Buddy

Is leaving a magazine lying around what's commonly referred to as "planting the seed"?

After years of ogling other people's dogs and hearing from the hubby what a PITA dogs are, I came home on Friday afternoon to this little bundle of joy! Shock and awe!

He's so cute! Aside from peeing and pooping in the house and gnawing on everything in sight, he's awesome. He's already learning how to fetch, sit on command, drive a car, do our taxes . . .

Son #2 finally has a puppy so he's happy. Son #1 is a cat person so he's not too thrilled especially since the cats are a little freaked out. However, it's only day three and the cats are acclimating. They've gone from puffed up, hissing, fur balls to quietly sniffing the puppy and checking him out while he's sleeping.

Look at this act of bravery above the cage.

Interesting from Buddy's vantage, too.

Next step, naming him. Instead of just calling him Buddy, should we officially name him Buddy? Duke? Sparky? (Or as the kids suggested, Captain Sparkles?) Dr. Love (Calling Dr. Love)?

Skinner?

My Retirement Castle Awaits

My oldest brother turned 50 in July. In preparation for the week long, bacchanalian festivities that never took place, my kids and I invested $0.35 in a beautiful glass mug at the Volunteers of America. It bears a lovely painting of a horse on one side along with lyrics and musical notes on the flip side for The Old Gray Mare (she ain't what she used to be).

We sadly never sent it to him because a) his gorgeous house outside of Chicago was on the market and we didn't think he would want more crap to pack but really because b) Son #2 took an immediately liking to this garish glass and didn't want to part with it.

He's very giving, I know.

The other night he told me he was going to keep it forever.

Son #2: Mom, you can borrow it in 50 years, if you want.
Son #1: No she can't! She'll be dead. Mom, you don't plan to live until you're 95, do you?
Son #2: Oh right. Yeah, and if you're not dead, we'll definitely have you in a nursing home by then.

Once again, feeling the love.

Headin' to the Betty

I decided to cease drinking for 40 days in a bit of a self-imposed, spiritual quest. I felt convicted that if I'm seeking clarity from God, I need to respond in kind. I'm fairly certain that it would be difficult for Him to provide keen insight if my mind is dulled by Pinot Noir.

Like management consulting, the best work in the world (i.e., God's, of course!) will go unheeded if there is not a dedicated receiver at the client site (i.e., my addled brain).

So I'm cleaning up my act with the hope that I can gain some lucidity regarding my so-called career. Whereas, to co-opt a term that my pastor uses, there's a bit of a "God on demand" quotient in this pursuit, I understand fully that there is no guarantee that I will achieve anything more than my current state of angst-riddled ambiguity. But I have faith. And there's no foreseeable downside to this effort that I'm aware of.

It's been only 10 days thus far and counting. Yet here's where I find it alarming: like going without a cigarette when you first quit, I have recently found myself craving a glass of wine or a dirty martini. Worrisome, no?

Last night, I went out to dinner with my girlfriends and for the first time -- since high school?!-- I didn't have a single drink with them. Every once in a while, throughout the evening, I would get a pang of desire followed by internal bartering (e.g., just one sip will be okay). Thankfully I didn't cave. And we had a blast.

At the end of the night, my girlfriends suggested that if I really want some spiritual insights, I should begin smoking peyote.

Instead, maybe I'll have a peyote smoothie.

Kid Riffs

On the way to VA, we stopped at a gas station in PA. As the pump did its thing, the hubby began to wash the windows.

Son #2: Hey, look at that guy cleaning our windshield. We should bring him to the wedding with us.

Son #1: That's not just some guy . . . that's our driver.

Not sure at what age they began riffing off one another but, at ages six and eight, it's definitely taken a turn for the professional. Maybe it's due to the fact that they watched a million episodes of The Simpsons on the way down along with Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

As a result, there was a lot of galloping during the wedding reception and myriad "what is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?" questions.

Sure beats the Teletubbies years.

Como se dice Babewatch?

This just in from the BBC: "The Simpsons has been dropped from morning TV in Venezuela after being deemed unsuitable for children - and has been replaced by Baywatch."

I'm sorry; I must have misread that. Baywatch? Pamela Anderson in a tight, red bathing suit?

Yeah, that's healthy for kids: girls with poor self-images and boys with (insert your own sardonic thought here).

Next, they might want to consider getting rid of the sodas in the school vending machines and offering only light beer.

One Night in Bangkok & the World's Your Oyster

I know my kid is getting older when, at 7 1/2, he's almost as tall as I am (reaching my collarbone) and can do a number of things much better than I -- like playing video games and kicking my butt in chess.

Which brings me to the cutest thing ever: his first chess tournament this weekend!

That Simpson's chess set that my girlfriend gave to us years ago is paying dividends. Bangkok here we come.

Bangkok, Oriental setting
And the city don't know that the city is getting
The creme de la creme of the chess world in a
Show with everything but Yul Brynner.

Too Much TV?

Me (hanging up the phone after checking on the kids' school day): "Bye guys, see you later when I get home."

Son #2 (in cheesy voice): "Disco Stu says 'bye to you.' "