Let’s just say I was inspired.

Meatloaf says you shouldn’t share dumb pictures on Facebook because you are afraid that if you don’t people will doubt your faith or your love for kitties.

We all need to heed Meatloaf’s words of wisdom when it comes to sharing posts, pages and pictures on Facebook and other social media sites.

Wait a minute. First, let me say that I hate it when people say the word, “whelp.” Unless of course they are discussing bitches giving birth.

PEOPLE! Calm down. I’m talking about dogs. It’s okay to say it when you’re talking about dogs! (Did I just lose you? Come back. You like puppies, right?)

See, you can’t be mad at me anymore. That right there is that word for which you almost unfriended me. Poor things. They get such a bad rap with that name! (Oh, and that right there? She is mine. Oh yes, she is mine.)

Anyways. That is the only time I am okay with people using the word whelp. When a female dog (see, I try to be sensitive) is whelping. {PUPPIES!} I just broke that most sacred of rules and now therefore I am a living paradox. I think I will go look at myself in the mirror with my eyes closed.

Where was I?

WHELP (sorry!), I did it. I started my own photography business.

It is sudden and unexpected and I don’t doubt for a minute that, though the process in discovering that this journey was meant to start now has been and continues to be a bumpy one, God is in it. God knows what He’s doing. God is not leaving me to flop on the seashore like a fish that found its way accidentally onto land.

No, He is leading me. He is gracious and good and kind and my heart, though confused at times, is singing, “Blessed be the name of the Lord. Blessed be His glorious name.”

So go check out my new little part of the internet world. I like it quite a lot so far. I would love to know that you all are praying for and supporting me on this journey!

Well, we are sad here. Russell, the on-trial dog that we love, has a pretty acute separation anxiety. Essentially we can’t leave the house without him stressing out and trying to escape whatever confine he is in (crate, room, etc.) On Facebook I posted a picture of a pencil that he destroyed this morning. Tonight it was, indeed, the door frame and the door.

While we might be willing to work through that kind of destructive behavior if we owned our property, we cannot work through that while renting. He is a very sweet dog and I am super thankful that we’ve gotten to have him these two weeks. There have been a handful of other things that have kept this in “trial mode” and the combination essentially means that the trial period is over. (We can work through a lot of things but destruction is simply not one of them we can afford.) We went in knowing this was a trial period and we made ourselves promise not to feel too assured. It’s been hard because he’s so sweet. But we have to do what’s right for him and for us (and for my Dad who owns our property.) I know that we will eventually have a permanent doggy again. But, as we knew might be the case, now is just not that time.

Recently I had a particular birthday. A certain birthday. Ladies over 30 usually refer to their birthdays using all manner of smoke and mirrors and vague language, right? So for this particular birthday my Chinese “son” wanted to make hot pot with his friends for me. We decided to do it out in the covered patio (even though it was pretty cold) because… well… fish balls have a strong smell that I have sort of banned within the confines of our four walls. That and there were a lot of us and we have a very small kitchen. It was fun. We put the candles and lanterns out and ate our dinner at the big Ronald Reagan table. (We call it that because he once supped at it in the 1970′s.)

Fish balls were on the menu, to be sure, but I veered more toward the land animals and the bean animals (aka. tofu). This was my first time having Chinese hot pot. I’ve had Korean hot pot once before and it was so much fun and so delicious. My birthday hot pot was very yummy and I thought it was so sweet of the kids to go to all the work involved in making this food fest for me.

I really loved the Tofu even though it contained a good bit of a spicy sauce that, while I like the taste a lot, inevitably causes me a lot of heartburn later on in the evening. Some foods are apparently worth heartburn and stomach upset because I ate that tofu with gusto anyways, throwing caution to the wind.

One time I made a recipe that many friends had raved about repeatedly. I decided I had no choice but to make this succulent Frank’s Hot Sauce Chicken Dip. Oh my stars. It was delicious, featuring chicken of course, cream cheese and a generous portion of Frank’s Hot Sauce. I had never had Frank’s Hot Sauce before. That night I spent the evening moaning and gripping the love handles of Jon. It wasn’t pretty. I decided I either happened to get a short tummy bug or I was allergic to Frank’s Hot Sauce. The next night we had leftovers of the delectable devilish dish. Since I apparently had a death wish, and because I LOVE the scientific method (repeated observations of the seemingly obvious) more than life itself, I decided to just make sure that I had indeed not just had a random passing intestinal ailment. And thus I partook again of that fateful meal. And I spent another evening with Jon. So now I know, I can’t eat Frank’s Hot Sauce.

Spicy Chinese hot sauce might be a distant cousin of Frank.

Really, it was lovely and fun.

You never thought you’d appreciate spam? Hot pot might make you question everything you once knew.

One of our gracious cooks.

This guy loves, and I mean LOVES fish balls.

He’s downright passionate about fish balls.

My darling husband built a nice fire to keep us warm.

Great fun was had by all. And we ate until we were full.

And a fish ball has never touched my lips. And that is how it shall stay.

January 3rd was a sad goodbye. Many tears were shed. And some still eek out the corners of my eyes when I think about sweet Bruce. But as the little fern over Brucie’s grave reminds us, we have to always start again. Whether your talking dogs or jobs or friendships or whatever, life is full of sad goodbyes… and also full of new beginnings.

Russell is the new beginning that became a member of our family on Sunday.

Russell is a one year old Boxer mix. He was a found puppy (probably abandoned) who eventually found his way to the home of a wonderful foster mom who lives on a small farm in Sebastapol. She pretty much perfectly prepared him for a busy family life. He spent three months with her getting used to cats, goats, horses, free range chickens, children… you name it. So far he takes almost everything in stride. He is an absolute sweetheart and, as you can see, we are pretty much already in love with him. He’s still a puppy so he still likes to chew on stuff but he is so obedient. A real tribute to the time and commitment his foster mom put into him over the last few months. He got a fabulous start with her and we are so thankful that she thought us a worthy family for this sweet guy.

Our hearts are happy.

We sure do miss our sweet doggy, Bruce. What a gentle friend he was to my boys… and to me over the years.

He was an indoor dog which meant he really was part of the family. And even though most of the time he was just lying around the house like a farting, snoring piece of furniture, he at least was like an old beloved piece of furniture of which you had become terribly fond no matter how old it had gotten. You know… the kind that the room feels naked without. But he was, of course, more than a piece of furniture. He was a faithful buddy, following me around, cleaning up after us in the kitchen, barking at strangers and checking on us at night.

But most of all, he was just a sweet, sweet friend to my boys. He made them all into dog lovers. And for that I am very, very grateful.

My nieces came over on Bruce’s last day with us to say goodbye. They loved Bruce so much and, between his full-body wagging and rolling over for belly rubs, you could tell how much he loved all of them back. The little one had a particular love for him. “My cute little Brucie!” she would say.

I wonder if dogs know when something sad is on the horizon… I think they do. I do believe they are more concerned with comforting their sad people than they are for themselves.

I really just wanted to share a selection of some of our old favorite photos of Bruce, one last time.

We’re not quite sure how… but a lovely little fern has indeed appeared over Bruce’s grave to the amazement of his boys.

He was, after all, a very good dog.

___

While we are still sad about our dog, we have life and death firmly in perspective.  We know very well that so many people in the world – specifically people dear to our hearts – are enduring such deep and intense grief today and every day. Above all, our hearts grieve and pray with them today. We wait with them for that day when all will be made new and “all of the sad things will come undone.” Come, Lord Jesus, come.

Here we are.

In the process of migrating my blog over, most of my pictures from the past couple of years did not survive the voyage. I had them all linked directly to Flickr because I actually believed that would keep losing them on the blog impossible. Unfortunately it worked the opposite way. As the pictures all still exist, I simply just have manually reinstall them in all of my older posts which will take… like 100 years pretty much. So as you meander through my blog, be aware that all of the little black boxes that you see represent really lovely photos (or really goofy… or lame, depending on their age!) And realize that this blog, like myself, is a work in progress. And it’s okay if we’re a little messy for a while.

Thanks for being here! Thanks for visiting for the first time or for returning once again.

And because I have to post a picture in every post or I will die, here is my Christmas card that I only sent to people by way of using it as my Facebook timeline cover. Classsssay!