobsled team..

I support and encourage Ska-T because I believe in the power of dreams coming true. And I'm fiercely proud of Scotty - the man behind the music - for putting in the sweat, determination and hard work required to make it happen.

Photo credits to Heidi who always, always has her camera pointed in the right place at the right time. <3

News Trend The Magic Of Marble|Actual

Yesterday, for my fourth-born's Golden Birthday cake, I baked her a cherry pie.

She's one of those people who choose fruit pies over cake any old day of the week. And so even though pie baking is far more labor-intensive and straight-up messier that whipping up a homemade cake, I always deliver to her exactly what she wants, pastry hassles and messy kitchen be damned.

But this year was different because, for the first time, I rolled out her birthday pie crust on my new kitchen counters.

The sleek slab of cool marble makes an ideal pastry work surface. Toss on a handful of flour, roll out the dough and the crust practically leaps into the pie plate of its own accord.

And the new under mount sink makes clean-up a breeze. Just grab the dishcloth and shove the whole gnarly mess into the sink with the garbage disposal. Rinse and...No, you don't even have to repeat. One solid wipe and the mess is history

I must confess, I didn't see any of this coming. I chose my counter tops strictly based on appearances. I'm not ashamed to admit that I can be totally superficial like that.

So it has been a grand and glorious surprise to discover how practical and functional my counter top choice turns out to be.

No matter what kind of counters I have, I will always bake birthday pies for my baby.

But now, with my magic marble counters, I expect to enjoy the process a whole lot more.

* * * * *

I like to write stories about pies. If you like to read stories about pies, try these :

My Love Letter To The Kelantanese

Universally Speaking

Now That's A Pizza Pie!

Heavenly Peach Pie

Sweet Success

My Thanksgiving Feast

Coal Miner's Daughter

"Tdanquot; Is For Thanksgiving

More Than Ever

Leftover Pie Dough

tiga.1415926

The Magic Of Marble

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..