12 October - Flying High, Beathouse & The Iron Horse

A chopper. Who knew this is where I would find myself this week?

My friend Burkle had been asking me since early summer to go skydiving. It was something I looked into when I was in my early 20s -- pre-family and pre-responsibilities. I kindly declined, particularly after recalling a story where a wife bought her husband a skydiving excursion...and...let's just say it ended horribly. Nope, not worth the risk. Though I wondered if that fear should serve as the catalyst as to why I SHOULD do it. Uh...clarity again, please. Nope, still not worth the risk.

I contemplated what was the closest to being in the air as well as something I had not yet done. Helicopter ride. And actually take the reins. I began researching helicopter excursions that could fly my husband and I during dusk, overlooking Chicago's skyline. Between his crazy schedule and available airports to fly from, I realized I might have to go it alone. After much research, I came upon Chris Laskey from Midwestern Helicopters. Whew. Available two days from now? Perfect! Kenosha versus Schaumburg or Midway?! Even better.

The weather was gray and drizzly. I was a bit trepidatious. But flying beside a pilot with 46 years under his belt who prefers flying in this weather told me I was in good hands. When I arrived, Chris had this ease, confidence and calm about him that dispelled any fears. His disposition also allowed me to be my silly and curious self, as I had so many questions. Chris began with explaining the basics of flying..things like the difference of the wing between a plane and helicopter. The helicopter creates its own air movement, thus the ability to hover. We reviewed the terminology, different levers and parts -- two rotor systems, avoiding torque, collective pitch, trim, pedals and the cyclic. We discussed what each part is responsible for in the equation of movement. Lastly, we reviewed the commands of handing over the reins while in the air: "you have the controls"; my confirmation "I have the controls"; then his additional confirmation "you have the controls."

We then proceeded to the hangar. I was introduced to the Robinson R22...smaller than I thought. But stellar. Chris wheeled the aircraft outside. As we climbed in, we reviewed a checklist of making certain the controls and both systems worked (in case one failed while in the air.) We started the engine, put on our headsets, talked to the tower and began to ascend. We were floating. The closest to freely touching the sky was rising up into the air in this 2-seated helicopter, where a piece of glass separated me and the light drizzle. It was simply beautiful.

Leisurely. Calm. What surprising solace traveling 1500 feet above sea level at 90 miles per hour. The clouds prevented us from ascending any higher. After reviewing again the roles each lever, pedal and handle played, I was ready to have a go. The collective pitch ascended and descended the body; pedals turned the nose left or right; the cyclic tilts the rotor system which controls the direction and speed of our flight. Each movement was deliberately slow as the aircraft was extremely sensitive to the slightest nudge. I could feel I had to overcompensate a bit in the foot pedals due to the wind.

In order to become a licensed pilot, one must fly 50 to 60 hours ...at least I have my first 30 minutes. One needs flight ground instruction which covers rules on what is allowed and prohibited, weather conditions, where you can and cannot fly, etc. "Everything in America is regulated by licensing. In other countries like Russia, you have to answer where you are going and why. In the United States, we are allowed more freedom, but also more responsibility. If you violate any of the regulations, you lose your license. Period."

The second part in getting licensed is taking a written test by the Federal Aviation Association. The third is a 2-part exam with a designated examiner. The student is tested orally then must perform the maneuvers. How long it takes to actually achieve the license is dependent on how much the student dedicates to fly time, which should be 1 to 3 times per week. The financial commitment may reach approximately $12,000 to $15,000 in total. I thoroughly enjoyed my lesson, gave him a tip, which he initially refused. He called me a troublemaker followed by "but 'cha probably heard that before." We said our goodbyes and I assured him I would be back.

I followed this excursion with another fun task - recording session at Beathouse Music. I was so happy to see that Jim had reunited two of my favorite vocalists and client for this project, Erin, Ameerah and Ky. We goofed around per usual, but the synergy made for quite a productive and efficient session. Looking forward to the following reunion once more.

The week ended swimmingly with our wedding anniversary celebration at The Iron Horse Hotel. I met up with my husband, caught a cocktail before a relaxing dinner, then retreated back to our room for a comfortable night in. Happy Anniversary, hon.

Solitude at 1500 feet in the air; utter joy in a reunion of friends; connection and inner peace at this stage in marriage. All beautiful things...so very grateful.

For more information on Midwestern Helicopters, please visit: http://www.midwesternhelicopter.com/.

For more information on recording studio Beathouse Music, please visit: http://www.beathousemusic.com/.

For more information on The Iron Horse Hotel, please visit: http://www.theironhorsehotel.com/.

5 October - Spa Service du Jour

I was curious about a certain salon service. Pretty much know what I needed to know. No longer curious. Enough said.

But I will comment on the new friends I made during the process. In between the wincing and Steve Carrell expletives, I listened to the stories of my wonderful esthetician, Bella. Appropriately named, she put me at ease. As she laughed at me -- I'm sorry, "with" me -- she spoke of her radiology technician days, the reasons for switching to a flight attendant, then finally finding her way to an esthetician in this stage of her life.

I could sense this position suited her well and made her feel most content. "I like making people feel relaxed. The lighting, the ambience... I truly enjoy helping clients in this experience." Funny... as I sit here with the antithetical service which does not necessarily correlate with that sentiment. But she did relax me, as we continued chatting of her 19-year-old daughter who is pursuing video production at Boston's Emerson College. It was nice to have met you, Bella. Perhaps I will see you next time under different circumstances. Note to self: Tylenol. And perhaps the personal monogrammed flask for the occasion.

I then proceeded to friend Sarah's salon, Blush, for a makeover. I met my friend Holly for some pampering and lunch. Lucky for me, I was paired with Carmelina, this natural, beautiful blonde of Italian descent. What an interesting lady with great stories. She had that, "What you see is what you get" air about her - authentic. She had always been a freelance makeup artist, with other jobs mixed in between. She lived in Los Angeles and trained under Laura Mercier when the company was in its infancy. She then moved back to chicago and was blessed with a 2-year-old daughter. Carmelina came to Milwaukee specifically for this event, and it was my fortune we met. I listened to her family, cultural and life stories, opinions of her dad's Italian side of the family, her grandmother and cousin Giuseppi...all conversations which I will keep between me and Carmelina.

After packing up our new facial goodies and saying goodbye to Sarah, I truly enjoyed my lunch with Holly. We had not "connected" in quite some time. Sure, quick emails here and there, but to actually see the person's face, reactions to the subject matter at hand, and of heart, is something personal. What a gem -- Holly, my true and loyal friend.

I left that afternoon half-giggling at the things I get myself into, or at least the questions of curiosity and inner monologues which lead me down certain paths. My personal philosophy is if I don't experience situations myself, I will only live through others; or simply just never know that piece of knowledge, which would eventually turn to wisdom.

Friend Jordan's Facebook status says, "It's better to regret the things that you've done than those you haven't." True true, my dear.

For more information on Neroli, please visit www.nerolispa.com.
For more information on Blush, please visit www.blushmilwaukee.com.

28 September - Take Inventory, Defy and Renew

"Are you in a funk?" he asked. I smiled at my husband and asked, "Why?" Was it because I was two blog entries behind? Or that we were staring at the four loads of laundry still sitting on our tufted chocolate chaise in our bedroom? The underwear were now spilling onto the cream shag rug, which my husband called a game of Go Fish. "Is THIS my matching black sock? Nope. Go fish." My answer was "no, moreso uninspired." My blog became the antithesis of what I intended...a chore versus an inspiring task. In setting up this personal project, I knew myself too well. Anyone can set out to learn or try something new, but the blog was to represent a commitment, documented for no one but myself - a public diary to keep me accountable.

I realized it was time to just be. Exist. Take inventory and soak in where I was in my life. Deadline shmeadline. It was MY blog, for crying out loud. I knew if I just let myself be open, my senses would heighten and I would become more aware and open to receiving...whatever I was meant to. Therefore, appreciation and answers would begin to fill my cup. So I listened.

The week started with a Facebook note my friend wrote about decluttering. Declutter your body from poisons, your life from the noise and your circle of false friendships. It made me evaluate the lethargy I was feeling and what I could do to change it. What were the poisons from my life that were distracting me from my focus? Who was dear to me versus who held me dear? Whom had I cared for unconditionally and who was absent or judgmental in my time of need? I remembered that life is too short. Love them anyway, but declutter.

Then, remember where you came from. I sat in the kitchen, prolonging Mom's departure back home. The anticipated void began to create its warm nest in my stomach. She began her incredible storytelling over our ritual breakfast - oatmeal, coffee and tea. I interviewed her about her childhood. Her expressions, role playing, laughter and character lines that bring to life her history...of the innocent trouble she would start but blame her sister; the Japanese regime that made her family flee to the mountains and travel by night; the joys of jam sessions and teenage love; her growing up in poverty which set the path of a determined well-paying, adventurous nursing career; saving my dad's life in Laos during their tenure at "Operation Brotherhood"; to becoming the mother my friends always longed for...all without a mother of her own. How did she find the strength, clarity and wisdom? I documented these stories in tears, remembering the fabric from which I was cut and created. I will always remember this, our coffee, tea and oatmeal ritual.

In order to appreciate, you have to look where you have been. I re-evaluated my benchmark and what this year brought me so far…jumping in Lake Michigan with the polar bears and friend Burkle, visiting my former dojang to learn a new weapon form, surfing in the Shark Capital of the World, singing with Broadway's Christine from Phantom of the Opera, to playing sous chef to Top Chef Winner Stephanie Izard. More importantly, I had the fortune to visit with the elderly, feed the hungry and clothe those getting off their feet and seeking employment. I have met incredible people on this trip, including TV executives interested in what I had to say.

And most importantly, where I landed in this past year’s search brought me … home. All came full circle when I realized I already have all that I need -- an incredible husband, family (which includes friends) and God. So how horrific to be ... uninspired?? Indeed, the purpose of documenting in the form of a blog was for times like these. To remember.

I decided to mark this week with something I won't forget. A DEFY bag with my logo. My former advertising buddy and roommate Julie from Chicago sent me a link of her husband's new line of messenger bags made from recycled billboard vinyl. I perused and found my favorite. The Letterpress image would represent my writing, with my blog logo to remind me of the trail behind me and the path yet ahead.

Lastly, what better way to end the week than with a Women's Retreat. I always wondered what happened at these things. Do we all have mirrors and look at our privates like in “Fried GreenTomatoes?” Uh...not at all. As I walked in nonchalantly and made mental profiles of each woman, I found myself choked up within the first hour. I sat in a room of attorneys, artists, moms, superintendents, accountants, athletes.... And for the sake of keeping it sacred for the next group, I will not divulge what brought me the peace, intimacy and renewal needed in walking away. In listening and talking with these women, I heard key phrases like, "people should never assume they understand another's situation or hardship"; “there are no problems, only creative solutions”; “above all, persevere”; “when I was open to the doors being opened, I was pushed to where I was afraid to go.” These were stories of overcoming and empowerment.

I ended the week in gratitude, decluttering, making peace with the past, feeling cleansed and renewed. Ironically, today's quote of the day on this blog is "Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself." – George Bernard Shaw.

For more information on recycled Defy messenger bags, please visit www.defybags.com.

21 September - Habitat for Humanity

As I turned onto the correct street, I was hoping I was wrong. I checked the addresses as I slowly crept along. I made a U-turn in front of my assigned address and parked my car. The house was boarded up. I looked for any sign of life on the premises. As I was making myself very aware of my surroundings and double-checking what was visible in my car from passersby, a blue hatchback with booming music turned the corner and slowed down as it passed my car. It backed up until it was even with me and honked its horn. My heart stopped. I made no eye contact, pretending to search for something that didn’t exist. A man came out of the house I parked in front of and caught his ride, which was patiently waiting.

I brought my camera, wallet and phone and walked to the back of the house. “Hello?” No one answered. This was my first Habitat for Humanity assignment located northwest of downtown Milwaukee. I just kept reminding myself that I was here to do something for someone else. If I didn’t resurface in the process, then it was karma for me. But I realized I never told ANYONE where I was…not even my husband. So I sent a Facebook status of my whereabouts and began receiving texts and phone calls of people checking up on me. (Thank you, by the way. Means more than you know.) I walked back outside to find two women carrying paint buckets and rollers. I introduced myself and met Sara and Rebecca (pseudo name to protect her identity.)

Sara was the Habitat for Humanity site coordinator. I found that she was actually from AmeriCorps and applied to be a part of Milwaukee’s HFH project. She is only 23 and arrived two weeks before, from her native Cleveland. We chatted of how she began in non-profit construction through a mission trip in high school. She assisted on HFH projects in college and pursued a Sociology degree. This seems to be her passion at this stage, as the reality of what she committed to for this year is only began to set in. I asked if she ever feared for her safety. “I live in a neighborhood a little nicer than this, but yes, at first it was scary…walking to my car or to my door. When we are working on a home, we cannot leave anyone alone. We lock the doors if we are upstairs because there have been people who come in and steal things.” Great. Note to self, as I looked to Rebecca and asked, “Got that?”

Rebecca and I spent the whole day together. She seemed somewhat guarded, between 45-50 years old. She told me she was unemployed, but coming to projects such as these is better for her sanity than staying at home. She opened up about her past and beamed when she shared, “But I DID finish high school.” I found myself in a shameful state. So many, myself included, have the fortune to get up and do whatever we please, have a workplace to go, financial worries are not as much a concern, and still, we search for something to satiate… something. Here is a woman who would simply like to work and be busy. She comes to a site just to avoid sitting idle.

She told me of her dreams to begin her own business, as she taught me aspects of her trade and joked about my inconsistent ability in painting the ceilings. I could tell she was conscientious; she could tell I was a goofball. She took pride in her work…even if it were someone else’s home – a stranger, nonetheless. Rebecca shared that she used to work near my current address for over 15 years. The father of her two children still lives in the area with her daughter, but she moved to Milwaukee with her son. She shared some personal things with me, including her son currently serving time in jail. She was regretful of her parenting, perhaps enabling him and didn’t have enough work to keep him busy and out of trouble. I told her parents can only do so much. There comes a time when kids become adults too.

When we continued to talk about family, life and prospects of employment, she shared that she has a felony status. No worries – nothing what you may be thinking. Although, now that I think of it, I never pressed to know what the charges were. It was not any of my business, but hers to share if she chose. We talked with Sara about the potential of Rebecca joining forces with HFH. It seemed her questions showed a slight fear of acceptance and how to work with others. I hugged her, told her this might be the perfect fit for her and that she would never know unless she tried. As I was leaving, she asked, “Will we see each other again?” I told her that I hoped so, and gave her my phone number in case she ever needed anything.

I returned a few days later for a second project, but did not see Rebecca. This home was actually closing that day, so I was privileged to actually meet the homeowners and their interpreter. I was wondering how they found Milwaukee all the way from Africa several years prior. They did not…their government did. They and their children sought refuge and placement to flee from horrible conditions. Hearing the personal horror and torture of Congolese friends David and Regina Bakala, I could only imagine. Glad to witness the difference HFH makes in different pockets of the world. And the smile and laughter this home brought to this family.

I ended the week more appreciative for where I am in my life. I heard a priest once say, “Life will not turn out the way you expect it to. Accept that and know you will be okay. But remember: it is still darn good.” It’s true…take the bad, but make it good. Or at least find the good. It’s all there. So I spent an evening with friends more refreshed and rejuvenated. We celebrated Milwaukee’s inaugural Film Festival at the Discovery World. And ended the week with date night. Of course I have to include some element of food. My husband took me to Chicago’s Sepia in the West Loop. We spent the evening catching up on our week, epiphanies within our relationship, giggling and sending silly texts, acting like kids once again. After an incredible meal, clean plating, pure flavor profiles, we ended with dessert at Jose Garza’s Mercat. We reflected about so many things in our world, and are grateful for it all. I have to say, it was the best birthday to date.

For more information, please visit http://www.americorps.gov/, http://www.habitat.org/, http://www.saveregina.org/, http://www.sepiachicago.com/.

7 September - An Evening with a New Friend - Executive Chef Michael Feker, Il Mito

When I walked in, I didn't see my party straightaway, but I poked my head into the private dining area to meet our head chef Michael Feker and his assistant, Jed. We exchanged pleasantries, then jokes and I think I ended with my Molly Shannon "Supah Stah" pose. Chef Michael and Jed chuckled and said, "This will be a fun night. Take your time. This is your evening to enjoy."

I found the rest of the ladies at Il Mito's regular bar as the rest of us trickled in to celebrate Amy's 40th birthday. This was the first time my core friends were reconvening in quite some time. I missed the camaraderie these women provide. Their kindness and authenticity provide such a safe haven that I am grateful for, especially when enduring the ups and downs of life…. After catching up, we headed into Il Mito's Cooking School to dine at the Chef's Counter.

I had never been to the Chef's Counter, nor this location before. And I have to say I have never enjoyed learning from someone so vibrant, humble and passionate about living his dream and generous enough in allowing us to be a part of it. We found our individual name cards and personalized menu at our seats.

Our three-course meal this evening was:

Tuscan Asparagus and Mushroom Salad with Watercress, Lemon Parmesan Dressing and Scrambled Eggs
Freshly Made Tortelloni, Stuffed with Ricotta and Beef Tenderloin in a Mediterranean Roasted Vegetable Ragu
Chocolate Torte with Espresso Whipped Cream, Fresh Berries and Chocolate Sauce

As he began preparing the salad, Chef Michael was a wealth of information in feeding us tidbits of his culinary passion as he performed. I did not realize this was going to be so much fun and like an actual class. He shared his philosophies, that cooking is not rocket science but passion science, and using the chemistry of the ingredients is what makes the whole equation work. Little tidbits like watercress was going to be the next super food because of its high antioxidant content...how we throw salt in the boiling water to season pasta because of the window of time allowed when its pores open...how when we cook with excellent (organic/fresh) ingredients, 3/4 of the work is done for us, as he scrambled our orange-in-color organic eggs to top off the watercress asparagus salad. He shared with us the difference between black and white pepper and when using each, they co-mingle and play with different parts of our palates.

What I found even more interesting was his background. Chef Michael is Iranian in descent. He grew up in Switzerland from the ages of seven to 18. In following his father's wishes, he pursued pre-medicine and moved to Los Angeles. Chef Michael knew this was not for him. He stayed in dental school until he visited his sister in San Francisco. While searching for a more gratifying route in life, his older siblings encouraged him to research the California Culinary Academy (CCA) to fulfill his interest in cooking. He knew this was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life...but was afraid to tell his father. His siblings 10 years his senior, were the buffer and explained to their father about his switch in careers. When asked if Chef Michael were around for the conversation, he joked, "Are you kidding? I got the heck out of there!" He continued to share many rich and poignant stories about his childhood, father, family and background. “We are so blessed here (in the States). I am grateful for the cleanliness, the water we drink…. I have been through a lot but that is what makes character. I squeeze the passion (from life) to absorb more.” We were honored to witness these incredible tales.

To get his feet wet, Chef Michael took an apprenticeship under Chef Jean Francois Metenier at L’Orangerie in Los Angeles. Upon enrollment at the CCA, he was mentored by a gentleman named Roberto Gerometta. He fell in love with the discipline and quickly became one of the top students. He was one of eight individuals invited to cook for Master Chef Jacques Pepin and Julia Child. Chef Michael put his best foot forward, flabbergasted and humbled at this opportunity to cook for these culinary greats and recalls the day vividly with the same enthusiasm. This tale in particular had us chuckling (ask him about it next time you take a class or attend a dinner.) He continued building his knowledge base, working on the Royal Viking Cruise Line, side-by-side Master Chefs who would board at various ports.

His training is classical French. One can tell by the precision in his technique and through his Alton Brown-esque knowledge in the chemistry of food. But he switched to cooking Italian when through the tutelage of his Italian Mentor Antonia Tommasi, he realized the Italians introduced the French to flavors and seasonings. Food was Tommasi’s art form and believed the beauty of any dish lay in its simplicity. Chef Michael calls his style Madriatic, a combination of the Mediterranean and the Adriatic side of Italy.

The whole evening continued in the entertainment in chatting with a new friend. We asked him his favorite ingredient = eggplant; his guilty pleasure = McDonald’s Whopper and Big Mac; his children’s favorite meals = broiled chicken Milanese and Cheeto- and tortilla-encrusted chicken.

He shared that cooking truly feeds his soul. This is not only his passion, but his stage and home. "It is all about balance...balance between, flavors, textures, and seasonings." Lucky for us, he found his own personal balance of heart, talent and storytelling.

Please join us for the taping of his next show, Feker's Culinary Magic, on Saturday, September 26th. It airs on Wednesdays at 5pm and Sundays at 11am on Channel 32, Milwaukee. For more information, please visit http://www.ilmito.com/ and http://www.ilmitocooking.com/.

31 August - Shanel Regier, Lela and Sewing for Goodwill

With Lela's Sixth Annual Fashion Show coming up next weekend, I knew there might be an elevated level of uber stress for my dear friend Shanel Regier. She will be the headlining fashion designer.

Lela, a boutique located in the Third Ward of Milwaukee, carries an eclectic line of clothing -- vintage to cutting edge, casual to elegant, consignment to high end of carefully selected nationally known designers. I enjoy the shopping experience not only because I find a nice mix of classics to what's new, but because of the customer service. When I shop, I typically do not linger. I am motivated by purpose and visualize what I am looking for -- whether or not it exists is a different story. Lela helps me in that process with unique finds and exposes me to pieces I may have glossed over in considering it for myself. The success Lela enjoys is evidenced in its current project - doubling the store size to accommodate the new couture lounge and showroom, featuring Shanel's designs.

One of their signature items is the corset. Designer? Shanel Regier. I have yet to get my hands on one. I have quite a few of her pieces that have seen Chicago, Tokyo and Paris. And while at these cities, my husband and I noticed Shanel's look - classic with an edge of flair - also had a presence in these villes d'haute coutures. When I wear her varying designs, strangers sheepishly stop me and ask where I found my garment. The disappointment and, conversely, the glory are they are truly one of a kind. Just can't pick one up at Barney's.

A Nebraska native, Shanel moved to Milwaukee to attend the Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design (MIAD). She studied sculpture and fell in love with how fabrics fit, molded and moved with the human form. Since her first fashion show at Mantra Lounge in 2003, her brand has grown to enjoy national clientele, was showcased as GenArt Chicago's "Fresh Faces in Fashion" favorite and was featured on the front page of The Chicago Tribune. The privilege was mine when Shanel asked me to plan her 2006 show "Parisian Roots: A Performance in Couture." Our friendship has grown ever since.

Now in the throes of conceptualizing her newest collection, sketching designs, collecting her models, scheduling the fittings, meetings with Stephanie and Carrie from Lela, I have come to help her in any capacity - surge, seam rip, pick up coffee, etc. She typically shows 20-30 pieces. Though I have planned, marketed and was backstage producer in past shows, I had never actually helped on the production side. And no worries, I have sewn in the past...a double breasted cropped Janet Jackson-esque jacket with matching baggy pants (pretty funny now, but I swear it was hot at the time); not to mention my husband's Halloween costume, a Chinese collared fitted floor length coat as Neo from "The Matrix".

But walking away from watching her work, I was inspired to sew something as well. But not for me. My husband told me of one of Goodwill's professional services -- the Recovery Program. Its mission is to empower the unemployed to get back on their feet and find work. My mission, therefore, is to sew and donate a piece to this wonderful cause.

I went to JoAnn Fabrics to find a suitable design, selected a pattern and chose the fabric. Trying to decipher yardage among the different sizes and variations of the pattern proved to be a bit tenuous, but nevertheless got me started. I cut the patterns and pinned them to the fabric, following the instructions. This is still in progress and I will post the final product soon. Boy, I am hoping Goodwill matches the karma and intentions of this garment with a kind and forgiving soul! Hope this uplifts the spirit of a hardworking and hopeful woman.

As for the outcome of Shanel's pieces, I shall have to wait. But nevertheless, come meet me at her Trunk Show the following weekend. Let's check out the new Couture Lounge and sip champagne over a corset or two.

For more information on Goodwill and its programs, please visit: http://recovery.goodwill.org/

For more information on Shanel Regier, please visit http://www.shanelregier.com/.

For more information on Lela, please visit http://www.lelaboutique.com/.

24 August - Can't Teach an Old Dog a New Trick. Really?

I did not grow up a dog lover. So how is it I have two?

Growing up in a family of nine, half of us were meant to be allergic to animal hair. And with both parents in the medical field, our home was a sterile haven. We had a beautiful aquarium that goldfish managed to jump, but our other "pets" included the occasional chipmunk or bunny one of the siblings would find. The added makeshift leash tied to our basement door was a nice touch. The "pet" of course was kept in our central social hub, the kitchen. Can't believe Mom allowed us half the things she did...but I digress.

Being petite as a child, I was always afraid of dogs. At least big dogs or small ones that bit, yelped and scratched. When I was five, our neighbors had a big fluffy white and gray dog that jumped on top of me, pinned me down and licked my face. Other experiences weren't so friendly, so I was always taught to "freeze" when I saw a dog. That made walking home from buddy Jane's house an hour-long ordeal. I could see my house one backyard away. But it was the one with a dog.

So when my husband asked if we could get a dog our first year of marriage, my answer was an absolute "no." We took a drive through the countryside with his brother Rick and wife Cathy and saw a handwritten scrawled sign: Puppies for Sale. We pulled over and looked at the litter in the kennel. Cathy held one, nuzzled it, then held it out for me to hold. I crinkled my nose and kept my arms crossed. She asked, "Don't you love that puppy smell?" I swatted at the imaginary gnats swarming around my neck as I started to itch. I sniffed it to possibly understand what "puppy smell" meant. To dog lovers, this may be nostalgia, where the scent opens up an album of personal random memories of warmth, childhood, laughter and perhaps sorrow, I suppose. An experience that did not resonate with me, but might have been collected in raising a dog from puppyhood. I looked at the seven little creatures playfully jumping all over each other, barking in excitement. But there was one yellow lab, content in the corner, not seeking attention but just happy that she existed in the first place.

As we headed back to our apartment on Oakland and Thomas, I could tell my husband kept planting the seed. I said, "If we get one, it has to be mellow and you have to give it a bath three times a week." That's all he needed -- he had the checkbook in hand and left to pick her up. And he did give her a bath several times a week so I could hold her. Until he said, "You realize this is bad for her coat." Oops. Oh, then let's shut that down, shall we?

The education process of raising a puppy was quite interesting to me...like giving her too many treats was like giving a newborn a chocolate bar; realizing smelling funnies in my dream in the middle of the night was reality...that there really was fecal matter in the middle of our bedroom floor; but also, meaningful parental lessons like being able to teach and train by structure, repetition and praise.

We endearingly named her Scout, after the charming little girl in To Kill a Mockingbird. Scout came to be my baby. When we moved to our first home, we let her run everywhere. We built an indoor/outdoor kennel. I felt the joy of her licking my skin and actually took her for walks, not minding at all to pick up after her. And when it was time to sleep, she slept in my arms under the covers.

But when the babies came, Scout gradually became a pet. As the attention waned, and I would rock each baby to sleep, she would lay at my feet. In looking back at photos, she stood guard behind the children. And the children paid their own interpretation of "attention" to Scout. As the years went by, I noticed in the quiet, I would turn off the last light to head upstairs. She would be waiting for me in the foyer, and follow me to bed. She still does. My personal guard and loyal friend. Who asks for nothing.

Scout is now 13 years old. Her arthritis kicked in a few years ago. I came home one day to a black lab puppy running around our backyard. I asked, "Whose is that?" My husband smiled and said, "I thought you said it was okay..." Um...for what? That's OURS? The month before we move to a new home? But he explained Jet, our new puppy, might help keep Scout young. We surmise that Scout is still waiting for us to come clean and call off the joke -- that this thing that stalks her at her most private moments of going to the bathroom, is truly a bad dream. After four years, I think she understands it is reality.

Though Scout has lost her hearing, we have not given up hope that her age and arthritis define anything. So after dinner last week, we decided to try to teach her a new trick -- proving wrong the adage "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." We looked down at our plates, which included purple potatoes, and decided to try to balance one on her nose.

The video shows our attempts. It also shows our effort in switching to another trick, but poor Scout just physically wasn't able to turn over -- nor could she hear her cues. So we switched back to what we knew ... structure, repetition and praise. And finally, progress.

Changing the piece of food to an inanimate object helped too, poor thing....