Happy Holidays!

I'm off to L.A., to spend time licking some L.A. sweat off of my relatives, play with my cousin Kona, and beg for some pupperoni from my Uncle Davy. Hope my readers, whomever you are, bring in the New Year with a blast!

To look forward to in 2008 for me?

1. A diet (I'm officially fat. I got weighed at the doctor's yesterday and am 2 pounds overweight).
2. A new little brother (I will try to be nice, I will try to be nice, I will try to be nice).
3. Lots of continued romps by me and new adventures.

4. And...a new career in modeling. How do you like my first shot?

Just kidding, modeling & fat don't mix, so I choose fat.

Although this picture was taken by my awesome photographer, Diana Schneider.

Take a Holiday Picture for Mommy!!!

They haven't taken a picture of me in, like, however old Wyatt is. But come December, Dina's all excited about taking pictures of me again. The issue? She wants me to take pictures with Wyatt. I mean, I'm all good with the kid when he has cheese all over his face, but otherwise, you keep to your corner, I'll keep to mine.

Apparently, Wyatt's as excited about taking pictures with me as I am with him.

Conversation in the Car

Wyatt: yah yah yah yah dee dee dee.

Dina: Wyatt, say Mama.

Wyatt: doo doo

Dina: Wyatt, say Mama. Ma-ma.

Wyatt: plffffffffffbbbbbbbttt (also known as a rasberry).

Dina: Wyatt, say Mama! Say Mama!

(After continuing on like this for a good 5 minutes):

Dina: Fine. Wyatt, say TicTac.

Wyatt: TicTac.

That's my boy folks, that's my boy!!!

Apparently, We Like Penises (Or is that Penii?)

Baby number 2 is a boy!

Wyatt's First Word!!!

You can all try to guess. Was it Dada? Mama? No? Hi? Oh my friends, you are all so wrong. So very very wrong. A testament to his intelligence (which I now believe is high), his first articulated word (and where he knew what it meant) was:

TICTAC!!!

Oh yes, who's the dog now?! I think I'm actually starting to like the kid...

Although I don't really appreciate it when he spanks me.

Beaglefest 2007

Oh, some people like to spend their weekends in Napa, sitting on Duckhorn's veranda trying the new Cabernet. Or some people like to hit Target and Home Depot in Daly City. Us? We like to hit Beaglefest!!!

Held twice a year at a park in Sausalito, let's just say Beaglefest is where beagles can come together and celebrate their common heritage. Sniffing is allowed. Baying is encouraged. And begging for food expected. Here's how I enjoyed my Saturday:

I'm cuter than these guys, right?

Family shot, Wyatt and I wondering "What the heck is going on here?"

Getting together for the group shot

Costume contest (I'm serious)

Still wondering what's going on

Me & Joe, front and center for the group shot

Mas perros

I used to think I was special, until I saw all of these guys

Some people go back to their homeland to get in touch with their roots, I just go to Beaglefest.

EARTHQUAKE!

Yikes, another earthquake!! This time a 5.6 a couple of nights ago, centered outside of San Jose. Joe, Dina, and I were watching Beauty and the Geek (ok, who was really watching that show? Take a wild guess!). And then the jolt. We all looked at each other. Then the rumble (which Dina says is usually how you can guess how it's going to go. If, after the rumble, there's more, then move it! If the rumble stops, that's it, save for some aftershocks). The whole house shook (see what happens when you're in a house and not some floor of an apartment building anymore? You feel earthquakes!). Then there was another little ramble -- and that's when Dina and Joe said "Go get him!" They ran upstairs, heard some crash, but when they went into Wyatt's room, with the hallway light blazing, he was still asleep...soundly.

The crash came from this, the one casualty of the night (which Dina thinks is HILARIOUS):For those of you who can't figure it out, this is Joe's hockey trophy for winning 1st place in their league. Joe's not entirely convinced that Dina didn't throw it down when he checked on Wyatt.

P.S. When Joe went to go check on Wyatt later, and tiptoed in w/ the hallway lights dimmed, Wyatt immediately woke up and sat up. Weird kid.

Happy Halloween!

From your furry friends!Football player, no uniform or pads necessary.

Rooooaaarrr!

No Genetic Testing Necessary

Guest blog from Dina & Joe:

Sometimes we wonder if Wyatt's really our son. He doesn't really look distinctly like either of us. He's super chill and laid back. He doesn't complain. He hardly cries. He sleeps more hours in one night than Joe does for 2 days. We just wonder, wow! Where is this kid from???

But then, every once in awhile, there's a glimpse. And then we know...Yup! This is definitely our boy!

Best Friends...He Thinks

Wyatt thinks we're best friends. Maybe it's because we do everything together.

We take baths together:
We play eat together (fried rice on this occasion):
And we play with toys together:So sure...we're best friends, I guess. Best friends from a 2 foot distance.

Waiting for the Great Pumpkin...Head

Dina, Joe & Wyatt had their first family outing to a pumpkin patch last weekend. I wasn't invited. They thought I would run rampant among the pumpkins and scare the little kids (because you know, all the fake skeletons, ghosts and witches wouldn't do that already!). I am, however, invited to select our Christmas tree, so I'll just sit here holding my breath until December.

They brought home no less than 5 pumpkins. Why? Well, if you're asking why, then you obviously don't know Dina...

Anyway, they apparently had a great time. Wyatt and Dina wore orange to celebrate the occasion, and Joe reveled in seeing his 2 loved ones (I would say "most loved ones" except I'm the most loved!) in his favorite color, orange.

Wyatt, contemplating whether his head is bigger than all these pumpkins.

Wyatt, happy that his head is not bigger than at least 1 pumpkin there!!!

1 Year Old, Big Brother, and Bobblehead

I may have bad breath, but I'm no bobblehead!

Wyatt's having a banner month. He turned 1 year old. He found out that he's going to be a big brother. And, he had his 1 year doctor's appointment. Here are the stats:

He's in the 3rd percentile of height for babies his age (that's midget-sized, folks).

He's in the 5th percentile of weight for babies his age (those are chicken legs, folks). AND...

He's in the 80th percentile for head circumference.

Which means...he's a bobblehead. At least, that's what his pediatrician told Dina and Joe. No, really. I'm not kidding. He said that!!!

Son of a B*tch!

That's it! Stick a fork in me, I'm done. I was brought into this family an only child, and I intended it stay this way. I was a good sport. That night that Dina and her ballooning stomach disappeared and Joe came home the next day with a blanket with a new smell. I thought it was a present, and I gamely sniffed it and slept on it. Only to find out that the smell on the blanket belonged to this little thing called Wyatt, who no longer is little, is fast approaching my weight and height, and is starting to get grabby with those grubby fingers of his (he picked my nose the other day, no really, he did; you can pick your nose and you can pick your dog, but you can't pick your dog's nose!). I mean, I'm barely getting used to the kid.

And what do they do? They do this:

Due date: April 4, 2008

The next time the back gate is left open, I am so out of here. I could live as a dog on the mean streets of San Francisco. I might miss my wireless internet, but I could still do it...

Wyatt celebrated his 1st birthday by sharing the news

Supposedly, still part of the family...

A- Student

When the rest of the family went to New York, I got dropped off at Camp K-9. I'm a regular there (they love my name), but whenever I leave, they hand a report card to my parents. I'm sorry, I'm being graded? For being locked up in a kennel, made to play with other 30 lbs. or less dogs (ok, no comments from the peanut gallery, I AM actually still considered a small dog despite the growing size of my tail), forced to take a bath with their industrial shampoo, eat their bulk-bought food, and follow their arbitrary rules???

Apparently, I'm losing my luster. Normally, I get all 'Excellents' on my report card (yes, I'm graded like an elementary school student -- remember that? When you were a little kid, and it was all about getting an E, an S, or god forbid, a U???). Well, while I'm far from Unsatisfactory, on my latest report card, instead of an Excellent, I got a Very Good. And for what? For mealtimes.

Perhaps they don't know me well enough? That I am like a 130 pound actress, not fat, but certainly not uber-skinny, so spend most of my day pondering what to eat at the next meal and longing for carbohydrates, only to be greeted by the same low-fat fare (dry kibble for me; poached fish and steamed veggies for the actress). Meaning that I don't have time to be picky about my food because I'm in a perpetual state of starvation.

So no man, you can't diss me on something like 'mealtimes.' My attitude? Sure, it might constitute a U. But not the food, dude. Not the food.

Guest Blog from Wyatt: New York Minute

I spent last week in New York, and wow, did I have a blast. I could go on and on, but I won't. Instead, let me tell you about the, mmmm, for lack of a better word...oddest thing I saw while visiting the Big Apple.

Picture this: Dina is pushing me in my orange Maclaren stroller downtown after a lovely day at the Central Park Zoo. Now, you adults don't really understand being in a stroller. But you're about waist high, maybe even lower. Anyway, I make more eye contact with labradors than I do with any people (actually, that would be labradors in San Francisco, small teacup things called dogs in New York City). So anyway, we're walking down swanky 5th Avenue, past Henri Bendel's, Harry Winston, etc. etc., when I see this well-coiffed woman walking our way. She's in a beautiful summery silk dress, mostly of yellow. And she's got that New York style (you know the kind, right? The kind that takes more energy than California's are willing to expend while throwing on their fleece and tevas; ok, sorry, that's just Northern California; Southern California would be tank top and flip flops).

And then she sways her lanky arm down, and I swear to you, she scratched her crotch.

It was unabashed. She just totally gave a double scratch (meaning she scratched twice, not just once -- if it was once, you could pretend "oh my gosh, did I just touch my crotch? I was just fluffing some lint away!"). No, it was a "geez, some pube must be out of whack down there because I've got a bit of an itch." Not a full-blown itch like an "I have crabs" itch. Just an itch like the pubic hair was maybe twisting the opposite way out of the follicle than it's natural curve meant it to be.

It was like her own personal greeting to me: "Welcome to the big city, kid!"

Do I look like a runner?

Does this look like the face of a dog that likes to run?

I don't know exactly how this happened, because the truth of the matter is that I never asked for it. But like most things (Wyatt, hypoallergenic kibble, occasional diets), this also has been forced on me. Running.

Two days ago, it was like a hundred degrees out. Okay, I exaggerate a little. But I'm covered with fur, so it felt like it. I was resting comfortably on my perch (the corner of the sectional couch that gets just the right amount of shade and sunlight, ahhhh...), when Dina says "C'mon girl!" Thinking she was going to take me a walk (because the truth is that my walks now consist of her opening the back door and telling me to go pee in the backyard), I jumped up excited. Then she took me to the car. Well, that's okay, too, because sometimes Dina takes me on errands.

But then, we end up at Crissy Field, which I *heart* sooooo much. But we didn't go to the beach. Instead, Dina takes my leash off, then starts running. Freaking out, I ran after her...and after her...and after her...for what felt like an eternity, but she says I'm a drama queen and it was only a 2 mile run. I'm sorry, but when exactly did I announce that I liked to "run"??? Let alone multiple miles???

I seriously need to call in a human trainer. Someone needs to talk to them and set some boundaries. In fact, I just got back from my Saturday jaunt at Crissy and instead of getting to play on the beach like usual, Dina and Joe took me for a 3 mile run.

I am so pissed off I can barely even look at them.

Is it August 2006 or August 2007?!

Damn Dina, some sh*t never changes. Will you get off your fat ass? Wyatt is almost 1! It's okay to let the bedrest go!!!

Dina, circa August 2006, pregnant and on bedrest

Dina, circa August 2007, with no excuses for laying around on her fat butt

The Difference

You better watch your back, runt. And where the hell are your pants?

I wish I could be one of those happy go lucky dogs. The kind that get all excited just when someone says their name. You know the kind -- the kind that's sort of like Lennie in Of Mice and Men, who can't really handle the truth about what happened to the bunnies. But damn, they're just happy to be there.

Well, I'm not just happy to be here. I deserve to be here as much as the next dog. In fact, as much as the next human. In fact, as much as the next baby, who, let's just say, we name Wyatt!! So what's up with this:

1. Why do my grandparents feel like it's okay to pet me with their feet? It's soooo not okay. I don't see them sticking their nasty toe jam toes (or should I say "To's") in young Wyatt's face.

2. When we have guests over, why do they feel like it's okay to flick me off the couch like I'm some piece of lint? I mean, god forbid the baby falls on the floor! But yet, they will actually shove my ass to get me off the couch. First of all, I was here first. Second of all, it's my home. Third of all, if you touch my ass again, I'm going to lay a silent one on you that's so deadly your nose hairs are going to be singed.

3. You know what I got for my first birthday? A couple of extra dog treats. I admit, they were big. But for real. And Wyatt's first birthday? They are in the middle of planning something, they don't know the scope, but it's something...that's being planned...which means foresight...at least far more foresight than getting me a couple extra dog treats at Safeway. I even heard the grandparents are going to fly in especially for Wyatt's birthday...and in the meantime, they can get a good foot rub off my back. Yay for me.

So if you wonder why I bark at you when you come to the door, or run away when you try to pet me, or seem awfully skittish the first time I meet you, then you know. I'm salty. Salty like a cowlick. Which then leads to the next obvious question...is this because of nature vs. nurture? You can thank Dina if it's nurture. Lennie -- oops, I mean Joe -- is just so damn happy to be here and still doesn't understand why Dina won't tell him what happened to the bunnies.

The Training of Young Mr. Wyatt

I knew that if I was consistent enough, patient enough, and threw enough treats at him, that Wyatt would learn some good tricks. So far, I've taught him how to sit (on his hind legs), roll over, speak (mostly sounds of "dadadada," although I could have sworn I heard a "Tic" out of him yesterday and a "doh", surely meaning dog), and the best trick of all -- sharing his breadstick.

Every day, Dina sits him on his foam mat with some toys and a breadstick. After weeks of staring him down, miracle! The kid took his breadstick and offered it to me! I was only able to get a few licks in before he took it back and shoved it in his mouth, though, but it will be no time before I get full-on bites. I know, I know. I'm sort of grossed out, too -- that I'm eating something that's been in his mouth. I mean, for all I know, the kid licks his genitals...

I'm only letting you touch me while I sniff for crumbs.

Earthquake Scare

Don't trust this guy, Wyatt.

There was an earthquake today. I was snuggled up in Dina and Joe's bed, so I can relay this story to you and swear that it's true.

Cue in earthquake rumbling...

Dina stirs, realizes it's an earthquake. Joe wakes up just at that moment, grabs Dina's hand. They lay still in the bed (because once you've lived in California long enough, you end up staying still to see if you can wait it out, or if it's still going, you make a run for it under a table or something). Earthquake rumbling subsides, and Dina inquires "Should we go check on Wyatt??!!"

To which Joe responds, "Nah, he's fine."

Nice Joe, real nice.

We've Moved!!

Woohoo (or is that Woorooooooo for me?)! We moved at long last. I am digging my new, well, digs. I got a backyard all to myself. We are one of five houses in a row on our street that has dogs. In fact, I've already escaped from my backyard once to visit my new next door neighbor Auggie (whose dad went to the same undergrad as Joe, making Joe very very very happy). Our neighbors on the other side greeted us the second day with a lemon cake, which she told us we could freeze for later (you're right, we didn't need to freeze it). AND, I only pissed in the house once (ok, maybe twice, but shhhhh).

Me enjoying Wyatt's new nursery

What the hell, Dad? Why didn't we move here sooner?!

Long-Awaited Musings from Dina

[My guest writer, Dina, has been noticeably absent lately. For those of you wondering why...well, I have no idea why. I think she's too busy eating full bags of baked doritos, thinking that somehow, because they're baked, that it makes up for eating the entire bag. I could be wrong. But I could be right, too.]

Hello folks! I'm back. Probably not long-awaited, but I'm back. I'm no longer on any boring bedrest. I'm no longer a new mom with a major bout of sleep deprivation. I'm no longer a practicing attorney!

What I am is incredibly smart, if I don't say so myself. Or clever. Or sneaky? Poor Joe, when he met me I was a federal prosecutor (even though I never prosecuted anything, but dammit! I investigated a whole lot!). Plus, I was teaching at Hastings (where, in fact, I actually did teach something and can you believe that there are attorneys out there, I mean real-life attorneys, that learned something from me?! Frightetning, isn't it?). But fast forward to today and what am I really? I am almost like those ladies of leisure that lunch, that I use to envy when I drove through Cow Hollow to take Nancy and Erika home from law school. But not quite, because I have the kid. Instead, what I am is a Spanish-lesson-taking, tennis-lesson-taking, personal-trainer-session-taking Mom that no longer generates income, but severely depletes Joe's. Poor Joe. What did he get himself into? I can hear what all of you out there are saying (the sex better be good). Oh, poor, poor, poor Joe.

That said, I have plenty of time now for random musings. So here goes:

- Why do people bother to bag their dog's poop if they're not going to throw it in the actual trash, instead opting to leave the bag of shit on the sidewalk instead? I mean, for real people??

- Why do some moms lose all their baby weight in mere seconds, whereas I continue to have a love/hate relationship with my muffin top (I love muffins, just not over the top of my jeans).

- Are women supposed to wear underwear underneath their gym pants? I'm sort of conservative this way, so I always choose the underwear despite the VPLs. But I can't help noticing how many women don't have panty lines, leading me to wonder "are you going commando or are you actually vain enough to work out in a thong?"

- Why does TicTac bay (i.e., beagle bark) at older men wearing hats? Is this considered racial profiling?

- Why are my best jokes always at the expense of Joe? I mean, I do love the guy, after all! (Ok, in reality, my best jokes usually evolve in conversation with Amy, but I'm really trying not to go to hell).

- Why, exactly, does my carpet smell like pee right now (this question is not really for the general audience, but more for the small beagle who manages this blog)?

- Why the heck does every Chinese girl weigh about 100 pounds, EXCEPT FOR ME. I guess someone needs to sit on them, and that someone apparently is me! My personal favorite is when someone brings me clothes from China sized XL and tells me how it "runs small in China." I usually want to respond, "no, actually, I just run big."

- Why didn't someone tell me that nursing my child would do this to my boobs? People, they weren't all that great to begin with!!

- Why did I care about being part of the Homecoming Court in high school? And one step further, why is it that most of my girlfriends were also on their Homecoming Court or Prom Court? Oh wait!! Does that mean that I'm in the popular crowd???? SWEEEET!

So don't forget to vote for me for Best Smile and Most Likely to Sit on Her Ass and Eat Baked Doritos!

Peace...Out.

The Standoff

Me: So Mr. Wyatt, you ARE going to give me a piece of that breadstick right?

Wyatt: Ms. Ticky Von Beagle, you'll have to wait for my spit-up.

My New Man

Joe left me...for China. He's been gone for almost 2 weeks. And while I might have shed the tiniest doggy tear the first night, I got over it. That's right. First I was afraid, I was petrified. Kept thinking I could never live without Joe by my side. But I grew strong. And I learned how to get along.

What that means, really, is that I found a new man. My (sleepy) Uncle Davy. He walks me, lets me sleep with him, feeds me snausages, and picks up my poop. So ha! Joe, that's what I say to you. You stay there in Asia with Second Wife who makes you homemade pork dumplings that you never bring home for me (or First Wife, Dina). (But if you do stay over there, don't forget to send us our unemployment checks).

But Dina already told me that you're retuning soon. To which I say...So you're back, from outer space (well, really, China might as well be outer space to me). I should have changed that stupid lock, I should have made you leave your key. If I'd known for just one second you'd be back to bother me. (But since you're back, could you please walk me? I really got take a dump).

Still Number One

In case there was any question, I am still Daddy's little girl.

How Did This Happen?

We had a get together for Joe's birthday a couple weeks back. We ate BBQ, Joe got a Star Wars video game, you know, the usual. What wasn't usual was the guest list. Can you see it on my face, thinking 'how the heck did this happen?' Well, truth be told, I wasn't thinking that exactly. I was thinking, exactly, 'how the heck did this happen TO ME???'(I will sort of admit that this is awfully cute. Not like it's a row of beagle puppies with Uncle Jon, but nevertheless, cute).

They'll Let Anyone in Med School These Days...

I'm looking at this guy like "who the hell are you?" and "what's up with your 'do?" But actually, this is my Uncle Mike. He's highly educated, a concert violinist (or is that violanist?), and the father of 2. So again, I say "who the hell are you?" and "what's up with your 'do?"

I Wipe My Own Ass!!!

Well, not really, but I do hold my own bottle.

What Happens in the To Household, Stays in the To Household

I didn't hit Cabo, or Vegas, or Miami. No, I spent my Spring Break with the Tso family at home. The whole Tso crew came to visit, including Kona. Like the nice host I am, I brought Kona along on my daily romps with the dogwalker. I usually go to a dogpark, where I run around like a hoodlum until I have to go home again. But see, here's the problem. Kona doesn't usually play with other dogs (except for me, and I'm extraordinarily patient with her, a trait I learned from my parents....Read: Sarcasm). Anyway, Kona apparently is considered 'submissive.' As our dogwalker said, when we got to the park "Kona spent the first 20 minutes on her back" (and she's not even that kind of dog, if you know what I'm sayin'). Anyhow, I think Kona had the most fun hanging out with me (drinking 40's and watching pornos once the 'rents went to bed).

Wyatt, in the back, just making sure that everything's cool.

6 month check-up with pediatrician with updated statistics:

Weight: 10 %ile
Height: 10 %ile
Head Circumference: 55th %ile

That's right folks! That's one laaaarrrrge head!!!!I ain't mad! Big head = Big brain!
And you know what they say about guys with big brains...

Good News!

Wyatt started solids this weekend. This is fantastic news for me, as now I can lick up more than the occasional spit-up. Can't wait till he gets to the meat products, mmm yum!!!

Béseme...Béseme Mucho...

Es verdad. Yo soy muy guapo.

Aquí venido Senorita. Déjeme cantarle. Le cantaré canciones del amor. Pero primero, tomaré mi pulgar de mi boca.

Family Photos Aren't Family Without Me

If they think they can take a family picture without me,
they have another thing comin'.

If Ticky's not in the picture, then there's no picture.