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Zapatas muy fantastico!

Human salvation lies in the hands of the creatively maladjusted.
Martin Luther King, Jr.

TV has become an even greater wasteland than usual these days, thanks to the writers' strike. Thank God for Kyle XY! It's back! Never mind that Kyle has been sporting a pretty dark 5 o'clock shadow lately, despite the fact that he's supposed to be a high school student. So what? He's Kyle, gunfunnit, the coolest kid without a belly button to ever grace the living room screens of America. Kyle rocks.
The new shoes are spectacular. I felt like I was running on clouds today, plunking out four miles on the treadmill and feeling a noticeable coosh as my heals struck the conveyor. Once again, I had the gym to myself. I find it hard not to start singing along to the iPod when I'm alone. I chose to exercise some self restraint, however, lest some hapless sucker wander into the place and be subjected to my crooning. It would, however, give me a strong chance of quickly regaining sole occupancy of the gym.
Crawford cruised a short ways up the road with me today sporting one of her new, custom made booties. It's designed to protect her when she knuckles or drags. It worked like a charm. She's pretty wobbly, but she gets along. It was fun for her to head up the road a piece. There are lots of good sniffies along the way and that's always good fun. After Crawford's mini-adventure, I took the Doctor Dog for a longer stroll. As always, he loved it. The great thing about Doc is that he gets just as excited from one day to the next to go for a walk; the exact same walk we took the day before. Nothing makes him happier. Maybe we could all learn a bit from Doc's simple enthusiasm for life. We squeaked in some ball time for Hoppsy today too, before the rain returned. It was another good day to be a dog in the Todd-Niederpruem family. Check that. They are not dogs. They are doggie-children.
We made our way to Luquin's for an early dinner tonight. It's a haunt we haven't haunted much lately. It's not the world's best Mexican food, but it's not bad. Since the pickin's are pretty slim when it comes to south of the border fare here - in what are essentially the northern most islands of Polynesia - so we were happy. I had a lilikoi (a.k.a. passion fruit) margarita. Where else but Hawaii can you find one of those? It was nice not sublime, so I think next time I'll order lime. Would that be a crime? (See? Even when I don't try, I'm poetic. It's a gift, really. It just oozes out. What can I say?)
Gotta go watch Kyle. A hui hou. Aloha!


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