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Lifestyle

It’s A Festivus Miracle!

Festivus

Happy Festivus!

Today is Festivus!

This week we had National Short Girl Day.

Today is Festivus.

We’ve already had Hanukkah.

Christmas, New Years, several family birthdays, and The Rose Bowl are coming up.

So many things to celebrate.

“…but who needs all that joy and cheer anyway?”

It’s a Festivus miracle!

“I’ve got a lot of problems with you people, and now you’re gonna hear about it!”

…and another piece of the puzzle falls into place.

And there it is.

Festivus shaped me.

Which explains an awful lot.

Happy Festivus!

Liz Brenner

Everyone has a story to tell.

Even you.

Especially you.

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Lifestyle

The Shortest Day Of The Year Is All Mine

National Short Girl Appreciation Day

Today, December 21, is the shortest day of the year.

It also happens to be National Short Girl Appreciation Day.

Coincidence?

I don’t think so.

I always wanted to be tall.

I wanted legs up to there, like I was auditioning for a runway show.

It was never going to happen.

However, I have come to realize that there are many benefits to being a Short Girl.

  • Gravity hasn’t fully committed to me.
  • I’m often mistaken for harmless (huge mistake).
  • Disappearing into a crowd? Easy.
  • Airplane legroom? No problem.
  • Hugging efficiency? Unrivaled.

Here’s why tall girls secretly wish they were me:

  • Short girls blend in; tall girls are landmarks.
  • Short girls can always find pants that actually fit.
  • Short girls never calculate the height of their date.
  • Short girls are assumed approachable.
  • Short girls intimidate intentionally; tall girls do it accidentally.

Tall girls get presence by accident. Short girls steal it on purpose.

Don’t worry, Tall Girls, you’ll have your day.

June 20, the longest day of the year, is National Tall Girl Appreciation Day.

But today, the shortest day of the year?

All mine.

Take notes.

Liz Brenner

Everyone has a story to tell.

Even you.

Especially you.

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Dog Lifestyle

Why Mittens Is Out For Revenge

Mittens

Mittens

The cat who lives across the street is named Mittens.

Mittens loves to preen in front of our front window.

It drives Blue Dawg insane.

Which is, of course, why Mittens does it.

She’ll groom and strut and stretch, pretending not to notice Blue going berserk, even though I can see those kitty ears twitching with every bark.

That cat knows exactly what she’s doing.

Last night, the Grown Son stopped by.

He could hear Blue barking before he even got the key in the door.

“Hold the dog!” he yelled, “There’s a cat out here!”

Sure enough, Mittens was parked on our front porch like she owned the place.

The Grown Son and I both held Blue back.

Mittens looked genuinely surprised.

She was annoyed by the interruption to her well-orchestrated bullying session.

With an angry flick of her tail, she flounced off into the night, greatly offended.

Blue Dawg: 1
Mittens: 0

Blue won this round.

But Mittens will be back.

Never underestimate the power of a kitty with a grudge.

Poor Blue, she doesn’t stand a chance.

Liz Brenner

Everyone has a story to tell.

Even you.

Especially you.

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Dog Lifestyle

True Love – Why I Endured Chaos for My Dog

Chaos!

Whose brilliant idea was it to go to Costco on Thanksgiving week?

Ugh, the crowds.

We buy our dog food from Costco. I keep the enormous bag in the garage and a smaller bin inside the house. Yesterday, when I went to refill the bin, the garage supply was empty. Not a kibble in sight.

If I owned any other dog, I might’ve skipped Costco and grabbed a backup brand until the holiday madness died down. But Blue isn’t just any dog.

Blue has a very sensitive stomach. Her nickname is The Pukolator. When we first got her, we went through a nearly endless dog-food trial before we finally found the one brand, the blessed Costco bag, that keeps her digestive system from launching.

So off to Costco I went.

I grabbed the giant bag and lugged it to the registers… only to see the lines snaking all the way to the back of the store. At noon. On a Tuesday.

Yes, it was Thanksgiving week, but still, this was next-level chaos.

Then I learned why: Costco’s registers were down. They were only accepting cash.

Seriously? I never carry cash. I don’t even carry coins. Except for one quarter that I keep stashed in my car console for Aldi runs. That’s it.

I considered driving to another Costco, but I was already in too deep. A woman behind me sighed grumpily, “Good thing I wore my patient pants today.”

I informed her I had not worn mine. We bonded instantly. Misery loves company, especially in bulk quantities.

Finally, the line started moving. Maybe the system was repaired. Or maybe people had simply given up and fled to Trader Joe’s.

Luckily, Costco worked a miracle. Registers came back online, the staff opened extra lanes, and because I had only one item, they shuttled me to an express checkout line where all forms of payment were welcome. Bless them.

They handled the chaos beautifully.

But next year? I’m checking my dog-food supply on November 1st. I will not be caught up in Costco’s Thanksgiving shopping chaos again.

And Blue? She greeted me with ecstasy when I got home, as if she hadn’t seen me in weeks. Of course, she always greets me that way, so maybe it had nothing to do with the fact that she appreciates the lengths I had just gone to for her.

Now if I can get that kind of enthusiasm to rub off on my family, I’ll have a great Thanksgiving!

Liz Brenner

Everyone has a story to tell.

Even you.

Especially you.

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Lifestyle

Coffee or Cocktails – How To Make A Decision

Coffee or cocktails?

While drinking my airport coffee at the crack of dawn, I overheard a woman say, “If you’re going to day drink, you’ve got to start early.”

It was funny.

And, honestly, kind of inspiring.

She was clearly a professional.

I, meanwhile, was trying not to faceplant over my luggage on the escalator.

Traveling is a lot of hard work.

Packing, planning, dog-sitting, mail pickup, wondering if I remembered to turn off the air conditioning…

By the time I got to the airport, I was exhausted.

If I had a Bloody Mary at 6 a.m., I’d probably fall asleep in it.

Maybe that’s the secret.

Day drinkers start their vacation relaxed, while I start mine hyperventilating over my boarding pass.

This time I stuck to coffee.

But perhaps it’s time to reconsider.

Maybe on my next trip, I’ll take that woman’s sage advice and start drinking cocktails at the crack of dawn.

What do you think?

Coffee or cocktails?

Tell me in the comments.

I’m taking notes for my next vacation.

Liz Brenner

Everyone has a story to tell.

Even you.

Especially you.

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Lifestyle Work

A Weird Glitch in the Matrix

A weird glitch in the matrix

A Weird Glitch in the Matrix?

Here’s the funny thing about names.

I once heard the author David Sedaris speak. He said there are certain kid names that always spell trouble.

And you know what? He’s right! Every kid I’ve ever met with those names has been a handful.

But I’m not going to tell you which names, because, well, I’d like to keep these folks as friends.

I always pay attention to names.

Right now I’ve got one particular kid in one of my classes.

This child has a unique name.

I’ve taught this student for about a year.

Not once have I seen a smile or heard a giggle.

This kid is like a tiny human Eeyore, always sighing, perpetually hard-done-by, yet quietly diligent.

A solid student. A hard worker. Just… allergic to joy.

Then I got a new student in a different class.

With the same unique name.

And guess what? Same personality!

I did a little research and guess what? Both of them have a mom with the same name.

So… are they siblings?

With the same name?

Or is this some kind of weird glitch in the matrix?

Either way, I’ve learned one thing:
some names come with a factory-installed personality.

Liz Brenner

Everyone has a story to tell.

Even you.

Especially you.

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Dog Lifestyle

What In The World Were Those Suspicious Squeaks?

Suspicious squeaks

Playing fetch with Blue, to be honest, is less fetch and more keep-away.

She loves to taunt me with her toy, just out of reach, daring me to chase her.

Yup, she’s faster than me, and she knows it.

But today, fetch got interesting for a whole new reason.

This time of year, the grass is thick, springy, and unpredictable.

One wrong step and suddenly – squeaking.

Squeaking?

Multiple squeaks.

From under the lawn.

At first, I prayed it was just a long-lost dog toy.

But nope, Blue doesn’t get squeaky toys.

She shreds them in minutes.

Rope toys are safer.

The squeaks kept squeaking.

Which meant one thing: I’d stepped on a nest.

Rabbits? Maybe.

Mice? Possible.

Rats? Please, no.

Eww.

Just EWW.

And of course, I was wearing flip-flops.

The horror of possibly touching a rat in flip-flops is enough to launch boot season early this year.

From now on, Blue’s getting a full TSA-style pat-down before entering the house.

Sorry, Blue.

No exceptions.

Hopefully, my misstep encouraged the mystery critters to relocate.

But now I’m side-eyeing my backyard, suspicious.

Who else is living under my lawn?

Liz Brenner

Everyone has a story to tell.

Even you.

Especially you.

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Dog Lifestyle

A Bag is Better Than That Yellow Bucket

The Yellow Bucket

SPOILER ALERT: This Story Is Disgusting (And Hilarious)

Blue is a big dog.

And big dogs leave big piles of poo in the backyard.

Since we play fetch out there every day, I clean the yard daily.

I bag the mess and toss it straight into the garbage.

Bob has a different method.

Instead of using bags, he shovels the poo into a yellow bucket and then dumps the contents into the trash later.

I’ve never understood this system.

Why dirty up the bucket?

It’s just more poo in more places.

Needless to say, I never, ever, ever use that yellow bucket.

Not for gardening, not for cleaning, not for anything.

Because… well, poo.

The other day Bob discovered something horrifying in a corner of the yard.

The Yellow Bucket.

Forgotten.

Full of rainwater.

Sun-baked and steamy.

And, yes, still full of poo.

What he had on his hands was a steaming bucket of Poo Stew.

I didn’t say, “I told you so.”

I didn’t need to.

He was gagging too hard to hear me anyway.

Lesson learned (hopefully):

Use a bag.

And toss it immediately.

As for that yellow bucket?

Let’s just say it disappeared quietly on trash day.

No questions asked.

Liz Brenner

Everyone has a story to tell.

Even you.

Especially you.

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