Thin Mints are Seattle's top Girl Scout cookie, our poll finds
Why it matters: Arguing over food is a glorious pastime (even if in reality we'd gladly shove all nine types of Girl Scout cookies in our mouths, no questions asked).
By the numbers: Thin Mints and Samoas were trading blows all week. Each cookie pulled into the lead at different times, often separated by only a vote or two.
In the end, 244 of the 883 people who took our poll named Thin Mints as their favorite cookie.
Samoas, meanwhile, captured 242 votes.
State of play: Monday is the last day to order Girl Scout cookies online through a local seller, according to the Girl Scouts of Western Washington.
You'll still find in-person sales at locations throughout the region through March 16.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Axios
08-08-2025
- Axios
Seattleites debate dog poop trash bin etiquette
Seattleites have strong opinions on where dogs' poop should go, judging by recent responses to our asking whether it's OK to toss doggy doo bags into a neighbor's trash can. The big brown picture: Readers are divided on whether other people's curbside bins are fair game for disposing of dog waste or whether those little poo bags should be hauled to a public receptacle — even if that public bin is some distance away. Between the lines: One Axios Seattle reader, Leah Anderson, told us she regularly carries her border collie's "not insignificant bag of poop" for a good half-mile or more to avoid dropping it in another person's garbage bin. On the rare occasions she's used someone's home trash bin, she wrote, "I felt like I was breaking some kind of rule." "What rule? I don't know." Several readers said it could be OK to toss a poop-filled bag into someone's household garbage bin on the day it's set out to the curb for collection. Even so, if that bin sitting on the curb has already been emptied, adding a poo bag at that point would be a faux pas, many said. "It will sit there for a week stinking up the bin," one reader wrote in an email. Wandering onto someone's property to find their trash bin was also generally considered a no-no. Others were adamant that dog owners have an obligation to transport that dookie back home, no matter the distance. Some said dog owners shouldn't even use public trash cans on the sidewalk to dispose of dog poop. (Confession: I toss my dog's crap in such bins regularly.) "The poop is the dog owner's property," wrote reader Tom Bekey, who added that owners should "consider the smell" and how employees of nearby businesses could be exposed to it. "One and only way to deal with dog poop is to TAKE IT HOME." And definitely don't drop it in a trash can at a bus stop, one reader wrote. Yes, but: Some said they'd rather find random dog poop in their home trash bins than underfoot. "The dog poop could end up somewhere way worse!" wrote reader Lacey Meaux, whose home trash bin has occasionally hosted others' poop bags. Others have come up with creative solutions. One person reported using a bag with divided compartments to help transport dog poop home. Another reader, Milana McLead, uses a plastic holder called a " Dooloop" to help carry dog poop bags and attach them to a dog's leash — no hands required.
Yahoo
12-07-2025
- Yahoo
Home of the Brave
The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here. A few specific sounds punctuate summer evenings in rural Iowa. A chorus of spring peepers, for example, or the shrill conk-la-ree of a red-winged blackbird on the side of a county road. But only one demands a response: the hostile, metallic beep of a NOAA weather radio. For 25 years, my mother ran Camp L-Kee-Ta, a small Girl Scout camp in the southeastern part of the state, which meant that, every summer, she was responsible for the safety of 64 girls and a staff of 20 young adults. At the first declaration of a tornado warning, Mom would walkie the counselors, instructing them to move their campers indoors. She'd ring the camp's cast-iron bell as the wind began to howl. And, because my family lived on-site, she'd toss me in the truck before driving from the cabins at Hickory Hills to the huts at Trail's End, checking for stragglers. Within minutes, we'd all convene in the basement of the Troop House, the largest camp building, a few dozen girls sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor with snacks and songbooks. I don't recall much crying in these moments as the storm raged above us. Mainly, I remember singing. Camp felt safe, in the literal sense but also the figurative one; there, girls could challenge themselves, free from the judgment of the outside world. At camp, we—for several summers, I was a camper too—learned to dive, to build a fire, to make friends. We practiced our courage and resilience, how to skin our knees and keep on hiking, how to carefully extract a tick. Even when disaster sent us underground, we were always ultimately okay. It was good for campers to be a little uncomfortable and homesick. These moments were and are the purpose of camp—preparation for the trials of real-world life. [View: Deadly flooding in Texas] And what I haven't been able to stop thinking about is the unfathomable tragedy that, last week in the Texas Hill Country, at least a dozen little girls lost their lives while they were learning how to be brave. Camp leaders across the country can't stop thinking about it, either. 'It is quite literally our worst nightmare,' Georgia Del Favero, a co-director of Camp Birchwood, a Minnesota summer camp for girls, told me. Right now, hundreds of camps, including Del Favero's, are in the middle of a summer session, or are about to welcome a new busload of children for three days or a week or a month. Moving forward requires accepting that, at camp as in life, we can make plans and follow guidelines, but even then, 'we can't always prevent tragedy.' Camp Mystic is a Christian camp, and one of several summer camps dotting the Guadalupe River in central Texas. It's a century-old, sprawling complex with two campuses and a range of activities on offer, including horseback riding, riflery, and synchronized swimming. Last week's flood came only a few days into a month-long summer session, and hundreds of campers were spread out across several cabins. When the rain began in earnest, early on the morning of July 4, most of those campers were still asleep. [Elizabeth Bruenig: An inhospitable land] Details about what happened next are murky, and news reports are difficult for those unfamiliar with the camp layout to follow. What comes through most clearly, at least to me, is the charm of Mystic's site names, instantly recognizable to anyone with camp experience: Senior Hill, where older girls stayed and were safe from the rising river; the Giggle Box and Wiggle Inn cabins in the lower part of camp, where girls were able to ride out the flood or evacuate; the Bubble Inn cabin, full of little girls who couldn't. What comes through, as well, is the heroism of Mystic's staff, who smashed cabin windows to push their campers outside, carried girls on their backs, and wrote campers' names in Sharpie on their arms in case they were swept away in the flood. Dick Eastland, a longtime co-director of the camp, navigated his truck through the dark water and died trying to save the girls at Bubble Inn. Many children currently attending summer camp still have no idea that any of this has occurred. Lots of camps follow a no-phones policy that provides kids a psychological haven from the noise of modern life. But their parents have seen the news, and camp-office phones nationwide have been ringing for days. It's hard to know what to tell parents, Ariella Rogge, who oversees the High Trails Ranch camp for girls, in Colorado, told me. You can help to calm a parent's fears by outlining the stringent safety standards most camps follow or the staff's extensive disaster-preparedness training. Still, 10 girls from Texas are set to attend Rogge's camp this week, and some of their parents are understandably unnerved, she said. 'My husband didn't go to camp, I didn't go to camp, and I am incredibly risk-averse,' one mother told her, according to Rogge. Then again, the mother said, 'this is what my daughter has been dreaming about all year.' Rogge isn't sure whether that mother will still send her daughter to camp next week. But she hopes so. She's trying to help anxious parents recognize that two things can be true. 'You can know this is going to be a really great experience for your daughter, and that she's going to have all this personal growth,' Rogge said, 'and you can be really nervous and scared.' Camp directors like Rogge and Del Favero will use this moment to review their safety procedures and communicate them to concerned parents; they'll train counselors on how to comfort anxious campers. Some camps might need to reevaluate cabin locations or work with local officials to install effective weather-warning systems, which didn't exist near Mystic. But my hope is that people won't use this tragedy as an occasion to bubble-wrap their kids, or to take away from their child the chance at a life-changing summer. [Stephanie Bai: The Texas-flood blame game is a distraction] This week, I called my mom to ask what she would say to parents if she were still directing camp. 'I'd show them how we mitigate risk,' she told me. But then, she said, she'd tell them all the stories: of the girls who'd been shy before camp and who, by week's end, bloomed with confidence; of the campers who cooked themselves dinner for the first time under a starry sky; of the little girl who fell from a horse, went to the hospital, and demanded to immediately be brought back to camp. When Mom and I spoke about the Mystic campers, we talked less about the tragedy itself, and more about all the times when we were sure that they'd been brave. How, woken by the sound of thunder, girls might have climbed down from their bunks and gathered their bunkmates with urgent voices. How they might have waited one extra minute for a new friend to grab a flashlight or a teddy. How afraid they probably were, but also how determined, as they waded together into the muddy water. Article originally published at The Atlantic
Buzz Feed
10-07-2025
- Buzz Feed
Adults Reveal Special Things Their Parents Did For Them
Most of us never realize everything our parents did to make our childhoods special. From holiday traditions to family vacations, kids often take these special, wholesome things for granted. However, once we grow up, gain perspective, and perhaps even become parents ourselves, we can appreciate just how magical our childhoods truly were, all thanks to our parents... That's why when Redditor u/MisterRocCity asked, "What was something your parents did for you as a child that you didn't fully appreciate until you became an adult?" adults were more than happy to share the heartwarming ways their parents made their childhoods special. From secret science labs to parental chauffeurs— here are 19 of their sweetest memories: "Beginning around age seven, I had an insatiable desire to write. I would write pages and ramblings almost every day, whether it was full accounts of my day, idealized accounts of my day, stories set in fantasy worlds, or long, dialogue-only scenes. I always gave them to my mom, and she would read them all the way through." "My parents were adamant about not raising 'iPad kids' so we had very limited screen time. We could only use the family desktop if we wanted to play games. If we wanted to talk to friends, we had to use the landline. We could only watch TV a few hours a day after chores and school were finished." "I had terrible menstrual cramps when I was in middle school. Every month I had to go to the school nurse, and she'd call my mom to come get me." "My parents built a secret room in our house and filled it with lab supplies — rocks and minerals, a kaleidoscope, a magnifying glass, books, a microscope, a chemistry kit, and all other kinds of Tandy and Radio Shack stuff we got to discover on our own. Whenever we went into the room, there would always be something new." "When I was sick, my parents would give me a little bell that I could ring if I needed something. Now I realize they were doing it so I didn't have to yell for them if I had a sore throat or felt too sick. I never had to wait more than a minute for them to help me." "When I was in tenth grade, I had a difficult biology course. Both of my parents studied with me and made up songs for me to use as mnemonic devices." "My parents worked hard to educate us outside of school hours: Taking trips to museums, teaching us to research things at the library, staying in historic hotels, going on nature hikes, camping trips, etc. My mom also ran two Girl Scout troops (one for me and one for my sister)." "My parents pinched pennies on everything except for a big family vacation every summer. We had a 30+ year old kitchen, a small house, 20-year-old cars, shopped the sales, etc., so they could afford to take us traveling." "My mom let me pick out my clothes, they were always within a reasonable budget and age-appropriate, but when we shopped for them, I got to pick what I wanted. I took it for granted that I should have that choice." "My parents (specifically my dad) didn't want me to have a job as a teenager, but all my friends were getting jobs and earning money, and I wanted to do the same." "Starting in late elementary school, my mom let us decide if we were too sick to go to school. At the time, I hated it because on days when I'd wake up with a headache or a stuffy nose, I really just wanted her to give me the out and tell me I could stay home because I knew I was well enough to go in but didn't want to." "My parents took me to Disney when I was little. I'm nearly 50, single, with no kids, and the realization hit me last year. I started tearing up when I thought about it. I saw something on TV that showed lines at Disney, and I thought, 'Wow, there are a lot of parents who have to stand in those lines for rides. I'm glad it's not me.'" "My dad was the official 'taxi.' He always wanted me to get home safe, so he would come to get me at 11:30 p.m. every Friday and Saturday." "My parents encouraged and supported my love of reading. They read to me, taught me how to read before I was in school, let me order books from Scholastic magazines and buy books at the book fair (one of my absolute favorite events at school), and took me on weekly trips to the library where I felt like Matilda with my wagon of books." "I did appreciate it at the time, but the fullness didn't hit me until a year later: My dad took me to get my first gender-affirming haircut before I came out to him. He didn't say anything about it other than offering to show me how to trim it myself and style it with light gel." "My brother and I loved school and needed intellectual stimulation, so every summer, my mother would make school-like activities at home for us. She worked at our school, so she had summers off with us, and we'd do themed weeks where we learned about different things." "My mom is and has always been 'Mrs. Make-it-happen.' A good example of this was once when my siblings and I wanted the ultimate sleepover with all of our cousins at our house. I didn't know at the time, but my parents were low on funds, but it didn't stop them from giving us what we wanted." "I'm thankful my mom homeschooled me. Having been diagnosed with ADHD and getting tested for autism now as an adult, I would NOT have done well or had a good time in public school. I would have been severely bullied for being 'weird' and fallen behind academically because of my difficulties learning in the standard ways. I never thought of it as a big deal, but looking back, I am so incredibly grateful that she did that for me." "My mom grew up deprived of life's 'simple pleasures', so when she became an adult and had five kids, she made sure we got to enjoy the little simplicities. She would buy us chocolates for Valentine's Day or celebrate St. Patrick's Day with the green and pinching, etc." Which one of these memories was your favorite? What was something special your parents did that you didn't appreciate until you were an adult? Tell us in the comments or answer anonymously using the form below!
