Howl-o-ween

I just returned from a futile walk (no pees no poos) with Madeleine only to discover my fly was down the entire time. This is merely my wardrobe malfunction du jour, as the other day my leggings were on inside out and everyone from behind knew I was a size 4 in LuluLemons. Which I am convinced are manufactured based on Bratz dolls sizes. Anyways, What was even more disturbing was the lack of any excreting from Madeleine, which I surmise is from the fact that she *forgot* to eat her noms this morning, which is downright strange since she usually inhales her food faster than a Dyson (btw, you know you're old when you're pining away for a Dyson Shark. 25th birthday in T minus 28 days. HINT). She's probably staging a food boycott until she gets some of the succulent rugelach purchased from the Pinecrest Farmer's Market yesterday. Along with the market was also the annual Howl-O-Ween celebration at Pinecrest Gardens. I've never seen so many chihuahuas in bedazzled wigs and pugs dressed as tacos, which greatly comforts me in knowing that I am NOT the crazy dog lady, as many suspect. Madeleine was outfitted in a skunk costume and Vienna was a plunder-seeking pirate. Vienna didn't quite grasp the concept of trousers and may have peed in her britches.
  Today is Halloween, a holiday I look fondly upon as I cherish the evolution of my Halloweens past, ranging from being toted around the neighborhood in a red wagon with my sister by my dad, getting to select five pieces of candy to be inspected by my mom and then consumed with the rest of the loot rationed every day thereafter (and unbeknownst to me, mostly consumed by the candy monster, CA, my mom), appreciating confections from an early age as I dressed as a life-sized 8 year-old Hershey's kiss complete with purple leggings and a giant pyramidical hat, purchasing my very first sundress in high school to dress as a Stepford wife, and enjoying the quintessential college Halloween: donning my Victoria's Secret "Miraculous" bra (it adds two cup sizes and weights as much as a brick) and purchasing a 60 dollar lioness costume that has been passed down through generations of my sorority and my sister. Postgrad Halloweens haven't been as climactic; I did rock a fabulous Katy Perry get-up during my first year of graduate school including a garishly huge engagement ring from my hubby Russell Brand, but that marriage dissipated and so did my affinity for the South Beach scene. The noses, the boobs, and the cocktails there were just too expensive. These days, I much prefer dispensing candy to the smushy children (one Reese's for you.. one for me.. one for me...one for me..) in my parents' neighborhood, exploiting Madeleine in her ridiculous skunk costume, and enjoying adult beverages with said parents.

Pepe Le Peu and Jack Sparrow. Nothing says 'dynamic duo' like a small woodland creature and a seafaring sausage


   Today I took a tour of my new work facility, a large teaching hospital, with my boss. As if she already didn't think I was a total loon, a woman in the elevator with us mentioned how much she missed her dog and OF COURSE I chirped, "You should just FaceTime with your dog!" and my manager looked mildly horrified. I plan to win her over with baked goods and maybe she will overlook my canine insanity.
  Speaking of baked goods, yes, I eat them. In fact, I really eat anything I want. My nutrition philosophy aligns with mindful and intuitive eating within the realm of a healthy and balanced diet. Food is for both nourishment and pleasure. And I won't step foot in a gym. I am not a hamster on a wheel. It feels nothing but artificial and strained. And it smells bad and there's MRSA in there and people are grunting. Groty.

Happily Ever After,

 The Dietitian and the Dog