confessions

I've recently started reading the blog Confessions of a Pioneer Woman.  It's not that I was unaware of it (I stumbled across her account of how she became the PW some months ago and mistakenly attempted to read it in one sitting. If you like love stories, set aside a day or so for this one--it's wonderful), I'd just never subscribed.  There are many things to love about PW.  There's the fantastic photography, delicious recipes, hilarious accounts of life on the farm, but there's pretty much only one reason I subscribe.

I read it for Charlie.

Just look at that face.  I admit it, I have a soft spot for Bassets.  It's roughly the size of my torso.  I have been known to stop dead in my tracks (which is problematic, especially if I'm driving at the time) upon spotting one, uttering something akin to "Olookitthebassetomygoodnesslookitthatfaceolord."  We had a Basset for just over a decade.  She was the hard-headedest, single-mindedest, loud-snoringest dog you'd ever meet, and sly as a fox when it came to seeking vengeance upon us, her beloved family.  She was a diva, and a sweetheart, and damn if there's a day that goes by that I don't miss that dog.  Someday I will have another Basset, you'll see.  In the meantime, there's Charlie.