40 Days of Faith

This is my favorite time of year in our church. As our observation of Lent, we do something called 40 Days of Faith...from now until Easter, we focus on Jesus, asking him to bless our lives in outrageous ways, fasting from things that distract or comfort us that aren't about him, and looking for fun ways to bless the people around us.

In years past, I've fasted from coffee (difficult), television (even more so), and reading (nearly impossible-imagine me for two hours at the hairdresser getting my highlights done, NOT reading...just looking out the window. I looked like I'd lost my mind...) But in the midst of the effort and embarrassment, I've seen amazing answers to prayer and even a miracle or two, which is what makes this whole thing so much fun - there's no telling what will happen.

This year, I'm fasting from computer-related distractions: blogging and blog surfing. So you won't see much of me between now and Easter Sunday. I'll miss you!!! I know that in the natural world, dropping out of the blog-sphere for over a month is a sure recipe for losing online friends. But while I'm believing for miracles anyway, I've decided to trust that these fun friendships we've developed will endure, and that Spring will bring more good news and funny observations to post about all around.

If you feel like you could use a miracle of your own, everything for the 40 Days is (or soon will be) on the website I linked to above, free for anyone to use. There's a "User's Guide to the 40 Days of Faith" you can download, and a weekly reading that goes through the book of Luke in the Bible. Ask for something big and see what happens :)

I'm off for now. Have a wonderful pre-Easter season (how's that for a bizarre exit phrase???) and I'll see you in April!

Soaking it up

As you've probably noticed, I'm on a bit of a consumption jag, devouring books and movies and music at a frenetic pace, then flinging out recommendations in lieu of blog entries. (Although, to whatever extent this blog is about what is going on with me, this about sums it up unless you want to hear about the new pillowcases I got at a discount outlet last time I went to Maine...)

I go through this stage about once a year, usually in February when everything is gray and dingy and dead from winter, and those same words describe the inside of my heart and mind. Not depressed, not discouraged; there's no need to fear (much) for my overall mental health. But I've been feeling rather dead, needing something new to revive me. This is typically when I long to move to New York City, where stuff is happening, stuff that might wake me up and give me something to write about again. Instead, I've been finding it in the four hundred word sentences of a famed octogenarian writer, a pudgy nine year old dancing to music selected by her unorthodox grandfather, and - today- the songs from a couple of singers I'd never heard before in quite this way. I listened to them, and I wrote. Real stuff, not the wow, she's trying way too hard pithy drivel I churned out last week.

So if you're looking for inspiration, here are today's suggestions:

For funky, ecclectic music talking about faith and life: Ayiesha Woods. She's like India Arie meets Tracey Chapman meets Queen Latifah. Her song Happy made me happy...what more can I ask for?

If you're feeling introspective, and want to think and feel and see the world with big new eyes, Cindy Morgan's new CD, Postcards is brilliant. An hour with this CD this morning, and I'm a better human being.

So there you have it. Now I'm off to the video store to get the new DVD by the Dixie Chicks, to see their creative process from the inside and to try to dislike Natalie Maines a little less. I'm not sure why, but it feels important for me to see her as more than one of those girls who would round everyone up to hate me in the first grade because I wore a funny shirt or sat at the wrong place at lunch. I'll let you know how it goes!

Let me entertain you!

Okay, not me, really. (Although as soon as I master internet video technology, there may be some early baton twirling footage to be seen...especially now that I know that there is a National Coalition forming in support of our advancement!)

More on that later. For now, suffice to say that this was an entertaining weekend, due to the miraculous discovery of TWO good rental movies (a first in my life) and a hysterically funny book. So now I'll pay it forward...

In the "whoda thunk it?" category, The Lake House with Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves. I know, I know...it looks cheesy and dorky, and really Keanu really only works when he's duking it out in The Matrix...but still. I totally loved this movie and recommend it for those times when you want to see a creative path to happily ever after.

Next, in the, "okay you're right indie films don't all suck" category (following closely on the heals of last week's slam-dunk viewing of Little Miss Sunshine - Olive is now my screen saver because she makes me so happy) is Trust The Man - David Duchovny, Julianne Moore, Maggie Gyllenhaal, and Billy Crudup. The title has nothing whatsoever to do with the film from what I can tell, but the story is great. I never understood what the big deal was about Ms. Gyllenhaal before, but now I do. She was great, as was the writing. There was one scene where she was doing that thing we all do where we blurt out words like "I know I'm on a journey" and "I'm learning to live life in the grey area" to insist that really, we're FINE, when every feature on our face screams out "Help me! My life is going down the toilet and I don't know what to do!!!" All the actors are brilliant in this, and it's another great rental for your viewing pleasure. As my friend Gilmore Girls Fanatic would say, this movie gets FIVE Pop Tarts!!!

And finally, I'm halfway through a book with what must be the Longest Title Ever - it's cover reads:
This Publication, Proudly Sent Forth Under The Title Of THE DEAD BEAT Will Gratify The Reader With A Survey Both Humorous And Poignant Of The Wonders Enfolded In The Pages Of An Ordinary Newspaper, and Including Many Marvelous Tales Relating To LOST SOULS and LUCKY STIFFS And The PERVERSE PLEASURES of OBITUARIES. At 52 words, I suspect this was written by Gay Talese. The book, considerably shorter than the title, is pretty darn funny.

And finally, this just in from my favorite Texan. Hee :)

Happy President's Day everyone!

Things that make you go ewww

What is going on in the world that this and this are today's headlines????

Heavy Lifting

Last night, as the rest of the world watched Simon, Paula & Randy break young hopeful's hearts on American Idol, I cozied up on my couch with 448 pages of Gay Talese: A Writer's Life. It's the closest thing to aerobic reading I've ever experienced.

Talese, a longtime writer for the New York Times and the author of several gigantic works of nonfiction (not to mention the husband of power editor Nan Talese) seemed like a good bet for a little inspiration, and his book does not disappoint. Never in my life have I seen so many words - conveying such a wide breadth of information - crammed onto a single page. Two hours into this journey, my right foot was sound asleep and my eyes were wide with awe. I'd covered a mere 78 pages in that time, wherein Mr. Talese led me, like a kindly but adventurous grandfather, across three continents, four decades, two home offices, fifteen restaurants, and at least three generations without missing a beat. I've never read anything like it - I got up to go to the bathroom at one point and thought, "Wait a minute - how are we talking about his parents waltzing in the living room after dinner in the 1940s when two paragraphs ago we were wondering about the fate of a Chinese soccer player who missed a penalty kick in 1999?" I felt like a little kid again, having no idea where we were headed or what decade or industry we'd wander through next.

I was encouraged (and slightly amazed) by Talese's description of his writing process: he writes long-hand on a legal pad, in pencil. He writes a sentence, ponders it, changes it, erases it, starts over, wrestles with it until it's perfect. Then he starts a new sentence. When he's accumulated a full page of these perfected gems, he moves over to his typewriter and commits them to typeface (at which point he thinks of things that should be added or changed, which sends him back to his legal pad...) At this rate, he managed - over the course of a decade - to create 52 pages of usable prose. His finished books come in at 400-500 pages, making this man the perfectionist triathlete of the literary world. I say give him his preferential seating at Elaine's - he's earned it.

My FAVORITE part of the book so far, though, is on page 71. Explaining his tendency to drift off and eavesdrop while dining in New York's fine restaurants, Talese lets fly with a FOUR HUNDRED AND FORTY ONE word sentence. That's right - 441 words/one period. It's both horrifying and fabulous - I've never seen anything like it. Clearly, Talese ascribes to Stephen King's maxim that the road to Hell is paved with adverbs, as his 441 word creation (which, by the way, is really just a toss-off sentence where he ponders the fish someone is eating at a nearby table, speculating as to what sort of confusing day the fish must have had) contains only three.

My favorite part of the sentence (it's so long, it almost has chapters) is where he imagines the "bearded, brandy-breathed, scrawny, wife-abusing French-Canadian fisherman" who might have pulled up the net that captured the fish. Honestly, I don't use that many adjectives to describe ALL the people in my book, let alone one fictitious fisherman. Inspiring. (Although I suspect that to get this kind of monster by an editor you need to have reached a point in your career where people like David Halberstam call you "The most important nonfiction writer of his generation." I'm not quite there yet).

I'm going to type out this sentence - it may take me the next week or so - and frame it.

Straight up with one Olive

Thanks for the cheer-up guys...you all really are the best :)
I'm back in the saddle, writing wise, and it feels good in an off-key, I'll make it sound good later kind of way. I went out and bought one of those writing books on getting up the gumption to start new projects, and the threat of having to read it drove me back to my laptop in a way I never would have guessed! The only thing I dread more than writing drivel, it turns out, is reading other people's opinions on how I can generate more such drivel, and how necessary and important my drivel is. I don't disagree, but it makes very dull reading. God willing, I won't ever read that book, I'll just keep typing frantically, year after year, trying to avoid it :) (Probably not what the author had in mind, but I take solace in knowing her commission is the same whether I crack the binding or not.)

Two other things chimed in to pick me up off my duff this week:

We rented the movie Little Miss Sunshine the other night, and let me tell you, Miss Olive (pictured above) has changed my outlook on life (not to mention dance and fashion....) forevermore. If you haven't seen it, get thee to the theater ASAP. I almost maybe wet my pants while watching the closing scene.

And I downloaded "Best of Disco" on iTunes. I defy anyone to be depressed while singing, I love the nightlife, I got to boogie, on the disco arrrrrraaaahhhh Oh yeah...

I'll leave you with that audio-image :)

Notes from a narcississia

Weekend update: In an attempt to stay entertained during the cold, I saw Dreamgirls with friends yesterday. Dang, Jennifer Hudson can sing! I tend to forget that performances like that are practiced - they don't come out perfect in their initial incarnation - so it kind of made me feel like crap. That happens (I've noticed) when I forget about things like learning and rehearsal. Or, in Anne Lamott's great writing terms, crappy first drafts. I read my favorite writers and listen to my favorite singers convinced that their words burst forth (with musical accompaniment, no less) the moment they deign to put pen to paper. Not fun, especially as I've been a little shy on earth-shaking creative force lately. As I ponder the vast hopelessness of wrestling a poignant, transformative collection of brilliant nonfiction from my brain out onto my computer, you can imagine how much fun I am to be around. (If you have a moment, kindly drop me a note in the comments and remind me that the quality of your life is not contingent upon me writing the perfect book...tell me how you're doing just fine and I should get over myself, shut up, and write something, whether it's world-changing or not :) )

In happier news, the Red Sox equipment truck left Fenway Park to head down to Florida for Spring Training today. Not the players. Not the coaches. Not even a lucky fan. The equipment truck is headed for Florida, and people all over greater Boston are pinning the story to our mental bulletin boards as proof that spring will - has to - come. To which I say...I wonder if I could write something poignant about that....

Just kidding :)

Lo and behold, an epiphany...

As I was stepping into the tub last night, I realized, in one of those, "Duh - why didn't I think of this sooner?" moments, that I need a hobby. (And then I fell into the same trap as the rest of the people who have ever read books dealing with the improvement of the human condition: I took my personal revelation and flung it out onto the broader landscape of humanity, deciding once and for all that ALL women over thirty who don't yet have kids need a hobby. But that's another post).

The problem is, though - what to do? What sort of hobby can one pick up at this point in life? It seems a bit late for gymnastics, I'll admit; and I don't think that collecting blue bottles to display on the window sill is going to stretch my mental muscles in the way that I need. I considered knitting, briefly, but (as my sister will tell you) my history with handmade crafts is a brief and tortured one, and I'm not the best candidate for activities involving fine motor skills and long sharp needles.

So I'm thinking of learning to play the piano. It's absurd, I'll admit, but with those new keyboards that come with headphones, the chances of someone getting hurt are minimal; I appreciate that in a hobby. There's not much musical talent in my bloodline (we've long joked that a recording of some other family singing "Happy Birthday" would greatly improve our annual parties) but what we lack in skill we make up for in enthusiasm. I've danced to enough Janet Jackson songs to know I'm a part of the Rhythm Nation (I'd learn drums if we weren't in a 950 square foot condo...) and at the very least I can learn the chords (notes? how does piano music work?) to "Happy Birthday" to drown out our voices at my nephew's birthday party next month...

So that's my plan...for today anyway. Tomorrow I may decide to become a travel agent.

If you could try anything, what would your new hobby be?

So that's why the melons at Whole Foods cost so much....

I can't think of any way to comment on this article without sounding heartless. So I won't. (Except to say "Please, someone, tell me this is a joke..." and "Aren't there better pursuits for scientists questing for breakthrough inventions???") Okay, I guess I commented. (Note to self: work on restraint and political correctness).

Moving right along...I need your help. I recently discovered the joys of iTunes, but am overwhelmed with all my choices. So here is what I need from you, my friends (besides patience with my inability to recognize the innate humanity of crustaceans) - song recommendations! What are your favorite songs in the following categories:

1. Inspiration: Music to keep you going on the treadmill/elliptical machine

2. Relaxation: Hanging out on couch thinking about how much better than feels than being on the treadmill/elliptical machine

3. Destination: Road trip/long flight music

My ipod thanks you :)

Other great books to read while waiting in the hospital

Okay, I never thought my 2007 book log would take this particular turn, but so far, my major reading has been done in hospital waiting rooms as my Mom has been run through a gauntlet of tests. She's kept up a level of heroism (not to mention an uncanny ability to navigate narrow corridors in a cold hospital wheelchair without getting either her oxygen cord OR those little strings that hang down from the johnny tangled in the wheels) that makes me wonder if there might not be a spot for her on the next round of the MTV Real World/Road Rules challenge...

Anyway, I already shared how happy I was to have Julie Carobini's Chocolate Beach last time. Yesterday's read was Joy School by Elizabeth Berg. I'll write a full review for the book log once I finish the book and gather my thoughts, but wow, does she do a good job creating her young protagonist's voice. There are some writers who inspire me as to how I can write better. There are others, though, who make me stand back in awe. I suspect Berg is in the second catagory :)

And thanks again for all your prayers for Mom...she's still not feeling great, but all these tests show that her heart and lungs are way better than they thought...which makes me and my family a grateful bunch!

Options for my pen name

I've been tagged by my favorite Michigan girl, now known as Sbra! I love her extra now that she has punctuation in her name. There's a good chance that when I finish blogging, I'll spend the rest of the afternoon exploring my options in this area:
I could be Trish!
Or Trish%
Or (on a bad day) Trish?
Or the Spanish version (pretend the first one is upside down) ?Trish?
Wow, this could be a long weekend...

Okay, here goes the meme:

1. YOUR REAL NAME:

Trish (Patricia, actually. Not Pat.)

2. YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (first three letters of your name, plus izzle)

Triizzle. That sounds like a weather report, anticipating small amounts of precipitation.

3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial of first name, first three of your last)

Tayn. Don't mess with me, I'm pretty fly.

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (fav color and fav animal)

Blue dog. If I ever start a career as a jazz musician, there's the title of my first album (I'll need some sort of cover for my detective career, no?)

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, Street you live on):

Nadine Ericsson. Clearly, she's a woman not to be messed with! I bet I'd have a long career in the soaps, cause they keep the villain women around forever.

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first name, first 3 letters of mom’s maiden name)

Ryatrcoll. I think that makes me the machine that dispenses cold beverages.

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (favorite color, favorite drink)

Blue Cabernet (and her alter-ego, Blue Chocolate Martini). Now there's a cartoon I'd tune in to see.

8. YOUR IRAQI NAME: (2nd letter of your first name, 3rd letter of your last name, any letter of your middle name, 2nd letter of your moms maiden name, 3rd letter of your dad’s middle name, 1st letter of a sibling’s first name, last letter of your moms middle name)

Radosma. That should be all it takes for me to fit right in. Who cares if I have freckles if my name is Radosma?

9. YOUR STRIPPER NAME: (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/body spray)

Destination. I think I'd do better as a cruise director.

10. YOUR WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother & father’s middle name)

Amelia Russell. Now when you meet me, you'll know my secret.

These are all fine options, but I still like the look of !?Trish?! Doubt encased in enthusiasm - what more could I want in a name?

I'm tagging Lynette, Swishy, Sarakastic, and Jenny.

I wrote a book!

My manuscript has been submitted! (I'm so wiped out that I don't even care that I'm making my big announcement in the passive voice). It was too early to run to the wine store to celebrate, so I toasted the moment with a "Yay, I wrote a whole book!" bowl of toasted oat squares. You'd think that would feel anti-climatic, somehow, but I was pretty hungry...

At some later date, I'll share with you what happens when you realize, the night before your book is due, that you've switched tenses midway through your story and now have 157 pages of sentences that need to be changed by tomorrow... Suffice to say that 3:32am is not my finest writing hour. I am newly appreciative that my days of academic term papers and all-nighters are behind me!

Thank you all for your awesome encouragement. As soon as I wake up from my nap I'll post something more celebratory. Who knows, I might even take a shower and put on real clothes! Woooo Hooo!

A Ray of Chocolate In An Otherwise Dreary Waiting Room

So last night, as my head fell down into the divot of the ergonomically correct pillow Steve's chiropractor promises will realign my entire muscular, nervous, AND skeletal systems (mine doesn't have the little pump you see in the picture; apparently I can't be trusted with that level of technology) when I realized that I forgot to share the one bright spot in my trip to the hospital with my Mom last week - the paperback ray of sunshine and happiness that got me through the long day (and even made me forget about the gross tuna sandwich):

On my way out the door that morning, I grabbed Julie Carobini's new book, Chocolate Beach, and stuffed it into my purse. Wow, was I glad I did. This is a fun romp through beach life, friendship, the dilemmas of marriage and in-laws and motherhood. One look at Julie's website makes it clear that Chocolate Beach is a perfect beach read. What I'm hear to tell you is that it also makes the perfect accompaniment to a long morning in a hospital waiting room. (I'm guessing Julie's publicist never thought to pursue that angle... ) Anyway, a huge THANK YOU to Julie for keeping me entertained during a tough day!

Mom Update

Hi everyone. We're back from Maine for now (headed up again tomorrow). My Mom has stablized a bit but is still really weak; and she and my Dad both have some sort of cold that is knocking them for a loop, in addition to everything else. We're waiting to hear back from the doctors on the twenty bazillion tests Mom had last week. (Honestly, it was like healthcare spring training for her - we expect her to be an early pick in the major league draft.)

A few things I learned while accompanying Mom to the hospital:

1. If a perky nurse comes up to your 66 year-old mother who is being watched like a hawk for signs of stroke and/or heart failure and says, "We have a BRAND NEW nurse with us today who is learning to insert IVs, and she'll be right over to put yours in!!!" You need to say immediately, in a loud and forceful voice, "No %$##& way." You are not required to sacrifice your beloved Mother to New Nurse Nanette's medical training, no matter how certain hospital personnel are that really, it won't be a bit of a problem.

2. If your mother is attached to the oxygen machine on the wall while lying on a rolling bed, make sure they disconnect her from the wall before rolling her away. Because they just might forget to do so. Twice.

3. Never eat the tuna salad in the hospital cafeteria. (Rookie move, I know. But I'll admit my blunder in an attempt to protect others...)

All that said, however, I'm happy to report that everyone else we encountered at the hospital - the volunteers, Mom's doctor, the nice lady in the cafeteria who waited patiently for me to dig change out of the bottom of my purse because I forgot to bring any money - were all very wonderful.

Thank you so much for all your prayers...they're working!!!

Life is what happens...

Hi All - Steve and I are headed up to Maine. My Mom is having some pretty crazy heart trouble - it's starting, stopping, starting up again - and she's in the middle of a series of medical tests that would exhaust even the healthiest of marathoners. Please keep her and my Dad in your prayers.

Thanks so much!

Deep Cover

I'm hibernating this week - me, my laptop, my manuscript, and seventeen boxes of microwave popcorn. (And THAT DOG, perched at my feet, waiting for a buttery kernel to fall).

THE BOOK is due to my editor next week - the final version, the one that says, "This is my very best!" Yikes.

In an attempt to head off obvious disasters, I'm reading my prose aloud, looking for tense changes, personality changes, or other things that make memoirs such fertile ground for critical stomping come review time. Nothing like nine months of trying to be "real" to completely mess with your head - I've reached the point where my main character seems like some other poor girl...and really, I wonder as I read, why didn't someone stop her from dating all those losers??? Fortunately, few things are as funny as our own bad decisions (presuming there's a happy ending in there somewhere), so I get to giggle quite a bit as I enunciate all the details of the many failed attempts to protect me from my own best thinking :)

Okay, I'm not even sure that last paragraph makes sense... I hope you're all having a great week, and I'll pop my head back out from time to time to get some air (and perspective). Back to the cave for me!

Today's Font Of Wisdom

I'm not usually cocky enough to make Oprah-esque pronouncements about "What I Know For Sure," but watching the latest episode of America's Next Top Chef emboldens me. Here is what I know for sure:

1. If you are challenged to cook with chocolate, don't (don't, don't, pleeeeease don't) reach for chicken livers as your other featured ingredient. Honestly, Elan's chicken liver truffle looked like something people would be forced to eat on a Real World/Road Rules Challenge. Yeeeuck.

2. If you are a woman competing against men on network television, this is probably not the time to chase your lifelong dream of shaving your head. With a few swipes of that razor, Elia took her marketability from a respectable 7 (cute girl, fabulous hair) down to a -5 (weird girl, looks like she escaped from a mental hospital). If this was Project Runway or some other show where she could balance out the baldness with fabulous clothes, it might be less awful, but those chef's coats look waaaaayyy to much like straight jackets for this to be anything but a debacle. Hasn't this girl seen that episode of Friends that warns us not to do this???

3. Finally, if you can't control the urge to put Marcel in a headlock - and let's be honest, how many of us could? - get him off camera. As much as the grown-up part of me was watching Cliff pin him to the ground and thinking, "Hmmm...this might not be such a great idea," the little kid part of me was cheering, "Shave His Head! Shave His Head!" just because he's soooooo impossibly annoying.

This is the first time I've considered the possibility that reality TV might be good for America...seeing things like this makes me realize that all of us have many more things we "Know For Sure" than we think we do.

What do you know for sure?

They say it's my Birthday :)

It's my birthday!!! Happy birthday tooooo meeeeee!

If I hadn't promised THAT DOG that we wouldn't get a monkey, I'd ask for a visit from this Chimp, whose first act upon seizing her freedom was to clean the bathroom. That's what I like to see in a pet - initiative! (THAT DOG is staring at me, as if to say, "I have no thumbs - how much cleaning can I possibly do???")

Putting my monkey dreams behind me, I'm heading over to Amazon to buy myself a little something from my wish list. I started this tradition a few years ago, when life was pretty grim and the prospect of another year wasn't something I necessarily wanted to celebrate. So I'd force myself out to the bookstore and pick out a book to encourage me to keep on keepin' on. One year it was about writing. The next about developing good character (instead of living life as if I was a character, trapped in a sitcom where bad things just keep happening). Last year my birthday kicked off my memoir craze, and I double-treated myself to the stories of a rocker chick (I even went to her launch party) AND a starving kid from West Virginia who grew up to be a NYC gossip columnist. This year...well, I already feel extra birthday celebrated because an advance copy of this delicious-looking novel was in the mailbox yesterday :) As for my trip to Amazon, it will be fun to see what jumps out at me and announces, "I am your birthday book for 2007!"

Any suggestions????

The View

A peak into my window (be careful on that ladder, you're up on the third floor):

Blue pajamas. A large green couch. A small blonde dog missing a tooth. Editing, editing, editing. Sending a copy of manuscript to my agent and two trusted readers for their comments, feeling pretty good about myself. Little happy dance, a la Miss Jackson: I'm in...CONTRO-OL. I'm. In. Con-trol.

Two days later: noticing that there is a large chunk of Chapter Three floating inexplicably in the middle of the Preface. Beating head against wall behind large green couch (we need to hang a picture there anyway...) Listening to husband reassure me that these three lovely people will not decide I'm a useless hack because of this mistake, that it's not as if my oversight was immortalized in 100,000 print copies in 7 different languages. Nonetheless feeling like my Mother must have the day she dropped me off at nursery school wearing my favorite red and blue plaid pants with my beloved orange print shirt, announcing, "She dressed herself today..."

Last night: Same blue pajamas. Same green couch. Same dog. Hubby and I jumping up and down on said couch, screaming, "Go - Go- Go- Go!" as Tom Brady leads the Patriots down the field to score a touchdown, make the 2-point conversion (I think that's what it's called) and then the new kid who is not Adam Vinatieri secures a place in our hearts by making a HUGE, GORGEOUS field goal to beat the San Diego Chargers. All is happy in the Ryan Hood :)

Kylie's teeth: Quality, not Quantity

THAT DOG (or, more accurately, THAT DOG MINUS ONE SMALL TOOTH) is recovering splendidly from yesterday's surgery - she thanks you for the good wishes :) As you can see from this photo, the Vet shaved a big chuck of her leg to insert the IV, which adds a poodle-like quality to her already multicultural image. She is not pleased. Compare her to a greyhound, a beagle, even a chihuahua if you must, but don't call her a poodle; she gets riled up.

Really, though, she has little to be embarrassed about. Her fur will grow back, and the Vet polished her remaining teeth while he was in there, so now she looks like an ad for Crest Whitestrips. Honestly, if I ever need my appendix removed or some other surgery, I think I'll ask him to scrub in and do my teeth, cause clearly, this guy's got skills. That said, however, I hope to never see him again, as doggie dentistry is muy expensivo. THAT DOG needs to get some modeling work PDQ to earn her keep :)