The doodle’s sensible reaction to our mid-day dog park foray. Warmer weather is here at last.

enough with the serious already.

Finally. I started this blog in 2008. Finally.

And finally, 2008 is drawing to a close. Finally.

I’ve had so much fun.  So many of you have made me laugh (and occasionally tear up) over these past several months as I’ve read your blogs and as you’ve commented here. I’ve been so honored every time a reader comes back, so happy when anyone leaves a comment. Although I don’t blog every day (and there are times when I go weeks without so much as posting a picture), I’ve got this blog under my skin… if only, for no other reason, the freedom to use whatever words I damn well please without anyone having a hissy fit.

More 2008 in rewingdangdoo after the jump

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Nothin’, that is, other than these ridiculously adorable pictures of Talullah and Oscar, hanging out on my son’s bed when they thought no one was around to catch them in the act.

And no, I’m not at all above asking Talullah if she’s a bad, bad girl to get her to tilt her head like so.

Remember last summer when we thought spending a few weeks at the beach seemed perfectly reasonable? I do. Vaguely.

Taking hundreds of pictures during our Vineyard trip last August was a clutch move. Sure, the memories will sustain us for a while. More importantly, my laptop is throwing off a lot of heat as I fix the tilted horizons and try to eliminate zombie dog eyes… and I’m sure running a computer is far cheaper than turning the heat up above 58 degrees.

Viewing the world from the late November market’s underbelly, hitting the road for two weeks seems a little extravagant. But I wouldn’t want the money back. Blowing it on an overland parking permit, Back Door Donuts, Sharkey’s margaritas and fishing poles (the ones a certain dog who shall remain nameless ate somewhere between Providence and New London) sure was fun. Pull up a chair and warm your hands by the CPU with me as I stroll down memory lane.

I’m still enamored of the clams in the bucket. If I took one picture of these, I took 4 dozen. Greedy greedy greedy.

The Edgartown Lighthouse is beautiful inside and out. And, yeah, I remember those flip flops. I think Talullah ate them some time in early September.

More extravagant memories after the jump.

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I am greatly outnumbered in my family. Boy husband. Boy dogs. Boy children. Boy cat.

I tried overcompensating at first by getting a girl cat. And that look on her face may tell you right away, she’s not that into girl stuff. I’m not either. We get along great.

She’s a little feral. For the first year she lived with us, the only real cuddling we did was when she would jump on my back while I did yoga.

Actually, that’s the only real cuddling we’ve ever done.

When we brought this ridiculously adorable mess of a girl dog into our family last year, it’s possible I went overboard with the idea of having a fluffy little princess. I’m not sure why; girl stuff has never been my thing.

While shopping for dementor masks and ninja knives and other boy-like Halloween trappings last year, I may have picked up a purple tutu for her. What dog doesn’t want to dress up like a ballerina? Come on. You know they all do. It’s a great idea. Everybody thinks so.

Except, possibly, for Talullah.

I’m not here.

(OK, OK, you’re right, I’m here. I’m trying to make it look like I’m not here. These people with their questions and their projects and their deadlines and their delusions that I have answers won’t leave me alone. I’m staying here until they all go away. Or until I’ve emptied my email inbox. Whichever comes first.)

So, I’m not here. Now where could I be?  Why, look! There I am! Over at Whit’s place, prattling on about god knows what*! Go, go, check it out! And bring the irate, pitchfork-wielding crowd gathered outside my door along with you!

*I’m pretty sure the little guy made it. I found something dead in the basement this morning, but it definitely wasn’t him. Too big.

Not only did my best friend come by to read my post about the two of us up to no good whatsoever in high school. So did her mom. Her mother, who knows my parents. Really well.

Ha, ha, Mrs L., that was just a little creative writing. We never missed a class. Not in high school!  And certainly not in college!

But in the interest of full disclosure, earlier today your daughter and I were plotting a time when we can get together, and my first suggestion was “Well why don’t we pick a Friday when I can blow off work?” Old habits die hard.

I am 42 years old. And I am so busted.

Husband: “It’s quite a good picture of her. Were you trying to make her look regal?”

Me: “There’s only so much I can do.”

It’s not all fun and games here, people. We’ve got serious work to do on this vacation. Observe the mighty canine, at the ready to grab small children from the rip tide. But he doesn’t need the rescue board. Salvation is just a giant labrador head away. Just grab on to those ears and hang on.