Now that Obama has named Biden as his running mate, I think Bruno just might have a shot.

Remember this? The Watch me! No, watch me! household decided that our beloved pooch, Bruno, could run the country as well as anyone.



Well, it seems his candidacy has caught on:



Who knew!!!

Moonvertising, Cutest Puppy Ever Style

It's a full moon this evening. I plan on using that to my full advantage.

After all, Rolling Rock is doing so by shooting a laser beam featuring their logo onto the moon's surface this evening. Check it!



Moonvertising just makes sense:



And:



And of course, there's this:



Still not convinced? Watch the moon this evening and get back to me tomorrow.

So, here is my plan...I am going to sneak into the Rolling Rock Laser Headquarters this evening and switch out the laser image:



Bwahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Where I get all political. Fur shizzle.

Politicians.

I'm sick of them all.

Are you disappointed, too? I thought you might be.

Soooooooooo...as a public service, I decided it was high time to take matters into my own hands. Rather, Cutest Puppy EVER's paws:



Cutest Puppy EVER, aka Bruno, is launching a write-in campaign for the presidency. He may not be able to balance things on his head, but he's a really great snuggler.

(Bruno is asleep on the couch enjoying an afternoon breeze, but he approves of this ad.)

MOST Delicious. Snack. Ever

A couple of hours ago I was trying to cook dinner (yes, husband...if you are reading this it's true! I am cooking dinner tonight!) and my four year-old daughter and her friend were playing around on a counter near me. I was only half paying attention to what they were saying, but I was catching snippets like, "Take out the banana; she's allergic to banana," and, "Don't look, Mommie. It's a surprise."

I was starting to get frustrated...I needed the counter space and my kitchen isn't nearly as spacious as my last, which sometimes irritates me irrationally. I was about to ask the girls to take it someplace else, when I thought to myself that I really ought to figure out what it was they were doing. So, being the cool mom I am, I eavesdropped and spied on them.

*giggle*
"More butter!"
*giggle*
"It's MY turn to stir!"
*giggle*
"Mom, don't look, it's a secret snack for you!"
*giggle*
"Where is the salt?"
*giggle*
"Mom, bring us the salt but don't look!"
*giggle*
"Put some candy in there."
*giggle*
"MY turn to stir now!"
*giggle*
"More grapes."
*giggle*
"More grapes."
*giggle*
"More grapes."
*giggle*
"Mommie, we need salt!"
*giggle*
"And un-yee-ons."
*giggle*

This went on for quite some time. I had to pretend I wasn't watching the creation. I faked not noticing the humongous (at least three tablespoons) fingerprint-laden pat of butter snuggled next to smooshed banana, some papery garlic skins, a lemon-skin punch biopsy, and shrapnel from lacerated grapefruit remnants.

While I watched, my memory whisked me back when I was in lower grade-school and would gather flower blossoms and crush them into a bowl filled with water. I would create a thick emulsion that I would then strain into an old ketchup bottle...and call it perfume. I remembered how proud I was of my "perfume," and how excited I was to present my mom with my offering. Her response was invariably enthusiastic; she would carefully tap my concoction behind her ears and on her wrists, and then sniff with what was clearly a discerning nose. Imagine my pride when my creations were greeted with approval!

Those memories flooded in, and I readjusted my perspective. I went from pretending I didn't know what was going on to full-on participation. Ignoring the dinner preparations for a mere five minutes or so, I indulged them. I even ate a butter-caked grape (gack)(I mean, Super Delish!). Once I was done with my performance, they were done with me and went on to dress the Cutest. Puppy. Ever. in clothes that no self-respecting Havanese should have to endure.

This Mommy learning-curve is...unpredictable.

Rule of Thirds

Interested in more photography secrets? I hope so! Here's one that is guaranteed to increase the quality of your photos...and unlike last week's (which while super important was a teeny bit technical) this one is easy to incorporate into your everyday snapshots.

It's called the Rule of Thirds; I learned this one while studying photography, painting, AND design while in college. The deal is you divide your image into nine sections by two equally-spaced horizontal and vertical lines. Those four lines should ideally correlate to important features within your photograph. Additionally, the four intersections created these line can highlight features of your image. This is a very simple method of increasing visual interest in your subject.

Here is an example of a cute picture of The Cutest Puppy Ever where I didn't employ the technique (he's still adorable!):
So I've taken a step forward, flipped it vertically, turned on my flash, and employed the rule of thirds...here's the result:


I'd like to illustrate further what I mean by The Rule of Thirds; if you're like me, my above description won't hold a candle to this: Now does,

The deal is you divide your image into nine sections by two equally-spaced horizontal and vertical lines. Those four lines should ideally correlate to important features within your photograph. Additionally, the four intersections created these line can highlight features of your image.

make more sense? There are two lines that run across the image, and two that run up and down. If you are taking a picture with a horizon line, or a table line, or any horizontal line...if you place that line on one of those two guidelines you're pretty much sure of a good shot. Similarly, if you are taking pictures of a cliff, or a building, or people in front of a cliff or building, place those big details on the guidelines.

In this image, I wasn't working with architectural or geographical landmarks, but those far closer to home. The rules work there as well. The pillow functioned as horizontal lines, and The Cutest Puppy Ever provided vertical. Better yet, his cute little button nose (!) fell right into one of the intersections, which makes for an even stronger composition as it gives your eye a natural place to rest.

No worries, the Rule of Thirds is a forgiving rule. You don't need to be exact; more than anything you need to avoid placing horizontal and vertical lines in dead center of your photograph...while that might be the obvious composition and is perfectly fine, it won't be the extraordinary photograph you are striving towards!

Mostly, enjoy taking those photos of your beautiful subjects! Snap away and don't be afraid to be creative...you'll be amazed at the amazing photographs you'll take!

How cute is that puppy in the bloggy?

There's been lots of puppy talk on these interwebs recently. Lots of puppy talk.

Look, I'm not intimating that some of the big bloggers are worried about my little bloggy fabulousness, and thus have adopted pups in the hope of knocking the Cutest Puppy Ever title from my baby. It's just that seems some of them high-falutin' bloggers think they have the Cutest Puppy Ever. Impossible. Hello! I called it!

In case you need a reminder:


I'm just saying it is QUITE THE COINCIDENCE that within fourteen, maybe fifteen, months of me adopting a dog two bloggy hot doggers (no pun intended) did the same.

ABC Wednesday...N is for Neighborhood Watch

These three keep our neighborhood safe. And they made it hard to find a place to rent, along with Cutest Puppy Ever. But they are oh, so worth it!!!

Feeling all patriotic. And self-absorbed (What? Me? On my blog? Surely not!)

Happy Fourth, everyone.

If you asked one of my friends from high school (or college, or through my twenties for that matter) what my favorite holiday was they'd unhesitatingly answer, "The Fourth of July." There was something about the electricity of the day, the "Oooohing!" and "Aaaaahing!" over the fireworks, and the consistency of the celebrations that appealed to me. No matter where I lived, I could count on fireworks.

Probably because it meant so much to me, I remember every Fourth of July since I was very young. I'll spare you the entire list, but here's a sampling:

When I was six we laughed as our dog, a huge husky, jumped into our car through an open window at the first fireworks boom. We discovered then that he hated loud noises. Sorry about that, Bandit.

At eight, I listened to the fireworks as I snuggled in my bedroom; it hinted at adult things about which I had no idea.

When I was thirteen, I peeked at the the fireworks from my bedroom window and felt connected (in the visceral, obsessive way only an adolescent can do and still be healthy) with a boy I liked who I knew was at the festivities downtown.

At fifteen, three of my friends and I laid on a picnic blanket, staring up at the West Point fireworks show over the Hudson River. I was moving from New York to the Midwest a few days later...the fireworks were my last hurrah with my friends.

When I was seventeen I went to a fireworks show on a first date with a boy that became My First Boyfriend. We dated for nearly three years; next to my husband he is by far the sweetest boy I dated.

At nineteen I celebrated the International Freedom Festival (a joint celebration between Detroit and Windsor over the Detroit River) with My First Boyfriend's family on their boat; the wakes of barges tossed around the private boat we were on, music blared from adjacent yachts, I was young and in love.

At twenty-one I watched fireworks from the rooftop of a 19th century Michigan State University lecture hall onto which my friends and I had climbed via fire escapes. We smoked, drank beer, and felt exhilarated in the way you only can when you are free, confident, and the world is before you.

When I was 23 I spent the Fourth of July on a beach in Greece, toasting my friends back home. I did the same at 27.

At 31 my husband-to-be and I spent a Fourth of July with a bunch of friends, watching fireworks from a golf course that we had snuck onto.

At 33 we watched fireworks from the second story balcony of our new home, barely visible above the trees in our backyard. Our baby son slept.

At 35 we watched the tips of our new city's (new state as well) official fireworks from our second story window. Our toddler boy slept.

At 38 we were in our present home, same city (same state as well!). We drove to the opposite end our street, about 1/5 of a mile from our far west cul-de-sac, from which we looked past the corn, the protected wetlands, the rice farms, towards the Sacramento River. We could see the explosions of a nearby city's show. Our baby daughter slept and our son was thrilled he was allowed to stay up so late.

Today all five of us walked to a neighborhood block party...potluck breakfast followed by a "parade" behind a firetruck. A quarter mile later, the kids took turns alternating between squirting the fire hose and being squirted. It's a tradition that has been going on for over thirty years now; our family has participated for the past four years.

I still love the Fourth, but it isn't my favorite holiday anymore. It's not as exciting to me. I don't need it anymore; I don't need its electricity, its "Oooohing!" and "Aaaaahing!", its consistency. I have it in my life everyday now.

Or, maybe I'm just old and lame. I dunno.

Some visual muzak

WOOF