Thursday, January 29, 2009

Sugar - Sweetest Dog in Town (The final installment)

I'm working with a word restriction for this short story submission. It's killing me. But in a good way. It's a great challenge for me to try to keep this story short and simple...I am a wordy writer, so this is good (trying to think positive here!)
So this is the final of the first draft. I'll post the story in full form when I get it edited...and cut more words (painful, very painful). I was going to enter this same competition last year, but I couldn't cut my poor story to pieces. This year I'm determined!

And, here's another cute pet pic to accompany the story. You might notice that this one is not canine in nature. This is my lovely Ringo-cat, most wonderfully handsome, loyal, neurotic cat that ever was. Enjoy!

“Sammy! What happened? How long have you been lying here?” Sammy tried to reach out to his mother but the pain in his arm stopped him. “Ouch Mommy! I think something’s wrong with my arm.” “Honey, do you think you’ll be okay here while Mommy goes to get the car to take you to the doctor?” Sammy looked very frightened but then Sugar stepped up, licked his tear-stained face and sat right next to him. She looked up at Sammy’s mom and thumped her tail on the ground. Sammy said, “I think I’ll be okay with Sugar here.” Sammy’s mom looked into Sugar’s soft eyes and knew it would be fine. She ran back home to get the car. Sammy reached for Sugar with his good arm and together they sat and waited. When Sammy’s mother returned Sugar waited until Sammy was safely in the car. The lady kneeled down and gave Sugar a hug before Sugar headed for home. Sugar was in BIG trouble when she got back home. Her humans had been looking for her all over and gave Sugar a lecture. She felt guilty and walked into the house with her tail between her legs and her head hung low but still the happy warm feelings of having done a good deed was stronger than anything else. She wished she could speak and tell them what she had been doing. Later that evening Sammy and his mother arrived at Sugar’s house. They brought with them a basket of treats and toys for Sugar. Sugar’s parents opened the door and looked confused, “Hi Linda, how are you? What’s all this?” Then Sammy stepped out from behind his mother and Sugar’s owner exclaimed, “Sammy! What happened to you?” Sugar was hiding behind the door. When Sammy’s mother Linda explained what had happened Sugar came out into the doorway. She was so happy to see that Sammy was okay that it was very hard not to jump all over him but she stopped herself and waited for Sammy to bend down and hug her. Sugar’s humans were confused and then eventually pleased to hear about Sugar’s activities that day. Sammy and his mother called Sugar a hero. It made Sugar feel embarrassed but also very happy for herself and her family. After that day a lot of things changed for Sugar and her humans. The neighbours came to see her often and they brought their children to play with her. Sugar was invited for play dates with her neighbour dogs. Sugar and her humans were very happy and proud of how Sugar had managed to change the way people and animals thought of her and of the word “pit bull”.


I've been having dreams that it is summer. I dream of swimming in the warm water of the bay, of the warm comfort of the sun, of long lazy days and slowly rising nights. My eye was drawn to this small flower (Sebastian says "weed" but I ignore him in my wishful state) stretching it's long neck out of the increasingly deep snow.

I was then confronted with this absolutely beautiful and purely wintery vision and I remembered not to rush, not to hurry time. It will be summer soon enough and I will miss the days of snow, of peace and stillness and undisturbed beauty surrounding me.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Back to Basics - Honey Mustard Chicken

Last night I made a honey-mustard chicken dish that I haven't done in hmm...probably a couple of years now. Sebastian and I came up with this recipe years ago on a whim. It's so easy and so tasty that I've never had to play with it or refine it. the only difference this time was that I used a whole-grain beer mustard that I actually made myself as part of a Christmas gift basket I made up this year. It was yummy but not as punchy a flavour as with a commercial mustard. So, recipe time:

Skinless boneless chicken breast (about one breast per person) cut into bite sized pieces
whole grain dijon mustard
salt and pepper to taste
Cut up the chicken and place in a bowl and sealable bag
Mix up the honey, mustard, s&p. I don't have measurements for the ratio here. Basically you want to treat it like you're making a dressing or marinade (about 2 or 3 parts mustard to 1 part mustard). The most imporant thing is that you're happy with the taste. Mix up enough to give a good coating to the chicken. Add to the bowl and toss it all together.
Marinate the mixture in the fridge for a couple of hours at least.
Saute the chicken in a pan with a spoonful of olive oil. Cook the chicken until the marinade really gets soaked up and creates almost a crust on the chicken.

We've always served the chicken as a wrap or pita sandwich. We have a simple caesar salad with yummy little grape tomatoes to give a pop of freshness and put the chicken and salad in the pita.

Away you go, couldn't be easier!

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Sugar - Sweetest Dog in Town (cont'd)

This is a pic of both my puppies Sugar and Dolan. The dog in the story is really a compilation of both of them. The story really addresses the issues we've faced with Sugar but the personality of the puppy I think reflects Dolan. And yes, Sugar is wearing a coat here. She's been complaining about the cold this winter and she loves her fleece!


Of course Sugar couldn’t knock like a human and she couldn’t reach the doorbell so she used her paws to scratch at the front door until the lady opened it. “You! What are you doing at my house? Where is your leash? Where are your owners? You’re not supposed to be wandering around here alone! You’re dangerous!” Sugar wasn’t sure if she was going to keep yelling or just shut the door in her face so she gently tugged on the woman’s pants with her mouth, being careful not to use her teeth. Still the woman was sure that Sugar was trying to bite her and so she let out a loud scream. Sugar knew that if she could just get the woman to step outside her door she would hear her son crying and then she might understand. So, Sugar decided that she had to break a big rule, she would have to go inside the house without an invitation and then, even worse, she would have to steal something from the house and carry it outside so that the lady would follow her. With her sensitive nose, and her love of food, Sugar had been smelling something yummy inside since before the door even opened. She dashed passed the woman following her sniffer into the kitchen where a tasty looking sandwich sat on the table, probably waiting for the poor hurt little boy. This was not easy, Sugar thought back to when she was a puppy and stole food from the table and all the trouble she got in! then she remembered the little boy lying on the road and she did it, she put her front paws up on the tabletop and grabbed the yummy pb&j sandwich from the plate. No time to enjoy the smells though, she ran back out the front door with the sandwich in her mouth. The boy’s mother stood for a second totally shocked in her door. Sugar was afraid that she wouldn’t even try to follow her, then what would Sugar do? But just then the lady called out “Hey! You bad dog, what do you think you’re doing?” And Sugar breathed a huge sigh of relief as she headed down the lawn, making sure the lady was following her. Sugar stopped and turned towards the woman, she gently laid the sandwich on the ground and sat down next to it thumping her whip-like tail on the ground in a show of good faith. She turned her big soft brown up eyes up to the woman. Her eyes were filled with the hope that the woman would hear her son in the sudden silence caused when the yelling stopped and the woman reacted to Sugar’s stopping.
Alternate: Sugar made herself move slowly enough down the yard that the woman would follow her, even though her strong little legs wanted nothing more than to gallop at top speed back to the boy. She stopped every few steps and looked back, her little ship-like tail wagging so hard it would make you dizzy to watch it. If the boy’s mother had stopped to look, she would see that Sugar’s big brown eyes were filled with both hope and worry for her son. As they reached the gate at the bottom of the front garden, a cry could be clearly heard. Sugar and the woman turned the corner and Sugar dropped the sandwich to tug on her pant leg again. Sugar could see that the woman had heard the cry and knew it was her son but now Sugar saw a different kind of fear in her eyes. It was no longer a fear of Sugar, it was fear for her son. She tugged the pant leg again and gave a soft bark. When she got the woman’s attention she started down the street, stopping again a few feet down and barking. The woman suddenly came to life again and moved towards Sugar slowly, she seemed to be confused about the idea of following this mean dog to her son. When the woman reached Sugar’s side Sugar reached up and licked her hand softly. This time the woman did look into the brown eyes and saw that she could trust Sugar. Together they ran down the street to her son.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

For the Love of Indian Food - Tandoori Chicken, Butter Chicken Sauce, Naan

I didn’t take a picture of my first attempt at butter chicken basically because I forgot, also I have to say that while the colours are beautiful and vibrant, the dish in its entirety is not necessarily the most attractive thing to look at. So, I hope you enjoy the shot of the beach from this afternoon. We surprised on our walk by a small flock of birds springing up from the rocks and swooping and dipping all around Dolan causing her to leap around with joy before they finally came to rest in the trees. During the summer Dolan and the birds have a playful relationship and chase each other up and down the beach daily. I think they were thrilled to see one another again.

This dish is a two-parter. First the chicken is cooked in tandoori spices and then the butter sauce is added. The dish wasn’t extremely work intensive because I had the opportunity to start the chicken marinating in the tandoori spices the night before.

Every time I attempt a new dish and I take a shorctut even one as seemingly slight as using a store bought garam masala, I realize afterwards that I should have gone all the way and broken down all the ingredients to their most basic parts. I guess I have to prove to myself that the added effort is worth it and I have to say it is! The next time I make this I will be grinding my own spices to make a garam masala.

The fact is the garam masala is really just a blend of spices (like a Chinese 5 spice) and the name simply means “hot spice.” The basic ingredients are cloves, cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg (or mace), bay leaf, cumin, peppercorn. The benefit of making a garam masala yourself is that you can choose how much of each spice you add and play around with the mixture until you are pleased. I think making my own will make all the difference in the world.

This is not to say that the dish was not successful. It was a resounding success according to the peanut gallery and in fact, I’ve been asked to make it again next week. I served the butter chicken with jasmine rice (I would have used basmati instead if I’d had some in the house) and I made my own naan. The naan was really the highlight for me. I’d never considered that I could make it at home, but it worked out pretty well. The secret to the whole dish really is trying to replicate the heat of a tandoor oven. The high heat is what really cooks in the flavours and marinade on the chicken and what gives the naan its texture. Obviously you can’t really do that, a tandoor is about 1000 degrees, so you make due with cranking your oven to the highest heat you’ve got.

So, onto the recipes:
Tandoori Chicken:
1 whole chicken broken down into small pieces
2 cups full fat yogurt
6 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp. ginger, grated
1 ½ tsp turmeric
1 ½ tsp paprika
2 tsp. of garam masala spice blend or curry powder
Salt to taste

For the Tandoori marinade, mix the yogurt, garlic and spices in a large bowl. Whisk well. Taste the mix and play with the spices, I think I ended up adding more garam masala, but the chicken ended up very spicy once it had marinated. Add the chicken pieces, refrigerate and marinate for at least 3 hours (I did it overnight).

Preheat your oven to its highest setting.

Remove the chicken from the marinade and place on a rack set over a baking sheet, by putting the chicken on a rack you let the high heat circulate all around the pieces. Cook for about 20 minutes, depending on how high your oven goes (I cooked mine for 20 minutes at 550 degrees).

Butter Sauce for Indian Chicken

1 small can of whole tomatoes
1 cup 35% heavy whipping cream
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
2 chili peppers
3 tablespoons grated ginger
1 small bunch fresh cilantro
½ cup of butter

Puree the tomatoes, cream, garam masala, lemon zest and juice, chili peppers, ginger, cilantro and salt.

Melt the butter in a 3-quart saucepan. Let it brown slightly then stir in the tomato mixture and heat it through. Add in the chicken to coat it and then serve.


2 cups bread flour
½ tsp salt
1 1/8 tsp dry yeast
¾ cup full fat yogurt or buttermilk at room temp.
2 tbsp. melted butter or veg. oil
1 tsp. to 1 tbsp. of water (add as needed)
1-2 tbsp. melted butter (to brush on naan)

Mix all the ingredients (I did it by hand—it took almost no time) until the dough forms a ball. Knead it for about 10 minutes until the dough is smooth and elastic. Put the dough in an oiled bowl (oiled side of dough up), covered with plastic wrap. Let it rise for an hour and ½ at room temp.

Put your oven rack on the lowest rungs and preheat the oven to the highest temp. Leave the oven at the highest temp for a ½ hour or so to build up the heat.

Punch down the dough and divide it up into 4 pieces, roll the pieces into balls and let them rest for 10 minutes.

Put a pizza or baking stone (or an inverted baking sheet) on the rack for 5 minutes to get it hot.

Roll out the dough balls into rounds about ¼ inch think and brush with melted butter. Place the rounds on the stone (make sure they don’t touch). Bake them for about 5 minutes or until they puff up and start to turn golden (baking time will depend on oven temp).

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

I have never been one for nationalism, perhaps this is because I grew up in Toronto, a city that prides itself on residing at the center of its country ignorant to the fact that the rest of the nation feels alienated from and antagonistic towards the cosmopolitan hub. I have been fortunate to live in several locations in Canada and I have seen the separate cultural identities that make up this country. In Canada one has the impression that these identities are not necessarily bound by anything more than arbitrary borders. This was seen in our own national election this past year when it seemed to me that each political party, each leader had only their home region in mind.

I am perhaps a child of globalism, I am certainly a student of pop culture. For both reasons, the inauguration of Barack Obama is of importance to me, as I think it must be for the citizens of the world, not just of the United States. Certainly living in Canada, where every decision made in the US affects us almost immediately and where we are often thought of as only an extension of the nation below us. I don’t think I am alone in feeling more connected to this inauguration of a new President, a new generation than I do to the politics of my own country.

Like so many, I find myself for the first time interested in politics. Seen through the eyes of this new administration it feels like politics might have an interest in me. Of course my cynical mind tells me to be prepared to be disappointed, but for this moment, the first moment in my life, there is enough hope in my heart to put the cynicism aside just for a little while and breathe in the optimism and the hope.

Change Has Come

12:01 p.m. and Barack Obama just became President, even though he has yet to take the oath of office. The first family sits together listening to Yo-yo Ma. We watch Michelle Obama parent her girls so that their father might take all they can from this moment, this first of many moments. Not many of us are given moments that so clearly define and delineate as I’m sure Mr. Obama is experiencing on this day.

Friday, January 16, 2009

Serenity Now

I can't believe that I forgot my camera today! The photo above will have to suffice. While gorgeous in its own right and typical of the beauty of my daily surroundings, what I saw today makes this landscape seem run of the mill. Unfortunately I knew that if I turned to make the five minute slog back up the deeply snow covered hill behind me, by the time I returned the vision before me would be lost. So, my description, hastily written with a pen miraculously discovered in my pocket on the insides of a dog treat bag I ripped open to serve the purpose, will have to suffice.

The orb of the just setting sun is being ever so slowly absorbed by the brace of heavy winter storm sky rising from the invisible mountains across the bay. A frozen mist floats, still hanging in the inbetween with the slight sound of the lapping waves beneath the frozen landscape. My beautiful black dog catches my eye, lying in a state of snow covered ecstasy in the middle of the vast white stillness.

When I stare long enough I am reminded that the mist isn't actually frozen, I can see the tendrils drift off into invisibility like spirits into the ether. They rise as separate beings and seem to reach out to join their wispy hand to one another as they disappear.

This is where I live and yes it's bone-chillingly freezing and yes winter is long and yes it's isolated at times but just now I'm reminded that I am the luckiest person I know.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Channelling my Nan - Home Made Bread

So about two years ago now, in the midst of my “nervous breakdown” I was suffering from some pretty serious insomnia. I was also doing a lot of cooking, it was in fact the beginning of my joy of food stage. On this particular night I had been without sleep for about two days. It was five in the morning and I was completely fed up with lying in bed, desperately willing unconsciousness.

Some time during this sleepless night, as I tried to lie still and achieve some state of peace and calm, my thoughts turned again to food. In the next breath though, in that flow of consciousness, seemingly unrelated way that sleep deprived thoughts flow, my departed Grandmother, my Nan, appeared behind my closed eyes. I was drawn to thoughts of how disappointed she would be in me, in past choices made, in paths chosen.

Then somehow I came back to food yet again. The insanity of sleep deprivation led me to a seemingly obvious conclusion. I needed to make bread. Yep, that’s right, I needed to get up, get to the kitchen and bake. In my exhausted, depressed mind I rationalized that I could make my Grandmother proud by successfully accomplishing a task she completed for the sustenance of her family daily.

Sebastian got up and left for work, which meant I could stop pretending to be asleep so that I wouldn’t disturb him or have him worry any more about my state of mind. I headed right for the kitchen and the cookbooks and got down to work.

My memories of that first experience with bread are, not surprisingly, hazy. What I recall mostly is crying into the dough as I kneaded it on my board, asking my Nan if she was proud of me now. I remember feeling her over my shoulder and the sense that I seemed to just know what I was feeling for in the dough, the texture, the consistency, the elasticity. I remember a sense of peace that this knowing must have come from her. And then I remember falling asleep as the bread dough rose in its bowl, overcome with peace and calm and that everything would somehow be okay.

White Bread Recipe

2 pkgs. dry yeast
3/4 cup warm water
2 cups lukewarm water (scalded then cooled down)
3 1/2 tbsp. sugar
3 tbsp shortening (or margarine)
1 1/2 tbsp. salt
7 to 8 cups bread flour
soft margarine or butter

Dissolve yeast in warm water and allow to rise.

Add milk, sugar, shortening (or margarine), salt and half the flour. Mix until smoothly incorporated. Begin adding the remaining flour until it's easy handle (and too difficult to stir)

Turn the dough out onto floured surface and knead (I add remaining flour in at this point as I'm kneading). Knead for about 10 minutes, until the dough is smooth and elastic, not sticky at all.

Place dough in a greased bowl and turn it greased side up (make sure the up-side is well greased) cover the bowl (I cover it with a moist cloth). Let rise for an hour, until you can punch it down and the indentation stays.

At this point I let the dough rise up again in the bowl, you don't need to do this, but I've been told it makes all the difference by long time bread makers.

After the second rise divide the dough in half and roll into rectangles (18x9 inches). Start rolling into a log with 9 inch ends. Roll up very tightly pinching all edges to seal and keep out air, fold ends under (make sure it's all sealed tight to keep air out during baking).

Place loaves seamed side down in bread pans. Brush the tops with margarine or butter. Let rise again for an hour.

Heat oven to 425. Place loaves on lower rack (so they're centred in oven). Make sure pans don't touch. Bake for 25-30 mins. Until golden brown on top and sounding hollow.

Channelling my Inner Italian - Home Made Fresh Pasta

I made my own pasta for this dish last night. The recipe, a Jamie Oliver "Jamie at Home" inspiration, suggested using ready made lasagna dishes and cutting them up to make pappardelle, however I like to be as authentic as I can and also, my pasta maker had been sending me sad, neglected vibes from inside it's dusty box in the forgotten corner of the kitchen for some time now.

It's been about a year since I attempted pasta. My last few attempts involved temper tantrums and much throwing of dough across the room...and at anyone who happened to comment or make the mistake of offering advice or help of any kind. Last night I was determined. I was alone in the house so no-one could witness my failure if it did occur and I wouldn't feel any pressure from the resident peanut gallery.

I figure my previous pasta snafoos were the result of the use of all purpose flour in the dough. Sometime over the last year I learned of semolina flour and with this knowledge in hand I bravely pulled the pasta maker out of it's dusty grave. Of course, one of the drawbacks of living up in the relative boonies is that I can't always find the ingredients I want. I had to go to two grocery stores to find the flour! My fiance laughs, but whenever we go to the city I head right for the grocery store to stock up on all the stuff I can't find here. I get as excited about a trip to the Superstore as I used to get going to Holt Renfrew! be honest I still get that excited at Holt's...ahhh, the joy of being in the presence of pretty things!

Back to the pasta, the semolina made all the difference in the world! The dough came together so smoothly I was moving around it on tiptoe, waiting for the inevitable failure. But no, within a 1/2 hour I had the dough mixed and kneaded (by hand), run through the machine and cut into pappardelle to dry a bit. I could even have done without the machine, rolled the dough out by hand, but of course the machine does minimize the maunual labour involved.

I'm riding high on a wave of culinary triumphs lately, my pizza is just about perfection (dough and all) my bread has come to a level of consistency that pleases me, for Christmas I made food baskets of jams, butters, sauces and more, all of which turned out on the first try and that I was pleased with. It feels good! Even if I'm met with blank stares by most people when I get excited about my successes. An ex-boyfriend of mine, still stewing in his jealousy over my new relationship (the one that has led to my life with my fiance) once suggested that I was being domesticized, fettered by my new boyfriend, that I was getting old and boring. It just reaffirmed that he didn't get me at all. It was just the opposite of being tied down to a domestic life, I was being freed by finding a joy in food.

Pasta dough recipe:
1 1/2 cups semolina
2 eggs

That's what I started with and of course covered the board with semolina for kneading and rolling. A lot of it is by feel.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

I’m suffering through this recurring dream. It varies slightly from night to night, but basically it involves me, at my current age of 30, in elementary school (or high school or sometimes back in university). I know a lot of people suffer the occasional anxiety based school dream, you know the one where you have a big exam you forgot to study for or a paper deadline looming or maybe a dream of feeling self conscious and nerdy the way you did in school.
These dreams are different though. Yeah, I often wake up and need a moment to recall myself to the reality of my life and calm my anxiety, but more often I’m exhilarated by the idea of being back there. I think the deal is that I now regret being so self-conscious and stressed out all the way through school and I wish I could go back and just enjoy it for what it was…or what it should have been.

Good lord, I wasted so many of my early years worrying, stressing trying to be someone else and then when I figured out that I couldn’t be anyone but me, I decided to be self destructive. Those were the university years, what a waste! Now I’m up to my ears in debt and I feel like I learned nothing. I rushed through school because that’s what I was supposed to be doing, went to the wrong University, studied the wrong things and I’m only now getting a clear idea of what I should have been doing. So now I dream, almost every night I dream of what it would be like to be in a classroom and be clear headed, be focused on learning and loving it. It took me until now to figure out and even at 30 I think I’m just beginning. Am I alone here? Anyone else feel like they screwed it up, rushed into career, adulthood, ended up in a tailspin and had to start all over? Will the dreams have a happy ending…eventually?

Friday, January 9, 2009

I'm working on a submission for a children's writing competition, taking inspiration from the most lovable folks in my life...the dogs.

The story is really about Sugar, the white dog in the pic above. Sugar's resemblance to the notorious "pitbull" is the issue I wanted to tackle specifically but also the more general growing apprehension of dogs that I've observed. So I thought I'd post the work (keep in mind it's a first draft...)

Sugar – The Sweetest Dog in Town

When Sugar caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror in the hallway of her humans’ house or in the window of the living room where she sat to watch for her humans returning home from wherever it is they went without her, she was always surprised at what she saw, so surprised that sometimes she let out a big “woof” thinking that the beautiful white dog in the reflection must be a stranger on her property. But no, that pretty dog in the glass was always just her, Sugar-dog all silky white fur and soft floppy ears and smiley face. Sugar knew herself to be a beautiful animal and that’s why she was always confused when strange humans and strange dogs acted afraid of her. Sugar was the kind of dog the humans call a “Pit Bull”. This name strikes fear in the heart of humans everywhere and dogs that Sugar met along her travels were not too fond of the name either. At first Sugar thought it was kind of neat that humans and dogs saw her and thought she was tough, they acted frightened and like they respected her, dogs in the dog park went out of their way to avoid Sugar, she never was picked on the way some other dogs were. After a while though, Sugar started to find it kind of lonely and sad, many humans wouldn’t pet her, they kept their little human pups, the ones they called children, far away from her. Sometimes when they saw her out walking they would get upset and use their loud voices to express their fear. Even Sugar’s own humans, the ones whose house she lived in, who knew her sweetness and that she would never hurt anyone had started to respond to the fears of the strangers, they kept Sugar on her leash and inside the house, they never let her wander too far and they kept her away from the human pups, even though they knew that Sugar loved the pups best, loved to play with them and hug them and kiss them. All of this made Sugar very sad, she didn’t understand why all the humans and even the other dogs would be so afraid of her without even knowing her. She didn’t think it was very fair to be judged just because of a name. So, Sugar decided she was going to do something about it. She was going to prove to everyone what a good dog she really was.

Sugar was a very obedient dog most of the time. She didn’t like to have to disobey her humans in order to prove to everyone else that she was a good dog. But, Sugar was so tired of everyone being afraid of her that she was willing to risk consequences.

So, Sugar came up with a plan. She would sneak away from her humans just long enough to meet some of the neighbours and change their opinion of her. This was not very difficult for Sugar to do; the hardest thing was trying not to feel guilty about it. Sugar simply walked out of the gate in her yard one afternoon when she heard the sound of a human pup crying. She followed the sound a few houses down until she saw the little one lying on the sidewalk with their bicycle lying alongside. The child was crying so hard that he didn’t even notice Sugar until she was right next to him. Sugar very gently nudged the boy with her nose and he looked up into her soft brown eyes. He was so scared from his fall off the bike that he forgot to be afraid of Sugar. Sugar sniffed the boy all over. She was a very sensitive, smart dog and could tell if someone was hurt just by smelling them. Her nose told her that the bone in the boy’s arm was very hurt. Sugar knew where his house was and thought she could help by going to get the boy’s mother and bringing her to him. So Sugar licked the tears from the boys face, making him giggle a little through his tears and then ran as fast as she could to his house.

Of course Sugar couldn’t knock like a human and she couldn’t reach the doorbell so she used her paws to scratch at the front door until the lady opened it. “You! What are you doing at my house? Where is your leash?...” Sugar wasn’t sure if she was going to keep yelling or just shut the door in her face so she gently tugged on the woman’s pants with her mouth, being careful not to use her teeth. Still the woman was sure that Sugar was trying to bite her. Frustrated, Sugar thought the best thing to do would be to

Thursday, January 8, 2009

So, I've always avoided the whole new year resolution hulabaloo, but this year's dawn gives me an excuse to define an end and of course then, a new beginning.

This blog is meant to play a role in the new beginning. I need a place to rant, to spew, to be creative, to put stuff I'm working on out there.

So here it is, my life in all it's bits and pieces.