“You know what? If they just gave us canines a seat at the table we wouldn’t have to scrounge for scraps!”
I have a Bernese Mountain Dog.
It is a rare breed anywhere, and more so in Argentina.
So when you come across another you generally stop and let them sniff each other and you exchange a few words with the other owner.
I did last night and the other owner asked how old mine is.
“Four,” I said.
“Yeah, mine’s three,” the man said. Then he asked, “How’s she behaving?” [continue reading…]
“You can do it Dad!”
Thanksgiving always brings back memories of my childhood in West L.A.
I was there on my own for two weeks in February and two years before that with my entire family.
But with three children it is getting harder to travel there from our home in Argentina.
Not mentally.
I can still remember most of the details of our old house, a bungalow with a huge bougainvillea out front. The house was torn down in the 2000s and replaced by another. The new house was trucked in during the night. The movers cut the new house – a two-storey house from Santa Monica – into four sections and moved each part on a separate truck. They had to disconnect and reconnect telephone and power cables to get it across town, from Santa Monica to Brentwood Glen. [continue reading…]
“Yeah, I must admit. I just love the smell of nature.”
I decided to do a olfactory experiment.
I have sensitive skin, especially in my armpits. When I was a kid and discovered the potential for odor, I started, as would be expected, to use deodorant. I borrowed my dad’s Speed Stick and so began years of application that extended to perfumed soaps, shower gels and even the occasional squirt of CK One Cologne.
Then my pits said, “No more.” [continue reading…]