There's a sucker born every minute

I am a sucker for a cute dog. So . . . when I was presented with a homeless dog last Saturday I eventually fell for it hook, line and sinker. I resisted. I told the group that I couldn't possibly take another dog. I lobbied hard to have another member of the group adopt her. A text and photo sent to the Rockstar confirmed that she looked like a miniature version of Deuce and that we should bring her home at least temporarily, and resistance proved futile.

She doesn't have a name yet, but she's such a sweetie she has already managed to worm her way into our hearts. (Except for Deuce - he's still pouting half the time.) Welcome to the family little dog. I know what kind of life we can give you and I am pretty sure it's a lot better than the one you came from. And with that, we are one step further down the road of the crazy dog people.

And on the eighth day . . .

Growing up in Texas, you really can't help being a football fan. It is unavoidable. It doesn't matter who - high school, college, pro. Hell, they even managed to sell out arena football games in this state!

The Dallas Cowboys were the team of choice in our household. I can remember learning the details of football from my Dad during the glory years of the late seventies and early eighties. Roger Staubach, Drew Pearson, Ed Too-Tall Jones (recently spotted on a Geico commercial), way too many of my childhood photos wearing my favorite t-shirt: And on the eighth day, God created the Dallas Cowboys. (Hello parents? Didn't you hear of laundry day? Or maybe a haircut that didn't involve a bowl?)

Growing up, I was told I could be anything I wanted to be when I grew up. I believed it. So I wanted to be a pilot, a doctor and a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader. A woman can have it all, right?

The cowboys enjoyed another high period during my college years. Good times all around. Then, it all went wrong. For a long time. We went through coaches faster than most people go through socks, had quarterbacks old enough to be my grandpa, our owner had more plastic surgery than Joan Rivers, and we had this:

But finally, after 13 LONG years, the ship has been righted, at least for today. We finally have a playoff win! Now, this may mess up my vacation plans, but . . . . Go Cowboys!