This past Tuesday (8.26) was NATIONAL DOG DAY and I MISSED IT!
DAMMIT! Continue reading
We had a lovely spring adventure this weekend.
And with work ramping up at the house again – new patios, seismic retrofits, yada yada – it was perfectly timed to provide a little escape from the need to clean up messes, oversee contractors, hover, ask too many questions… You get the point.
Ugh. I am feeling the holiday stress big time.
Working for an E-commmerce company makes the months of October and November NOT REALLY VERY MUCH FUN. I wake up at 5:00 in the morning (at best) slightly panicked about metrics and product rankings and live dates and promotional strategies vis à vis creative choices and then I can’t go back to sleep so I just play Words with Friends compulsively to take my mind off of it until I simply MUST get up and get in the shower.
Okay. Sometimes I play Dots, instead. It depends to what degree my panic stems from tactical vs. creative matters, I suppose.
But, hey – I try not to complain too much. Soon it will be December, and for me, that means the holidays are rolling: a.k.a, OVER. And I make a darn good living. And…
I was recently reminded there are actually BETTER weapons in my arsenal than Words with Friends and Dots for turning my mind into happy happy joy joy land.
THERE ARE PUPPIES.
This is Bentley, our friends’ Old English Bulldog puppy, who spent this past weekend with us as part of Trent’s “Getting the Band Back Together” birthday celebration.
I can’t stop looking at his adorable mug, which I of course plastered all over my phone. He is the best holiday-E-commerce-crunch-stress-reliever EVER. I wake up at 5:00 in the morning and I stare at his little face under the covers so my dog won’t see me cheating on him.
If only Sam hadn’t wanted to rip his little puppy throat open. HE WOULD BE MINE.
So, if you’ve met me in real life, you know that I’m a ridiculously loyal fan of my hometown sports teams — all of them. Detroit is a serious sports town. There isn’t a WHOLE lot else going on there to unite people besides sports, and most people you meet in Detroit have been there for at least three, four, five generations (let’s face it: people live in Detroit because they were born there, not because they want to be there — but maybe soon that will change?). They learned to love the Wings by watching them with their grandfather at Olympia Stadium, or they learned to love the Tigers like I did — by trekking down Michigan avenue in the summertime with their father and hoards of other fans toward the old Tiger Stadium, swinging pennants and singing “Bless You Boys.” Continue reading