|Filed Under:||Lifestyle / Parenting|
|Posts on Regator:||2500|
|Posts / Week:||6.6|
|Archived Since:||April 22, 2008|
I hope she's learning to tie knots, build a shelter, start a fire and how to make mama a hot dog.
A heart-rending interview with Coco's trainer and an update on how the herding dog is holding up.
How you can use your name to bring light to and change the lives of those who are in most need of it.
My commitment to him and my commitment to you, to always do what's best for this dog.
What I hope will become an annual trek to the Northwoods of Wisconsin.
Hey, Carol. I guess you breed your dogs a bit larger where you come from.
It looks like I fell inside a messenger bag hanging on the front of a bike parked outside a coffee shop in Williamsburg.
So far Leta has caught four fish, and Marlo has almost dumped the bait into the lake twice that number.
Adding a bit of style to his current condition which I am apparently not allowed to joke about.
Those of you with fair-skinned children are similarly dreading a certain aspect of the upcoming season and mumbling along with me, "This year I will try to remain calm."
You might as well just insert a picture of Kanye's face here to sum up this section of the story of my daughter's eyesight.
A post for pet lovers and everyone who has loved Chuck from afar.
Some years are better than others when it comes to new music, and I was afraid that 2015 was going to be a terrible disappointment. However, while answering email (one email generates 1,700 more, at least, and that’s being conservative), I started browsing new releases from the past few months and I’m listening to everything [...]
"Stilettos and broken bottles, I'm spinning around in circles..."
If you've got some to spare, I'd gladly take them off of your hands.
This goes out to all my girls that's in the club rocking the latest.
My new nickname for the poet who lives in the basement.
On the desire I have to get back to why I started "living online" in the first place: writing for the love of it, writing when the story inside is begging to be told.
"When I tried to write happy / Yo I knew I lied, I lived a life of crime / Why play ya blind?"
The hare sat in the chair over there by the pear.