Two dogs live with us.

Seamus is old and cranky and he loves me to the exclusion of everyone else. Wherever you see Seamus, you can be sure I'm within eye and/or ear shot.

Harry is actually our lovely daughter's dog but while she's on an academic quest, Harry lives with us. He is very intelligent. You can see it in his eyes sometimes, he's calculating and figuring out how to get us to do what he wants.

We often joke and say if he had opposable thumbs Harry could rule the world.

I'm not so sure he needs the thumbs, just a smarter family.

A couple of weeks ago, he delegated something from his to-do list to me. I wish I knew what it was. He followed me around for four days and never took his eyes off me. If I sat at the computer, he sat next to me and stared, his head cocked, his eyes saying, "Well??" If I was at the kitchen sink, he did the same thing on the floor next to me. Living room recliner: ditto.

I apologized many times for not knowing what I was supposed to be doing.

I think he finally gave up and took care of it himself. Now he naps when I'm on the computer or in the recliner.

I can only wonder about his next assignment for me. Hope I don't botch it up also.

I've read a couple of great books recently.

Waiting for Daybreak:

Kathryn Cushman's special gift is telling a story from two very different sides and making each one sympathetic. As I read and got wrapped up in the dilemmas, I couldn't see any way to a satisfying ending, but Kathryn did it.

Paige Woodward told a small lie with the best of intentions, never thinking it would come back to haunt her. But, boy did it.

Clarissa Richardson had high expectations for herself but was willing to take shortcuts to get there.

As their paths intersect, only one of them gets to see her dreams come true.

Waiting For Daybreak is a powerful story of hanging on through the dark and trusting that things will get better, even when we don't see a way.

and Lying on Sunday

This book drew me in like a warm fire on a stormy day.

Abbie Torrington is dealt a double blow on her daughter's birthday when she learns she didn't have the family, marriage, or husband she thought she did. As Abbie works through the stages of grief and anger, she pulls the reader along on her journey.

Sharon Souza's wonderful prose moves the story with humor and heart wrenching honesty.

The ending left me satisfied and still wanting more. Just like that warm fire.

I heard an inspirational quote recently.

My future is hidden in my daily routine.

It hit me in a profound way and opened my eyes.

If I want a clean desk next week, I have to stop piling papers on it now.

If I want to lose 10 pounds by Christmas, I need to count my points and walk today.

If I want to publish something next year, I have to write today.

Otherwise, goals are just wishes. And since I'm staring 50 in the face, I don't think I better count on being able to blow out my candles and have my wishes come true. They're going to take some work. Every day.

Dang.