The city where I live is considering adding a dog park.  The Parks officials have asked interested citizens to get together and form some plans on what we would like to see included in a park so that they can crunch some numbers and present the plans to the City Council.  Hopefully City Council will then allocate the money in the next fiscal year's budget.

I've long wanted us to have a dog park.  Even though I have a fenced-in yard where Nat and Pyxi play with each other, I and many other dog owners think it's great for dogs to socialize.  Play time for canines!

So, I went to the meeting last night as an interested citizen and left as a member of the citizens' committee.

I've been to dog parks, done some reading, and know they can work.  There are two others already in the Keys.  I have some ideas, but would love to hear more.

That's where you come in, wonderful blog readers.  Surely some of you have dogs and live in places that have dog parks.

Do you go to dog parks?  Do you and your pooches enjoy the experience?

What are some of the features/amenities at your park?  Of those features, what does your dog seem to enjoy?

Anything you hate?

What do you love?

One a scale of 1-10, (1 being bare bones and 10 being the resort equivalent of dog parks) where does yours fall?

Please respond in comments, or shoot me an email at mary@mary-stella.com.

Nat, Pyxi and I thank you for your input!

No matter how you feel about this particular war, please remember that our soldiers protect and serve.

Please watch this video and pass it on.

 

Everybody who agrees that AI will have an all-David final, say "Aye!"

Just when you thought that nobody would ever do a worse cover of Mr. Tambourine Man than William Shatner -- Jason Castro lowered the bar tonight on American Idol.  I loved Jason early in the competition, but if he doesn't get voted off tomorrow, I'll make a personal appeal to the parents of every text-message-voting teenager in a American, begging them to, "Take away your kids' cell phones!"

Note to Randy, just once cut to the chase and say, "That sucked, dude."  Really, we don't need to hear you stutter through, "I don't know what's going on; it didn't do it for me; I didn't love it."

Although, I had to laugh when he said that Jason "just wasn't in the zone."  Are you kidding me?  Jason puts the Zzzzz in zoned!

Anybody else think that Simon's messing with our heads?  He didn't like Syesha's performance of Proud Mary but he agreed with Paula that she did a great job on Change is Gonna Come.  Then, he scolded Randy for making Syesha cry!  Simon, you've produced more contestant tears than a room full of strong onions.  That said, I think Syesha has grown and improved consistently the last several weeks and she deserves to stay in the competition for another week.

I'd like to believe her outflow of emotion was genuine and that she wasn't borrowing from her friend Brooke White's tactic of "cry and they'll feel sorry and vote for you".

David Cook, they were right about both of your performances.  Hungry Like a Wolf wasn't your best.  Baba O'Reilly brought you back.

I finally figured out who David Archuleta reminds me of.  It's the character of Ugly Betty -- without the poncho, glasses and braces.  He could be her little brother.  He could be anybody's little brother, altar boy, and kid most likely to get the crap kicked out of him in school.  I hate to agree with Ryan Seacrest, but David A. does look like he's about to faint after every performance.  His humble gratitude makes Melinda Doolittle look like an egotistical diva.

Putting aside relentless picking on the kid, his performances were incredible.  I agree with whichever judge said that Stand By Me was his best performance of the competition.

Yes, definitely a David-David final.  It's only right.

In a side note, country trio Rascal Flatts had a busy night.  Almost faster than I could change channels on my remote they ran from the audience at American Idol to the studio next door to perform on Dancing with the Stars.

I'm struggling to start this blog about the Bruce Springsteen concert Friday night.  It isn't that I don't have words, but that I have too many.  Too many superlatives and adjectives:  Amazing, Awesome, Fantastic, Heart-Pumping, Mind-Blowing.

Over 30 years ago, when I first became a Springsteen fanatic, when I described what I felt about his music, or the experience of Bruce and the E Street Band, those who didn't get it accused me of hyperbole, lack of objectivity, overexaggeration.

Those who got it, nodded their heads.  They were there.  They knew.

Some things really don't change all that much.  Sure, back in the "old days", Bruce and the band rocked for close to four hours.  We left the shows, exhiliarated, exhausted, sweaty and riding the mother of adrenaline rushes.

So, the show Friday night was "only" two hours and forty minutes.  Yeah.  Only -- Two hours and forty freaking amazing minutes of non-stop music from the preeminent songwriter and performer of our generation and the most kick ass rock 'n roll band ever.

Don't bother arguing and suggesting other bands for the title.  I will never, ever change my mind.

The night opened with a a dark stage.  Bruce's voice rang out with, "This is for Danny."   A video montage of organist Danny Federici who passed away a couple of weeks ago played on the big screens, accompanied by Blood Brothers.  I wasn't the only one tearing up at that tribute. 

The lights came up, the band took off, and the power didn't stop.

The first time I saw Bruce and the band was in August 1978 for the Darkness on the Edge of Town tour.  For the first two songs, I sat still, awestruck.

Almost 30 years later, I had pretty much the same reaction and then I bolted to my feet, danced and sang along for the rest of the show.  It was almost fitting that they played several songs from the Darkness album -- including one of the wildest versions of Prove it All Night that I've ever heard.  If Nils Lofgren had exploded from the force of his own energy during his guitar solo, I wouldn't have been surprised.

New songs from Magic mixed with tunes from The Rising, The River, Born in the U.S.A., Born to Run, Greetings from Asbury Park.  The set list ran the gamut.  With such an extensive song list, it is impossible to sing everybody's favorite song, but Bruce added audience requests to the play list. 

Something new to me -- audience members bringing posters on which they'd printed song requests.  Several times, Bruce walked to one person or the other, took the sign, turned it around and showed the band.  Without missing a beat, they'd take off on the song.

There will always be one or two songs that I'll cross my fingers and hope to hear.  I do so knowing it might not happen and their absence won't ruin the concert for me.  (Nothing could!)  Still, when Bruce picked up one poster and the video camera zeroed in, I grabbed my friend Jennifer's arm and screamed, "It's Thunder Road.  Oh my God, they're going to do Thunder Road!"

Thunder Road is my all time favorite song and the one that made me a Bruce fan in 1975.  I was driving my roommate's car, WNEW-FM on the radio, on Ocean Ave and had just hit Deal Lake, heading for Asbury Park.  On a gorgeous fall afternoon, the soulful harmonica notes drifted out of the speakers and into my soul.  I don't know that I've ever been so profoundly touched by a song since.

In concert, there are some songs where the audience participation parts are well-known to every long time fan.  Bruce stops singing, motions to the crowd, and listens.

In Thunder Road, that part is:

So you're scared and you're thinking that maybe we ain't that young anymore.  Show a little faith, there's magic in the night.  You ain't a beauty, but hey, you're all right.

Watching the screen, I saw Bruce grin when we sang.  I knew just how he felt.  Thirty three years after he released that song, we ain't that young anymore.  But you know what, we still have faith and there's still magic in the night.

The performance capped what was already a stellar night, but the band was far from finished.  They ripped into Born to Run, lights up and the entire place rocking.  Then, to my complete disbelief and utter joy, they hit the opening notes of Rosalita.

Years and years ago, Rosalita was the ultimate encore song.  You knew, you just knew, that if the song hadn't been played yet, nobody was going home.  Over time, understandably, this classic Bruce tune hasn't been played live that much.  Apparently, they've pulled it out several times on this tour.  How I got so lucky to be at one of the shows, I don't know, but I'm fairly sure that I lost my mind to excitement at that point.

The concert went on for a few more blistering-hot songs before Bruce finally called it a night.  Ears ringing, heart pumping, I staggered out with the the rest of the crowd.

Over 30 years of fandom . . . 11 full length concerts . . . Bruce is, was and always will be the Boss.  We ain't that young anymore, but that man and that band will always be pullin' out of here to win.

Thanks, Bruce and the E-Street Band.

The Springsteen concert for Sunrise, FL was postponed until tonight.  I can barely contain my excitement.  I'm SO ready for Bruuuuucccceee.

Dogsitter arranged to spend the night with Nat and Pyxi.  Check!

Suitcase packed.  Check!

Hotel booked.  Check!

Driving directions.  Check!

Tickets.  Check, check, check, check, check, check, check . . .  You get the idea.

Even though I know darned well that I placed the tickets into my handbag, safe in the zippered compartment, I cannot stop myself from compulsively checking just to make sure.

What do I think could happen in the space of ten minutes?  They magically jumped out and returned to the kitchen counter?  Someone snuck into my closet-sized office, while I'm sitting here, and stole them?  I hallucinated and never actually put them in my handbag?

This is ridiculous.  The tickets are in my bag.  I know it.  I know it even as I unzip the bag to take one more look.

I am not obsessive-compulsive about anything else in my life except for tickets.  When I'm going off on a trip, I usually check multiple times that I remembered my flight information/e-tickets, too, but I've never been as bad as I am today with the Bruce tix.

Driving to work I wondered what possible reason sparked this need to check, re-check, and then check again.  I thought, "It's not like you've ever forgotten or lost tickets for a concert in the past."

Just a minute ago, I remembered something that happened back in the mid-80s.  As part of an annual subscription, I had tickets to see Mikhail Baryshnikov and American Ballet Theater perform at Lincoln Center.  Baryshnikov was dancing The Sinatra Suite, choreographed by Twyla Tharpe.  The evening was my gift to my mother.  We got to New York and I realized that I'd grabbed the wrong set of tickets. 

Sheer, gut-twisting, perspiration-flooding, heart palpitating panic.

Thankfully, since I was a season subscriber they had records at the box office and let me in -- but that was lucky.

I can't imagine the same thing happening if I got to the concert venue tonight (Three hours from home) and said, "Uh, we really do have tickets, but I forgot them in the Keys."

Whew.  Thank God, that won't happen because I Have the Tickets.  They're right there in my handbag.  Really.

Hmm.  Maybe I better look just to make sure.

Does anything effect any of you like this?

I met a woman yesterday who is in the fourth stage of cancer, with tumors in several areas of her body.  She's gone through chemo and is on medicine for pain management.  She knows that, barring a miracle, she'll die from this disease.

Until that happens, she has places to go and things she wants to do.  She wanted to spend time with her sister, so she flew to the East Coast from California.  She'd never been to Sanibel Island, so the two of them visited.  The woman loves animals and wanted to swim with dolphins.  So she did.

In the last six months or so, Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman made a movie called The Bucket List -- as in the list of things you want to do before you kick the bucket.  A few years ago, Tim McGraw released a song that reminded us to live like we're dying, to do the things we want to do and live whatever life we have to its fullest.

This woman's doing it all.   Her spirit is amazing.  After spending a little time with her, I have no doubt that she would have accomplished everything on her "want to do" list eventually.  Unfortunately, she has to step up her timetable because the rest of her life won't give her years and years.

You know, none of us knows for sure that we'll have years and years.  We have all sorts of reasons for not accomplishing our dreams and desires.  Not enough time; not enough money; nobody to do it with.  We're afraid.  We're too young.  We're too old.  Too fat.  Too something or other.

Tonight I'm thinking that there's only definitive "too" that should block us from doing anything we want to do.  Too dead.

I've never really sat down and made a bucket list.  I'm not fond of the idea.  I prefer to think of it as a "live life to the fullest" list.

I'm fortunate in that I've already done a number of things that I always wanted to experience -- but there are more.

Must.  Give.  This.  Serious.  Thought.

This summer, I'll get to check two items off the list.  I'm going to California for the first time and I'm determined to drive the Pacific Coast Highway.

While I'm considering items for my list, how about sharing some of yours?

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Tomorrow is the official return of author Brenda Novak's online auction to raise money for Juvenile Diabetes research.  There auction features a wealth of items -- most of which were donated by authors, editors, and agents.  There are fantastic things for writers, readers, heck, everybody.  Visit Brenda's website for more details and bid, bid, bid!  www.brendanovak.com

There's so much on American Idol to joke about week after week -- but even they can't top this week's weirdest event on competition shows.  As I type this, Def Leopard are rocking out on the Dancing With the Stars results show.  The lead singer's wearing sunglasses.  Perhaps he hopes nobody will recognize him.  The drummer has a vacantly desperate look on his face like he's thinking, "We should never have believed the people who promised this would guarantee us a spot in the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame."

Ok, why do I mock these competition shows so much when I unabashedly admit to watching them week after week?  Because I can . . . and because it's fun.

Tonight, let's start with the host -- Ryan Seacrest.  His best performance so far this season.  With two songs per five remaining contestants, there was little time for him to do more than intro the singer, give out the numbers and remind people to vote.  Thank goodness.  No time for him to attempt to match wits with Simon.  Apparently, no time for him to check his look in the mirror before taking the stage either.  The hairdresser sent him out with an Ed Grimley 'do.

Did you see the woman holding the bright pink poster that proclaimed, "My husband has a man crush on Ryan Seacrest"?  Don't blame the hubby if she returns home to find a bright blue divorce decree.  She should have had the decency to wear a disguise.  Her poor husband will never live down that sign.

Ken Levine blogged earlier this week about the California sorority babes in the Idol mosh pit.  I can't possibly match his level of funny-ness, so I won't try.  However, I did notice this week that for all their enthusiasm, they suck at timing.  During one of Jason's performances, the mosh girls waved at least two beats behind the song.

On Neil Diamond night, only David Cook truly shone with two great performances.  I think he's the one contestant who consistently connects with the audience; demonstrates charisma; and tries to make each song unique for him.

David A. -- Great voice, but he performs like a 60 year old in a 17 year old's body.  Paula's big on urging the Idols to "sing outside the box".  I'd be happy if David A. moved more than a foot in any direction.

Jason.  Oh, Jason.  The dumb act isn't cute -- unless you're Kellie Pickler and even she stretched it.  You show all the energy of an overweight, octagenarian with two shot knees and a faulty pacemaker.  I honestly think you're the one who should go home, but you might still have a big enough fan base to keep you here yet another week.

Not that we need further proof that Paula's lost it, but how sadly hilarious was it that she critiqued Jason on both his performances when he'd only sung once?

 I'm a Believer  has now been sung better by four Monkees and a donkey (Think Shrek) than by a babbling Brooke.  Simon was right about your first performance. He was also right that you did a much better job on the second song.  That could be enough to save you for another week.

Syesha, you're finally waking up as a performer and you're fun to watch.  Unfortunately, I think Brooke and Jason have bigger fan bases.  Then again, I thought Carly did to, and she's now sitting in the audience.

At least she'll be in time on the wave.

There's big doings with Babes in Bookland.  We're welcoming a new Babe to the block.  Check out the clues, then make a guess about her identity before Friday.  We'll pick a winner from the correct guessers to receive a copy of one of her books!

I'll tell you this -- Rhonda, Leanne, Amy, Traci, Karen and I are thrilled she's joining our group blog and think you'll love her, too!

This week, we're talking about babies and children in our books (or in my case NOT in my books).  Ought to be another fun discussion.

Hope you'll join us.  Click here to visit the Babes blog.

 

Nat, Pyxi and I had a play date this morning with my friend Lori and her two collies at the Islamorada Dog Park.   This isn't much different than parents taking their children to meet friends at a playground -- except that kids don't usually slurp water from the same bowls.

My pups have come a long way in their socialization with people.  Pyxi isn't nearly as skittish as she used to be.  Nat is always the first to go offer himself up for petting and his paw for shaking.  However, other than mutual sniffing sometimes when we meet up with other dogs while walking on the Seven Mile Bridge, they haven't had an opportunity to play with other canines.

I was curious how they'd react.  We opened the gate to a large fenced in grassy area and I unhooked their leashes from their collars.  Lori's collies -- 4 year old Calypso and 10 year old Kata -- are very gentle, non-in-your-face dogs.  They sniffed, but didn't push the issue.  Like youngsters on the first day of school, Nat and Pyxi hung back, very close to me, just looking around the open expanse.

I walked forward, calling them with me and they followed.  So far, so good.  Then two large rambunctious labradors galloped across the field to play.  Nat stood his ground.  Pyxi ran away, back to the fence.

The Labs people called them back.  Nat, by this point had decided to explore the surroundings -- such an intrepid guy.  Unwilling to reinforce Pyxi's fear, I walked a little further away and called for her to join me. 

Both of my pups ran over.

Lori and I decided not to force any interactions, but to let the dogs work things out in their own time.  Pyxi stuck pretty close to me, but watched while her brother ventured out to sniff the trees, the grounds, the toys scattered around on the ground.  Gradually her confidence grew.  Finally, when Calypso came over, she showed very little concern and bounced off to find Nat.

The Labs left, but there was still a Pappilon in the park.  Pyxi ran over to investigate, but the Pap barked and growled and my little girl swiftly retreated.  Never fear.  A half an hour later the two were chasing each other in play.

It wasn't easy for Lori and me to get our four together for a single picture.  If two sat nice, a third would walk out of the shot.  All four remained still, but two looked away.  Finally, success (sort of)!

I didn't realize until I downloaded the images that, at some point, one of the dogs left a nose smudge on the lense.  Sorry, Kata!

About a half an hour before we left, Pyxi found her spunk.  She let the other, bigger dogs know that she had first dibs on my attention.  I'd watch her sneak up for a "stealth sniff" of the collies.  Nat and Calypso ran off and Pyxi decided to run after them -- until they turned around.  Then she'd jam on the breaks and invite them to chase her back.

It was a gorgeous day with a cool breeze, but all that play makes a dog thirsty.  The dog park has several big bowls and a hose available for its guests.

After a long, refreshing drink, we called it a day.

All in all, the first play date went very well, and we'll plan more in the future.  My town's discussing installing a dog park, too.  A closer location would definitely mean Nat and Pyxi could make more new friends more often.

You might be wondering, "What is going on with Mary that she called this blog post 'Brownies, Bristleworms, and PMS."

I could be wondering the same thing, but I've long been used to the odd ways that my train of thought sometimes jumps the tracks.

Ever since my friend Vicky had to completely empty, rerock and refill my aquarium, I've kept an eye on it like a royal guardswoman protecting the heir to the throne.   Aiptasia now fear me.  The other day, three of the nuisance anemones popped out on the torch coral.  I eradicated them with three squirts of this special liquid faster than you can say, "Die you ugly suckers, die."

Tonight, when I fed the fish and cleaned the glass, I spotted a bristleworm sticking out of the branchlike rock that holds three mushroom corals. 

A bristleworm!  How dare that invasive, nasty, thing appear in my beautiful aquarium?  I was appalled, angry, loaded for bear like an intruder had broken into my home.

I didn't want to just kill this thing.  I wanted to destroy its existence so thoroughly that any other worms that might be lurking in my tank would commit hari kari rather than risk my wrath.

I actually cussed at a worm less than an inch long.  Like it could hear me.  Like it could understand me even if it heard me. 

Can you say, "That's a little over the top, Mar?"

Sure we can - but I'd think twice about it, if I was you. 

Simply put, I'm PMSing like, well, a mad woman.  For some reason, its affecting me much more radically than usual.  My moods are swinging like a giant pendulum.  Thank God this won't last long.  I can't take the self-induced emotional drama.

Tonight, a half dozen friends from work came over for book club.  Due to circumstances (i.e. we've been busier than all get out at work for the last several weeks), none of us actually finished the last book chosen by the club.  I can assure you that it didn't interfere in the least with our enjoyment of wine and pizza.  We picked a new book to read, but mostly we talked, ate and drank.  After the pizza, I brought out the pan of my nearly famous double-chocolate decadent brownies.

No pharmaceutical company will ever develop a more effective formula for positive mood adjustment than wine and chocolate.  Less calories, sure, but who the heck cares?

I feel much better now.

The bristleworm still must die, but at least I won't attack it with the ferocity of a hound from Hell.

Ahhhhhh.