Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

When the DH and I went for coffee at the Renton Fred Meyer Seattle's Best yesterday morning--I love those little bars of dark chocolate they serve with the mochas and hot chocolate--the baristas were all a-buzz about the Super Bowl. Are you going to watch the game? Who's your team? Our answers were "No" and "Who's playing?"

Our Super Bowl Sunday plans were to have the DH's mother over for an afternoon taco party and five episodes of Poirot that I'd ordered from Netflixs. We usually load the Airedale in the SUV when we're out and about on the weekends. This time she was hot to go but would yelp or whine when we went round a corner or hit a bump. Then back at home she held up her left back leg and couldn't even make the block on her walk. She was in pain and let us know it with blood chilling yelling that sounded like she was being beaten. We dashed her into the pet clinic at PetSmart that's open and fully staffed on weekends. Turns out the poor girl has probable arthritis in both hips and knees. Sheeesh. Got her some good drugs for the pain and inflammation. Because they worked us into the schedule, we had to cancel our taco party. Good thing, because we discovered that first Poirot disk came broken in two pieces and wasn't viewable.

So, after two hours, we drove home, dosed the dog, made tacos and tuned in and out of the Super Bowl game. Watched the entire halftime show. The larger-than-life silhouette behind a curtain bit with The Artist Who Was Formerly and Apparently Still Known As Prince holding his strangely shaped guitar crotch high and simulating a gigantic package was a real hoohaa. The DH said he thought for a sec that we were in for another revealing wardrobe malfunction, but this time we really did know what little strangeness was behind the curtain.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmelinda