Steinbeck had Charlie.Wallace has Gromit. I have Pepper.A shameless seeker of belly rubs.
My walks with her give me time to think of stuff to post here. Profound musings on the essence of life.


Well yesterday's snow storm has left everywhere crispy white and bright today and accentuated the
sinister shapes of the trees that fell to Uberstorm Sandy so that they remind me of Arthur Rackham's illustrations for Grimm's fairy tales. And it was through this ominous woodland that Pepper and I went this morning while everyone else was sleeping in  bed. She loves the snow.Her snout is constantly in it snorting and snuffling.And then she goes bouncing like Tigger while I poor bipede
struggle to follow behind.While she marvels at nature's bounty I marvel that I have no hangover.
A copious amount of $3 special beers went down my neck last night at Buffalo Wild Wings followed by a gallon or two of fancy ales at another hostelry all topped off with a few shots and a couple of belts of Welsh Whisky at home. I remember my first hangover as though it was yesterday.16 year old me  had smuggled a bottle of Bulmers's Strongbow Cider up into my bedroom one Saturday afternoon and drank the whole lot falling into a tipsy slumber and waking up in the early evening gloom with the feeling that I had been trepanned by an amateur surgeon who had left his rusty tools
inside my empty skull. I swore then and there that I would never let that happen to me ever again.
And I have made that exact  same vow many many times since.