Here’s my little dog –– her tail a happy blur of wagging –– captured last night by Svetlana at my opening.
Today I wisely cancelled all work appointments beyond some important writing I’m doing for Genevieve’s new restaurant –– I’m crafting the mission statement etc. –– and had only one “meeting”: an awesome vet who makes house calls came to check on Belle’s increased itchiness and have all her shots updated so we can fly without a fuss.
[The little dog was perfect even though she was given five or six shots, and somehow, as always, the Vets are thrilled by how perfect and gleaming her teeth are.]
Anyway, I’ve learned that after any major event, there’s an elation/exhaustion factor and you just have to adjust your schedule accordingly.
And once I moved past various more or less bureaucratic challenges in the morning via Sweet Susan’s assistance, the day did proceed rather smoothly.
While I wrote zingy, non-preachy health food copy, I loaned my Mini to Daniel and Svetlana who drove off to somewhere in the Highlands, returning in time for a delicious raw food dinner.
And once again –– despite the incredible odds stacked against me –– at 9:30 on a Friday night I found safe parking on Telegraph Hill.
My euphoria is enough to make me almost ignore how the entire family of Originals on THE VAMPIRE DIARIES have completely different accents from entirely different continents.
[And honestly in the last 1,000 years, even if they have spent centuries apart, don’t you think they could have smoothed some of that out? Or is the casting director making some kind of point about linguistic intractability … Or, since the little dog is protecting me so well, am I just over-thinking anything and everything?]
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