Lungs Full

I recently finished an interesting memoir, Breaking Up With God. A whole book on religion, not exactly my speed. I'll admit I read it to find out about her move to atheism and that turned out not to be precisely how it went. I wasn't disappointed. In fact I found myself crying over it relatively often.

At one point the author, Sarah Sentilles, talks about learning some things about Chinese medicine. She says that in that practice the lungs are associated with sadness and grief.

The lungs are associated with sadness and grief. 

That, unsurprisingly, resonated with me. I'm just so sad. I wouldn't classify it as depressed. I would actually say sad. Grief plays into it. There's been so much loss, glancing blows to me perhaps but sadness nonetheless happening this year.  And last year, too.

It makes sense to me that I'm having trouble breathing now. Grief has weight. It's making me breathless.

One

Just one more before sleep.

Twice in the last week I've heard young adults use, in conversation with other adults, the term ding-a-ling. I love that.

What old timey phrase do you want to bring back?

Wormed

Today's earworms have run the gamut from Christmas Carols (12 Days of Christmas) to Sesame Street selections (Canta!). What's playing in your head today?

Actually...

The movie hit me just right. I laughed a lot. I even cheered. I know, but it's true.

What's making you laugh today?
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Mix Up

Feeling equal parts shame and excitment about seeing 21 Jump Street. What do you have mixed feelings about today?
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Pinkly

Just got stopped by a photographer on the street and asked to pose giving the finger to racism. Why, of course! What is tickling you pink today?
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Little (Too Big)

I'm grateful that this busy day won't require anything more formal than these yoga pants. What are you grateful for today?
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I Still Watch Movies

Got behind on my movie reviews. Starting back up!

Photo Challenge: JOY!

I continue to heal but very slowly. When people ask how I am I feel obligated to report progress, I know people want to hear that I'm cured, but I'm not and it makes me feel kind of...lame maybe not to just be over it. It's ok, I don't want more sympathy, I want it to be over too, you know?

Which is all to say that looking at JOY! photos in our Flickr pool has been an especial treat the last couple of weeks. Thanks for everything and I recommend that you swing over there and see all the delight I wasn't able to include there.

By the by, comments create JOY!

Smalltown Mom posted another shot, too, of a younger man enjoying some cake batter. It got a lot of fabulous reaction on Flickr. I decided to feature this one, though. We don't get enough young folks who indulge our funny online habits. Plus, I love corn on the cob and this makes my mouth water.

Seems like it's new puppy week! Falnfenix brought this 8 week old bundle of joy home around the same time NDP's Viggo arrived. Wish I could kiss on this sweet dude, too.

It's been a while since Our Janet posted one of these. I still enjoy the hell out of them. If you can't read this penmanship click through for her translation. It's a story of a truly joyful day.

As some of you know Our Bethany lives just across the street from me. This shot, to me, embodies all the wonderful things about our neighborhood. Probably my biggest regret about this mild winter is that we didn't get more of these moments of camaraderie.

Our Cindy is making good on her plans to develop and expand her garden. Pictured here are some of the most important gardening tools one can have. Incidentally, I decided to set this one after Bethany's because I associate Bethany's stoop with sipping red wine outdoors.

As inspiration for the next prompt I felt like I should post one of Our Lisa's brilliant self portraits. I could not deny these gentlemen and their groove, though. They are not to be ignored!

You know me, when in doubt post a picture of one of "my" dogs. If I'm still in doubt I usually pick one of Bu. There is no being happier than Bu with a ball firmly clamped between his Herculean jaws.

Think of this prompt as an opportunity. SELF. I want to encourage self-portraits of all kinds. With others and by ourselves, with makeup and without, with posing and casual, any way and anything you can devise. I know that some of you customarily add one shot and others always a few. For this one I hope you'll submit a couple. We want to see you. Keep that in mind as you shoot.

Please add your photos to our Flickr photo pool by 9am on Tuesday April 10th for posting on Wednesday April 11th. Let me know if you have any questions!

I Was Going To Make A List But I Forgot

I have a good long term memory but my short term can be iffy. Here are 10 Things I Forget

1. The 5 things I thought of for this list while I was in the shower this morning. I remember that at least 3 of them were really good, though.

2. The names of people I went to High School with. Most of them it's all really clear but when I forget someone, wow, blank slate, like I've never heard of them before. Someone tagged a face in an old photo and I didn't recall the guy even a little.

3. That I am good at things. A lot of things. And it's ok to say so. This weekend I heard a woman, in offering assistance to another woman, declare herself good at something. I stood by, not understanding the conversation at all for a moment until I realized. She's good at this and she wants to help the other woman, it's ok to say you're good at stuff.

4. The difference between stupid and ignorant. I know that ignorant is uninformed and stupid is...well...stupid but when you wrangle with someone for a while and hand out a bunch of fact-checked information but get only increased fervor in return I sometimes forget the distinction all together.

5. I used to work a lot. I used to work 7 days a week to barely scrape by. It wasn't all day every day but I was expected somewhere to do something for some kind of pay every day of the week for months on end, if I was lucky. No sick days, no health care, no retirement plan. I do not, however, forget how lucky I feel not to have to do that now. Sometimes, though, I only see the person who works 4 days a week (at her primary job) and still pays all her bills. I feel wussy along with lucky. I'm tough, though. I can work hard.

6. What I used to eat regularly when I was actively losing weight. As of yesterday I'm doing it again but when I ordered groceries last week I completely blanked on what kinds of food I used to get so I'd rarely feel hungry but stay within the limits that lose me weight.

7. What it feels like not to be strangled by my jeans. Hence #6.

8. Where I hid the last treat for the dog to find yesterday. So now I don't know if he found it or not. Nor when I'm going to sit, stand, or tread on it.

9. How to put one foot in front of the other. I was supposed to be singing by now. I am supposed to have a fall trip planned. I need an accompanist. I don't really have any clue how to start. I think maybe I used to know how to do this stuff but now I forget.

10. That you can't tell how many times a day I refresh the Photo Challenge Flickr Pool page to see if anyone has added anything. Maybe that's for the best. (Stay tuned. Results for JOY! and a new challenge go up tomorrow. Everyone is welcome. It's a super simple way to make some weird lady in Brooklyn happy.)


*Photos lovingly ganked from old friends on Facebook. I do, though, remember everyone in these shots.

Cuddle Duds

 

Last month I thought of a grand scheme. It's something I want to tell you about but am not quite ready to tell you about either so bear with the obscurity, please. It's the sort of project that required me to do a little work, then some more work, and then approach someone about collaborating. The person I really wanted to collaborate with I haven't worked with before so the prospect was a little fraught for me, in that you-put-these-emotions-on-yourself way. I recognize that but I have to respect it, too. Today, I did it. I attached my work to an email. I wrote a personable but informative and I hope persuasive cover letter. Then I did the hard part. I hit send. Now comes the waiting time, which is fine. I can wait. I'm a professional. Just sending off the request, willing to hear whatever answer comes my way, is like giving a super cute puppy a cuddle.

What have you done lately that's as good as puppy cuddling?

Woofie Weekend

I could explain but it's going to be so much more interesting if you check out the pictures and make it up yourself.

Sunnies, No D

I have a practical question. Do you get used to wearing sunglasses eventually? They make me squinty because life is so dark and I can't really see if I'm seeing everything I need to see. Will that stop if I keep wearing them. I don't want to get eye melanoma but I don't want to be all squinty all the time either.

Loungetastic

While turning a blind eye to the larger implications I have been loving the unseasonably fabulous weather. It hasn't been as hot in New York City as it has in some places but it's been warm enough for skirts and hardly a jacket at all. I love to be warm, hot even, so this is a time of year when I feel like I can do anything. I make plans and have the energy to execute them. It's fantastic.

What's more fantastic, though, is that I often don't get a chance to do anything at all. You see, everyone loves the weather. Almost everyone, anyway. We can't wait to revel in the air and the not shivering.

On Tuesday, after a lengthy email conversation with Amy she invited us over for a drink on the back deck. NDP joined us and we stayed until almost 9. Wednesday I managed to stick to my agenda but Thursday the dog led me up one street and down another and we passed NDP's house and there she was having a glass of wine (pictured) on the stoop. So we lounged there for a couple of hours until we all got chilly. This morning most of us in the park with our dogs couldn't even be bothered to look at our watches but at some point near enough to 9 we left. A few blocks later I found myself invited in for a breakfast of birthday cake! There is no breakfast better than birthday cake and this cake was exceptionally delicious.

Now I've got a new dress on and I'm ready to wander the streets of New York looking for my next opportunity.

My Kids

There has been a lump in my throat for days. In the back of my brain all day long is a thought about Trayvon Martin.

This weekend, before Martin was killed, I was chatting with some neighbors in view of my apartment complex and we heard squealing and yelling and shenanigans from that direction. I was startled and joked about how teenagers were a pain, except the ones in my building who are perfect angels that I love dearly. The loving them dearly is true. Nobody's perfect.

If my life were fiction that would have been the foreshadowing because I haven't been able to stop thinking about these kids all week. I remember when I first moved in and most of them were early elementary school age. One boy was the oldest and as they played in the courtyard he directed them all, getting that special brand of little man angry at the rest when they didn't listen to his directions about game rules and neighbor etiquette. He's now in college and has the wingspan of an eagle. Whereas when he was younger he would hold the door for me now he stands in the airlock space and stretches out to hold both doors for me. Strangely, I never see him angry anymore.

His younger brother went through a quiet, cloudy stage that somehow just lifted about a year ago. He's an upperclassman now so that makes a certain amount of sense. I'm hoping for the same from the younger daughter of a two girl pair in another family. She has that walled, about to give up look you see sometimes and, where her sister and mother are constantly reaching out to people, it's clear she doesn't want that for herself. Yet.

The cousins of those girls are all pretty chatty. The eldest boy wasn't until he saw me decked out for my first Mermaid Parade. Something about my willingness to lean in to my insanity seems to have opened him up. He talks to me every time we see each other now. His younger brother has lately acquired an enormous, pardon me dating myself, posse who troop in and out all the time. He directs them fiercely about opening doors for people and keeping quiet in the hallways. He seems like a leader.

About a year and a half ago this one lone boy, right in the middle of the building age group, suddenly appeared. Now, he'd lived here all along, we knew each other, but all at once he sprouted both physically and socially. He's nearly as tall as the eagle boy, he has an easy, brilliant smile, he's polite and interesting and seems always to be coming from or going to some kind of sporting activity. There is something so unfailingly genuine about his every action that I've been thinking of him the most.

Here's where I need to stop and tell you what I think about George Zimmerman, Trayvon Martin's killer. With the caveat that I don't know him and that I haven't listened to the 911 tapes I believe Zimmerman should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. And the law in Florida is something I'm not usually in favor of. The fact that he was not in custody at all as of the last time I checked is absolutely shameful, with a heaping side of fucking terrifying. This man has a history of reporting suspicious activity in his neighborhood when that activity is walking done by people who are not of his race. He was not attacked by this young man and the young man did not have a weapon. He was in the wrong. Now, I'm given to understand that there's a gun/self defense law that may be working in his favor but that's not helping me. I don't see how a boy walking and carrying groceries constitutes a threat.

I'm a little in the wrong, too, I suppose. I tell you all about how worthy these kids in my building are. I emphasize that they're polite and they participate in their community and they're well educated. I'm pointedly not telling you about when they talk too loudly under my window or scatter their trash in the stairwell or when one of them helped flood my bathroom. I'm about to launch into how often they go to the store for their families and walk back home in our increasingly gentrified neighborhood carrying plastic shopping bags that may well contain skittles and iced tea when the fact is all that shit is irrelevant.

If my kids, and I do think of them as my kids to some extent, or Trayvon Martin, or Ruby or Alita or any other kid wants to go to the store and walk home with their purchases they should be able to do so in complete safety. There should be no law that protects someone from killing a kid for walking even if that kid is a smart mouthed pain in the ass or a drug dealer or a hipster douchebag or wearing a god damned Bugs Bunny costume. Until they do or say something that constitutes a threat they, their clothing, and their skin color is not justification for harming one hair on their precious heads.

I know that, for the most part, I'm preaching to the choir here but I also keep saying that when injustice happens we have to keep talking about it because the debate, the communication, moves us toward justice. There's no justice for Trayvon Martin. There's nothing more for Trayvon. I talk a lot about how we're killing children with public policy, and education policy, and health care but that's mostly long term, slow moving, a cancer we have the tools to stop if we decide to wield them.

This time we just killed him.

*The kids in the photos don't happen to be the kids I've talked about in the post but they're kids in the neighborhood and kids who deserve to be safe and alive.

Laugh, Damn You, Laugh!

There are so many things to be angry about. I'm angry. Angry about my asthma, angry about Trayvon Martin, the people TN has decided should die for their health choices. I can't bring myself to write about all my anger, though, so here are some laughs. Well, they made me laugh.

1. ME: I'm just keeping you on your toes.
HIM: I'm not a ballerina.

2. This is for Misti. Since she's studying Hemingway she'll probably thing it's depressingly accurate. For the rest of us it's funny, though.

3. I don't know if this is funny exactly but parts of it. Consider it homework if you're thinking about getting a tattoo.

4. NDP is getting a new puppy on Friday! I'm going to get to meet him and will probably take a gazillion photos. Keep your eyes peeled. I'm counting on this little guy to bring a lot of laughs.

5. Parts of this essay by Kevin Smith made me laugh but it also made me swoon and melt. Yup, you got that right, Kevin Smith made me go weak in the knees and it had nothing to do with intestinal gas.

6. I've probably told you a million times to read Seth's blog. Maybe you are reading it. What I know you aren't doing is commenting because I'm the only one commenting over there. Help. Please! Today's installment has a pretty sweet Julie Taymor joke among other things.

7. I gave you this one a few weeks ago but, honestly, it remains my favorite joke of all time.
"How do catch a unique rabbit?"
"You 'neak up on him, silly!"

8. I know less about fashion than I do about basketball but voting in Fug Madness is my March obsession.

9. The first line of this writing advice from John Steinbeck makes me laugh right before it makes me bawl.

10. This last one makes me alternately angry and laugh like I'm going to pee myself. These fold up flat shoes recommended by Maggie look amazing. Now look at the price. Laugh. Cry. Laugh. Cry. Laughcry.

I guess that's all you can do.

Less Than Zero

When I get home there's usually a bit of chaos. The dog roos and jumps and brings me toys, the cats knock things off the table and meow and all I really want to do is put my shit down and breathe. Today the dog was especially springy. He forgot to bring a toy and he kept flinging himself at me, bouncing off, and coming back for another try. It was hard to ignore so it took me a while to really look at the apartment. A comforter that had been tucked on the back of the couch was on the floor, blankets that had been in the crate were out of the crate, the dog was still using me as a backboard. I read the dog walker's note and she said he'd taken a huge dump. This is, shall we say, uncharacteristic.

As I righted things I noticed a small paper shopping bag on the floor, the kind one gets Scooter Snacks in. I looked inside and it still had nine snacks in it. When I left this morning it was on the table. I'd already given him a couple and the bag usually comes with 15 in it. So he'd eaten 1 or maybe two. Hilarious, a bounty of deliciousness and my dog takes a decadent double serving and walks away. I should ask him for lessons. He's better than Weight Watchers. Bobby and Bu scoff at him, hell the cats do, too, they use him to open bags of thing they want to eat.

Then I noticed him on his bed. He had guilty eyes and was protecting something under his chin. It was a Scooter Snack. So, by my calculations he got down a whole bag of snacks, he ate one and he took another one out for, what? The thrill of it? Didn't eat it, though, that would have been too much.

This is why he's microchipped, has an ID tag, and wears a collar with my phone number on it. What are the chances this dog would last a day on the streets if he got lost?

Less than zero. At best.

Convalescing Tools

One of the most important tools for convalescence, for me at least, is TV. For this particular illness I've been streaming episodes of 24. It's got 7 seasons which turns out to be good for me since who knows how long my stupid illness will last. Turns out that 24 was to LA what Law & Order was to NYC. Everyone is on it, at least for an episode. As a result I've been treated to glimpses of some of my favorite folks and some indisputably Hot People. What better to do on a Sunday night of lying quite still than a Hot People post?

 

And of course, the one constant source of heat in the show.

This last one is someone who isn't in 24. A colleague of hers from The L Word had a recurring role on 24 but I don't like the colleague but used her as an excuse to include a photo of my beloved Katherine Moennig.

**********

Don't forget the JOY! photo challenge. There's still time to enter.

Caged Bird Singing

When I was a kid we lived on the corner of a large busy road and a small busy-ish road. I had a little sand pit in the front yard. My parents fenced it in chicken wire with a little gate that latched. My mother tells me that I loved to play in there...as long as the gate was open. If it was closed I simply sat and cried, presumably at top volume. So she could never let me play outside with the comfort of knowing I was safely confined.

Over the last two weeks I have had reports from 3 different neighbors that my dog has been crying off and on all day. He's been crated for a number of reasons and I know that he cries but I've also tested him and know it's only when he hears someone in the hallway. Dude likes little better than an audience. Since the neighbors only hear him when they're in the hallway their experience is that he is crying all day.

I have taken to uncrating him during the day and dealing with the other issues because I can't take the shame.

By the way, I apparently got a dog who is just like me.

Awry Can Be Good, Too, Right?

I live in New York City so, just by virtue of my location my life is super glam, right? Of course. Let me tell you what I'm doing tomorrow.

8:00am     Dog Park
9:00am     Don 7 layers of protective clothing and wrassle Elvis into cat carrier
9:30am     Drop Elvis off at the vet for ultrasound
10:00am   Apply ointment to diminish scarring
2:30pm     Walk Eddie to vet, regain possession of cat, watch vet violate my animals in various
                  ways, defend my choices of healthcare for my pets
2:31pm (I'm guessing)     My mother arrives from the frozen Northland using public transportation
                                         by herself
7:00pm (or thereabouts)   Vet appointment concludes, I apply for second mortgage
7:30pm     Drop animals and mom's luggage off at home
8:00pm     Nice birthday (mine and hers) dinner out with mom
9:30pm     Home again, tuck mom in

So, I know you're thinking, "Kizz, who made up this schedule? There are several points at which it could go horribly awry." Yeah, I know. Which is why I'm telling you about it. I need as many people rooting for this day as possible.

Judgment Day

Today is tax day, the day I meet with the accountant and she waves her magic laptop and money moves like a whirlwind. Hopefully a whirlwind in the right direction. I love this day as much as I hate preparing for it.

I used to think it was about the math. What if I did the math wrong? What if the math was too hard? What if I couldn't figure out what equations to use?

It's not about the math.

My W-2s say I'm a secretary and I am. I'm also a photographer, a writer, an actress, a singer, a teacher, and maybe a couple of other things. I spend a lot of money on all these jobs. Some more than others. For instance I spend very little money on the whole secretary gig but it's also my least favorite job. Sadly also the most lucrative. When I haul out the tax forms and the receipts every January (February....March...) I have to add up all that I've spent on the other things. That's sobering sometimes ($1600 on voice lessons, $1100 on camera equipment, $[redacted] on hair and makeup) but it's not the tough part.

The tough part is admitting what I did to earn those expenditures. Did I perform? Audition? Submit? How many shoots did I have? Which means that this simple exercise in math turns out to be a complex exercise in commitment and self-esteem. Last year as we parted the accountant nudged me a little about all that. I said, "What do I need to do?" She replied, "Earn more money!"

Notice two things there. 1. She didn't say how I should earn that money. 2. I have carried that directive around as a painful admonishment specifically for not performing. I didn't go out and pound the pavement for a new office job. That would have earned me more money! I also didn't audition for a commercial or sing in a bar or submit my plays to theatre companies. She's not judging me, she's stating the facts. She's happy for what I have because, among other things, it means I can afford to hire her, and she'd be happy for me to do more because, I'm pretty sure, she likes me and she likes the artsy sort of client because she enjoys our successes with us.

The fact remains, though, that this time of year, more than January 1st or my birthday even, forces me to look hard at what I've done and what I've omitted from the previous year. I'd like to say it inspires me to go forth and do more with the current year but so far that theory hasn't proved out. Instead I've taken to writing down all my possible deductions and handing her a letter with the totals rather than speak them out loud. My goal for the meeting winds up being not to make the lack real by spitting it into the breeze. I would have gotten away with it today, too, except she was training another accountant and they had to clarify that I couldn't deduct the voice lessons because I hadn't made any income from singing.

Why, then, am I blogging it? What bigger breeze is there to expectorate into than the internet? Wasn't I trying to avoid that? Yeah, I was, but I know the truth. It's impossible to avoid. Even if I told no one else, even if I learned enough tax code to keep the trainee quiet, it would still be true and I would know.

I know.

Now what am I going to do about it?

*Photo from the site of, probably, my best performance of 2011.

Photo Challenge: WOMAN

This one was interesting. I got a lot more submissions than I'm able to show here so please click through to the photo pool and check out all the amazing women featured by our participants. I'm adding the begging italics because I know you, I know you're a non-clicker like me and I don't want you to miss out on all the visual deliciousness. Don't forget to scroll down for the next prompt, either.

This is Smalltown Mom's mom wearing a Kilroy Was Here shirt in 1948. There's nothing that is not awesome about this.

Chrome enjoys a themed party. I don't know what the theme is here precisely but I like it! I also love that it's unintentionally totally selling her funny t-shirt.

I know Our Bethany well enough to know that she's probably elicited more than one of these looks from her elders. Loving but challenging. It's great when you get this look from a cherished older lady.

I bet you think this is a vintage shot from Our Janet's archives, don't you? It's not! Check out her sneakers and look closely at her pants, they're jeans. How cool is that?

When I feel pressure in a social situation I often hide behind my camera under the guise of recording the event for the honorees. At this bridal shower I met the mother of the bride (center) for the first time. Not sure she was down with my coping mechanism but I love her face and took a few shots of it.

I told Our Cindy that she was going to have to come up with something pretty spectacular to oust this as my favorite. While she made a good faith effort she didn't quite accomplish it. These are the sort of women I want to grow old with. Very, very old.

I think it's telling that only one photographer included a self-portrait. It might mean I need to create a prompt that requires it. Our Lisa has been working really hard on her fitness lately. I'm so glad she decided to share her results (and her new outfit) with us.

Our Suebob broke hearts with this shot of her late sister, Laura, as a new mom at the ripe old age of 19. If it makes you cry know that you are not alone.

I need some time to catch up financially with all the donating we've been doing. $80 to the Lung Association this time around! This challenge will just be for fun. I think we all need a little more sweetness and light in our lives. Thus the challenge is JOY! (Exclamation point included.)

Please add your photos to our Flickr photo pool by 9am on Tuesday March 27th for posting on Wednesday March 28th. Let me know if you have any questions!

Free Not Unchallenged

Really, I've got nothing. I don't know where to begin. 10 Things you say? I say, I've been sick on some level or another for 6 weeks, I can't even count to 10. In a situation like this it's probably best to go to the starred file.

My printer just chirped like my cat. I'm terrified.

1. This week's Doonesbury strips have been pulled from many papers as the story line follows a woman going to a clinic that provides abortions. You can catch them online, though, and I suggest you do. Note all the lovely little details (clipboard).

2. From the HuffPo via @mameres apparently I can cure my nosebleeds with bacon...technically with salted pork. I am fearful of nasally contracted trichinosis. That's fatal, right?

3. I'm probably going to turn my dog crate into an end table. I'm weird enough for that, don't you think?

4. I haven't watched this yet but it's a TED talk by a photographer, Penny De Los Santos, that I heard speak at Blogher11. I love her. If you want to love her, too, I bet this talk will help.

5. Speaking of Blogher11, on the first night there I met a lovely lady named Laura. She has 5 kids and is a NICU nurse. The other day she wrote a great piece about coming to a place that is pro choice. I've already told her how much I like it. If you like it I'd love for her to hear that, too.

6. Feministing put up a great poster image regarding slut-shaming on International Women's Day.

7. The fact that orders of protection and restraining orders are an ineffective tool for saving women's lives isn't new information. It still just makes me sick to my stomach, though.

8. For those of you who are technically minded Magpie's little journey of an email will, I think, make you laugh. Considering who I work for and how I work it's the kind of thing I've been party to on too many occasions.

9. Also from Magpie, in regard to the Limbaugh bullshit there's a photo of a protestor who I want to meet based on her grin and her awesome sign.

10. Last but not least we have a teensy brouhaha in the fucking shitstorm of hatred toward women and homosexuals this year. So Kirk Cameron, remember him? He was a child TV star and bad boy. He veered evangelically Christian many years ago. Quite recently he made some terrible anti-LGBTQ statements in a very public forum then proceeded to whine about the fact that people were angry about that and told him so. In no uncertain terms. John Scalzi took on his ridiculous expectation of a world with no repercussions for your actions. I love it when Scalzi does that.

I counted to 10! I must be on the mend.

Sunny Sadie

I have been hearing about Miss Sadie for years. Ever since Moody introduced Bill into our movie-going Fridays we've exchanged little bits of dog info.

A couple of weeks ago I finally got to meet her in person on the occasion of her 9th birthday. Bill threw a little cocktail party and, let me tell, the birthday girl knew we were there to see her.  She soaked up all the love and attention like a silky, golden sponge.

She's just as beautiful as advertised, maybe even a little more.