Assault and cannolis

First off - I'd like to show off my most excellent cannoli shells. Here they are! Kate helped roll out the dough. We've had the rollers since I was 5 months pregnant with Kate and we went to Philadelphia thinking we were going to move there. This is the first time I opened the package. The filling turned out much too liquidy, though very tasty. The recipe, found on the back of the cannoli roller package, declared itself the authentic Italian recipe. But I don't think I'll follow it on my next attempt. It was good, but I don't want to have to chase my delicious dessert filling around the plate with a vacant shell in order to enjoy it. I'm sitting around after a big meal eating a cannoli, how much energy do you think I'm willing to exert here? (Incidentally, Kate and Sarah were willing to exert a lot of energy in the same endeavor. They both agreed that letting it all spill out on their plates, then eating the shell, then picking up the plate and licking everything that didn't drip onto the table or their laps was the best method. Big fat Lola concurred.)

Today when the alarm went off at 4:50AM I sensed in my bones (mostly the bone of an exploratory toe sent outside the goose down comforter to reconnoiter) that it was too freakin' cold to take Lola for her morning walk. Instead I hit snooze some 14 times. This sloth-like behavior afforded me the time to think we should really take Lola for a playday at Rex & Roxy's, her home away from home for times like these. So, off she went. Oh joy! Rex & Roxy's is non-stop fun. Except today. Today, as Lola bounded out to the play yard another dog bit her. She had to have stitches on her side and on her hind leg. When Jeremiah told me the news I, the mother of a problem pooch, assumed Lola had been asking for it (just look at the way she's dressed!). No, though, she was innocent in the matter. Rex & Roxy's is awesome and took her to our vet (next door) and got her all fixed up. Now she's home. She looks a mess. Big, Frankenstein's monster-like stitched-up gap on her side, which the doctor shaved to humiliate her further. I know what she's thinking. Her birthday is a mere 9 days away and there's simply no chance this gash will be healed in that amount of time. No matter, though. We forget every year until it's passed. Then we say "oh dear, we missed your birthday!" and give her a treat and a pat on the head. Poor, bitten Lola. At present Lola is sulking around our bedroom, listening to Portishead. I know this is all my fault. It was really cold though. And windy. Maybe she could be cheered by a runny cannoli.