Maggie's Second Chance- Nancy Furstinger

ok, I admit I'm a sap and a sucker for animals. This beautiful story made me cry. Maggie is a sweet dog, pregnant and abandoned by her owners. She's taken to a shelter to have her puppies. The puppies all get new homes, but Maggie is left to languish until a little boy sees a news story about her and begs his teacher to help him help her. His class petitions the city council and gets a no-kill shelter created- just in time to save Maggie who is about to be euthanized.

Poetry Monday

One Art



by Elizabeth Bishop










The art of losing isn't hard to master;


so many things seem filled with the intent


to be lost that their loss is no disaster.






Lose something every day. Accept the fluster


of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.


The art of losing isn't hard to master.






Then practice losing farther, losing faster:


places, and names, and where it was you meant


to travel. None of these will bring disaster.






I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or


next-to-last, of three loved houses went.


The art of losing isn't hard to master.






I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,


some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.


I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.










--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture


I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident


the art of losing's not too hard to master


though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Sunday Silliness- Happy Birthday to Me edition

5 Of My Favorite Things:

 Tye-dyed shirts

Butter Almond Ice Cream

 Books- lots of books! (and how did they get that photo of my living room? LOL)

 Lions- what? they're cool.

 London!


once again, thanks to Google Images for the assist

My Boyfriend Wrote a Book About Me: And Other Stories I Shouldn't Share with Acquaintances, Co-workers, Taxi Drivers, Assistants, Job Interviewers, Bikini ... and Ex/ Current/ Future Boyfriends But Have- Hilary Winston

BEST 1 SENTENCE CHAPTER EVER:







"I have never felt more single than the night I stayed in to apply Pro-Activ and a warm compress to my cat's acne ridden chin."

Love Letters- Katie Fforde

This was a charming read. Laura, the heroine, is about to lose her job at a British indie bookstore when it goes out of business. During one of the final book signings her store is hosting, she impresses the author's agent so much that she's invited to run a literary festival. Due to a miscommunication during a planning meeting for the festival, Laura has to travel to Ireland to plead with reclusive author Declan to make an appearance. He says he'll do it, but only if she sleeps with him....and then the fun really starts! Don't worry, Declan doesn't turn out to be the pig that comment makes him sound like, but I'm not telling what happens next.

Poetry Monday

"What Do Women Want?"



by Kim Addonizio





I want a red dress.


I want it flimsy and cheap,


I want it too tight, I want to wear it


until someone tears it off me.


I want it sleeveless and backless,


this dress, so no one has to guess


what's underneath. I want to walk down


the street past Thrifty's and the hardware store


with all those keys glittering in the window,


past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old


donuts in their café, past the Guerra brothers


slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly,


hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders.


I want to walk like I'm the only


woman on earth and I can have my pick.


I want that red dress bad.


I want it to confirm


your worst fears about me,


to show you how little I care about you


or anything except what


I want. When I find it, I'll pull that garment


from its hanger like I'm choosing a body


to carry me into this world, through


the birth-cries and the love-cries too,


and I'll wear it like bones, like skin,


it'll be the goddamned


dress they bury me in.

Poetry Monday

The Parakeets

by Alberto Blanco
translated by W. S. Merwin


They talk all day


and when it starts to get dark

they lower their voices

to converse with their own shadows

and with the silence.



They are like everybody

—the parakeets—

all day chatter,

and at night bad dreams.



With their gold rings

on their clever faces,

brilliant feathers

and the heart restless

with speech...



They are like everybody,

—the parakeets—

the ones that talk best

have separate cages.




*As much as I wanted a dog growing up, we lived in apartments where it was too hard to keep one. I did however have several parakeets with amazingly distinctive personalities. Casey bird was my first, followed by Rio, Dove, Sunshine & Storm. This poem reminded me quite a bit of them.