Get out the snowboots

The weather guys are predicting two to four inches of snow tonight and a little more tomorrow. That's no big deal, compared to the snow they get in, say, Utah. But in Brooklyn, where the white dogs' tummies only hover a few inches from the sidewalk, that's Big Snow.

Here are some pics from the last "snowstorm."

Let the countdown begin

It's just 14 days until Mary B. moves to Brooklyn!


Woo hoo!!



The girls are waiting....

A night with Maggie and Sophie

I heard that yesterday's video of Sophie and Maggie made my very sick Grandmother smile. So here's a handful more that I took with the girls tonight. They are such hams. (Sorry in advance for my loud voice over the shots. I swear I sound like a Muppet.)

This is the welcome-wagon that greets John and I at the door everyday:



Then, I ask them the most rhetorical question ever: "Do you wanna go for a walk?"



Our caravan down four flights of stairs looks something like this:



The actual evening walk... well, 30 seconds of it.



I told you that my voice sounded like a Muppet. Think of John!! He has to listen to this earnest squeaking every day for the rest of his life! Someone buy this man a consolatory beer!

And going back upstairs, where the food lives:



The last one is a little long, but it shows off Sophie's mad hunting skills...



Grandmother, our little branch of the family is getting along beautifully. Thanks for trusting us to take care of the girls. They are a joy.

Update: My grandmother passed away this morning. Carolyn A. Butler, rest in peace.

Out of touch

I know, I know. Super Tuesday is long past, and my last post is gathering as much dust as the Chef’s blog.

I’m sorry I’ve been out of touch, both on the Internets and in person. I’ve tried several times to write a new entry and post my opinions on the end of the writer’s strike (yay!), the likely demise of Friday Night Lights (boo!) and even my upcoming 30th birthday (we’re getting dolled up for a night at a Russian nightclub in Brooklyn.)

But I haven’t been able to talk about any of those things because I’ve been avoiding one big subject… my grandmother. About a month ago, Grandmother had emergency surgery to remove the colon cancer that had been quietly, insidiously demolishing her digestive tract.

The Chef and I flew to Tulsa and spent a week with my family at Grandmother’s bedside, alternately holding her hand, staring at the machines that go “ping!” and playing poker in the ICU waiting room. She is recovering from the surgery, but there’s nothing they can do about the advanced liver and pancreatic cancer they found last fall.

Leaving Tulsa was a hard decision. I’ve never felt so far away from home as I did when I called Grandmother’s hospital room the day after I left. It gets easier every time I call, but I still feel like I should be there, if only to fetch the nurse when it’s time for another popsicle.

I’m going back on Tulsa time next weekend to visit with Grandmother in a rehab wing of a different hospital. I’m bringing flowers and audio books to share with her. But I’ll be taking away something she loves dearly, her two lhasa apso dogs, Sophie and Maggie. John and I agreed to adopt them as our own, after she was gone, but we’re taking them in early since we don’t know when she might be able to leave the hospital for hospice at home.

I’ll be wrangling the dogs alone on this trip, so if anyone has any advice about flying with two nervous pups, I’d love to hear it.