Those of you who know me know I love my dogs, especially Carlos Santana Stitch Dodd. My frugalicious. And it's not that I don't love Daisy Marie Dodd, memaw lab as much as I love Carlos, but even after three years with him, I'm still not used to his ridiculously funny ways, so it's true I find myself baby talking that frug and being pretty much the kind of parent that makes me cringe. This is not lost on my children. It drives them crazy.. He's not good mom.. he's bad.. but can they resist his velvet jowls and his silky pelt, well yes, but wait till they're almost 50 and driving their Prius Z with their critters riding shotgun getting dog hair all over their kids clothes.. We old people.. we need these things... But here's what I'm trying to say... I have never met a dog that made me laugh or want to put her in my car and drive like the wind than my fat, fat May. Seen below with Zoe her mom. She is the sweetest, Chewbaca barking, scared of her own shadow, let me sit on your lap like I'm a yorkie, I'll be lounging on the couch with my head on a pillow kind of dog. She is SPECIAL. I come over just to snuggle May. It's the best kind of therapy. I wish everyone out there could know a fat, fat May.
What is your deeply buried gift? Don’t think it’s not down there. It is. Something is going to help it rise to the surface. When I was a child, I dreamt of going to Hollywood and making movies. I remember specifically knowing what it must feel like to do that very thing, although I was in the middle of a rural ranchette in Texas. I carried around a video recorder the size of carry on luggage, which attached to a giant news station style camera, and I made movies. I can think of three or four different films that were lost forever in the 80’s. I remember shooting portraits of my cats sitting alongside cowboy hats, with a little 110 camera, and writing story after story and reading book after book. Talking into an old recorder with an English accent, singing at the top of my lungs as I played the piano. These are the snapshots of my childhood forty years ago. When I graduated from the theatre department at Baylor University, I was not ready emotionally and did...


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