Puff, puff, pant, pant, where was I?

Update time:

Little Mister Crap-Rap is moving, as I understand. U-Haul rental trucks have been carrying away furniture for several days. Gosh, I'm sorry to see that happen. Guess that real estate curve was the proper enticement to get parents to stop the volume obscenities. Who says there are no benefits to capitalism?

Doggies, doggies: I got some samples of a new dog food called Canidae for Babe and Howie. Babe has an ongoing problem with licking that has been aggravated since good old Pedigree new-and-improved their formula. I mixed a sample pack of Canidae in with the boys' dry Pedigree this morning and they snarfed down their whole bowls, instead of picking at the food. And the best news is, neither has the shits from new food concepts. I'll increase the amount of Canidae the next couple days; if there is no adverse reaction, I'll switch out of the Pedigree completely. Canidae is more expensive, but tough on me. I hate seeing my dogs itch and tear at their pelts and stain them with unneccessary food dyes. Better to change foods than to pay a veterinarian to prescribe drugs.

Also on the doggie note -- Howie will still bite me if I try to play hopscotch. Indeed, after I once again demonstrated the hopscotch pattern to my granddaughter, he herded me into a corner of the patio.

California is still broken!!! Global warming has made our weather about 20 degrees cooler than it usually is, and unleashed insane amounts of rain. Shit, if this keeps up, we might as well move back to Pennsylvania. At least there you could eat fish out of the river.

Nothing in the local papers about the Preakness. I don't even know who's running.

Writing and artwork are like pitons pounded into a steep and crumbly slope. They're there, but not especially stable. A project sits on my work desk, smeared with sky blue and shitass-mix black-and-brown pastels, and I both hate it and love it. God knows what I will do with it tomorrow.

Night calls, and hungry dogs. Sleep well, all who read.