10 years after a cliché, yet life-changing experience as a backpacker through Europe, I returned. We went to Paris. But, I didn’t have to stuff a pack into a locker and wear flip-flops in the shower. This time, there were chocolates waiting for me on my pillow, along with the weather report for the next day. I could get used to this.
There’s no time to beat around the bush, so here is the long and short of it. 2 weeks ago, I walked into my local pet store to get cat food and walked out with a puppy. Since that fateful day, our days and nights have consisted of puppy training books, vet visits, thousands of comments uttered such as “good girl”, “No!” and “ouch!”, and more conversations regarding “number 1” and “number 2” than I ever thought humanly possible. People in the neighborhood actually started talking to us despite the fact that we’ve lived within the same block radius for 6 years. I’m also still begging forgiveness from the cats.
I woke to the sound of trees rustling – actual trees – and the chatting of birds over the comforting low hum of the ocean. Aside from my feeble attempts to tan (I swear, I can tan) I knew the days would consist of meal plotting by day and evenings with hungry, sandal-clad friends and family…
Sometimes, there is no competing with hamburgers and hot dogs. My mission: feed the masses with large mounds of summertime flavor. I wanted something that would scream, “Look at me, I’m delicious…and you can have seconds without awkwardly asking for someone to throw another dog on the grill.”