This isn’t a riff on sun block. It’s maybe not a riff at all. Just a discovery. It’s not writer’s block that gets me. Ideas are plentiful. Low-hanging fruit. It’s just that before my fingertips brush the skin, I kill the idea. Pluck the peach, toss it to the ground. Let the squirrels finish it off.
So many pictures. So very very many.
End of school year mani-pedi with Peaches. Mommy’s way of getting some pampering in while I girl-bond. 
Waiting for Bryan to return from Brooklyn where he played a block party gig in Park Slope, which is a universe and two hours away and also I might need a time machine to get there. A dream, my former Brooklyn life is beginning to feel like. Crumbly edges like a tall slice of wedding cake that sat too long untouched, unloved while its steel-forked guardian danced her ass off to that Usher song.
Part of the reason I wanted a dog—why the house wanted a dog or so I like to clarify—was for the walks. I’d be forced to head outdoors and move the old bod, even when—especially when 99% of me wanted to sit like a lump reading The Hunger Games trilogy.
I thought I’d write while in a white foamy rage so you can see why I got so fucking rah-rah over the Primal diet. I still think it works, by the way. I have six months of good behavior and high self-esteem under my belt, and even though I was an arrogant prick to a handful of people regarding my newfound nutritional knowledge, it beat being an asshole to myself.
Last Saturday I couldn’t help visiting Petco again, this time with the whole family to see who was available to foster. First we met Bella, another chihuahua mix like Jessie, but much more like a fancy miniature German shepherd. She was beautiful. Swamp Chicken held her and fell in love, though later he admitted that she had the ‘chihuahua shake’ he’s not fond of.
The prospect of adopting Bella made me go giddy, forget about this fostering nonsense, and I talked with the Philly Paws staff about it. We all agreed it would be better to adopt since parting after bonding would be too painful, and SC realized this was probably true, especially as the adoption fee was so reasonable.
I turned to the kids. “What do you think of Bella? Isn’t she so pretty?” This was their response: Fffft. Nothing. Peaches and Spike were too busy playing on the cart-return rails to give Bella a passing glance. Maybe they didn’t even want a dog.
Jessie, it turns out, is not housebroken, and so we will not be adopting her. I am a newbie and want to make things as easy as possible and am not prepared to train an adult doggie to potty outside. Of course the easiest thing would be to not adopt a dog. Lord knows we don’t need the extra expense, responsibility or sleep deprivation.
Still, insanely, a dog beckons. Woof, it says. Adopt me.
