Thursday, November 05, 2009

*j bird.

A mess. An utter mess of 50 pounds of pure, quivering musculature, poised to collapse in fear at the first balloon pop, pillow tilt, or floor change. Velvet soft around the ears, but coarser down the back and tail. Smelly beyond all measure. Strong, but stupid. Prone to sneezing fits and bouts of drool. Owner of the world's biggest smile, brightest eyes, and most dumbfounded reactions to familiar events.

Has no idea what his name is, what part of the hose the water comes out of, or whether, when I leave, I'm ever, ever coming back.


Yessir, that's my baby.




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I am a work in progress. I perpetually need a hair cut. I'm totally devoted to my remarkable nieces and nephew. I am an elementary home cook and a magazine worker bee. (Please criticize my syntax and spelling in the comments.) I think my dog is hilarious. I like chicken and spicy things. I have difficulty being a grown-up. Left to my own devices, I will eat enormous amounts of cheese snacks of all kinds.