Games and pie

I’m taking a short break from essay writing and working on something straightforward: a review of Say Anything, a new party game. We played it at Joe and Sarah’s mock Thanksgiving dinner while we ate pie.

Reviewing this new game got me thinking about my favorites: Taboo and Scrabble. I just discovered the coolest thing on the Scrabble site: their word builder. You can type in seven letters and pull up a list of possible words. So you can improve your game and build your vocabulary, if you like that sort of thing. 

Incidentally, you can easily eat pie while playing Say Anything. This is maybe a good standard by which to measure a party game's playability. Then again, I cannot eat and play Taboo because the game evokes nonstop edge-of-my-seat excitement. For real. Some tips: 1. Michelle knows tons of pop culture stuff. 2. Don't pass if you play with Katy. 3. If you play with Yukie, she and Laura, her college roommate, can get each other to guess "corned beef hash" with one clue. 

Yukie will be visiting over Thanksgiving, so we'll probably play some games and eat some pie. Till then, I'll finish up my review and get back to my other writing.

Oh no, Papa! Not the wall!

Starting today, I'll be posting once a week about Papa's hijinx. For example:

I bought Papa a treat ball that I was hoping would entertain her during the day. I imagined she'd roll it around, delighted when her efforts yielded a miniature dog biscuit.

Effort #1: The treats were too small. Within moments of dropping the ball, Papa had eaten all of them. Also, the sturdy rubber ball, moistened with drool, now picked up fuzz and dog hair from the floor.

Effort #2: I put bigger treats inside the ball. Papa could not remove any of them. I, too, had trouble pulling them out, even though I have opposable thumbs. The ball went missing for a couple of days.

Effort #3: Christa gave me a treat bottle (one of Luther's castaways). It's made of bulletproof plastic. I filled it with smallish treats and waited for Papa to happily tug the knotted rope to dispense the treats. This did not work. Papa tried to gnaw open the bottom of the bottle, which also did not work. That was an improvement, because at least she found the toy stimulating.

Effort #4: Papa's next move: banging the bottle against the wall.

Oh no, Papa!

Las Vegas sparkle

Three weeks ago, Tom and I designed jewelry for his fiancee, Meg, to wear.

On September 6, they got married at the Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel. Here's a photo he took as she was getting ready for their wedding. Doesn't she look gorgeous?

I love how jewelry comes to life (not literally — and not like beads talking, of course) when someone wears it.

Though I don't do too much custom work anymore, putting this jewelry together was fun and low-key. And look at what Tom brought back for me as a souvenir: an ornament! He called it "an homage to ornaments" (and, later, "an ornament of ornaments").

I'm already looking forward to the holidays. (In fact, I practiced by eating a turkey dinner with all the fixins at Joe and Sarah's house on Sunday. With apple pie for dessert.)

Okay, one last thing about ornaments: If you get a chance, check out the November issue of BeadStyle. I've got an ornament project there. Because it's never too early to start the holiday crafts.

Papa likes accessories

Last week was busy (and this week isn't necessarily looking better), but I wanted to let you know what Papa has been up to. Normally I would blog about my life, but I feel incapable of that right now because I have a raging headache. So instead I offer you a photo essay, "Papa Likes Accessories." With some backstory: On Thursday, Papa broke a nail playing frisbee. Luckily, the vet fixed her up right away. So here she is with her neon gauze wrap. She didn't mind it too much.

On Saturday, Denise and I went to Botana's for dinner. We came back to play with Papa. She let Denise put a gift bow on her head. She didn't mind it too much.

Okay. Next post, I promise an update that's not about my dog. I hope you are all making jewelry and writing and not having a headache. See you soon.

Come to Papa

You know how, when you're reading something online and you scan the list of "most emailed" stories, occasionally you get curious enough to click through? That's how I found this essay written by a guy who loves cats. I haven't read anything else by him — nor am I typically intrigued by essays about cats — but I do enjoy reading about people's attachment to their pets.

Apparently, I enjoy writing about those attachments, too. Be prepared for more installments of "Papa did the darnedest thing!"

Look — here's Papa again. She's in the kitchen, waiting for me to come up and give her some lovins. She always hangs out there when I'm in the basement doing laundry. It's a lovely habit. Doesn't she look thrilled to see me?

Who's your Papa?

I gave her a new name: Papaya. She looks at me curiously whenever I say it. I call her “Papa” for short. She also doesn’t mind “Foxy Lady.” (When she's getting a belly rub, her face looks pointy, like a fox.)

Last night, Joe and Sarah came over for ice cream. Papaya lounged around and farted. It seems she feels perfectly at home.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I’m adopting her. Come by and meet her!