In the next week or so, there are a few important markers of the passage of time.
  • Tomorrow, October 1st, my precious Little Guy turns 13 (well, that's our best estimate anyway). I suppose we should be doing a Bark Mitzvah, now that he's a(n) (old) man-dog. However, I think that kind of thing goes along with the mother's background and I'm not Jewish. Not that any of that stopped me from dressing Cosette up like it was her quinceaƱera, or caninceaƱera, because apparently I'm Mexican. So, perhaps I will throw a yarmulke on his head and snap a photo. I imagine he will protest.

  • This Friday marks the 15-year anniversary of our arrival in Los Angeles. E, Cosette, who was almost 2 at the time, and I were packed into the Honda Civic I had at the time and had spent four days driving across the county, with a brief little side trip to the Grand Canyon. To this day, when I drive west on the 134 and curve around the hillside while descending toward Glendale with downtown glimmering in the distance, I recall that day and doing the same drive. With nervous excitement, we checked out our Burbank apartment, which we hadn't even seen. I don't think I knew at the time how much I would fall in love this city*, the place I've lived far longer than any other in my lifetime, and that I'd be proud to call it "home."

  • Next week, I will celebrate my 15-year anniversary at work (and a little over 17 in my career). It's difficult to comprehend, with some days feeling like I've been here forever and others still mistakenly thinking I'm one of the newer staff. While I'm not necessarily exactly where I'd hoped to be at this point professionally, I have accomplished quite a bit and am proud of the job I do. In these tough times, I am very lucky to have fairly stable employment. For various reasons, I don't discuss details of my work here, but I'll say I'm very happy and honored to affect young lives, in a positive way. What I do might be small in the grand scheme of things, but it often feels huge when taken down to the individual human level.

*We only lived in Burbank for a couple of years and now do live in the City of Los Angeles, for whatever that's worth.


Furry Friends

*I know at least a couple of my handful of blog readers hate birds, so I apologize for the new template. No offense intended, I just thought it was cute. You know how fickle I am anyway and that it probably won't last long.*

I am planning to write something with a *little* substance soon. I hope. Anyway, in the meantime, enjoy this photo of Rusty and his therapy animal buddy, Oreo the rabbit. They visited some kids and families at the L.A. Ronald McDonald House this past weekend and had a great time.

Photo by Marcy


Hope. Pepper Haz It.

So this cool friend of mine, in spite of being a weerdo, was over at Disney and snagged this t-shirt for me from the G-Force visual fx crew. I couldn't resist doing a little photo shoot. I wouldn't want anyone to think I'm losing my dorkiness. Pepper was very interested, while Pickle couldn't have cared less. Maybe Darwin isn't her choice for leader of the guinea pigs.



Cosette and Little Guy

This is a crappy cell phone photo, but I captured the rare moment while still in bed yesterday morning. If I'd gotten up to get the real camera, they would have moved in anticipation of something to eat.

Cosette and Little Guy have merely tolerated each other for the eight-plus years they have lived together. Cosette had been an only dog for about seven-and-a-half years and it was a big adjustment. Little Guy came into our home thinking he'd suddenly take over as alpha dog. This did not go over well with the true leader and he was soon put in his place. When Rusty became part of the family a year or so later he bonded immediately with both dogs. He and Little Guy became playmates and Rusty took on the role of the puppy Cosette never bore. Little Guy and Cosette haven't fought since the very beginning, but they simple coexist.

I think that's why I was a little surprised to see them lying so close together, which is something they just don't do. Cosette kept getting bopped in the face when Guy would wag his tail, but she'd simply move her head position and that was it. At first I thought it was a really sweet moment and perhaps it was. In reality though, I think it was more likely that nearly seventeen-year old Cosette and almost thirteen-year old Little Guy, who is still recovering very slowly from his knee surgery, have difficulty moving and can't be bothered to get up for such a trivial matter.


Silly Little Contest

Tell me about the tag line on my blog header above and you can win an autographed copy of my latest self-published book, Piggie Poems. What I'm looking for is a genuine winner here, so no cheating! I'll know, trust me. You can leave a comment here or email me jodi [at] snarkydork [dot]com.

Winner will be chosen at random from correct entries.

You have until Sunday, September 6th, 12pm PDT. Go.


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