Thankful Thursday is a Friday for me this week. But it's better late than never, right?

The past couple of months I've been talking on the phone with a former roommate of mine more regularly than usual. It has made me, once again, grateful to have such a person in my life. Never mind that we met "randomly" in an off-campus apartment at BYU over 35 years ago. Never mind that she lives far away from me now. I love her like I did then. It seems such a long time ago that we would lie on our backs on the lawn on campus, staring at the sky and contemplating the universe, and talk about what we planned for our lives. Thirty-five years later, some of what we dreamed has come true, but much of it has been wildly different from what we thought would happen.

Ah, the hubris of youth.

When I hear her voice on the phone, it is as if no time has passed at all. We share joys. We share sorrows. Just as we always did. So today, I count myself blessed to have had a "happenstance" meeting with her so many years ago, which has become a life-long, true friendship.

Fabulous and FREE!

Hey, gang! Bob's talented and lovely cousin, Suzanne, is starting the year off with a giveaway of her newest tote. Many of you have commented on the ones I have, and this one, I CAN PROMISE, is as pretty and perfectly crafted as those. Hop over to http://www.justanotherhangup.blogspot.com/

and put your name in the hat for this baby. You might be the lucky one!

All Dogs Go To Heaven

1991

2008

If you've been following our blog, you know about our Beagle named Bo, who we bought for our son, Scott, when he was just 4 years old. I was not keen on the idea of all the responsibilities of having a dog. But Scott's pleas (check out the smile) won me over. And so, Bo became a part of the W clan. When Scott left for his mission two years ago, he said his goodbyes to Bo, which he believed to be his last. After all, Bo had at that time been with us for 15 years, was becoming a bit old and feeble, and to take for granted that he would be here when Scott came home wasn't a good idea.

Toward the end of Scott's mission, however, it became evident that there may be a chance of Bo's waiting it out. It became a sort of countdown for the family. Would Bo make it?

Scott returned home on December 23, two days before Christmas, and Bo died on December 31, New Year's Eve. I don't pretend to know the workings of a dog's brain, or what they think if, indeed, they do think. But I DO know that Bo had a keen sense of what this family, or any individual within it, needed at any given time. He knew when the kids wanted to run and have him chase after them. He would play and chase until the kids got tired.

Then there was his bark--it said many different things, depending on the pitch and dynamic he chose. One bark could say, "Hey, have you forgotten about me? Where's the frisbee?" Another would mean, "Oh, goody. The guy who lets me run around in the garage is home." Another bark could remind us, "I'm a person, too, y'know. Gimme some of that barbecue!" And my personal favorite came out in a quiet, soft little squeal. "You seem to need some lovin'. Can I sit with you?" Only near the end did we not communicate with him very well. His age impeded him a lot.

Bo was a great dog for a little boy. And it didn't take long before he found his way into the hearts of the rest of us.

G' nite, Boey. Doggy Heaven is a little sweeter

with you there.