Frank Jr Jr

Though it’s not usual to start a celebration by declaring someone’s failures, here is a list of things that Frank was not able to prevent:

• the COVID pandemic
• the bathroom ceiling from collapsing
• food poisoning from the raw hummus wrap
• two Trump elections
• the dam overflow that washed away my garden
• my MS diagnosis
• Season 8 of Game of Thrones
• the Asian Jumping Worms that invaded my new garden
• the year-long pain from a disc herniation
• the surgical recovery that sent me into the darkest depressive episode of my life
• the near-constant feeling of failure
• the death of my stepmom

…and yet.

If I were asked the question, ‘These ten years, or a different ten?’ it would be these ten. of course these ten.

These ten years that have greeted me each morning with a steadfast readiness I did not always want but certainly needed; desperately needed sometimes.

These ten that started cautiously - we didn’t even know each other, after all – and perhaps even suspiciously. These ten that melted quickly into a sense of home. And, at times – sure – codependency, but that’s for a different essay.

Terrible things have happened in these ten years. Unlucky things. Unfortunate things. And atrocious things. We have all lost so much. I’ve never been more frightened for the world, and also believe this is the least frightened I will ever be.

…and yet.

Time would have marched on, regardless. Had I not said yes to that photo, ten years would still have taken their time with us all.

So I am so grateful for these ten years, when the steady beat of Frank’s heart has kept a measured time – against the very best, and very worst moments – a steady beat that says, ‘I am here. We are okay. I love you.’

Happy ten, best boy. May we have 100 more.

Frank signed up for this thing. I had nothing to do with it. But he has asked me to ask you to support his mission.

A very rare double pointy ear moment.
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Meadow is celebrating Tongue out Tuesday because she is a dog and has no concept of time.

She's your nosey octogenarian neighbor that may also be an undercover FBI informant... Introducing MEADOW! From the gritty underbelly of DeKalb County, Meadow (probably not her real name) is ready to hang up the badge and live the good life.
After a little nip and tuck, she'll be ready for adoption and/or a sugar daddy via

Fit check:
Sweater from
Collar from
Bow from x
Angles from mother

When you pick up some bad behavior from your cousins and then move to a place with wall to wall, you get diaped.