A list of things I think about doing ... and then don't - from letter tattoos on my fingers to finishing a YA novel about lifeguards. 

And so, each week, I blog. Sometimes people read these missives (Ivanka being a notable example), sometimes people do not (most other blogs belong to the latter category).

Regardless (notice how I did not say "irregardless" as that is not a word?) I shall forge ahead - read or unread.

Fact: I have barbeques with George Clooney, Brad Pitt and Matthew McConaughey every Thursday evening in July and August. Period. We rotate hosting duties. My favourite host is probably George for the ample tequila, although I do enjoy Matthew’s homemade BBQ sauce. Brad is always a bit serious and his food is a little too on the healthy side. But we still let him participate, we just talk about him behind his back.

Recently, whilst washing my dog, I paused to absorb just how ashamed he looked at finding himself immersed in suds. (Then I took a picture, obvs.) His embarrassment (and probably the water) stripped him down to his most basic self. I like to think that day he discovered new inner strength, once his remarkable fluff and exclaim-worthy cuteness was reduced to nothing more than the smell of wet dog. He had no exterior shell to protect him. He had to face reality. It is good to be embarrassed, to know you are a mistake-making machine.