I would genuinely have lower self esteem if my dogs weren’t so excited to greet me any time I come home. They’re the least judgmental greeters in the world, and could care less if I’m running late, cranky or gross from the gym. This is why I love them unconditionally.

This is also why they’re spoiled rotten.


this weekend i…

1. Ate an 11-course meal
2. Said goodbye to having highlights
3. Finished this incredible book and started this one
4. Celebrated a five-year-old’s birthday at Peter Piper Pizza
5. Consumed half a watermelon
6. Purchased Dramamine for the first time
7. Returned a lost dog to its owner
8. Had a dinner date with five of my favorite girlfriends
9. Accepted the fact that I will share Jim with Fantasy Football for the next few months
10. Discovered the joy of chocolate flavored almond milk

“pristine corners and possibilities”

Goosebumps. I got goosebumps tonight reading an article in Sports Illustrated of all places.

But if you love to read, and love to write, there’s nothing quite like reading truly amazing writing. The passage below is from an article by Tom Verducci. I love the way he expresses things, especially considering this particular piece is a tribute to my favorite player.

Kelli and Dustin Pedroia and their cheeky two-year-old son, Dylan, live across the street from Fenway Park, and one reason why is clear from the view out their 13th-floor windows. Fenway in the quiet morn, before the sausages sizzle and the pilgrims parade in wearing the liturgical garments of Red Sox Nation, sits below them like an unopened Tiffany box, all neat, pristine corners and possibilities. The Pedroias can see the centerfield scoreboard and, through a crack in the asymmetrical grandstand, first base. They also can spy a large chain-link gate on wheels, which sometime in the middle of the day will be rolled open to Red Sox personnel for the symbolic start of the baseball business day.


Strip away the television ratings, the attendance figures, the merchandise sales, the gambling, the beer ads and the rest of the variables that measure the import of professional sports in our culture. Think about what’s left: how we connect emotionally with the games. On that level baseball, perhaps not in popularity but in esteem, occupies a unique place. It remains for many children the portal to organized sports, and if they’re lucky, when they grow up they never stop seeing baseball through 10-year-old eyes. It is an uncomplicated, unchanged kid’s game that does not require tremendous height or weight.

This weekend I learned that…

1. My friends and I are not 21 any more, but do a really good job pretending we are.
2. The lake with friends is the best way to survive an Arizona summer.
3. Dogs are the most forgiving species on the planet.
4. Breakfast burritos are just as good when eaten for dinner. Frozen yogurt is also good for dinner.
5. Misting systems do not help when it’s over 110 degrees.
6. iPods and iPhones dislike hot cars, but can be revived after resting in the fridge.
7. Getting 11 people into the same movie, on time, with seats together, is impossible.
8. You should not Google anything about a television show unless you’re prepared for spoilers.
9. Catch Phrase can be played in almost any situation, but is not waterproof.
10. I make better fajitas than you can get at Chili’s.


If we were playing word association games and you said “paperboy,” I would think of two things:

1. The game for the original Nintendo system where you were a paperboy on a bike tasked with throwing papers at houses while avoiding dogs, cars and windows.

2. The artist who came out with the 1993 smash hit “Ditty.”

I would not, however, think about receiving this letter:

I’m more than a little concerned with the outlined action plan. Photographing deliveries? Stationing watchmen?

pizza & drugs

It happened last night. I was bound and determined to: A) use a greenopolis coupon, and B) eat pizza. So I placed an order at Pizza Heaven. It’s a great neighborhood place that even touts gluten-free — for those averse to wheat and the gang.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I was a bit alarmed. There were no empty parking spots. Fortunately, a woman leaving waved at me as she walked to her car. In my mind this meant, “Panic not pizza friend – I will relinquish my spot to you.”

I was wrong.

Her frantic waving and honking at me as I tried to take her spot caused me to pause.

What the F, lady? I need me some pizza.

I rolled down my window and waited as she made three attempts to roll down the correct window in her car. And this is how our conversation unfolded:

Lady: They’re closed!

Me: What?

Lady: Yeah, they just closed. They’re in trouble. I’d get out of here.

Me: What? They what? Wait, who?

Lady: You should leave.

Me: Ok, I guess I’ll leave.

So I got freaked out that there was some sort of government raid or vandalism or hold-up inside. I fled the scene and started driving home to the melody of sad hunger pangs in my stomach.

About 45 seconds later, logic struck in.

Why the hell did a random woman just tell me to leave a restaurant in a good area with a full parking lot. This is insane.

I pulled over and turned around and called the restaurant.

Me: Hi, are you guys open?

Teenager on phone: Yeah

Me: Like, you’re really open. Right now?

Teenager: Yeah.

Me: KThanksBye

I drove back, parked and walked in. My pizza was ready, my coupon was accepted and I thought the whole thing may have been a vivid daydream until the clerk asked if I was the girl who just called “to see if we’re open.”


I told them the whole story. And they told me that the panicked woman is a heavy drug user who often wanders through their place, demanding there are undercover cops everywhere. I asked if they call the police and they said no, she’s pretty harmless.

Yeah, except that she literally drives away customers.

Can’t make this stuff up.