You know how the universe has a way of setting you straight? I used to constantly comment about the awful parents at the library whose children ran around and – GASP – didn’t wait their turn, and weren’t whispering, and didn’t color code their crayons when they put them back in the box after craft time. I judged everyone, because my kid was perfect.

Then I was sent a child with special needs who would change the order of all the books and pet the librarian’s double-chin if given the chance. Though, he might do that color-coding crayons thing.

Yin. Yang.

Our yellow Lab was rotten. She was cute, but she ran away all the time, ate all things inedible, threw up a lot, and had the world’s nastiest gas. Our black Lab won’t leave the yard if we forget to close the gate, won’t even eat the bones we buy her, and a few weeks ago when I gave her peroxide to TRY to make her throw up, her iron stomach held the contents firmly in place.

That’s 50/50 dog luck, right there.

Earlier today my boss left me the nicest compliment on Twitter. Her opinion is nothing to scoff at, given she’s a multi-award winning, cross-platform media thought leader; which includes her place on the list of FORTUNE’s 2013 Most Powerful Women Entrepreneurs. If you introduce her to someone in person, you need an inhaler because you’ll be out of breath from the accolades. Needless to say, this made my day.

Don't you all think @MomoFali is an AWESOME representative for the BlogHer brand on Twitter? Just butting in to embarrass her 🙂 -Elisa

— BlogHer (@BlogHer) November 20, 2013

I wrote her back and thanked her, then I stood up, tripped over my own feet, and fell flat on the floor.

Thanks for keeping me centered, universe. Thanks a lot.

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Last week, my husband dropped off some homegrown tomatoes at my mom’s house and she asked him to look at her dog’s belly, where she had felt something…odd. When he came home he said, “There’s something wrong with your mom’s dog. He has some weird growth on his stomach. I looked at it and it’s the strangest thing. It feels like a pencil.”

My mom, who is more attached to her dog than she is to her crossword puzzles – and that’s really saying something – called me the next day in tears. “Did you hear about Cappy? He has this hard growth and I don’t know what it is. I’m taking him to the vet tomorrow.”

Because it’s easy for me and my Zoloft to say, I reassured her. “Mom, don’t worry about it until you talk to the vet. It could just be a cyst. Blue had a whole bunch of them and they were nothing.” This didn’t do anything to alleviate her fears.

That evening I went to her house for dinner and offered to take a look at this thing. I was prepared to be grossed out because my sister had looked too, and she mentioned that it had an open sore.

But, it turned out that all the people who had already touched this thing were the ones who were grossed out, because that growth that felt like a pencil and had an opening – the growth that my mom, sister and husband had examined and touched? It was the dog’s penis.

And I will never let them live it down.

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We have been known to make rash decisions around here.

It’s only been a day and I’m already thinking that these feet….

…and this dog…

…might not go well with our new sofa.

www.potterybarn.com

Just a hunch.

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Me, lying in bed after looking at the clock: Ahhh, I have one more hour of glorious sleep. Thank goodness!

Dog: Vomits.

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Daughter: “Mom, they only give scholarship recommendations to four students.”

Me: “So, did you ask for one?”

Daughter: “Yeah, I was the fifth.”

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Me to daughter: “You really should continue with drama in high school. It’s a good extra-cirricular activity. Sit down with me and watch the Oscars.”

Seth MacFarlane: “We saw your boobs!”

**

Principal, while lecturing my son on his behavior as she taps her skull with her index finger: “This is what you need to do before you act out. What am I doing right now?”

Son: “Poking yourself in the head.”

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