As you may know by now, Mr. Wild Dingo and I are vacationing in the Greek Islands over the New Year. The Cracker and the Criminal are spending New Year’s with Switzerland’s rowdiest, coolest doggie spa and Pension pour Chiens sans Cage, Bernard’s Kennel.
By the end of the day, that Santa the subject of a Formosan-Siberian Tug-0-War. The Formosan ended up with the red jacket and the Sibe took the naked Santa as her prize.
Nothing makes me happier than to make Mr. Wild Dingo uncomfortable. So when our neighbor stopped me in our driveway Friday night to ask if Mr. Wild Dingo would like to be “Father Christmas” for his three children, I didn’t hesitate: “Yes of course he’ll do it,” I answered. Like I’m going to ask Mr. Wild Dingo his [...]
“Don’t blame me. I was just wrapping your present.”
Do you people know how hard it is to get a shot of the infamous Mont Blanc? Seriously Internet. When we walk by it every day and try to shoot it with a “point and shoot” camera (the only one I take on dog walks), the results are less than fabulous. The snow washes out against the sky [...]
They’re an unlikely pair. Juno and Mr. Wild Dingo. He prefers goofy, gruff, manly dogs and she prefers me. But every Sunday, the one day per week the four of us are together, she’s his and he’s hers for the day. The ritual of taking her leash each Sunday has bonded them in ways beyond my imagination.
This cooking thing is new to me. In my pre-Swiss life, I had a career and a two or three big hobbies that kept me too busy to try to do more than a few pastas, sautés, rice dishes, easy soups and salads. I’ve been trying for about a year to get my beef braising right. [...]
Or should we just move? This is just a small peak into the tornado that seemed to blow INTO my home the other day. Someone TP’d the downstairs foyer as well. Three rolls of toilet paper unrolled and chewed up along with only one flip-flop. Loki’s so disgusted he can’t even turn to look at the [...]
Ahhh! Now I get it! So that’s where the term “goatee” comes from. It’s funny how goatees on men give them a bit of a sinister look, but on a goat, with their bedroom eyes and pink smiles, they just look darlin’.
I’m so depressed. This time last year we had a Winter Woonderland. There was fresh snow and visiting family. Now, there isn’t a flake of snow in sight. How could I top last year’s masthead?
