the shoe fits

I love sitting out in my zen space. It has good joojoo. Immediately after the fire, before we could dare to dream, Kimberly (KK) had to lead us there by the hand and heart by asking the questions that would propel us forward: What would you have changed about the old house? How are we going to get more light in here? Why *can’t* cabinets be painted?

It was hard at first to even remember things about the old house that were anything but utterly and inarguably perfect. We missed it a lot (we still do). I think I’ve talked before about the longing for that space, almost more than the things that occupied it. It was our space, and once it was lost we instantly and conveniently forgot about its warts and blemishes. It had been perfect…hadn’t it? We were fortunate enough to be able to build on the same slab, which saved us a lot of money – and so I think we assumed that we’d build the same house on that same slab. We were unable to imagine anything else, but KK egged us on.

In the old house, all four bedrooms were down a single hallway. This was ideal for most of the time we’d lived there - the kids were small and we liked the comfort of being close. They are teenagers now – living in that crazy place between dependence and independence, child and adult, here and there. And I want no part of that.

I kid, I kid.

The truth is that they are absolutely funny, self sufficient, and unique mostly-adult people (coming from a completely biased mom) who we like hanging out with. But as they grew to adult-size, we found ourselves kind of on top of each other space-wise. So KK led us to the vision of a new master bedroom – clear on the other side of the house. Wait…what? But......there is/was a kitchen on that other side of the house after all! KK’s responses went something like: “So we’ll move it” and “Anything is possible when you start from scratch”. That’s when it clicked for me that the new house didn’t have to be a poor imitation of the old house. The new house could wear the same shoe size as the old house (same footprint) but maybe it’s a brand new shoe.

Once we had planned to move the master to where the kitchen was, we dared to go further. Where, then, would the kitchen go? KK suggested putting it at the back-center of the house, with big bold windows looking out into the backyard. “Anything is possible when you start from scratch.” Indeed.

I found strength in her imagination. I even asked about having a little patio teeny-tiny – just enough for two chairs – leading out from the master bedroom. That was how my “zen space” was born. I secretly suspect that Kurt embraced the idea of the zen space as a personal project because my little “teeny-tiny space” ended up being about 12x12, with a beautiful stone floor, and an amazing hand crafted wooden frame and ceiling. It’s entirely screened in, and has a doggy door too. All of which makes it pretty perfect.

Our zen space is slowly getting outfitted with everything a decent zen space needs, like a twirly marbly hanging thing from my friend Kim, a bamboo plant from Kenzie and Doug, comfy furniture, whisper quiet ceiling fan, and of course the little happy Buddha and the miniature zen garden that Emmett gave to me for mother’s day. It’s really such a nice space, and I am so grateful for it.


And I swear it takes its job seriously. It is peaceful out there, and always welcoming. I get to sit out in this space with a cool drink and a warm dog or two, sharing time with my hubby, talking about the good things our kids are off doing, figuring out how to do this empty nest thing - and there’s just a calm that settles in. It is a deeply joyful place.

So today was one of “those days” - my hard drive died, work was crazy hectic, and the local news was not good – another 1000 acres on fire in Bastrop – on top of what those poor people have already endured. These terrible fires make us cry and ache for the families who are losing their homes. We know all too well the treacherous and exhausting paths down which they are just beginning. We know that they have no way of knowing that it will easily be a two year recovery as it has been for us. We hadn’t known either – how could we have? We could not know, we would not know, until we walked in those shoes. I came home, poured a little wine, and went out to sit with Buddha and unwind. And as I sat there, I was reminded once again how incredibly, humbly fortunate we are. It is still overwhelming, how so many people did so much for us, gave and gave and gave so that we could recover and find ourselves in this beautiful space.

My fervent wish for the many Bastrop and Austin area families who are just beginning down a path we know all too well is that they have someone who dares them to dream, that they have a tidal wave of support and love that washes over them, and that in the end they find themselves with new shoes that are even more perfect than the ones these fires are taking from them.

i nailed it

It has been so long since I wrote anything here. So long. That's a sign, right? Because as we get farther from Christmas 2009, get settled in a new home, send Emmett off to Texas State, and Aly to Dublin for the fall semester, we get more entrenched in our new normal. We're busy - life goes on, as it should.

There are these moments every once in a while, and they get farther and farther apart. I had one tonight when I put the first nail in a wall. We have been here since February and we have never hung one thing on a wall (well, Aly and Emmett have made their rooms their own, but Jack and I have not started yet). It's hard to make that first nail hole.

Jacko's out of town for a week and the kids are both working so when I saw a box in the closet labeled "Framed pictures", I got motivated. And what was the first thing I hung up? You want to know, don't you? Well, the first *picture* I hung up is the autographed photo from Tedy Bruschi (see "full tilt, full time" from July 2010). Prior to that I actually had hung up one of those Greek charms that ward off the evil eye. It seemed appropriate to break the ice with that one - but Tedy's was the first of three pictures that I hung tonight.


Of course it takes me half an hour to decide where to hang each thing so it's exhausting. This makes me take frequent breaks. Which prolongs the process. But regardless. On one of my breaks, I walked out in the backyard to check on all of the lovely things we have planted (well, *Mike* has planted, but whatever :-) and was happy to see that the storm we got last night really livened things up out there (we've been in this exceptional drought for quite a while). And while I was checking things out I saw that little patches of purple queen wandering jew (go ahead, make a joke) that used to grow in the far back corner of the backyard pre-fire, were popping up all over. After being completely neglected for over a year, and in a drought, after being bulldozed and backhoed, darn if that little succulent son of a gun wasn't coming back. What resilience.

And *that* made me thing about resilience. I think resilience is something I can say, with a fair amount of confidence, that I have - and that feels good. BECAUSE whenever I read one of those stories in the news about a guy jumping on subway tracks to save a fellow human in distress, or similar acts of profound bravery, I can't help but wonder if I would have the chops to do something like that if I were in that situation. I have to admit I am not 100% sure I would, and for those brief few moments when I am reading or thinking about that story, I am plagued by the fact that I don't know. I find it reassuring to know absolutes about myself, one less thing to worry about - and I can't say with certainty that I am brave. Since it is a trait I greatly admire, I am wistful. Since I'm not 100% sure, I am hopeful. I may never know.

I just had to stop right now and ask myself where am I going with this, and of equal importance - when will I get there? I guess just that it's nice to know that I am resilient. I may have never known before but now that I have been bulldozed and backhoed, I know.

This is what goes on in my head. No wonder it takes me two hours to hang a picture.

a moment and a homecoming of sorts

we've been officially in the new house for a little over a month now. we finally moved out of the rental house in early february, 13 months after we had moved in with a 6 month lease. i'm sure it worked out well for the landlord since he got to raise the rent after the first 6 months - but at the time we didn't feel we could commit to anything farther away than 6 months, and even that seemed an eternity. in the end while we waited for the new house to become habitable, we kept bargaining for one more month, one more month - until he could offer us no more months because he had new tenants moving in.

move day was going to be tuesday. the weekend prior was really nice - the first 70 degree weekend we had since the fall. people were busting out the flip flops and wearing shorts. but there was something on the horizon, and that something hit on tuesday. a cold front brought the temps back down to freezing just two days after we'd been basking in the sunshine. there was no budging move day, so we bundled up and spent all day lugging our belongings across the street. our good friends again heard the call and came to help, and were so optimistic as to comment how moving with the freezing temps was better than moving in 100 degrees. crazy, wonderful, insane, shivering friends.

we continued paying our mortgage on the house that was no longer, and our great insurance company, Allstate, footed the tab for the rental. all those years of paying homeowner's insurance, one of life's necessary evils - or so we thought. but when we really needed them - they were more than on our side, better than a good neighbor, way less anoying that an aussie gecko...(and you know how i feel about gilbert gottfried so don't get me started on the duck).

anyway, we got everything moved on tuesday and overnight the snow came. it was impressive, by austin standards - emmett even got a snow day. the one little snag is that the main water line into the new house had been left uncovered pending final plumbing inspection which was needed to get the certificate of occupancy. that was monday, and the pipe was much less enthusiastic about the freeze than emmett and his buddies were. and so we ended up the first three days in the new house with no water. no burst pipes, but no flowing water either. so the yin to that yang was that the freeze delayed the new tenants and we still had keys - so it was kind of like camping where you'd bundle up and leave the comfort of your campfire to dart over to use the bathrooms and showers. three days later, through some combination of sheer vulcan willpower backed by a tented heating contraption, worthy of rube goldberg, aimed at the uncompromising pipe, kurt beat the freeze and the water flowed.

little by little we're settling in now. the house is about 95% done so each week we get a little closer. spring has sprung and as i write this i am sitting out on my as-yet-to-be-screened screen porch in shorts and a tank top. birds are chirping, the redbuds and salvia are blooming, and you can just smell spring everywhere. i love it because you can't help but think about growth and rebirth during this time of year. spring will largely be about the landscaping, which has taken a beating during the reconstruction. i'm really looking forward to making permanent homes for the few plants i saved who will comprise our "garden of what was".

i entertained for the first time last week. jack was out of town so i invited over a bunch of lady friends for a girls night in. about 15-20 came, and it felt good to be doing something for *them* for a change. the night before i decided to bake some cookies and needed saran wrap. we didn't have any so i called mo who said she'd meet me at the fence to lend me hers.

"meet me at the fence". how many times have we done that in the 10+ years we've been neighbors? lending this or that, tasting this or that, just chatting. probably a thousand times. when we re-did the fence we put privacy everywhere except on mo and ronnie's side. there we all agreed that a wrought iron, open fence was preferable - because we all liked the idea of meeting at the fence. mo commented when we met for the saran wrap exchange. she said "just like old times". and we agreed that it was a special, poignant moment. one step closer towards normalcy. we had gotten back one of the things we always loved, and we felt it on a big scale. so simple, passing a roll of saran wrap over the fence, but so special.


today the big truck rolled up from san antonio. we had called the

storage/restoration people who had emptied the house in the days following christmas and told them "we're ready". they had stored things for us all this time and honestly, we couldn't even remember what they had. we knew it was stuff from the garage, since that did not burn. and we knew they had my grandparents' bedroom dressers which jack and i have had since we got married and, due to the extreme cost of restoring damaged furniture, were the only things we chose to have them restore. three young guys showed up, introduced themselves and said "ma'am, we have your things". after i smacked them for calling me ma'am, they got around to unloading. the garage is now absolutely full with these potential treasures. and god knows what the heck is in there, but it's in about 75 boxes. i see our bicycles, and jacko's golf clubs, assorted tools, and 75 boxes. we'll be busy for a while.

i have to admit that seeing the guys unload my grandparents' dressers was an emotional moment for me. they had packed them so carefully - and once unloaded i watched as they gently disrobed them from their protective blankets. the last time we saw these, they were absolutely caked in soot. and while not perfect, they now look pretty amazing. i had the guys put them right into our new bedroom. i thanked the guys, and told them they were part of our story now - the final chapter.

the dressers are literally the first familiar things in the new house, and i was there to welcome them home.

a journey in a single day

he looked at me like i was completely nuts.

"you want to do what?"

"mow the backyard."

"WHAT backyard?"

it's true that while the house is 95% completed and we are 100% moved in and maybe 60% unpacked, the yard is 99% a construction war zone. landscaping is planned for the spring, but we've got to take a breather on the spending and have a little financial recovery time.

still, after the couple of weeks of freezing temps, today was absolutely stunning. sunny and warm, bright blue sky - the kind of day that lures you to do yard work, and you don't even mind. but there's a lot of trash out there, and remnants of the different stages the house has been through, and one of the things we *did* manage to save from "before" was our lawnmower. jacko didn't want me to kill it the first time i mowed at the new house (not to mention that there isn't actually much grass back there at this point).

so instead i went on my own little reconnaissance mission. the dogs have been hanging out in the backyard (when it hasn't been freezing) and fenway still has a lot of puppy tendencies (all 80 pounds of her) which leads her to think that chewing on rebar scraps is a good idea and that styrofoam is meant to be ingested. so i went out there to see if i could clean things up a bit (and with secret hope that i would do such a stellar job that jack would agree it was mowing time).

the stuff littering the backyard lead me back through our journey of the past 14 months, though not sequentially this time. i found scraps of things that had been on the deck during the fire, shattered and sooty, next to bits of roofing shingles. lots of broken glass was aside rebar and PVC tidbits. i found the fluorescent "warm zone" tape that the firefighters had wrapped around the exterior perimeter of the backyard tangled up with the temporary electrical pole that had been erected when we first brought power to the construction site. i found discards from literally every stage of our journey. it made me realize that i wish i had taken photos of all the many different crews who had worked on the house since, as i told them, they were part of our story now (usually in my broken spanglish). i wish i had been organized from the start and had written down every single donation and every single hug - who gave and said and did what. i wish i had kept a detailed record of the reconstruction - where everything came from, how much it cost, models and colors and styles. unfortunately, none of that happened. and i forgive myself. a lot of things are still strong in my memory but not always the things you'd think you'd remember. sort of like how you can remember things like the phone number you had as a kid (totally useless information at this point) but not necessarily where you just put down the car keys (very useful, and timely, information). memory is a funny thing that way.

the last thing i saw in the backyard before i called it a day was something that fenway actually brought to me. neither singed nor sooty, it was (most of) a tennis ball. clearly a tennis ball from "before" that had sat in the yard, neglected, and watched the whole story unfold for 14 months through beating sun and pouring rain, and yes, even snow. and now, since i was depriving fenway of perfectly good rebar to chew on, the tennis ball had found it's rightful purpose once again. it was very funky, filthy, and extremely weathered. just the way fenway likes them.

twas the night before the night before

there’s a chill in the air tonight and one of the neighbors must have had their fireplace going. walking over to the new house for one of our multiple daily visits (really, i highly recommend living right across the street from your construction site if you ever build a new home…while sucky initially, it has been wonderful to go over as much as we want, easy as crossing the street) i got a big whiff of smoke. i’ve learned to not freeze in my tracks anymore, but it was somewhat unsettling to be approaching the new house and smelling that smell. of course that momentary discomfort was erased as soon as we stepped inside. this is a beautiful house and we are overwhelmed every time we step inside. it exceeds our wildest dreams and we comment at least once a day that we can’t believe this is going to be our home someday. we can’t wait. it is filled with the amazing artwork of many fine craftspeople – beginning with kimberly who had the vision, on to kurt who makes it all happen, and even the subs – the guy installing the kitchen cabinets was moved to tears when he asked about our “story”. the humility is crushing.

we’re just a night shy of one year away from it all. tomorrow is christmas eve, and we are going to try and do our usual thing. we’ll go to the 5pm service at bethany, followed by dinner at the local japanese steak house – just as we have done every christmas eve for as long as any of us can remember. just as we did last christmas eve. and afterwards we will come home, put on some christmas music, jack will have his courvoisier and we’ll each get to open one present, just like always.

the new house is not quite ready yet but we are really really close. it been super busy over there the past two weeks with tile guys and flooring guys and cabinet guys and trim guys coming and going. we have heat, and electricity, but no active plumbing and no kitchen appliances probably until next week. despite that, we contemplated hauling sleeping bags over there and spending tomorrow night in our new home.

until we remembered that we no longer have sleeping bags.

but that will not deter us. we have blankets and pillows and so we might just do it. it would be fun, camping out in the new pad. i have wondered what our thoughts will be as we drift off to sleep. i keep coming back to that prayer (i know, so unlike me) that goes “and if i die before i wake…” not that i think anything could or would happen, but the words cross my mind.

i would never want people to think oh poor veek, her last couple of years were so rough. i hope that people would know that i’ve had a life filled with love and laughter. that i have loved and been loved more than most people dream of. that i have been blessed by the love of a great man and have delighted in taking the journey with him. that i have been fortunate to know both the love of a beautiful daughter and the love of a good son and that i have known intuitively how to love them unconditionally because of how i was loved as a child by my own parents. that i have had a strong and close relationship with my brother and lucked into a great relationship with my sister-in-law, and their amazing kids. that i have had the kind of extended family that is a force to be reckoned with - always just a phone call away, no matter if it's been months since you've seen one another or live 1500 miles away. that i have actually had a smooth and comfortable relationship with all of my in-laws, and that while i never had my own sister by blood, i have bonds with a few women that allow me the luxury of imagining what that is like. that i have been privileged to call a great number of people “friend”. that i have been fortunate enough to have seen a fair amount of the world, and have never had to go to bed cold or hungry. that i have had a good run of it. that I’ve had more than my share. and that despite losing everything, i know that i am richer than most.

that is what i would want people to know.

the list

the weather's turned cold for the first time this fall. we enjoyed shorts and t-shirts for a good long time, and now the sweatpants are out when i go on my morning walks with the pups. i even wore gloves the other morning. not that i am complaining, because i know we are still way warmer than many other places, and some people would probably think my definition of cold is somewhat warped. twenty two years in texas will do that to ya. fortunately, texas has failed to warp too much else in my mind.

thanksgiving has come and gone. and even before it went, the stores were bombarding us with christmas carols, decorations, holidays sales. the sun had barely set on thanksgiving day before the neighbors had put up their lights. all year i have been wondering how this time would be for me, how i would react and feel. it turns out that the carols and the christmas decorations make me feel nostalgic. i turn fondly to the thoughts of past christmases, when there was a little friendly competition between jack and ronnie regarding yard decor. the other neighbors always got a kick out of seeing what new addition (preferably inflatable, and huge, and blinky) would be added in our yards. i think of how i would start planning the christmas party practically in october - well, not so much the planning but the construction of my annual invitation, a slant on some familiar secular christmas song. on my long morning walks with the dogs, i would work out the lyrics in my head - weird al style. then picking out the invitation paper, finding the right font, and throwing some confetti in the envelope - just enough to be festive, and hopefully not too obnoxious. i'd also hunt high and low for just the right ornaments for aly and emmett. finding something to represent who they were that year, what they were into, or a reference to some familiar inside joke. i just knew when i had found the right ones, and i was always so tickled. all of these thoughts are bittersweet now, since all of it went poof, but i still like taking that stroll.

what actually surprised me was not my reaction to the onslaught of christmas decor and music, but my reaction to the change in weather. the first time i felt that cold air on my face, the really cold air - so cold that it almost has its own flavor - i immediately recalled christmas morning. it was so cold that morning. we had had some ridiculous winds christmas eve, and it was so so cold standing out in the front yard. funny how 11 months later and it is still *right there*.

11 months! the house is getting so close, we can see the light at the end of our tunnel. it's a beautiful light and we're approaching it with eager anticipation. i still hold out hope that we'll have a move in date by christmas - partly because as much as this rental house has provided our shelter, i've just never felt like it was home and partly because of the emotional milestone of getting through this in exactly one year, being able to turn the page, exhale, and get on with life. but the reality is that christmas may come and go with us not quite making it - inspections and scheduling and waiting on supplies - these things may hold us up. and i am really ok with that, because the end of the tunnel is so so near. i know that sometime soon, we will be sleeping in the new house for the first time. it doesn't really matter if that is christmas eve, or new years eve, or valentine's day. regardless, it is a day that is imminent.

i've been saying for some time that i wanted to have our annual christmas party again this year, in the new house. i think it was part of my healing process - to pick a date at which everything would be back to "normal". months ago we approached our favorite band and good friends, the psychic cowboys, about a date and they've stashed it away for us. and now here we are less than 3 weeks away - and while the light at the tunnel's end is visible, it seems hard to imagine that we'll be ready. there is still a lot of work to be done. and i have come to realize that the date of the event pales in importance when compared to the significance of the event and the real reason for this year's gathering. this is about bringing everyone together - all of the many many people who have reached out to us, friends and family, acquaintances, and even some strangers - who all picked us up, held us together, and lead us through the fog. it doesn't matter when, it matters who - and why.

we've always been blessed with a large circle of friends so the christmas party has always had quite a crowd. and now, in addition to all of the usual suspects, we have so many more acquaintances who have become dear friends as well as old friends who have become renewed. i have been working on this year's invitation list and have been asking friends to help me remember everyone who should be included. it would almost be easier to just take out an ad in the paper, just to be sure that no one is overlooked. so many people.

i asked tracey and theresa to help me reconstruct who all was at the browns house on christmas night - who had taken the time, and given up their own holidays plans, to rally around us. i asked lynne to help me draw up the list of the parade of friends who brought us meals in the weeks following the fire. and i have asked baze to give me the list of people from across the world and across the pages of our lives who so generously donated to the fire fund that he set up from 2000 miles away on that cold day. the cards, and letters, the clothing, the furniture, the hugs...reviewing this list can't be done with dry eyes. we have said it once and a million times that we don't know what we ever did to deserve such love and support, and you can be sure we'll be repaying it every day for the rest of our lives.

we have never been alone in this journey. not for one moment. not since 4:15am on christmas morning.

this is going to be one huge guest list.

when all around you seems dire, squeeze your wubba

aly came home recently to surprise jack for his birthday. and in order to honor the occasion, emmett and i took her car to the special car wash and cleaned it up inside and out. we were also expecting jack's brother and sister-in-law, rick and kathy - so we were in "make ourselves presentable" mode. after cleaning the car, next on my list was to take dogs for a little bath and (for scout) a haircut. as i was driving aly's clean car to the groomer with the dogs in the back, slobbering all over the windows, it occurred to me that perhaps i should have put a little more thought into the sequencing of these events.

but, as most everyone knows, we have always been dog people. and dog people aren't always in their right minds. take for example "the ideal". that was the model name of the 8'x24' trailer that served as our first home on the rim of grand canyon back in 1986. it had a 5 gallon hot water tank which meant if you dropped the soap, your shower was over. we were two sardines in a can with barely enough space to turn around. so what did we do? yes, of course - we got a puppy. that was tai, who was shortly thereafter joined by kirby. and once kirby left us, there was barley. and after tai, came scout.

as you probably know, we spent 2009 with jack being un- or under-employed after being unexpectedly cut loose from his last employer. we had been quietly preparing for my eventual layoff which we expected to come sometime in early 2010 and we got blindsided by jacko's sudden freedom. it was a big blow to us financially, and also emotionally. and the job market was pretty grim, so 2009 seemed to drag on forever. we've always been a 2 dog family, and it had been 2 years since we'd laid barley to rest - but at that particular point in time it would have been totally irresponsible, totally impractical..heck, practically insane..for us to take on the additional strain and responsibility that you sign up for when you adopt a tiny, needy puppy.

so of course that's exactly what we did.

there we were, the kids and i, driving out to the deliverance of manor, tx in response to an ad someone had posted on craigslist for "great pyrenees puppies". we had opened the ad and stared at the photo.

a row of 8 little pups, all of them black and brown. i checked the ad title again. "great pyrenees puppies" it had said. so i called, and i had said to the guy on the phone "i don't think they're pure great pyrenees, though, are they?". "oh yes" he assured me. i said "but aren't great pyrenees' solid white?". "no," he said "they come in all different colors". hmm. maybe in deliverance, tx they do - but not in the real world.

anyway, despite their dubious heritage, there was this one. we just couldn't stop looking at her picture and so, off we went as 3 and not surprisingly, home we came as 4 (jacko and scout had opted to stay home). i mean, who goes just "to look" at puppies? no, we were pretty much doomed to suffer the effects of the cuteness overload the second we set out. we instantly fell victims to her powerful spell - all 3.5 pounds of it. i remember holding her in my hand and turning to the kids. their eyes big as saucers, both of them just nodding "yes, YES".

we were in love with her from first glance. well, all of us except for scout who didn't realize that fenway was a dog for about the first month. it took that long for fenway to figure out how to bark and when she let out that first little yip, you could almost see the lightbulb go on in scout's mind. "oh, that's a DOG".

it's amazing how great a totally irresponsible, impractical, spontaneous decision can sometimes turn out. fenway has turned out to be an awesome dog, pretty well behaved with a personality that fills a room.

she had already brought us so much joy and so much laughter and levity in the midst of our troubled times during 2009.

and then the fire came.

scout was with us the whole time that dark morning. but fenway was sleeping in her kennel in the office and was almost an afterthought in the surreal moments during which we slowly realized we were losing our home. "get outside", jacko had said, "i'll get fenway". and he went back into the house - which you are never never EVER supposed to do. ever. and minutes after he and fenway joined us on the front lawn, there were flames shooting out the front door they had just walked through.

they both emerged, and despite some smoke inhalation we all know that the story has a happy, a miraculously happy, ending. and we are so thankful.

jack has told fenway more than once "you better be the best dog ever". and she has been (mostly) a good girl, full of (now) 75 pounds of shenanigans and good nature. she has been a welcome distraction, a loveable nuisance, a tremendous comfort, for all of us during this past year. she somehow represents, for me anyway, the lightness and joy that can prevail under dire circumstance.

christmas morning so many people showed up with so many things for all of us. and two stand out in particular. our friend keri (who didn't yet know us all that well yet obviously knew this one thing about us) brought a big tiger kong wubba for fenway - still to this day fenway's favorite toy (so much so that it has on occasion gone "missing" on top of the fridge, out of sight, we need a break) - and our friends tim and cyn, who brought the world's largest box of dog biscuits (so big that we *just* finished it a week or so ago).

so many times over the past year and a half when i have felt overwhelmed and paralyzed by confusion, or sadness, or self pity, everything is thrust back into perspective as soon as i feel the nuzzle of a cold nose, meet the hopeful gaze of those (literal) puppy dog eyes, and have my ear drums split by the incessant squeaking of the tiger kong wubba.

love us, love our dogs. so very much to be thankful for.