dog happy: Cassy Combs

Seems like my head has been absolutely taken over in the last few days with getting my Daily Corgi blog together. It's set up to run on reader submissions (gak, how do you get people to sign on when you're one among a sea of blogs?) I think at some point I'm going to have to give up on the blog being literally daily. As my mother-in-law used to say, "You've got big dreams!"

Well, yes I do. Is there something wrong with that? Dreaming precedes the doing.

In doing way, WaY, WAY too much Googling of late, I found dogslovelife.com, a cool site that has lots of simple, graphic dog images by artist Cassy Combs emblazoned on merchandise available @ cafepress.com. These designs are two of my favorites. Can you guess why? One word: Corgi. It's an obsession, I don't deny it. Corgis embody Dog Cuteness, and THAT my friends is a happy thing.

art happy: Fiona Owen

There is something somehow spiritual about this piece, for me. The blues and blue-greens are mesmerizing. I'm sure it is even more amazing up close and in person! More from Fiona Owen at johnandfionaowen.weebly.com, the site she shares with her talented artist husband.

blog happy: The Daily Corgi

I've got a new blog! The Daily Corgi features Corgis (of course). I am soliciting submissions; see the blog for guidelines. I hope you'll apply if you're owned by a Corgi (or Corgwyn).

Honestly ... it is almost tragically CUTE.

blog happy: Bella Dia

"Simply pretty happy things" abound at Bella Dia, where you can find quick + ingenious craft tutorials, patterns and a huge list of free gift tags. Don't miss the cute-as-cupcakes vintage Valentines, like these!

No soup for you!

If you remember that line from Seinfeld in the 90's, welcome to the we're-not-over-the-hill-but-it's-within-sight club. This post is not about impending middle age (which I've decided begins at some point between 45 and 50, more or less) but full disclosure on a subject that I know many other bloggers love.

Cooking.

Alas, anything more complicated than can meet opener, pasta meet pot is foreign to me. Oh sure, I love cookbooks, the heady romance of them. Words like "remoulade", "reduction" and "rotisserie" patter on the ears like soft rain. There is a great, evident logic about these books: you follow the directions, you make stuff that tastes pretty good, and if you prepare enough of it you can share it with people you like.

C'est tres difficile, pour moi. Quelle horror!

However, in spite of (because of?) my fumbling efforts to "make food", I like to watch cooking shows. Those people are so firmly in charge of what's going on; they officially Know What They're Doing. Throw in the simmering sauces, steaming stews and syrupy sweets (I swear to God I can smell them through the tv) and it's A Good Thing (thank you, Mah-tha).

These celebrites sport copper cookware, fancy implements and kitchens big enough to host the Rockettes (plus ones) at the holidays. If I had those things at my disposal, I guarantee you: we'd still be eating chili con Cheez-Wiz. But the music would be spinning (I am a damn fine dj on the fly), the bubbly would bubble and the monkeyshines would be memorable.

In the best of all possible words I'd hire celebrity chef Rocco di Spirito. He'd make sure we all eat, mangia mangia style. Everybody loves Italian! Especially when it looks like Rocco.

Now THAT I could cook with.

The Vintage Valentine Museum

Tall ships, sore hips.

I ventured into Boston yesterday to view the Tall Ships. Me and about 300,000 other people. They are a sight to see, though I didn't have the patience to stand on line for the hour it took to actually step foot on the boats. (Boat seems to0 small a word for these giants!)

Did lots of walking -- way more than I thought I would -- through Charlestown (neighborhood). There's been a lot of gentrification and new building there in the past 10-20 years. It's ritzy in that understated New England way. History cleaned up, spit & polished thank you very much. Not that that's a bad thing ... I mean, it's all part of what makes Boston the city it is. A little schizophrenic but lovable and not without its surprises.

Did I mention the walking?

The brand new sneakers I decided to "try out" for the day? The way the sun must have already fried my brain before I even stepped out the door, to even think that any of this was reasonable?

Clearly, no. No, no and oh by the way, no.

I'm not a thin gal, not by any stretch, but I like to think I'm game for stuff like this. I may look like I can't climb over a barrier, but I did it yesterday. Twice, and without anybody's help. I can be a tough broad when it's called for!

Still, the hips are talking today. The hips are not happy. The hips are exacting sweet revenge. They're feeling all of those 43 years and then some. And they are really, resoundingly unhappy.

But you know what? I did it. I got out, and turned what is too often a sullen day for me (Sunday, Sunday don't trust that day) into an outing. A real, live outing!

I'm proud of myself. And my hips, although we're not currently on speaking terms.