Kermit Was Right; It Isn’t Easy Being Green

It isn't easy being green

Our mini Shrek collection

In keeping with the concept of giving an experience instead of a material gift, my husband and I attended our local community theater’s presentation of Shrek the Musical last night.

You might find it odd that a ticket to the show was an early Father’s Day present for my husband. But, well, I’m just going to come out and say it: My husband loves Shrek. He has seen all the Shrek movies numerous times. And just like anyone who is crazy about a movie, he knows most of the lines. And inserts them into a conversation when he feels it’s appropriate.

“That’ll do, donkey.”

As we walked from our car to the theater, my husband asked, “Are you SURE this isn’t just for kids?” Because there were a lot of children in the line. And this particular production was performed by Fauquier Community Theater’s Youth Theater. Shrek himself begins college in the fall, while Fiona and Donkey are still in high school.

Is small-town community theater perfect? No, and that is part of the charm. For example, as one Shrek solo was timed to start, the music failed to play. Shrek waited maybe two seconds and then sang it acapella. The audience vigorously applauded our approval as he belted out the final note.

The girl sitting to my left was around twelve. She appeared mesmerized by the entire production. Sitting on the edge of her seat, face uplifted toward the stage, eyes wide, a huge smile plastered across her face—her obvious joy filled my soul.

Today I watched a couple of clips from the 2009 Broadway version of Shrek the Musical. It seemed a little fake to me. Yes, I know it’s the story of a green ogre, a talking donkey who falls in love with a dragon, and (!SPOILER ALERT!) a princess who turns into an ogre at night. So of course it’s not real.

But the pour-out-your-heart enthusiasm of those young actors last night let me shelve my rational beliefs for a couple of hours. I’m hoping that I looked just as bedazzled as the young girl next to me.

And after all, who wouldn’t enjoy having a talking donkey for a best friend?


“That’ll do, donkey” clip

“Do you know the muffin man?” clip

You Don’t Lose Weight By Eating Donuts

Eating Donuts

Image courtesy of Barbara A. Lane on

If we’re personal friends on Facebook, you probably saw this post of mine from June 7:

This is not an event I had on my calendar. Indeed, the only reason we ended up at Duck Donuts in Bristow, VA that morning was simply by chance. Honest.

I haven’t always been a huge fan of donuts; really, for most of my life, I could take them or leave them.

The saying goes the older we get, the wiser we become. So if you are on the younger side, dear reader, let me impart some knowledge to you.

Wisdom Point #1: Losing weight becomes more difficult the older you are and (on the same thinking trajectory) gaining weight becomes much easier. Sadly, I decided I actually like donuts around the time the “harder to lose/easier to gain” stage kicked in.

Wisdom Point #2: We are what we eat. And that’s why eating donuts makes us round and fluffy. The hole in the donut’s middle represents the hole in our heads if we refuse to believe that donut eating poses a major threat to staying at a healthy weight.

I don’t believe there is one single positive aspect of a donut. At least with pumpkin pie or apple crisp we’re getting the benefit of some fruit. And we have to cross our fingers that the blueberry muffin on its way to our table is absolutely loaded with nutritious little balls of purple plumpness so that we don’t feel as guilty.

But donuts? Nope, sorry. The site lists these ingredients for a Dunkin Donuts glazed specimen: DONUT: Enriched Unbleached Wheat Flour (Wheat Flour, Malted Barley Flour, Niacin, Iron as Ferrous Sulfate, Thiamin Mononitrate, Enzyme, Riboflavin, Folic Acid), Palm Oil, Water, Dextrose, Soybean Oil, Whey (a milk derivative), Skim Milk, Yeast. And then less than 2% of fifteen other items.   Whoops…almost forgot the glaze ingredients: Sugar, Water, Maltodextrin, Contains 2% or less of: Mono and Diglycerides, Agar, Cellulose Gum, Citric Acid, Potassium Sorbate (Preservative), Artificial Flavor.

ALL of this is why I think the next book written on healthy eating to control weight should be titled, “You Don’t Lose Weight by Eating Donuts.”

So imagine my surprise when I found two sites that mention both donuts and weight loss.

There is actually a diet called “the donut diet.”  The founders are not specifically pushing donuts. The idea behind this “diet” is that for two weeks you pick one food item you love and that would never be on a normal diet’s “allowable” list. Along with whatever else they want you to eat, you’re allowed one serving of this item per day and you have to agree not to feel guilty about eating it. This is supposed to “reset” your relationship with food.

Umm…no comment.

Then there’s a guy who swears he ate 500 Krispy Kreme donuts in two months and lost 20 pounds. It seems his wife worked at Krispy Kreme for a short period and employees got to take home a dozen donuts at the end of each day. The man ate all twelve each day.

He says he lost weight because when you eat a dozen donuts, you’re not hungry for another 24 hours. This concept sounds seriously dangerous so please do NOT try this!

As long as I’ve made you smile or laugh, I have no regrets about writing a blog post on donuts. Although I am sorry if you have a sudden longing for one.

In the profound words of Homer Simpson, “Mmm…donuts!”


The Donut Diet

Story of the man who ate 500 Krispy Kreme donuts and lost 20 pounds in two months


This Is Your Brain On Wakelock


Image courtesy of Ivan Obolensky on

Remember my recent post on Hustle? I sang the praises of a young woman employee at my local Panera Bread. She took the concept of energetic effectiveness to a new level.

I’ll tell you someone who doesn’t have hustle: the guy “working” at the Verizon store.

Last week my Android phone suddenly developed a serious issue; the battery was draining as though I had pulled a plug to let the juice out. And the phone was heating up when I wasn’t actively using it. That was a dangerous duo of bad behaviors.

This phone’s battery has to be replaced professionally; in other words, don’t try this at home. I headed to the Verizon store.

I explained the phone’s issues as I removed the phone from my purse. The guy’s expression turned incredulous as he said, “Wow, that’s a REALLY old phone. I think you need a new phone.”

For the record, my Android is approximately 2 ½ years old. I realize there are folks who buy the latest and greatest new version of their phone as soon as it’s released. And that’s fine. I’m just not one of them.

But still, it’s not as though I pulled out an aging flip phone. (Please don’t take offense if you have one. No judgment, but you know who you are.)

So I responded, “Yes, I know it’s old but I think it just needs a new battery.”

The guy did not touch my phone one single time. He acted as though it was infected. “Well, we don’t replace batteries here but I can refer you to someone else. But I really think you should get a new phone. There’s no guarantee a new battery will fix this.”

While he had zero hustle for serving the customer, he hustled sales-wise.

No thanks.

I went home and fretted. I didn’t want the expense of a new phone or the learning curve involved with one.

So I researched online and ended up finding a site that led me to an app that I actually already had installed on my phone. You’ll never guess what it’s called so I’ll just tell you. My Verizon.

That’s right. The very company where I sought help has an app that checks the health of your cellphone and alerts you to issues. He could have pulled it up and fixed my phone.

Because that’s what I did. The health check displayed a red exclamation point regarding the battery. Duh.

Clicking on that took me to unfamiliar language. “Yesterday, Microsoft Outlook was on wakelock for 3 hours and 47 minutes. Two days ago, Microsoft Outlook was on wakelock for 2 hours and 58 minutes.”

I didn’t know what a wakelock was but it didn’t sound like anything good.

This isn’t a technical post so below I’ve included a link to an Intel article if you want to be better informed on the subject.

I’ll explain wakelock with this simple analogy:

You know how you can be really stressed and overly tired so that all you want to do is go to bed and sleep? You crawl under the covers and close your eyes and you may even appear to be asleep. But your central processing unit, your brain, will Not. Shut. Down.

That’s what wakelock is to a phone.

Even though I had not even been on Outlook, deep in the background it was running full throttle. My phone’s CPU was definitely not asleep even though it appeared to be.

I hit the button to uninstall the Outlook app. Like magic, my battery kept its charge and the phone remained cool to the touch.

Why yes, I did feel like a technical genius.

And no, I do not need a new phone.


Intel article on wakelocks for Android


A Vision of American Womanhood

Vision of womanhood

Photo courtesy of Laura Seaton on

If I ever wanted to be someone else, it was when I was twelve.

My mother must have cut my poker-straight hair for my school picture that year. It’s uh, how should I describe it, a bit uneven. Not just the bangs but all over. My face was bare of makeup, of course. I’m wearing this cheap nylon button-down sweater the same color as my hair. The photo could be titled Monochromatic with butchered hair.

Who I wanted to be that year was a Breck girl.

Edward Breck joined his father’s firm in 1929. Up to that time, the Breck Company sold tonics and creams. Edward developed a golden shampoo and soon hired commercial artist Charles Sheldon to create an image of the ideal girl-next-door woman.  Who naturally used Breck Shampoo to give her a gorgeous mane of hair.

Since the shampoo came in versions of dry, oily, and normal, the ad copy read, “One of them is all you need to be a Breck girl.”

The drawings were pastels in a soft focus. The girls/women looked angelic with halos of light and color surrounding them. The ads usually appeared on the back covers of women’s magazines. Originally, the women were average people, some of whom worked in the company’s offices.

In 1958 Ralph Williams took over as the artist. He later used models and actress such as Farrah Fawcett and Christie Brinkley as the visions for Breck.

But my favorite Breck Girls were the wholesome ones who looked as though they had never had a pimple or gotten dirt under their fingernails in their entire lives.

The Breck Girls were phased out in the late 70s. But in 1987 they brought her back in the form of a Georgia secretary because they wanted to be more in touch with the modern woman. Here’s how they described Cecilia Gouge in the Kentucky New Era newspaper of June 26, 1987:

Then the new owner (Dial Corporation) thought about bringing back a Breck girl in 1994. Over 3000 women showed up to audition. But I guess it fizzled out because I can’t find any news about the “winner.”

Keeping with the original premise likely wouldn’t work. I suppose the wholesome look is rather passé these days. What sells is sex; women in too tight, too short, too low-cut, too revealing clothes. Since the Breck girl images I was able to find were all copyright protected, I had to try to find a comparable look on the photo websites I use.  Using “girls with long wavy hair” as my search category, I found very few that would have been appropriate.

The photo I used at the top of this post is actually one that came up in the search, and I figured, Heck ya, why not? My readers know I have a strange sense of humor.

Links below will take you to some Breck girl images and related articles.

And to show you just how brave I am, here is my 6th-grade photo.


Smithsonian Magazine article from 2000 

Chicago Tribune article from 1994

Pictures of Breck girls on Flickr   


Today Is Your Lucky Day! If You Believe A Cookie.

Fortune cookie

Photo courtesy of guvo59 on

Writer’s Block. It happens to nearly every writer at some point.

Apparently, even the writer of inspirational sayings for fortune cookies has been afflicted by it. According to an article on from August 2, 2016, Donald Lau of Wonton Food Company is now able to write only 2-3 new sayings a month.

What? Most of these sayings contain about a dozen words. And he’s able to write just 2-3 a month? That must be the worst case of writer’s block I’ve ever come across.

Wonton Food Company is the largest manufacturer of fortune cookies in the world, cranking out four million cookies a day from its three American-based factories. Apparently, Mr. Lau was hired as the chief fortune writer because he spoke the best English when Wonton bought the fortune cookie factories over 30 years ago. Now he’s also the CFO. I wonder if, along the way, he wrote himself inspirational messages such as, “Work hard and one day you will oversee a multi-billion dollar company and inspire people with small pieces of paper.”

In the 1990s, Wonton started adding a series of “lucky numbers” and a brief Chinese language lesson (one word) on the fortunes. If you think people don’t pay attention to these little slips of paper, consider this: In 2005 over a hundred people shared a $19 million prize in the Powerball lottery after playing the series of lucky numbers on the back of a fortune. (It’s only happened once. So please don’t go out for Chinese food and then head to the 7-11 to buy a lotto ticket.)

Wait, what? Multiple people got the SAME lucky numbers?! Sorry to burst your bubble, but it’s true. The fortunes and lessons and lucky numbers are used more than once. A lot more. Do the math: cranking out four million cookies a day would make it financially inadvisable to generate unique fortunes, Chinese lessons, and lucky numbers for each individual cookie.

Earlier in 2007, according to a New York Times online article, the marketing coordinator at Wonton hired some freelance writers to come up with some more contemporary messages. It didn’t go over so great.

Cookie eaters were not happy to find messages such as, “Perhaps you’ve been focusing too much on yourself.” Or “Your luck is just not there. Attend to practical matters today.”

There is some disagreement about who invented the fortune cookie. There are some who maintain it has a 14th-century Chinese beginning when the Chinese hid messages in mooncakes to communicate and overcome their rivals, the Mongols.

But most food experts say that the cookie showed up in California in the 1900s.

Immigrant David Jung, owner of Hong Kong Noodle Company, claimed to have invented it in 1918 by hiding inspirational scripture messages in cookies and passing them out to the unemployed.

Japanese landscape architect Makoto Hagiwara is the other contender as the inventor. Hagiwara had created a Japanese Village exhibit for the 1894 California Midwinter International Exposition and later convinced the powers that be to let him make a permanent Japanese tea garden. Hagiwara was the official caretaker of the Japanese Tea Gardens since 1895. His family says that around 1907 he began serving grilled rice wafers with thank-you notes tucked inside.

Since I’ve actually been to the Japanese Tea Gardens inside Golden Gate Park a couple of times (totally enchanting), I’m going with Mr. Hagiwara’s version. Choose for yourself.


An earlier post of mine from two years ago on the subject of fortune cookies

Some hilarious (supposedly real) fortunes from cookies

Money Brain


Photo courtesy of

Money. I think about it more than I intend to. It’s not that I worry about having enough money to live another 30 years in relative comfort. I’m not obsessed about money like Scrooge McDuck.  Living within my means, I don’t try to keep up with anyone. Let’s face it: my Subaru is ten years old.

It’s just that somehow my brain slants toward how money plays a role in stories.

If a character in a book sets fire to a suitcase of hundred dollar bills, well, that bothers me. “Think of all the good that money could have done!” I mentally shout. Or if the hero in a movie turns down a substantial inheritance because she wants to make it on her own, I start to sweat.

The John Grisham novel The Partner? I nearly threw up over the ending of that book which dealt with a principal amount of ninety million dollars.

So it came as no surprise to myself when I ended up thinking about money as I prepared for tomorrow’s Sunday School lesson on Epiphany.

Epiphany, you may recall, is the enlightenment to the Gentile world that there’s a new King in town. The Magi were the recipients and then conveyors of that good news to the non-Jewish world.

Take a moment and envision your version of the Magi. Let me guess: three men with regal bearing in resplendent clothing. They are each carrying a small box containing gold or frankincense or myrrh. Oh, and they are riding camels who each can carry about 900 pounds.

Let’s ponder that for a moment. Bible scholars say the Magi may have been astrologers, scientists, priests, magicians, scholars, or all-around wise men. Educated guesses are that they came from Turkey or Persia which means a trip of 800-1400 miles. A camel can travel 80-120 miles a day. Unless, of course, they were Arabian baggage camels whose average travel speed is just 40 miles a day.

The Magi had a long journey and that’s likely why they were delayed.

So would they travel all that distance and show up with gift boxes small enough to hold in their hands? I don’t think so.

One Biblical writer’s opinion is that those camels were LADEN with gifts. Laden as in weighed down, piled high, overloaded.

And of course, my money brain kicked into gear thinking of ALL THAT GOLD and what it could have meant.

How would Mary and Joseph transport a camel’s load of gold back to Nazareth? I’m pretty sure there were no Uber camels. Did that gold arrive just in the nick of time? Were Mary and Joseph broke and still counting on their relatives’ generosity to house and feed them? Had Joseph been working locally all the time they’ve been away from home? Had he even thought to pack his carpenter tools to take with him? Did they have to pay taxes on that gold or did the amount fall under the Roman gift tax threshold? How would they explain their new-found wealth to their Nazarene friends and neighbors?

See what I mean? My money brain can run wild with imagination.

Hmm…I wonder what 900 pounds of gold was worth back then?





Buddy, Can You Spare a Dime? Or How About Some Tinsel?


Photo courtesy of cegoh on

I once got in trouble with HR. No one likes to get a notice that the head of Human Resources wants to see you, right?

As I made my way to the “principal’s office” that early December day,  I did a mental check of what it could possibly be about. If you know me (or have been reading my blog for very long), you know I’m a good girl, a straight arrow, the epitome of “always does the right thing.”

It turns out I had been caught soliciting.

No, not that kind of soliciting.

You see, a co-worker had lost all her Christmas decorations when her basement flooded the previous spring. I overheard her talking about how deeply distressed she was about the thought of a tree without ornaments.

I had the bright idea to ask our co-workers if they would donate an ornament or two from their own stash. People brought in lovely ornaments to me. When I made the presentation to her, she cried in gratefulness.

And that was my crime…soliciting used ornaments for someone without any. Guilty as charged.

Yes, I understand that “personal selling” in an office can get out of hand. Through the years, I’ve bought my share of Girl Scout cookies and elementary school wrapping paper. I’ve donated to wonderful causes. It’s hard to tell where to draw the line.

But give me a break. Where does inappropriate soliciting stop and nit-picking begin?

I was reminded of the incident listening to an NPR show the other day. Joy Cho (author, decorator, and founder of the company Oh Joy) was taking viewer calls and emails about holiday decorating on a budget.

A woman whose father’s house had been flooded by Hurricane Harvey asked for an inexpensive way to replace the ornaments he had gathered over the years and lost to the flood waters. As with my co-worker, the dad’s original ornaments and decorations held much meaning to him. New ornaments, fresh from the store packaging, just wouldn’t be the same.

The daughter asked for help in providing her dad decorations that would be “meaningful, decorative, and festive, but also not a huge investment.”

Joy Cho suggested that the daughter send an email to all the relatives and her dad’s close friends. Tell them what happened, and then make this request: “Let’s all send him one ornament that means something to us or reminds us of him, and let’s surprise him with that.”

Cho suggested that the givers write a message with their offerings.

She asked the listeners to imagine the man’s reaction when all those packages started showing up at his door.

What a wonderful new start to a familiar Christmas tradition!

Gee, I wish I had thought of that.


Transcript of NPR show


So Call Me. Not Maybe. Definitely.

Talk on phone

Photo courtesy of Mimzy on

What I’m about to share may shock you. You likely will throw up your hands in disbelief and shout, “She’s lying!”

We didn’t have a telephone until I was about 14. My dad didn’t see the point in spending the money on one. If we needed to use a phone, we could walk to Grandma’s and call from there.

Grandmother Elizabeth (no financially better off than we were) not only had a telephone, she had a special piece of furniture where the telephone resided. It was a one-piece number: a chair with an attached table with a storage unit for the telephone book.

Back then when you talked to someone on the phone, you actually really talked to them. Because there wasn’t anything else to do while you sat in the chair, except maybe look out the window or perhaps doodle.

Talking on the phone used to have some element of salience to it. Hearing someone announce, “You have a telephone call,” made us feel special. These days when everyone has his/her own phone with the ability to make calls dependent only upon available cell service, it’s just so ho-hum.

And we no longer sit still and concentrate on our calls. I know a lot of people pace or walk while on the phone. We cook, unload the dishwasher, feed the dog, search online for a new cat video, scroll through the television menu, and fold laundry while we talk on the phone.

We talk while we shop, while we exercise, and while we drive.

It doesn’t matter if we’re at a restaurant, in line at the bank, in a medical waiting room, or at a concert; we can (and do) talk everywhere.

I’m not even going to bring up those people who use the toilet while on the phone. Whoops, I just did.

Why do we do these things? Why can’t we just sit down and hold a conversation?

I’m not sure there is a one-size-fits-all answer to that question. Because if you think I’m blaming everyone except myself, think again.

I was on the phone for over an hour today with a specialist from a supplemental Medicare insurance company representative. This is open season for us “elderly” folk and so I’ve been reviewing my husband’s and my options.

The specialist was great—good customer service skills, knowledgeable, polite. But going through all the options and answering the questions took so much time. I got antsy just sitting there holding the phone, so I put the phone on speaker mode and started doing stuff while talking.

I filed some papers. I changed the sheets on the bed. I walked up and down the stairs six times. I looked up the phone number of the person who takes care of our leaves in the fall. And yes, I fed the dog.

I did not use the toilet even though I needed to.

Maybe I had to be active because I didn’t have a personal connection to Luke at GoMedigap. I’ve noticed I’m more likely to sit still and just talk when I’m on the phone with someone I care deeply about.

But not always. For that, I’m offering up this public apology: If, while talking on the phone with me, you have heard dishes rattling, pot stirring, sheet rustling, or dog slurping, I’m sorry.

I promise to do better the next time we talk.


A recent post of mine on the term “elderly”

A little science on why some people pace when on the phone


Just Call Me a Boomer Consumer


Photo courtesy of Run 4 FFWPU on

There’s a label people attempt to stick on me, and I don’t like it one bit.

Elderly. It seems that anyone aged 65+ is elderly. The US Census Bureau, Medicare, and the Canadian government use age 65 as the qualifier for “elderly.”

Just today I got my flu shot at Walgreen’s. The person administering the shot told me, “You get the high dose shot because you’re elderly.”

OK, I get it that people 65 and older are inoculated with Fluzone High-Dose which contains four times as much flu virus antigen as other standard flu vaccines.

It seems that as we age, we produce 50-75% fewer antibodies in response to a regular flu shot. So the high dose is expected to compensate for that (per Mayo Clinic).

But why refer to me as elderly? I was, after all, in workout clothes and sneakers on my way to a Zumba class. OK, a Zumba GOLD class made up of women my age. But still, we’re out there doing the moves.

I remember being 20 and thinking anyone over 35 was ancient. When I had my first baby at age 33, I was considered an older mom back then. According to an Upshot article on the New York Times website, “First-time mothers are older in big cities and on the coasts, and younger in rural areas and in the Great Plains and the South. In New York and San Francisco, their average age is 31 and 32.”

I would rather be referred to as a boomer, aka Baby Boomer (born between 1946 and 1964). Boomer has some flash and bang to it. It has a bit of pizzazz. Boom!

It turns out that many boomers don’t like being referred to as older people, elderly, senior citizens, or the Silver Tsunami.

When I think about my parents at the age I am now, I can’t help but be grateful that times have changed and the opportunities to feel younger and be healthier are so available.

I’m on a mission to encourage boomers to stop thinking “old” thoughts and to eliminate phrases like “having a senior moment” from their conversations.

I just dare someone to tell me to act my age.


Ay, Chihuahua!


Photo courtesy of

Consider the problematic issues associated with California: earthquakes, fires, epic rain, epic drought, mudslides, unreliable water supply, collapsing economic infrastructure, and too many Chihuahuas.

Yes, I said Chihuahuas. That is not an auto-correction.

Chihuahuas became a problem for California beginning early in the 2000s when celebrities like Paris Hilton were shown shopping with the little dogs carried in designer handbags. Hilton’s “Tinkerbell” starred with her in five seasons of The Simple Life.

In 2001 Legally Blond’s pint-sized “Bruiser” went to Harvard Law School with Elle Wood. The movie poster shows cute-as-a-button Bruiser dressed in his signature color of pink (the same fav color of his owner in the movie).

The 2008 Disney film Beverly Hills Chihuahua opened the Chihuahua floodgates wider with damsel-dog-in-distress Chloe wearing diamonds and booties.

The message that (for whatever reason) primarily Californians seemed to take away was this: If you want to be trendy and chic, go ahead and follow that impulse to own a Chihuahua.

Because pop culture brought forth the desire to be Chihuahua owners, backyard breeders and puppy mills saw an opportunity to cash in on the trend that resulted in just too darned many of this breed.

The LA Times in 2016 noted that the Chihuahua was the #1 registered breed in California at 15% of total registration. That was a 42% increase from six years prior! And that 15% covered only dogs that had been registered by their owners.

Sadly, thousands more of the dogs lived on the streets or in shelters.

In 2008 nearly 5000 Chihuahuas were run through California shelters, many of which had to reconfigure their “bigger dog” pens and runs to accommodate the itty-bitty breed. At one point it was estimated that the Chihuahua made up 30 – 50% of the California animal shelter population.

Surprisingly, according to one site, the Chihuahua is the second most euthanized breed across America, with Pit Bulls coming in at #1.

In 2009 actress Katherine Heigl spent $25,000 to fly 68 Chihuahuas across the country to New Hampshire where people were on SPCA-approved waiting lists to adopt them. This event was titled, “Project Flying Chihuahuas.” (Nope, not making this up.)

From 2010-2016 Virgin Airlines took up the cause and each year flew shelter Chihuahuas from San Francisco to the New York area for adoption. This project was dubbed “Operation Chihuahua Airlift.”

But the California overpopulation of the breed appears to continue as a problem.

Now I know what you’re asking yourself: “She has a hound dog; why is she writing about Chihuahuas?”

Apparently, I was trendy and chic three decades before Paris Hilton was, as I owned a Chihuahua when I was 15. I had been pestering my parents for a dog and Pepe is what my dad brought home. When I left home at 19 for a move to California, Pepe became Grandma Elizabeth’s dog.

The picture below is an American Greetings birthday card recently received from a dear friend who was my best friend in high school. She wrote that she bought it because it reminded her of Pepe.

The day the card arrived I was listening to an NPR audiobook about dogs and they mentioned the story about Project Flying Chihuahuas. Wow! Two instances on the same day can’t be a coincidence, so I took it as a sign and started my research for this post.

The moral of this post is threefold:

1) Please don’t follow celebrity trends.

2) Adopt a pet from a shelter.

3) Be a responsible pet owner and have your pet spayed or neutered.

And PS – Bruiser’s death in 2016 was widely reported by the media. See below for links.


Chihuahua info

Bruiser’s death #1 

Bruiser’s death #2