Happy Birthday Theo: My Best Pal Turns 10

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I’m a mess for words.

Yesterday our sweet dog turned 10. That feels enormous. I know it’s enormous in an emotional kind of way.

Everything got better when Theo came into our lives (we adopted him from Midwest Boston Terrier Rescue in 2010 with the recommendation from a friend/cousin). When you have to let out a dog, gone are the wild nights out and mornings sleeping in…he definitely gave Fitz and I a welcomed responsibility. But our home grew so joy-filled. We learned to balance his vet appointments, meals, and walks with our lifestyles. We learned that Theo prefers humans over other dogs. We were impressed with his deep downward dog stretches. We realized he could destroy every dog toy on the market.

To have a dog is to have a cheerful home. Ten years in and I am still thrilled to walk through the door and see him wagging his tail. I’ve walked Theo tens of thousands of miles in his lifetime: from city strutting to endless neighborhood paths with a stroller…to just the two of us, now that the strollers are long gone. I have always cherished this time with him; it’s simple, it’s quiet.

Theo was ecstatic when we had our two children. In turn, they are ecstatic about him. One of Wells and Gus’ favorite pretend games to play is ‘puppy,’ in which they take turns caring for one another as a pet/pet owner. It delights them when Theo shows up and gamely plays a real puppy among them.

We’ve taken our Boston Terrier to Boston, Massachusetts (Harvard, even!). He LOVES being on the boat up in the North Woods of Wisconsin. He flops on the grass, face basking in the sunlight. He still steals a spot on our duvet to nap for most of the day. He brings the snuggles, big time. He is never happier than when he is with us.

To sum up 10 years is hard. But to have a dog is to have a portal to joy.

Love you, Theo. Happy birthday.

 

 

 

City Girl Confessions: So Much More Than A Candy Store

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City Girl Confessions is my recurring column via The Glencoe Anchor.

A few years ago I covered the grand opening of The Sweet Buddha in Glencoe. I shot photos, interviewed owner Sarah Miller, and had a sugar-filled day at her cheery candy store. 

But here’s the thing: I just walked into The Sweet Buddha this past week and found myself taken aback. Everything was different. Is the candy still there? Yes, delicious candy is still present and accounted for. But the vibe of the shop has evolved. I suspect its growth can be traced to the evolution most local businesses adapt to- tailoring your shop and its products to consumer demand and laboriously tweaking that formula to stay fresh and current.

Fresh and current are two words that came to mind when I walked into The Sweet Buddha. There is a lovely display of jewelry that runs the gamut of easy, everyday bracelet stacks to delicate rings and earrings with a bit of sparkle. I noticed several handbags, scarves, and zip pouches along with go-to gift items like glassware and candles. I grinned when I saw a whimsical station of the store in which shoppers could make customized dorm room signs using letters from old license plates. 

My youngest child, who happened to be tagging along, busiest herself by making friends with stuffed animal unicorns. A quick glance let me see that the store was a treasure trove for young ones and their bright imaginations- colorful backpacks, rainbow reading pillows, notebooks, glittery signs, etc..

When I gestured to the brightly lit event space, Sarah passed along information on birthday parties, personalized candy baskets, and event hosting (not just for children either- think jewelry making or painting).

The genius herein is that the store owner is a parent and knows how to balance the shopping harmony among the age groups. Sarah wisely set up a couch, coffee table, and TV so kids are welcome to hang out, relax, and enjoy a sweet treat while parents shop for a few blissfully uninterrupted minutes. Yes, you read that correctly: this store has a spot specifically for your kids so you can shop in peace. 

I’ll confess: I thought I had this local shop figured out. I had written about it long ago, I had known its story. The problem was that I didn’t check back in- something that often happens when we consumers get busy with and opt for convenience over shopping local. What I learned is that The Sweet Buddha still satisfies a sugar fix but it shines as a fresh specialty store. 

As my visit came to an end, I made a promise to myself that I would not fall into this kind of trap again- the trap that removes curiosity from our daily lives. Small business owners work exhaustive hours to ensure a positive consumer experience in our community. Let’s stay curious about how these stores are doing. Let’s walk in and look around when we have an extra five minutes. Let’s share the secret of what makes a local business so great. In doing so, you might learn, as I certainly did, that this is so much more than a candy store. 

Photo credit: Sarah Miller

City Girl Confessions: The Art of Missing Home

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City Girl Confessions is my recurring column published via The Glencoe Anchor.

My husband once proclaimed that five days is the ideal getaway. Shorter than 5? That’s great. But longer? That’s when home sickness can start to creep in.

Hold up, though. I’m not talking about the slow ache that can come from deep longing- say, how I felt when I first went away to college and missed my family. I’m talking about the gentle pull I feel when I’m away from my usual routine for too long. It’s those times that I begin to miss the mundane elements of everyday life: walking my dog down the street or writing in my favorite arm chair. Oddly enough, I even miss the feeling of standing in my kitchen gazing into my yard. It’s something I do every morning. I notice the sun’s position, the growth on trees, and how still the weather feels.

For Spring Break, I traveled to Texas with my family. To get away from chilly, rain-soaked Glencoe was a welcomed respite. We visited extended family, rode rollercoasters, ate barbecue, and jumped into swimming pools. Everything was beautiful and oversized (yep, the old saying is true). The warm sunshine and endless acres of hill country were soothing, fascinating, and enjoyable- precisely the emotions one hopes to get out of a vacation.

One evening, during dinner, someone raised a toast our visit to the Lone Star State. “Yes,” I chimed in, lifting my wine glass. “Here’s to experiencing a little southern living!” The table fell completely silent. It was then that my father-in-law casually pointed out that Texans “don’t consider this ‘the south.’ it’s just Texas.”

Hmm. Okay. Learn something new every day. 

While that take is certainly one that I didn’t see coming, I also recognize that the whole point of travel is get away, shake up our understanding of the world, and see how other people live. How we exist in the world is entirely our own- there is not one ‘right’ way to do it. And Texans are not alone in their declarations- whether we want to admit it or not, us Midwesterners have our quirks. And that’s okay- those differences make us unique.

After more than five days of wildflowers, cattle ranches, and hotel pools, I was beginning to feel that gentle pull of homesickness. I found myself yearning for the routine of my yoga mat and a regular dinner schedule. Oddly, I even craved bundles of freshly folded laundry (living out of a suitcase for a week will make one long for unusual things). 

I’ll confess- this emotion is what brings a vacation full circle. As fun as it is to get away and see how others live, it can be equally soothing to return to our regularly scheduled lives. For this reason, I will openly welcome a return to chilly, rain-soaked Glencoe. When I arrive home, I will stand in my kitchen, gazing outside at the usual view, marveling at the way things are changing and growing.