Oh no Papa, they're just boots.

Papa loves to open gifts.

Whether it's a bone or a frisbee or a gift that's not for her (sorry, Katy), she shreds the wrapping paper with abandon.

She is not always so excited about the actual gifts. Such as these boots. (Note her subdued mood.)

She allowed us to put them on, then refused to move — as if she were paralyzed.

Unfortunately, she can't be swayed by favorable Amazon ratings or reassurances that these durable boots will protect her paws from salt on the sidewalks.

Onward.

Oh no Papa, not the garbage bag!

Doing my holiday baking, it's not unusual for me to have a cookie mishap.

Yesterday's disaster: crumbly shortbread.

My magical thinking — that baking would improve the messed-up dough — didn't work. I should have given up when the butter refused to combine with the flour.

So I threw the cookies away. I also took out the garbage right away.

By the way, I've been spending a lot of time with Papa lately. She gets lots of car rides while I'm doing last-minute holiday stuff. So I thought it would be safe to leave her unattended for an hour.

Unfortunately, she got into the new garbage.

She extracted the bag out without pulling out the garbage can. I came home to shredded plastic and a guilty look. Thankfully, the holiday season will be over soon.

Wisdom, gone

Drinking soda through a straw. Eating crunchy tacos. Running on a treadmill.

Simple things, but I did them mindfully this week, in anticipation of getting my wisdom teeth removed.

My friends tried to reassure me with their own recollections. Charlie had four teeth removed at 3 p.m. and was at a party by 9. Carol's niece had hers done a couple of weeks ago, without incident. And, rationally, I doubted I’d have an experience like Chris' — a replacement dentist after four hours of unsuccessful tugging and breaking, followed up by weeks of soreness.

Still, I was tense. Couldn't fall asleep until 3 a.m.

Before I left work yesterday, Kelsey said, “Remember that we love you.” She knew I was morbidly afraid of not waking up from the anesthesia. (Yes, I know there is practically zero risk of that.)

So I spent Thursday night at Boulder Junction eating a last supper of chicken tenders and fried mushrooms, zucchini and celery, and chocolate chip cookies.

And today I went to the oral surgeon. He administered the IV, and I have no memory of even going under. Boom. Done.

I wouldn’t say it was anticlimactic — because it still hurts and pain is pain, after all. I did realize that the anticipation of pain is far worse than the experience of it.

But for once, I’m happy that I seem to be having the average experience. I look forward to returning to the world of crunchy food soon.

P.S. I did learn one other thing: spumoni is not a good post-surgery option. I can't chew the nuts or cherries.

Day off

I haven't been blogging because I've had a really bad cold. (You know it's bad when co-workers sanitize tools after you use them.) After my nightly cocktail of codeine cough syrup and Mucinex failed to help, I figured it was time to consult a doctor.

So I took the day off while waiting for the antibiotics to kick in.

In the meantime, I did something healthy: got a winter tune-up on the car. Oil change, brakes and tires checked. That always makes me feel safer.

Also, I bought extra dog food to store in the trunk. (It adds weight to the back of the car, preventing the car from skidding. Usually.)

Relatedly, Papa just got her stitches removed — and the lumps were not cancerous — so that's some more good health news.

I'm hoping some potato skins will be just what I need, and that Papa will not terrorize the house while I'm gone. We could all use some gentle treatment.

The Office Grind

If you're interested in a he-said-she-said take on workplace dating, check out The Office Grind. The column originally appeared in print in the fall issue of Audrey.

Here's what the editor says:

"Is workplace “commingling” a good idea? Guest columnist Naomi Fujimoto says all’s fair in love and work, but Paul Nakayama wouldn’t touch that with a 10-foot laser pointer."

You decide.