I had heard that a dog was man's best friend, but I did not truly understand how true that statement was until October 22 of this year.  I am now a believer. Dogs are truly man's best friends. Cats are only your friend when they want to be your friend.





Throughout my life, my friends had dogs. They seemed happy with their dogs, but I never really wanted a dog. In fact, I was not sure that I even liked dogs. This was especially true in my single days. I thought some dogs were cute, but others....well, they didn't impress me much.

You see. I was one of those aloof cat people. Cats just seemed easier and I thought they were my spirit animal. I have had cats all my life. Big. Fat. Cats. Sonny, a yellow tabby weighed in at 18 pounds and lived 18 years.

His remarkable story could be a children's book. He was a frisky cat and bit people who tried to feed him when we were out of town. It was a pain. At this time in my life, my family had two houses, our main house in the mountains and a beach house in South Carolina.  My Dad thought it would be a good idea for Sonny to live with one of his employees who had a  house across the mountain from us.  By car, it was about an 8-mile journey.  Unfortunately, Sonny did not stay with this family. He left after a day. He never came back, We thought that was the end of Sonny, but as luck would have it, I was watching TV about eight months later and Sonny appeared in front of the sliding glass doors. Sonny was home again, and he ended up staying with us several more years until his death while I was in college.

After college, I got Rover, a grey tabby kitten while doing a TV story on adopting animals for the holidays. He lived ten short years and was a fabulous cat. I mean with a name like Rover...how could you not. His talent was fetching beer bottle caps.



My last cat was Bailey, a whopper at 24 pounds.  He was the cat we had when Jack was born and the last pet that was part of our family.  Even though I was dating Will when I adopted him, he thought Will was his owner.  When we got married,  I became a second class citizen that he would chase down the halls and bite my ankles. Will was the man he worshipped. Not me. He was our last cat.



We have been a pet-free family since 2009.

Jack is allergic to cats so I knew cats were no longer a possibility for us.  We helped my Mom adopt two Russian Blue cats this Spring and Jack loves them, but his allergies flare up each time he is in their company. We knew we would never own another cat.

Will had no interest in getting a dog. I really didn't either.

However, curly-haired dogs started getting my attention. It first started with the Goldendoodle.I would want to pet one every time I saw one. I would go to a brewery and see a Goldendoodle and the kids and I would run up to them like they were "Hollywood Stars".

After we moved into our new home, my obsession grew with my new neighbors, a Westiepoo and a Cockapoo. I saw how much Liza loved our neighbor's dogs. She walked them. She also visited them almost daily.

I also knew that Jack liked animals, too. I also read that kids benefit from having a dog in many ways.



Will was not on board though.  He liked being pet-free. Our kids are already a huge pain in our butts for our middle-aged lifestyle. Why would we want to add a dog to our craziness?

I started obsessing about small curly-haired dogs and would look at them on Petfinder. One popped up for adoption in Durham. When Will was out of town at a Boy Scout function, I started sharing this particular dog's photo on Facebook saying it needed a home. My friends replied that it needed to live with us.

I knew Will was against us getting a dog. But, I called about the dog anyway. I listened to my Facebook friends. I was too late on this one. The little white, curly-mixed breed was already under pending adoption by the time I got in touch with someone at the shelter.



However, they told me I could call back to see if the dog got picked up because they said that many times, the adoptions don't go through for many reasons. The rescue worker told me that this dog would need to be picked up by 5 pm two days later.

I waited. Should I call? Should I not call? It was on my mind.  I called and they told me that the little dog had just left the building with his family five minutes before I placed that call.

I was a little disappointed. I knew that I would need to act quickly if I wanted our family to have a -curly-haired small poodle-mix dog. I decided that I was all of the sudden hit with the "I want a dog" bug.  The kids wanted a dog.

Will texted me from Southern Pines when he saw Facebook posts about dogs and said, "Are you doing something behind my back?"

"No, I was just trying to find the dog a home, " I replied.

When the HurricaneMaria hit Puerto Rico in September, many shelters here were trying to get the dogs they had in their care fostered so they could take more dogs from devastated Puerto Rico. They were in desperate need of people to foster dogs. When people step up to be a foster, they need to be committed to getting the dog adopted. I was thinking that this may be something good for our family to do to see if we could handle a dog and also see if Jack's allergies were OK for us to have a dog one day.

To make a long story short, I discovered Dog Warriors via Facebook. A 10-year-old poodle had been surrendered to an animal shelter in Louisburg. This dog needed a foster family or else the rescue could not save him because the shelter thought he was too old to be adopted.



I called Will and said, "Can we do this?"

Will has a heart of gold and said yes to my request.

Andy arrived at our home on October 22 and it was love at first sight. We fostered him for about two weeks and decided to make him part of our family on November 3, 2017. He is such a sweet and patient dog. He also knew he had one guy to win over and he certainly did. Will loves him as much as we all do.



He weighs almost six pounds. I adore him. He's really my dog.  I take him with me to pick up the kids. He sits with me in my office. He's my new baby. And honestly, after having kids, he's so much easier than they are.

The rumor is true. We are official foster failures. We were not a family that could foster several dogs for this agency. Non-profits like Dog Warriors do need fosters for the animals they save until permanent homes can be found for these animals.

I'm now navigating the world as a dog owner. There is so much on the market and I'm excited to explore the hotel industry even more with dogs. I do not see us taking Andy out of North Carolina though, but I never say never.

Mother's Day comes around just once a year.  Many Moms receive breakfast in bed, brunch at a fancy restaurant with a mimosa or are showered with flowers, gifts, and cards. We love feeling special any day of the year and we certainly love all these kind gestures graced upon us this one marketed day of the year.

I've thought a lot about being a Mom lately as my children age. In the beginning, being a Mom feels more like a caretaker. There are diaper changes, bathing, and feedings.  There are boos-boos to kiss. These daily chores go by so quickly that when ten years whiz by you, it will all seem like a blur.

In those elementary school-aged years, Moms take on additional responsibility beyond simple caretaking. Lots of times, it comes in the form of a school volunteer, a Scout leader, a coach or even a parental chauffeur from gymnastics to soccer to karate to dance.  We feel busier than ever and we sometimes wonder why we thought those baby and toddler years were so difficult.

I've now entered into the next chapter of life known as a Mom a teenager. Lord have mercy, it's a bumpy ride. I need a how-to-manual. And here I thought diaper changes were hard.  I'm sure I'll get through it just as I did the other stages.

Our role is always evolving as a Mom.  Despite not thinking we know what we are doing, we somehow make it happen.

Even though our role changes as our children age, I think most Moms all want the same thing.





We all want a large mug of coffee.

Personally, I can't survive a day without it.


Ok. I'll be serious for a minute.  Whether you are a mom to a new baby or a Mom to a  55-year-who is now a Dad, we share some common thoughts of what we want for our children.

Every mom wants to know that her child is safe. 

Every mom wants her child to be healthy. 

Every mom wants her child to be able to receive healthcare.

Every mom wants her child to not be hungry. 

Every mom wants her child to be accepted and loved by others. 

Every mom wants her child to have access to a good education.

Every mom wants her child to succeed. 

Every mom wants her child to have a home, a bed, and a safe place to sleep.

Every mom wants her child to be happy.

And every mom wants her child to come home again. 

I know I want all of those things for my two children. What about you?








Happy Mother's Day!

It's that time of year again.  If you are on a diet, you hate it. If you count the days until you can get your hands on a Samoas Cookie, you love it.  In the South, we call that Girl Scout coconut cookie a Caramel de Lite because there are two bakers for the cookies. If you ask me, there must have been a spat on Girl Scout cookie names and ABC Bakers who supplies NC cookies, did not win the fight.

The popular Girl Scout cookie Order Here:

The original naming rights apparently went to Little Brownie Bakers. I spend half my time during Girl Scout cookie season trying to decipher a person's request for a Do-Si-Dos cookie followed by a Tag-a-Long.  Damn it, we are raising funds for the same Girl Scout organization. Can't people make the cookie names consistent?  Do we really need two cookie names for the same cookie and two different types of s'mores cookies, depending on the baker? Geesh!! But, at least we all know that a thin mint means a thin mint cookie no matter the baker.



As a mom to a seven-year-old Daisy, I have a love-hate relationship with the Girl Scout Cookies. I love eating them. That's where the love stops. As for my Daisy, she is more excited about eating the twenty boxes of cookie that her Dad bought from her than selling and delivering cookies.

We've sold a few cookies to our neighbors. Selling is fun. Delivering the goods is not so fun, especially when you get out of school late and it gets dark early.

I always text before delivering to a customer because I'm certainly not going to waste time going if no one is home. Half the time, Liza doesn't even want to go and deliver to the people who bought cookies from her. I have to tell her that the neighbors may have a cat or dog. That gets her motivated for at least one trip or two.

For one nice neighbor, it took us several days of texting to coordinate a delivery. I would text. He wouldn't be home. He would text and it was too late to go over. At one point, he was in his car getting ready to leave when I texted so I ran outside and he did a "drive-by" on his way out of town. He was a big spender at 5 boxes.

On Thursday, we finally had a free block in our schedule to try to tackle some more deliveries. She wanted to ride her bike. We weren't going far, but a bike trip turned what would have been a five-minute walk into a 20-minute bike ride one way. She is slow. Biking is not faster.  Math was never my strong point, but that is almost an hour to deliver just four boxes of cookies when we have a whole stack to deliver in the garage, but it is what is is.  At least one Girl Scout cookie customer would be eating well in the neighborhood tonight.

Since my son was in the house, I closed the garage door and went out the side garage door. I checked the handle and off we went.

We returned almost 40 minutes later, in the dark.  I told you it would take us a long time with her on that bike. I told her to stay in the driveway and I would let her in through the garage. Or so I thought. It turns out that when I checked the handle of the side entry garage door before we left, it really was not unlocked.

We were locked out of the house. Luckily, I had my phone so I didn't feel totally helpless, but the two of us went to the front door to try to get Jack's attention.

I imagined at this point that he's celebrating that he is alone in the house. I envision him with his headphones on and deep into whatever computer game he's playing.  He was not answering the door.

We kept ringing the doorbell like maniacs.  And we didn't just ring and stop. We did a continuous ring that would signal panic to most ears.

Honestly, we were in panic mode by this point.  Once we realized we could be stuck outside then the little one had to pee, and pee badly.

I did what anyone would do in an emergency. I called my husband.  This just happened to be the one night he had plans getting the Cub Scout Pinewood Derby race set up.  He didn't answer.

I was on my own.

We rung the bell again. And again.  And again. Finally, I saw a figure. He opened the door looking at us as if we were wild, crazy people.

He said, "Why didn't you ring the doorbell like a normal person? I thought it was Liza playing."

We were not playing, but I was so happy to be rescued. I then walked out the patio door to get her bike, and bam...somehow my finger got smashed into the door.

In less than a minute, I went from panic to misery.  All because of Girl Scout cookies.

That my friends is my tale about the day that we delivered just four boxes of cookies to a customer. Just forty more to cookie deliveries to go and two cookie booths to work.

But, at least she's cute. I do all of it for her. but I draw the line at camping. Not going to happen. What's your favorite Girl Scout cookie?

Shop Liza's online cookie site for those out-of-towners.

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The other day I posted the following to my personal Facebook feed. 

"Often times, I pull into the garage, the kids get out of the car and go into the house. I stay in the garage for a few minutes looking at my phone because it's quiet. I relish the quiet. It's hardly ever quiet in my car. Shortly, I hear chaos inside. Yelling. Screaming and sometimes crying. It usually happens within three minutes of my kids going inside. I so often want to just back out of the garage. They eventually find me and my peace is gone. That is is parenting reveal for today."

As parents, I think it is important to realize that we are not perfect. We are human. And it's OK to have these thoughts. It's just not OK to act on them. Therefore, I never back out of the garage, but that certainly doesn't mean I didn't want to do it. And I'm OK with admitting these feelings. I think we need to verbalize our feelings for us to be healthy as parents. 

I've been working to archive some of my older posts, updating posts and photos. Folks, this little blog is  like a time capsule. There are six years of personal stories mixed in with recipes and other miscellaneous stuff.  While doing so, I came across a post I did when I was looking at magnet schools in February 2011 for my son to start kindergarten.  

Guess what? I've come full circle with a big loop of deja vu. We are back again looking at schools, but this time it is middle school. 

This time. I think he's ready, but I'm not sure I'm ready. We have loved our elementary school experience and its' size. The school we've applied to this time has more than 1,000 kids and the 6th grade is half the size of his current elementary school. 

But, I know it's the right fit. It's time for him to grow and have even more opportunity. I took him to every school we were considering, not once, but twice. I really wanted him to pick where he wanted to go to middle school.  In kindergarten, we didn't do that. It was our choice. 

Now things need to be differently. He has his own interests. He has own comfort level and feelings. 

We are all in agreement of where he would like to spend his next three years in school. But, it's not up to us totally. It's still a lottery system, but we are going into this magnet pool with some weighted priority so we're hopeful that it will all work as planned. 

On one of the days we were touring, I decided to take him to lunch before taking him back to school for the day. He's my foodie in the family. I thought this would be a good opportunity to explore all of those downtown Raleigh restaurants that we never explore with his sister who is more of a cheeseburger and chicken tenders cuisine type of gal.  The plethora of restaurants would be ours on this day. Just me and him. We could do, Asian, Sushi, Italian, Greek, German, Southern Chicken and Waffles. You name it. We could do it.  It would be fun. 

He couldn't decide.  He finally came up with the idea that chicken salad would be nice for lunch. 

I said, "I know the perfect place. They have great soups, sandwiches, salads and chicken salad." 
We went there. He looked at the menu. The chicken salad was the gourmet kind with grapes and pecans. 

"But, it's good," I said exasperatedly.  I was not liking his attitude. 

He was being stubborn and refused to look at anything else on the menu. He had wanted chicken salad, but he had his own idea of what that chicken salad would taste like to him, and it did not contain pecans or grapes. He wanted nothing fancy about it. 

In front of people, I snapped, "Fine. I'm taking you back to school." And we walked out with my pushing him out the door. I think I even mumbled how ungrateful he was because I'm sure other kids his age don't have his opportunities. 

"Don't take me back. I don't like chicken salad with pecans and grapes. I just want to eat plain chicken salad," he exclaimed. 

"Well, where do you like chicken salad?" I was annoyed because my whole idea of lunch was going down the tubes rather quickly. 

"I just want some plain chicken salad." he stated. 

I'm not sure what made me come to my senses. Perhaps, I realized that my goal was to spend quality time with him. It shouldn't be about the menu or even chicken salad. Instead, it should be about being together. Sometimes, we have our own set ideas that it can make it difficult to see through the forest when trouble comes along. 

Maybe an angel helped me come to my senses, but I must have had some divine intervention because I very quickly realized that this day was about him deciding his future.  I didn't need to win this battle. 

I said, "I'm taking you to the perfect place to get chicken salad. There is no place to sit, we will make do. I used to love getting their chicken salad." 

And we went to Snoopy's, a Raleigh institution since 1978. We parked on a side street and walked to the little drive-in that only takes walkers. 

We loved our lunch on a little bench outside the restaurant. It was the perfect city picnic. 

It turned out to be a beautiful day. There was not a pecan or grape in sight. 





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