A care packages of goodies from Scratch Baking Company arrived for us today; dog cookies, bagels and coconut cake. While Sallie went right in (she’s the boss, what can I say) all the dogs got a cookie.
And dined later on bagels and coconut cake.
Then they napped.
A very special thank you to Saxon Henry who shipped us the goodies. Yum, yum, yum!
Zoey is not impressed with your startup, the quality of this morning’s walk, the NBC Olympics coverage, Mitt Romney’s tax return explanation, Ann Romney’s whining about left wing attacks, Paul Ryan’s budget and the amount of frosting on the cupcake she had for dessert just a few minutes ago.
I remember growing up in St. Paul, there was a donut shop on University and Dale that made the best raised donuts in the world. They were big and my favorite was a chocolate with crushed peanuts on top. We would take a special trip there every few months and only get one donut for each of us. The donut would take forever to eat.
We had the same relationship with the Dairy Queen on Rice St. We would visit the DQ on the Sundays our family drove down by the Mississippi to watch the barge traffic. We didn’t go for those drives often and we would always only get a small cone per kid. No matter how hot it was, that ice cream would last for a long time.
I was transferring some rather large iTunes libraries and one of those little buggers is bound to start playing in the background. Season one, Episode One Smoke Gets in your Eyes was the one that started playing.
By the time I figured out it was playing, it made it all the way to the scene where Don knocks on Midge’s door and she shows him the greeting card she is drawing for Grandmother’s Day. It was a puppy! I missed that scene.
Anyway, it got me thinking that if Mad Men started off with a puppy, there has got to be a ton of other puppy references throughout. So I am going to find them and add them here.
If anyone wants to join in on the project, just holler below in the comments and let me know which episodes you will be watching. Post the time dogs or puppies are referenced and we should have a list in short order.
I always get a bit nostalgic when September rolls around. It marks the end of summer but it also makes that calendar crease when the new year we were just celebrating tips into the bucket of another year gone by.
I get a bit lonely, but cheer up thinking about the smell of fall, the crackle of leaves, the feel of crisp morning air drawing inside my nostrils, the smell and feel of my favorite leather jacket that is about twenty years old and the holidays which are now right around the corner.
We all got ourselves scared silly by the apocalyptic weather reporting around here and after obsessively checking to make sure the water dishes were full and the hammer to bust out a car window was safely stowed in the van, we just plumb ran out of things to do.
And then our minds started to wander.. And wonder.
Being the scientifically inquisitive dogs we are, we decided to test that myth of a sidewalk being hot enough to fry an egg.
Whenever I hear people talk about traditions, a quick story flashes through my head. I don’t know if it is true or not, but it’s still a good story.
A young woman was cooking Thanksgiving dinner for the family. They had always gone to the in-laws to eat dinner and she was very much looking forward to impressing both sides of the family at her first hosted Thanksgiving with dishes and traditions that were passed down to her. When it came time to prep and cook the turkey, she cut it in half along the breast bone, laid each half in two separate pans and cooked it like that — just like her mom always did it and her grandma before her. When the turkey was served, it was “reassembled” for display. She never saw a turkey roasted whole before she married and went to her in-laws last year and started helping prep the meal.
I was going to let this one go, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought I just needed to say something.
This is a photo of US Park rangers posing at the Washington Monument. It appeared on www.SarahPAC.com.
Three women, one man (African American) standing in front of the largest phallic symbol this nation has to offer. This is either a really, really snarky, passive agressive (and somewhat racist) message OR it is just plain dumb, dumb, ignorance.
I know you and I don’t talk much these days but you never say anything. Praying to you feels kinda like ranting into a twitter account. But we really could use your help about now.
In today’s social media-driven world where everyone thinks they are the next Joseph Conrad, John Steinbeck, Kate Chopin or Nate Hawthorne, we could use fewer guardian angels and more copy editors. I’m not sure if I should appeal directly to you or if you have an HR department or something that would be more appropriate, but … well, just let me know.
If you can’t actually send more copy editors, could you at least save the ones down here that all these newspapers and Arianna Huffington are slashing and burning? I don’t need to tell you that once they leave the publishing industries for a job at Waffle House, we’ve pretty much lost them for good. The words — including the apostrophes — can’t take much more of this abuse.
I was going to write a snarky post about this emergency in a couple days, but I couldn’t find the right angel… I mean angle. So, I jotted down this little prayer. The direct route seemed to be the best way.
Ok, gotta go. I’m sure you have more important things to do as well. Just thought I’d ask.