I’ve decided to consolidate my blogs. My scroggles blog has moved to my personal Web site: http://kirstenlamb.net. Please follow me there! You can subscribe to that blog through the RSS or get e-mail updates (check the upper right-hand corner of the screen). Thanks for reading!

Here’s why the puppy made me cry, this time: She’s deceitful.

She’s used her wily chocolate lab-ness to forge a way into my heart. She rests at my feet during the day when I write. She sends herself to her crate any time she feels tired. She “leaves it” when we sternly say said command, if she shows too much interest in something. She has started walking at our side on walks, not tugging or chasing down geese like she were training for a gold medal. She’s turning into the dog of picture frames. You know, the friendly, family dog whose picture you replace with your own, but not before thinking, “What a picture perfect dog.”

Until tonight. As a consolation for not venturing onto the hopping streets of Denver in search of green beer, we stayed in and I made macaroni and cheese. It’s a consolation in our book; stop judging. And to counter the creamy, cheesy, carby goodness, we were going to have a salad. I was so excited for the lone cucumber in our refrigerator, I even sliced stripes down the side, like they do in restaurants and on cooking shows. Then I chopped it and set it aside until the timer beeped.

Enter Kona, who has never eaten human food. She jumps up, weasels her way around the sharp knife on the cutting board, eats the entire cut cucumber and saunters off to sit at my husband’s feet. I didn’t realize it until minutes later, when chastising her was futile. And now, all that’s left to our salad is spinach and nuts. Pathetic.

OK, so it may seem like a dumb reason to cry, but it’s not only for the lost cucumber. I thought we had developed a level of trust, and I see I was mistaken. Back to square one, Kona puppy. I may forgive, but I don’t forget.

I’m not wearing any makeup. It’s a perk of my new job. I also run errands, soaking up the glorious freedom of self-employment, with my hair un-did and in yoga pants. But that doesn’t make me any less beautiful. (gasp) Anyone else feeling awkward that I just called myself beautiful?
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I’m feeling cranky this morning. My Google Reader has 304 unread items in it, and one of the blogs accounts for 53 of those unread posts. I add your blog to my Reader because I want to read it. But if you’re churning out posts like a ticker tape machine, I will unsubscribe. I’ll do it.

Another thing I don’t subscribe to? The rule that you need to blog every day. As RSS feeds gain momentum, quality will outweigh quantity. I won’t need readers to remember to visit my blog, I bring my blog to them. So they’re not going to get frustrated coming to a stale page and lose interest. On the contrary, they will thank me when they’re not overwhelmed by 53 mediocre posts.

Can I also share with you my least-favorite tweet? Here she is: “In case you missed it earlier, new blog post: the 7 reasons social media can make your dreams come true. http://bit.ly/annoying.” There are no less than six annoying things in those 127 characters. The first person to name all six — or add more of your own — will receive an autographed copy of my latest book.

No, I don’t have a latest book, yet.

To add insult to injury, technology has found a new way to annoy me. Nay, disgust me. The following was a recent spam comment on my blog, with product names and companies X’ed out:

“This might be a bit off-topic but I believe there are a lot of smokers here on quepash.scroggles.com. I have recently decided to find a good manufacturer of e-smokes. I’m done with paying so much for tobacco smokes.A friend recommended XXXX. According to their website this is how they described their product:
‘XXXX offers supreme Electronic cigarettes with disposable cartridges that compose of the highest smoke volume in the industry. With a collection of flavors and nicotine levels, XXXX’s™ patented product offers convenience and performance that is unmatched. XXXX products have been independently tested for safety.’
I’m thinking of buying them. Anyone else have experience with this e-cigarette?”

Here’s the problem: we have a nearly full bottle of pomegranate juice in the fridge. It cost $10. It makes a good vodka-pomegranate cocktail. Thus our night begins.

5:45 p.m.: husband concocts said cocktail, thanks to Costco brand vodka: Svedka. Liberal on the Svedka.

6 p.m.: we have 1/3 of a loaf of 5-day old Italian bread sitting on the counter, begging to not be wasted. So I make homemade breadcrumbs. For chicken parmesan, which is husband’s favorite dinner.

6:45 p.m.: favorite dinner deserves candlelight and a cleared off dining room table, and of course wine. we just bought a 1/2 case of shiraz, which may or may not have a screw top. OK, it does. Stop judging us.

7 p.m.: we eat slightly burnt chicken parmesan, because undercooked chicken is both my fear and a health hazard. better safe than sorry. conversation calls for two glasses of shiraz, each.

7:45 p.m.: somehow conversation drifts to IP addresses. husband takes the liberty to delve into an explanation ranging from the DARPA initiative to the transatlantic cable to subnet 192 addresses to my personal Web site.

8:25 p.m.: I drift in and out of focusing on the conversation, trying to understand each layer of the interwebs and also bitter that my husband knows each layer and I don’t.

8:30 p.m.: I resolve to know each layer of something, anything that husband doesn’t. Shall I refresh my memory for diagramming sentences and become a true sentence architect? Shall I memorize a poem from Rumi and perform it for at least 20 minutes, before leading a riveting analysis for my husband?

I’m not sure what I’ll do, but it will be something. I will load him up on food and drink and then unleash my deep knowledge on something he doesn’t understand. Any suggestions?

When I started my freelance business, I assumed it would be tough. It’s a lousy economy, an impossible time for aspiring writers and an all-around bad idea for a perfectionist who hates making mistakes. I thought trusting God in this decision meant persevering through mistakes, rejection and dried-up bank accounts.

But I was wrong.

I have made mistakes, and I will continue to do so (hopefully my clenched teeth, balled fists and the pitter-patter of a heart in overdrive will ease up). But the rejection has been overshadowed by opportunity! I’ve had referrals, inquiries and contracts to sign. I love the work that people are actually paying me to do! My days aren’t filled with scavenging for paid gigs; now I’m beginning to think about being strategic with my time and energy, and only following up on jobs that make sense for me.Trusting God will inevitably mean persevering when things get uncomfortable or even painful. But right now, trusting Him means enjoying the gift of this season.

Check out more pictures like the one I took of the lemons above, here. It’s a new season, indeed!

If our dog wore pants, she would have a muffin top. I didn’t realize this until a recent soiree at the dog park.

Kona puppy was following her usual protocol: hogging the water when other dogs tried to drink, acting aloof when people tried to throw her a ball, jumping on unassuming women in pastels, trying to dominate me in an embarrassing show of barking and assertiveness. This is how we do.

I usually enjoy watching the other dogs and secretly think mine is much cuter than theirs, except for when the occasional striped bulldog with multiple chain collars and an unexpected orange bandanna earns my admiration for looking so badass. But this time there was another chocolate lab who looked like Kona — even with the same color collar — except she was at least 10 pounds lighter.

I would see this dog chase after a brown tennis ball, and think, “Kona is so sprightly today. She better be tired tonight!” And then I would look over to the mud puddle and see the real Kona sniffing around and licking. Don’t judge me for calling her a fatty under my breath. The skinny dog’s owner struck up conversation with me, and I found out that she is just a few weeks older than Kona, but eats 33% less than Kona does. Looks like we will be enforcing portion control.

Admittedly, the vet always says, “We’d like to see a little more waist on Kona,” as if saying she’s overweight will send Kona reeling into a distorted body image, self-doubt and depression. But I assumed that line was like the dentist’s “You need to start flossing regularly, every day.”

I do floss every day! And Kona obviously has a waist! It’s just a protruding waist that would be accentuated by tight pants.

I hate politics. I hate the heated debates, the pious opinions, the accusations and hatred that seem to bubble to the surface. But, since so few commented on my last post about politics, and more importantly, no one commented on the amazingly perceptive and ironic image that I created, we’re going in for round 2.
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My Web site is officially done! Check it out here.

Does anyone else maintain their own business site? Have any suggestions or lessons learned that you can share with a newbie? Your input is appreciated!

Here’s a status update that’s been peppered across my facebook newsfeed:

WELCOME TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA – Press 1 for English. Press 2 to disconnect until you learn to speak English. And remember only two defining forces have ever offered to die for you, JESUS CHRIST. And the AMERICAN SOLDIER. One died for your soul, the other for your freedom. If you agree… copy and paste in your status.
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