Some of my first memories are from my mother’s garden (that’s Mom and Me, aka “Sasha” at Eve’s Organic Garden, mid-1970s, Lake Grove, OR). When I close my eyes, I feel cool pebbles and dewy grass under my bare feet, hear buzzing bees and chirping birds and smell a cacophony of scents from roses, lilac, herbs, freshly turned earth and compost.

My mom learned gardening from her grandparents in Texas and moist, chilly Port Angeles, Washington. To me, she seemed like Snow White incarnate – mom could bring any dying house plant to life and sprout any seed, and knew where to find the birds, butterflies and interesting spiders. Her decade-long run as the radio host of Eve’s Organic Garden on KBOO in Portland, Oregon, proved that her ideas for planting and knowledge of gardening were admired by many. The local Italian family that ran Ricardo’s restaurant often stopped by looking for fresh herbs and flowers.

As a kid, I enjoyed the rambling gardens around our old farmhouse. Private tunnels of blackberries [...]]]>

Some of my first memories are from my mother’s garden (that’s Mom and Me, aka “Sasha” at Eve’s Organic Garden, mid-1970s, Lake Grove, OR). When I close my eyes, I feel cool pebbles and dewy grass under my bare feet, hear buzzing bees and chirping birds and smell a cacophony of scents from roses, lilac, herbs, freshly turned earth and compost.

My mom learned gardening from her grandparents in Texas and moist, chilly Port Angeles, Washington. To me, she seemed like Snow White incarnate – mom could bring any dying house plant to life and sprout any seed, and knew where to find the birds, butterflies and interesting spiders. Her decade-long run as the radio host of Eve’s Organic Garden on KBOO in Portland, Oregon, proved that her ideas for planting and knowledge of gardening were admired by many. The local Italian family that ran Ricardo’s restaurant often stopped by looking for fresh herbs and flowers.

As a kid, I enjoyed the rambling gardens around our old farmhouse. Private tunnels of blackberries provided space to daydream, and the Rainier cherry tree offered sweetly blushed gems every spring. I found a lot of pleasure in picking seeds to grow every spring, learning the look of healthy soil and digging around for bugs and worms. It seemed like magic to discover the nasturtium seeds growing out of the stems where edible flowers of red and orange once bloomed so brilliantly.

While my brother and I grumbled about the inevitable hours of weeding, pruning, hauling and raking, today we look back on that time as peaceful, formative and a badge of honor. Now we find that gardening relieves our stress and keeps us healthy. It’s not just the organic, fresh food we can grow. We harvest something more – peace and connection.

Growing up on the west coast, we didn’t know that fireflies were real. My first sighting of these electric “lightning bugs” was actually in Central Park when I was about 21 years old. I was visiting my brother a few years before I moved to New York City. I excitedly told my brother, then almost 30, “I saw a firefly! They’re real!” He beamed back at me with joy, and it felt like we were kids again, sharing this wonderful discovery.

Now I long for spring planting and have happily settled in a ground floor Brooklyn apartment with a back yard and space to plant a few pots. Last summer’s freak tornados had the silver-lining effect of creating more sun in my previously shade-choked yard when three neighboring trees lost half of their limbs.

I’m passing on my love for digging, planting, watering, weeding and waiting to my son, Laken. When I discovered kid-sized tools at a stoop sale (we call them stoop sales here in Brooklyn, because who has yards? We have stoops!) a couple of summers ago, I scooped them up and handed them to Laken, who happily took them outside and started digging. Gardening seems to be in our DNA.

Teaching him how to dig a hole, bury a seed, water it carefully and often and look for slugs feels right. What could be more important than teaching my kid how to grow his own food? We won’t be living off of our harvest any time soon, but being able to grow our own lettuce, a few strawberries, snow peas and pretty flowers makes me feel capable, and I hope to pass that on to him.

What is the premise of your book, “The Family Dinner,” and how will it inspire family togetherness? Because of the crazy, hectic times we live in, we are letting one of the greatest parenting opportunities each day gives us slip by. That lovely opportunity is family dinner. We desperately need to have a moment in our day where technology is turned off, and we can purposely become a family – all doing the same thing at the same time and enjoying each other’s company to boot. “The Family Dinner” is about [...]]]> You may know Laurie David as the producer of the documentary film, “An Inconvenient Truth,” or for her other groundbreaking efforts to stop global warming and protect the environment. Today, Laurie is here to discuss another topic close to her heart and home – the sacred tradition of sharing meals with family and friends. So pull up a chair, pass the veggie stew, and take some tips from Laurie on how to make your meals more meaningful!

What is the premise of your book, “The Family Dinner,” and how will it inspire family togetherness?
Because of the crazy, hectic times we live in, we are letting one of the greatest parenting opportunities each day gives us slip by. That lovely opportunity is family dinner. We desperately need to have a moment in our day where technology is turned off, and we can purposely become a family – all doing the same thing at the same time and enjoying each other’s company to boot. “The Family Dinner” is about great food, great conversation, laughter and love.

What are some of your favorite vegetarian recipes in the book?
I cook all the recipes in this book over and over again and am constantly amazed at how delicious these dishes are. While my household is not strictly vegetarian, we are definitely moving in that direction. My personal favorites are the meals where you pretty much have a whole meal in one pot. Add a green salad and you’re done. Give me a stew, a casserole, soup, with a little side salad and I’m happy! Also, I’m crazy for leftovers that can stretch to another meal so the big pot concept works well for that also. This past week I made one of my favorites – Danish Yellow Split Pea Soup. Delish!

How would you advise parents to broaden their children’s eating habits???
My philosophy is that you don’t cook for your kids, you cook for your family. Enjoy the food yourself and eventually, your kids will follow. Two of my dinner rules (the other eight are in chapter two of the book) address this very point. One is that you should have one meal, no substitutions, so you don’t end up as a short order cook. The other rule is that everyone tries everything. This is different from our parents’ adage to eat everything on our plate. Tasting everything is important because it shows respect for whomever prepared the food, and it gives your taste buds an opportunity to be pleasantly surprised.

What desserts do you and your kids like best?
Dessert can be just a cup of tea and cut fruit. That’s what we often have, and my kids love it. When we do have a sugary dessert, our chocolate chip cookie recipe is hard to beat. And here’s a great tip for the cookies: when you make the cookie dough, make extra, wrap it in a roll with wax or parchment paper and store in your freezer. That way, homemade cookies are always just 10 minutes away, and your house will smell like you’ve been baking all day!

Your green philosophy is sprinkled throughout the book. What is something that everyone can do to be a little more green?
The great news is that the kitchen is definitely the best place in the house to practice and teach green values. Three of the simplest things you can do are to try to buy food that is in season, that is grown locally in your community, and of course, that is organic. And nothing is better and more green than growing some of your food yourself. (And more fun, I might add!) Even if you just have a windowsill and grow some of your own herbs, it’s a lot more rewarding to pinch off exactly what you need than to buy rosemary, for example, that is packaged and expensive.

What do you most hope people take away from reading your book?
My hope is that everyone’s copy will be food-stained, tattered, highlighted, flagged and well used.

Laurie David, producer of the 2006 Academy Award winner “An Inconvenient Truth,” wants to help America’s overwhelmed families sit down to dinner. Her newest book, “The Family Dinner: Great Ways to Connect with Your Kids, One Meal at a Time,” is an inspirational, practical and green guide to the most important hour in your family’s day.

Holiday traditions are deep and rich enough to be considered articles of faith. They transcend physical experiences, often creating memories that grow beyond the proportion of the actual occasions being remembered.

I embrace this phenomenon at will, choosing the traditions that I will keep active and the memories I will nurture into legend. This creative myth-making offers a lot of room for new ideas, but there is one thing that I don’t have to invent: my connection to food.

My family’s food heritage runs deep. I have direct experience with four generations of growers and preservers, and I know it goes back further than that. It should be a surprise to no one that I’m working as a chef these days.

As I prepare for the upcoming holidays, I find myself taking inventory of the foods that I’ve enjoyed almost my entire life: pecans, corn, beans, potatoes, tomatoes, greens, chiles.

These foods were on display, in one form or another, at so many family holiday gatherings. Pecan pies were de rigueur and celebrated, with the [...]]]>

Holiday traditions are deep and rich enough to be considered articles of faith. They transcend physical experiences, often creating memories that grow beyond the proportion of the actual occasions being remembered.

I embrace this phenomenon at will, choosing the traditions that I will keep active and the memories I will nurture into legend. This creative myth-making offers a lot of room for new ideas, but there is one thing that I don’t have to invent: my connection to food.

My family’s food heritage runs deep. I have direct experience with four generations of growers and preservers, and I know it goes back further than that. It should be a surprise to no one that I’m working as a chef these days.

As I prepare for the upcoming holidays, I find myself taking inventory of the foods that I’ve enjoyed almost my entire life: pecans, corn, beans, potatoes, tomatoes, greens, chiles.

These foods were on display, in one form or another, at so many family holiday gatherings. Pecan pies were de rigueur and celebrated, with the nuts often coming from my great-uncle’s trees in Navarro County, Texas. Gardens, usually dormant by November, still offered their bounty through the miracle of food preservation.

Thanksgiving dinner was a monstrous affair: a potluck invasion of my great-grandmother’s home, with no room for even one more dish. The dining table provided no room for our sizable extended family to sit, so the house became a labyrinth of card tables. Dominoes clattered above the chatter, then reluctantly yielded to dinner.

There was no convocation significant enough for me to remember, and only a simple prayer of thanks was offered by one of the several patriarchs. After the “amen” we lined up as if we were boarding a plane: women with small children first, then the elders, on down to the youthful and unruly.

As I mark time and changes this Thanksgiving, I wish to nurture these memories into present and future lore. The joy contained in them is sufficient for sustaining faith in the family bond. The associated traditions are still dear to me, as I love to delight others with my food, and I work to be at home during the holidays.

Faith would be nothing without a bit of iconoclasm, however, so I deviate as I recreate. Now all my food is plant-based, markedly animal-free. No animal is sacrificed as I give thanks. They might not be aware of my actions, but perhaps somewhere one life was spared because of my choice. That’s another reason to give thanks.

Being “home for the holidays” is still important for me. But since I’ve lived so far from home most of my adult life, I frequently spend the holidays in my own dwelling. I use the day for quiet and purposeful reclusion. It has become a very personal tradition that I work hard to preserve, and for which I ask the indulgence of family and friends.

Thankfulness is paramount, however. My giving of thanks runs through my daily existence, but I offer focused appreciation on Thanksgiving for many things: the peaceful presence of my family in my life, a simple and compact existence, the loving and supportive people that have befriended me, and the many other good people that I know. Above it all, there are the ever-appearing lessons of life.

Just as inflexibility can kill one’s faith, traditions will die if they do not progress. In this spirit, I offer up these ideas for your holiday meal. Perhaps we can share them virtually while offering up universal thanks.

SPROUTED QUINOA WITH TAMARIND

-4 tablespoons tamarind paste
-2 teaspoons lime juice
-1/2 cup raisins
-1/2 teaspoon ginger, grated
-1/8 teaspoon sea salt
-3 cups quinoa, sprouted

Mix vigorously the tamarind paste and lime juice, making sure there are no lumps. Add the raisins, ginger, and sea salt, mixing well.
Add the quinoa and mix well.

Serve chilled or at room temperature.

Note: You can substitute cooked quinoa for the sprouted quinoa.

WINTER SQUASH TART

-3 pounds butternut, acorn or other winter squash
-olive oil
-sage, dried
-8 ounces firm tofu
-1 cup coconut milk
-1 teaspoon cinnamon
-1/2 teaspoon mace or nutmeg
-1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
-1/2 teaspoon onion powder
-1/4 teaspoon white pepper
-1 teaspoon sea salt
-One 10-inch tart shell
-Maple Currant Glaze (see recipe below)

Preheat oven to 450° F.

Cut squash in half and scoop out seeds. Coat lightly with oil and dried sage. Roast for 45 minutes or until soft.

Reduce oven to 375° F.

Scoop squash out of peel. Place into food processor with tofu, coconut milk, cinnamon, mace or nutmeg, garlic powder, onion
powder, white pepper, and salt. Process until very smooth.

Fill tart shell with squash and smooth the top.

Spread Maple Currant Glaze evenly over the squash filling.

Bake at 375° F for 30 minutes. Cool slightly before serving.

MAPLE CURRANT GLAZE

1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 cup onion, diced
1/4 cup maple syrup
1/4 cup currants
1/2 cup water

Warm the olive oil in a sauté pan over low flame. Add the diced onion and sauté gently until clear. Set aside.

In a small saucepan, place the maple syrup, currants and water. Simmer for 15 minutes. Blend.

Mix the sautéed onion into the blended syrup.

Photo Credit: La Grande Farmers’ Market

The irony is that I thought all of the estrogen floating around in my body kept me young, vital and desirable! I longed for my period as a pre-teen. In sixth grade, when they separated the girls from the boys and showed us the scintillatingly taboo film “You’re a Young Lady Now,” I dutifully accepted [...]]]>
I am lying on my bed, a heating pad on my stomach, my body a twisted, cramping nightmare. Although usually I would bemoan this monthly fate, this time I am wistfully relishing the moment. Because this time is the last that I will morph into the crabby, fat beast that bleeds like a stuck pig and sucks up chocolate like a Dyson sucks up dirt. Because in five days I will have my ovaries removed. Because I have a very estrogen positive breast cancer. Because they have to put me in menopause, so I can take medicine to block the bad estrogen. Because I am only 50 years old, and I want to live.

The irony is that I thought all of the estrogen floating around in my body kept me young, vital and desirable! I longed for my period as a pre-teen. In sixth grade, when they separated the girls from the boys and showed us the scintillatingly taboo film “You’re a Young Lady Now,” I dutifully accepted the brown paper bag with a sanitary belt/safety pin contraption and a box of gigantic pads thick enough to stem the flow of a 2-ton Amazonian warrioress. And waited and waited.

I watched as my girlfriends blossomed into young ladies – boobs appearing overnight as they fell victim to the sweet “curse” that was womanhood. I was a really late bloomer. At 15, although I did have one boob tentatively making its way into the training bra I had optimistically bought two years earlier, my “little red-haired friend,” as my mother called it, had evidently lost my address.

And when my little red-haired friend did actually arrive six months later, announcing herself with a tiny brown dot in my undies, my mom smacked me in the face (albeit lightly), as is the crazy Jewish tradition! What it signifies, I don’t know. The sight of blood in your underwear is shocking enough. Still, I was thrilled to finally join the club! To sit out gym class! To writhe in pain! I hated the vicious moods and bloated feeling it brought, but I loved how it made me a member of the fertile woman club.

When I turned 50, I was nowhere near menopause. My insides reflected my attitude – young and vibrant with my whole life ahead of me. I was living in the moment and enjoying life. And then the ax fell loud and hard. The lump my gynecologist had found during my annual exam that first came back negative was, on second look, not benign. I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Me? Breast cancer? Healthy me?

I worked out five days a week, ate organic and didn’t drink or smoke. Sure, I had a little sugar problem and might devour three red velvet cupcakes on occasion. But after having watched my 73-year-old mother struggle for the last two years with her own diagnosis of a very aggressive form of breast cancer, I stepped up the prevention. I religiously took the omega-3s, drank the green tea, doused myself with the wretched wheat grass, and ate the cruciferous greens and dark berries. And still it came.

After many scans, doctors’ appointments and blood tests, it was decided that doing chemo was not necessary, but unfortunately two lumpectomies, reconstruction, six weeks of radiation and having my ovaries out was.

Here I am, five days before the operation, and true to form, my little red-haired friend decides to make her last appearance. I feel the familiar “I’m so fat and unhappy feeling,” and then it dawns on me. This is the very last time that I’ll have to endure this. Who would I be without my monthly raging hormones? Am I a woman if I don’t ovulate? I remember reading an article that men can sense when women are ovulating and find them more attractive. Would I even be sexy any more? Would my boyfriend still want me? Would I even have a sex drive?!

I lie down on my bed with my heat pack and ponder my fate. My 18-year-old daughter, Cassidy, plops herself next to me.

“What’s the matter, Mom?”

“Oh nothing, just got my period.”

“Me too!”

Then Scarlett, my 12-year-old, appears with a crabby look on her little face.

“I need some chocolate, and my stomach hurts!”

Cassidy and I exchange looks.

“I think maybe she’s getting her period!”

Scarlett grabs onto this. “I’m definitely getting it! I really feel crampy! I need chocolate and a heating pad, ASAP!”

“All three of us are going to have our periods at the same time!”

We all take a second to digest this thought. And then I remember this will be my last period.

“You’re so lucky, Mom!” Cassidy assures me. “I would love to not have to go through this every month.”

Scarlett agrees, and Cassidy and I laugh. “You don’t even have it yet!”

As we lay there, the three of us in our common misery, I think Cassidy’s right. I am lucky. I have my two beautiful girls. So many of my dreams have come true. I have a man who I love, who loves me. I caught the cancer early; if I get my ovaries out and take the prescribed medicine, it’s not very likely to come back. If I look on the bright side, not getting my period every month would be kind of great.

As the days go by and the operation looms closer, I realize I am ready to pass the “tampon baton” and let my little girl become a woman. The next day I buy her organic pads and Midol. We wait and nothing happens. I console her, “It will come soon enough, baby girl. Pace yourself. There’s no hurry to grow up.”

“Thanks, Mom. When I do grow up I want to be just like you!”

And that’s when I realize that I will not let some eggs and two little organs define who I am. I’m still a woman – ovaries or not! And more importantly, I’m alive.

Hilary Shepard is in remission and living in Newport Beach, California. She co-invented three board games with Daryl Hannah called LIEbrary, Famous Last Lines and Call it! The games are available at Barnes and Noble, Nordstrom and Amazon.

Hi spiritual superstar!

I just got back from an amazing weekend in Ohio speaking at the JD Breast Cancer Foundation’s Young Survivors Symposium and I gotta tell ya, I just love that event!

I met so many beautiful survivors and was reminded just how far a simple act of kindness goes. In honor of Breast Cancer Awareness month, go out of your way to help a lovely lady this month. Whether it’s an ole gal crossing the street or a young mama trying to get her stroller through a snappy door, be extra generous during pumpkin time. October is the month to celebrate women, breasts, nurturing and sisterhood. There are many cancer organizations you can support if you have the financial wiggle room. But you know what else you can do? Send the woman with cancer in your life some nutritional tips, give her a juicer, teach her how to alkalize her body, show [...]]]>

Hi spiritual superstar!

I just got back from an amazing weekend in Ohio speaking at the JD Breast Cancer Foundation’s Young Survivors Symposium and I gotta tell ya, I just love that event!

I met so many beautiful survivors and was reminded just how far a simple act of kindness goes. In honor of Breast Cancer Awareness month, go out of your way to help a lovely lady this month. Whether it’s an ole gal crossing the street or a young mama trying to get her stroller through a snappy door, be extra generous during pumpkin time. October is the month to celebrate women, breasts, nurturing and sisterhood. There are many cancer organizations you can support if you have the financial wiggle room. But you know what else you can do? Send the woman with cancer in your life some nutritional tips, give her a juicer, teach her how to alkalize her body, show her simple yet effective ways to manage stress, encourage her to shake her ass (exercise!), and remind her that sleep is not an optional sport. Taking care of ourselves and teaching others to do the same is the best way to give back in October. As our researchers and brilliant oncologists do their job to find a cure (which by my estimates is taking too long) we’ll do our job and meet our bodies, minds and spirits halfway with kindness and self-respect.

1. I love the smiley sticker given to me by a new friend and fellow cancer cowgirl. We laughed and shed tears together and I will always remember her sass and smile.

2. I love my new sock monkey sent by an amazing daughter of an amazing mother. Katarina – sweet gal, thank you for your heartfelt letter, I adore you! P.S. Katarina Thorsen is the coolest visual artist, sock animal mama, and art therapist. I love that! Who knew that you could be all those things? This hot broad works with at-risk youth using sock monkey therapy to support Operation Sock Monkey, which provides laughter, hope and healing to communities affected by HIV/AIDS. Her motto: Sock Monkeys are more than toys- they are healers. A way of life. A philosophy.

3. I love my gals Kimball Johnson MD and Mary Brittain at the Jobri Center in Atlanta. These two crazy sexy health rock stars took my workshop at Kripalu, went on to study at Hippocrates, and then opened an amazing integrative healing center in the heart of one of the unhealthiest places in America. I am so proud of them. They ooze kindness and compassion and I have a hunch that this center is one to watch and one to visit. They’re next program starts soon so check it out. Save a table for me, I need a colonic!

4. I love my new friend Julie Aigner Clark. Julie is the force behind the Baby Einstein series (yeah, she’s not too shabby, huh?) and she is a breast cancer survivor who has written the most wonderful and helpful book about talking to your kids about cancer. I wept when I read it. It’s good and so dang helpful. You’ll be hearing more about Julie here at CSL.com. Until then, check out her book, “You Are the Best Medicine” and share it with a girlfriend who needs a way to have the “c” talk with her little chickens.

5. I love my mom. I really, really love my mom for all that she does for me, all that she’s sacrificed for me, and the great role model she is for me and so many others, including her yoga students. On my last visit she gave me this unicorn hot water bottle holder because sometimes my stomach hurts. I am nearly 40 years old and she still knows how to light me up!

6. I love the 2 cancer cowgirls I met in Ohio who just shaved their heads and reminded me that I have untapped strength that I haven’t accessed.

7. I love this pix! The International Vegetarian Union is so frickin’ clever. Well, veg heads usually are.

8. I love giving things away because I have more than enough. So send me a new juice recipe—something yummy, unique and mostly green please! The winner (the gal/dude who makes the best cocktail) will get a brand new Breville Compact Juicer. Be sure to share this contest on Facebook and Twitter so that your pals have a chance too! Email info@crazysexylife.com with your recipe.

Kindness rocks. Till next week…

Peace & selflessness,
Kris Carr

Photo 8: David ver der Mark

Your children are playing with medieval characters – horses and knights, dragons and ladies-in-waiting. You watch them from the doorway of the room. The room needs dusting, you think. I should return those library books, you think. I have cancer, you think. Your children, absorbed in their make-believe, are laughing.

It is the most perfect moment, sunlight sinking through the window, the softness of being in your home with your family and its smells and its life. It is the most terrible moment, standing in this doorway with the happiness for what you see and the sadness of what you know. You have worked for this. You love these people in a way you could not know you loved. You must tell them. It is easy for you to find the words, “I love you.” It is hard to say the other words.

When is it the right time to tell your children that you have cancer? I don’t know. My daughters were ages six and [...]]]>

Your children are playing with medieval characters – horses and knights, dragons and ladies-in-waiting. You watch them from the doorway of the room. The room needs dusting, you think. I should return those library books, you think. I have cancer, you think. Your children, absorbed in their make-believe, are laughing.

It is the most perfect moment, sunlight sinking through the window, the softness of being in your home with your family and its smells and its life. It is the most terrible moment, standing in this doorway with the happiness for what you see and the sadness of what you know. You have worked for this. You love these people in a way you could not know you loved. You must tell them. It is easy for you to find the words, “I love you.” It is hard to say the other words.

When is it the right time to tell your children that you have cancer? I don’t know. My daughters were ages six and nine the first time I told them. They were 10 and 13 the second. The fragility of the life we now live in, this walking on fine seashells that is living with stage four cancer, is awkward. Were I to begin a sentence with the words, “I have something to tell you,” my children would hesitate. Would it be the same terrible truth, again? Mommy has cancer?

And when I did tell my daughters this unspeakable news, I wanted to assure them that I would be okay. Was this a lie? How could I know? What if I wasn’t? But there were so many things to think about already – surgery loomed, doctors consulted, chemotherapy hovered – I didn’t want to think about this. What it would do to my family if mommy wasn’t okay.

And the truth is, I needed to believe I was okay and I needed my children to believe it too. In the weeks that followed the diagnosis, I prepared myself for treatment. I ate well, learned all that I could about the illness and side effects of treatment. I meditated and took long walks. I cried a lot, often in the arms of my husband, and only once in front of my kids. It was when I told them that I was going to lose my hair. That stupid, vain, honest truth: I don’t want to be ugly. Even looking Big Bad Cancer in its black and hungry eyes, I didn’t want to be ugly.

I did lose my hair, along with a few pieces of my body. But you know what? My kids never thought I was ugly. And that is the great truth that I learned. A cliché – love really is blind.

I wrote “You Are the Best Medicine” when I learned that. There was nothing in the world that caused me to fight this bitch named Cancer more than wanting to be around for my kids. I hadn’t known I could be so brave.

My daughters sit on the floor playing with medieval characters, and they are my princesses. I am out slaying dragons. This is not make-believe.

Julie Clark is a mom, author, entrepreneur, ass-kicking stage 4 cancer survivor best known as the founder of The Baby Einstein Company. She lives in Colorado with her kids, husband, cats, chickens, fish and a  newly rescued dog named Rusty.

Animal Lovah,

Today I’m sharing something that fills my heart with joy–the adoption of our dog-daughter, Lola. I’m sure many people have similar stories of finding a best friend/comrade in a dog or cat they found at a local shelter. These individuals have sweet souls, unique personalities, and infinite buckets of love to give. Lola has brought us more fulfillment than we ever could have expected when we brought her home from the Ulster County SPCA. Watch the vlog to meet the super pooch and visit AdoptaPet.com to find a friend near you. Puppy mills suck, adoption rules! “Don’t you agree Lola?… Woof, woof, wag, wag!”

Peace and puppy love, Kris

PS- Please share your pet adoption stories in the comments section!

By Sona Mehring How can I best help my good friends and their soon-to-be-born (way too soon!) baby girl? That was the question I faced back in 1997, when those friends told me they would be delivering their daughter at just 23 weeks. My friends were going to be isolated in the hospital for weeks, if not months, and they faced the overwhelming task of letting everyone know the latest news.

This gave me an idea: a website where people could learn the latest news and leave messages for the family. The same night that my friends’ daughter Brighid was born, CaringBridge was born. CaringBridge, a not-for-profit organization, solely focuses on connecting friends and family when health matters most.

Brighid’s website instantly eased the burden of phone calls and time-consuming, emotional conversations. What I never anticipated – my ‘wow’ moment – was the true connection felt by everyone who visited Brighid’s website. Those visitors left messages of love and support that were exactly what my friends needed in their incredibly difficult [...]]]>

By Sona Mehring

How can I best help my good friends and their soon-to-be-born (way too soon!) baby girl? That was the question I faced back in 1997, when those friends told me they would be delivering their daughter at just 23 weeks. My friends were going to be isolated in the hospital for weeks, if not months, and they faced the overwhelming task of letting everyone know the latest news.

This gave me an idea: a website where people could learn the latest news and leave messages for the family. The same night that my friends’ daughter Brighid was born, CaringBridge was born. CaringBridge, a not-for-profit organization, solely focuses on connecting friends and family when health matters most.

Brighid’s website instantly eased the burden of phone calls and time-consuming, emotional conversations. What I never anticipated – my ‘wow’ moment – was the true connection felt by everyone who visited Brighid’s website. Those visitors left messages of love and support that were exactly what my friends needed in their incredibly difficult time. The transformation was striking; a simple website became a compassionate community, bringing hope and healing. Brighid’s life was a short nine days, but her impact lives on in the hundreds of thousands of CaringBridge sites that have been created since.

Anyone can easily set up their own unique CaringBridge website. Users can select their website design and add health updates and photos to share their story while visitors leave messages in a guestbook, creating a network of support for both the patient and the caregivers.

For a patient, caregiver, and the family and friends that surround them, it is vital to stay connected. The basic human need of community is paramount when someone’s health is at risk. By using CaringBridge, a community can be instantly activated and engaged, bringing hope, healing, and connection to all.

Having a CaringBridge site is a good suggestion for any family going through a serious health event. I cannot count the number of times family members that have used CaringBridge have said it was the MOST IMPORTANT service used during their journey.

I also learned early on with CaringBridge that these websites are special. They connect people on a deep, emotional level. That type of connection needs to be treated with respect and never exploited.

CaringBridge has touched millions of lives – 36 million in the past 12 months alone – but so many are still in need. CaringBridge sites are free, easy, and built for one purpose: to bring hope, help, and connection to all when health matters most.

CaringBridge is a gift you can give unlike any card, bouquet, or casserole. Please help everyone know about CaringBridge. Tell a friend or find other ways to share our service.

Sona Mehring is the Founder and Executive Director of CaringBridge.org, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit providing free websites that connect family and friends during a serious health event, care, and recovery. An early adopter of technology for communicating health issues, Sona lives in Minnesota with her husband and three sons.