As you can see, we're quite serious about our charity work here in Boston.
I didn't run the race (I was curled up on the couch watching a rerun of Good Will Hunting), but have made up for it with a productive Monday here in Trishland. I awoke THAT DOG from her slumber around 1pm to go for a walk. (Hubby's chiropractor will be delighted to know that while Steve isn't sure about the new special-order pillow, Kylie is enjoying it tremendously). We took the long route so I could mail some Christmas cards. (An aside: I always intend to write long, heartfelt messages in these cards, then get overwhelmed and fail to do so. So if you get a card from me, know that there's a tear jerking treatise of love and appreciation underneath my mundane message about having a Merry Christmas and a good 2007. And if you don't get a card for me, please know that while I may not have your address, I still have an uncommunicated heartfelt treatise for you, too!)
Anyway, about halfway through the walk, it starts to rain. First a few light drops, and then a pelting fury of cold bullets falls from the sky, at which point THAT DOG plants all four paws on the sidewalk, yanks her neck backwards to let me know that her little self is marching on no further, and shoots me a seering look that says, "Twenty minutes ago, I was warm and happy in bed. You've ruined everything! Fix it!"
But then a fat squirrel ran by and she regained her zest for life outside the bedroom.
Now that we're home, she is pacing through the house whining pitifully, unable to decide where to hide the sock she just pulled out of the laundry. Honestly, the song, It's A Hard Knock Life was written with her in mind. While Kylie wrestles with the bigger problems of the universe, I pulled a nasty raw chicken (really, is there any other kind?) out of the fridge to cook. I'm more convinced than ever that somewhere, hidden in the complex language of the book of Revelation, God says, "Don't eat poultry - it's just too gross." I've yet to find a Bible scholar to back me up on this, but I think it's a valid theory.
6 comments:
Indeed. If one wears so little during December in the Northeast, yikes!
Oh My My My
What a sight!
Thank you for the uncommunicated heartfelt treatise, right back atcha. I love how all the running speedo santa's have such serious faces. YOU ARE RUNNING IN A SPEEDO & SANTA HAT SMILE A LITTLE. I wonder if the winner actually brags about it "So you ran the boston marathon big deal, i WON the santa speedo run". \
Speedo Santas? HOW FUNNY!
Poor doggie. I feel her pain!
--The un-beta Swishy
Preparing chicken grosses me out too. But it's yummy once cooked.
Someone want to tell me how I missed all those Santa Speedo runs while working at 501 Boylston from 1986 to 2005??? Oddly, I believe it was a kindness that I missed most of that. OY!
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