Why, in a house that is almost 100% covered in puppy pads, does Bubba insist on finding the one inch of space between them and peeing there. Is she just dumb? Or is she a devil dog with a disgustingly innocent and amazingly lovable face?
Why?
It’s not fair
I’ve finally figured out so much of life that puzzled me in the past. But now I’m too old to be able to enjoy half of what I’ve finally figured out.
He doesn’t stand a chance
My poor cousin Joe. He doesn’t stand a chance against these cuties. Add that darling little Ivy Ma, who was not available for this photo session, to the mix and he might as well just get out the checkbook and give them all his money. They have him right where they want him. Some of us could not be happier about it… or laughing harder.
Get out of my bed!
See that control at the bottom of the picture. That’s the heating pad. And that is BuddhaBubba’s bed under which it is placed. Carm decided to get in on the action. Climbed in over Bubba and stuck his head behind her butt so she couldn’t see him there. She sat up and refused to lay down again until he moved. He didn’t move. So for the next five minutes I listened to BuddhaBubba doing her best imitation of a growl to scare her brother out of her bed. It didn’t work. She eventually forgot what she was growling about and
Home is defined in many, many ways
I used to have big dogs that loved to walk. My three new ones came with a different idea about walking and the outside. They are little dogs. The girl won’t even go out for her bodily needs once it’s below 32 degrees. Both the boys love going out for about ten to twenty seconds. Then they are done with the walk and it’s time to go get warm and get treats. I soon realized I needed something to substitute for the miles I was no longer walking. I got a stationary bike. And believe it or not, I use
Happy Belated Birthday to one of the nicest men in the world
If Bruce Springsteen had any sense at all, he’d want Jimmy as his best friend. Oh yeah, that’s the house Bruce grew up in. Way to celebrate!
This is where I came from
6 North Mississippi Ave. The heart of Ducktown in Atlantic City. It’s painted blue now. Dad had it painted green. Upstairs the windows on the left were our living room. The windows on the right, mom and dad’s bedroom. All of downstairs, dad’s Italian grocery store. Walk down the block and get a sub at the White House Sub Shop, still the best in the world. But the bakery is gone. And so is Katy’s little store. And Letizia’s grocery store. And Petrillo’s Shoe Repair. And Catanese’s Swimming Pool chemicals building. But St. Mike’s is still there. And considering how
Every once in a while
Every once in a while I wonder what it would be like to be rich enough to actually buy a politician. It’s been so long since there has been anyone in DC who represents me and not their moneyed overlords that I really do forget what it feels like to actually be part of representative government.
Did you hear that deafening yawn?
I didn’t think a deafening silence could get much quieter than the one that greeted Mitt Romney’s statement that he’s might make another presidential run. The lack of anyone actually excited by the announcement seemed truly monumental. Then Sarah Palin goes to Vegas and hints she might run. And lo and behold, the silence greeting this news nationally was even more deafening than the one that greeted Romney. For Hillary’s sake, I’d like to see either one of them run.
It occurs to me
It occurs to me that Penny will be to Kaley Cuoco as Rachel is to Jennifer Aniston.
And those are the thoughts that will sneak up on you as you try to go to sleep sometimes.