View

This is the view I had first thing this morning.Sometimes it changed a little.My son was dogsitting for David and Pete (the Pug and Bichon Frisé) and Grandma Betty (the Maltese), and wanted to go to a New Year's party two hours away, so I dragged myself out of bed this morning (after several vodka martini things last night) and took them out for a walk. Aren't I a nice mother?

Of course, being me, I managed to find an empty lot right near one of the busiest streets in the Sacramento area. While we were on sidewalks, the dogs were happy to trot ahead, but as soon as I dragged them into long wet grass, they all looked at me as if to say, "What the @#$% are we doing here?? It's #$&@ing wet. And $%#&ing cold. Ick." City dogs. They swear a lot.

This was on the lot. I tried to get one of the dogs to stand next to it for scale, but they were too concerned about the wet grass touching their stomachs. I have no idea what it is. A well cap, maybe?Miko cannot sit still for anything. Certainly not a photo. Yes, that's my arm. I had to stop him spinning in circles somehow. I think that's my finger in the lower right corner, too.
Homer. Named after Homer Simpson.
Buddha. David and Pete call him the Brad Pit of pugs. I think he looks more like Marty Feldman, myself. Now I'm in trouble...