Wow, it's been a whole week. My dog, who closely resembles the dog on the right (but, somehow, looks even more dopey and befuddled), got lost on Saturday, and it was a big traumarama. I found him nine hours later but I could not bear to leave him alone and didn't go to Sunset Junction or anything.
He's the hormonal equivalent of a 14 year old boy right now and his natural yearnings are leading him to dig holes into other people's backyards. This is a big stress for me. We made an appointment today for him to get snipped.
I will not feel too sad about that, after all.
I partly have to blame Brendan Benson for this event.
You see, I was cleaning my house with righteous Saturday-morning energy, listening to his album "Lapalco," and did not even notice Toby's absence for a long time. Damn you, Brendan Benson!
Also, this week has been one of incredible nesting: basically, going through my entire house and throwing out and reorganizing everything. While watching the Olympics. If you know anything about my "lifestyle" and have ever seen my car, you know this has been a long time coming. It's not finished or anything, either. I mean, I still haven't alphabetized my CDs!
Needless to say, I have also been working on recording for Pop Vultures at the amazing studio down the street.
This is the funnest activity in the world with the exception of a couple things.
This week I recorded with the remarkable Zoe Rogers, 14, a DJ at Little Radio, and her cool dad, Ian.
Ian gave the studio cat a shoulder massage and sang the praises of Willie Nelson's positive melancholy. In short, he's a peach.
Now, I have to go again!