Bobo was promised a day at the Dog Beach while we're in California. He's very, very excited.

The thing is, Bobo has no idea what a Dog Beach is, a fact that sank in over the course of about three days, and has since required that we (by 'we' I mean I), explain to him, every night, about waves and sand and seagulls. About the smell of salt air, and seashells, and seaweed and how very small one feels on the Ocean's shore. Of course I must also name as many creatures as I know that call the water home, and describe, in detail, each dog  that might be there when we arrive, and oh, tell me again daddy about how absolutely no cats are allowed at any time.

He's such a country dog.

Apparently we have bears. Three of them. (They travel like that, you know, in threes). Real bears. Not the kind that I imaginate, (or enigmate). The kind of bears that helicopters come looking for. Honey-loving bears. 

Do I even need mention how badly I'd like to see one, or all of this clan, come strolling across my farm? 

Oh my.

Cross our fingers everyone.

    

Fist bumping and 'killing it'.

Other than that, it's Home Sweet Home.

Yard-work Selfies with Do-Rag and Uncooperative Dog

Stealing Dreams

If I dream about a book. A book like no book I've ever read before. With pictures, the likes of which I've never seen anywhere else. Written and illustrated by a girl I, more or less, know. A girl who, in real life, is a fine writer and wonderful artist, but has yet to publish anything bound... 

     Is this dream book mine for the writing? 

     Or am I stealing?

   
                                        I feel like I'm stealing. 

        

The Doctored Toad

We were talking about the color of my magic toad. Yes, he's red. Something to do with the clay in these parts, I reckon, though I truly don't have a clue. He could have been blushing, for all I know, mustering a spell of some sort.  

This little fella, however, magical as he appears, fell into some pond brine I had dumped out. Perfectly non-toxic stuff, though at full strength, I learned, isn't about to just wash off. A thorough scrubbing produced only this polished, cranky turquoise nugget, which was far better than the bottle green he was prior to bathing, but still, difficult to explain to friends and family, I'm sure.  

        

Toad Magic