‘Tis the season to ask all the wrong questions

The thing about writing a blog is that there’s a written account of things I meant to do….or things I wish I had never done….but most often of things that make me look a fool. It’s not a talent, mind you, I am just naturally foolish. Foolish and not very shy. Case in point, my ambitious rule of the PTA bulletin board at Gavin’s school.

BOW WOW chicka wow wow…doggie style

Lately, Walter has been obsessed with being ensconced in pillows. He doesn’t just want to be surrounded by pillows he wants to be all UP in the pillows – like, one with the pillows, man. But he’s old, so can you blame him? Pillows are God’s gift to your entire well being. That is why body pillows were invented. I mean, who doesn’t need an adult-sized boppy?

Toby’s Dirty Little Secret

I never knew my dog, Toby, was such a slut. We’ve always had him pegged as more of an aging, asexual, fancy dog who is VERY particular about his hair. Particular as in if a shadow so much as casts its dirty light on him he goes ballistic. He’s some sort of Australian Shepherd (we lie and tell him he’s rare and the last of his kind) so he has long hair, which only serves to further conceal his tiny peen. You can tell he gets all angsty and self-conscious about this and will then throw a mean power-hump into our other dog, PJ.

But the worst display of Toby’s whorishness had to be last Labor Day when Tom and I took a trip to Eureka Springs.