Bella survives head-on collision with minivan

My beautiful pup got hit by a minivan last night after she darted out the front door. Scared her poor mama to death. More later on her condition. Before her brush with death, she annihilated my computer's power cord, so my minutes are numbered.

Tapping my inner Michelangelo

I am up far too early on a Saturday, thanks to an exuberant puppy who was too well rested to let her mama sleep in. I could be doing something productive with this time, but those who know me understand that I am not functional before 10 a.m. (And that's an improvement from the old days!) So I did a load of dishes, sent out some school-related e-mails, and am now curled up in my new jammies and looking for an amusing way to procrastinate.

Enter: drunken painting.

Turns out Alabamans relax by purchasing cheap wine and doing Monet impersonations. When I visited this summer, I thought I'd give it a whirl. (The painting, not the drinking.) There is a nifty little business called Sips n Strokes. You arrive with a beverage of your choosing and check your artistic insecurity with the coat girl. You are commissioned a small set of brushes, a cardboard palette (with stern instructions to start with no more than two pumps of each color) and - the piece de resistance - your own paint-splattered smock or apron worn by the last 200 tipsy customers who regretted not spending more of their youth at renaissance festivals or hookah lounges.

Our task: paint a ballerina. No men showed up for this particular lesson, though I'm assured they do attend when the image is less threatening to their masculinity. There were about 15 women stationed at long tables and small, tabletop easels with white canvases. The instructor demonstrated each step in the evolution of the ballerina, and surprisingly enough, four hours later there were a couple dozen rosy-cheeked artists proudly displaying 15 very distinct bipeds in tutus.

I think the Alabamans are onto something.

Pool of water + cell phone = no more talky

I was distracted when Bella barfed in my car while I was cruising down I-35. E-mail me your phone number if you want to talk. When I get a new phone, I'll let you know.

Baylor, media and lots of pink ink

Forget the presidential debate. The news was all about Baylor today. Late last night The New York Times posted a story, based on The Lariat story my students broke last week. They ran our editorial cartoon in the print edition and online today. The Chronicle of Higher Education and Inside Higher Ed both ran stories on the Baylor debacle, too. The Dallas Morning News and Fort Worth Star-Telegram both ran the Times story online today. The blogosphere is going nuts. I have no comment on the content of the stories. I'm just proud of the students who are doing professional-level journalism and scooping local and national media outlets. Watch The Lariat for continued coverage. Thursday's story is amazing.

And now let's move on to other bizarre happenings in the journalism world. Check out the hot pink paper The Lubbock Avalanche-Journal put out in honor of breast cancer awareness. I don't know how much awareness it brought to breast cancer, but it sure brought some attention to the newspaper. Wowzers! What do you think of that?! 

Puppy Pampering (and I'm not talking diapers)

Tonight Bella got a spa treatment in a pre-celebration of her first birthday (Oct. 31). And by spa treatment I mean tooth-brushing and coat conditioner at the PetSmart grooming salon. They even threw in a Halloween bandana with her bath and haircut. Usually it takes them several hours to beautify my baby, but tonight she was the only customer and the center of attention. The groomers are always amazed by her sweet demeanor. The last time I dropped her off, they went through the litany of questions. Is she pregnant? Has she had her rabies shot? Does she have any behavioral problems ... (the groomer peers over the counter) ... aside from being a Schnauzer?

A vet tech once told me Bella must not realize what breed she is, since she's so sweet and calm and loving. Believe me, she has her hyper moments, which regularly include gnawing on the neck of a pit bull and jumping on my head while I'm trying to sleep. But she is a precious little thing and mostly very well behaved. And, like tonight's groomer noted, she likes to give kisses. Slurp!

Tomorrow she goes to the vet to get her bordatella treatment, which to my dismay resembles waterboarding. It's supposed to protect dogs from kennel cough. Instead of a shot, they squirt the medicine right up her little black nose. To her credit, she takes it stoically.

I haven't forgotten the epiphany. I'm letting it simmer so all the flavor soaks in.

I had an epiphany tonight. It tasted good.

Too bad you'll have to come back tomorrow to find out what my brilliant revelation was. I'm too tired to do it justice tonight. But it's, like, so totally profound. In the meantime, I'll leave you with this little video of the house of my (childhood) dreams. Maybe I should consider something similar in my current home search. Would living in a tree make me a bona fide hippie?

A desperate plea for attention

Apparently my blog is feeling neglected. (And rather more masculine than I imagined.) I am ashamed. So very ashamed. I will make it up to you.


This Is Julie's Blog Calling from robin o'shaughnessy on Vimeo.